#the collarbones thing happened to me ONCE and it was the most ticklish thing I’ve ever experienced to date omg

[tickle-bugs]

BUGS YOURE ALIVE!!! Could I bother you for some McKirk? Maybe some bed sharing?? For uh...mission related reasons? Accidental cuddling?? If it's not too much trouble?? Do these emojis help?? 🛏🤣🪶💘

Anything for you beloved!!!!

Suite-Hearts

Bones thinks defecting might genuinely be better than this. 

He’s not twenty anymore, the sight of his best friend shirtless doesn’t fluster him the way it used to, but it’s still…a lot, given the circumstances.

Circumstances being the honeymoon suite in one of the most notorious casinos in the galaxy, a room that couldn’t possibly be big enough for all the feelings that Bones had to fit inside of it.

The room is beautiful, granted—the entire far wall is a floor to ceiling window onto the glittering city lights below. Every inch of the place is plush in a way Bones can appreciate, even if it reminds him vaguely of a padded cell. Stocked mini bar, soundproofing--even a built in white noise stereo. The hotel had been sweet--they’d decorated the place with little hearts and champagne bottles, committed to celebrating the newly engaged couple they’d checked in as. 

But again. The circumstances. 

“Are you gonna glare at me over there all night?” Jim huffs and crosses his legs on the bed. He plays with his hair, still stringy from the shower. 

“I hate this.” Bones clenches and unclenches his fists to stave off the urge to pace. He tears down one of the paper hearts from the ceiling and crumples it instead. 

“Yes, you’ve told me. Repeatedly.” Jim sighs and leans forward, balancing his chin in his hands. “Honestly, Bones, I don’t bite. This isn’t much different than the Academy.”

“Uh-uh. We had bunks in the Academy.” 

“Bunks that we rarely slept apart in, usually. What’s up with you?” Jim drifts over, pretty eyes sloped with concern. The full brunt of the hotel’s fancy pine soap hits Bones. 

“Nothing.” Bones keeps his gaze on the floor. 

“If you hate sharing that much, I’ll try and swing a separate room for you. We can pretend we had a fight or something. I’m sorry.” Jim squeezes his bicep. Bones’s mouth sours at the apology. Jim isn’t apologizing for the room, he’s apologizing for his presence. Bones knows that tone of his and he despises it. 

“It’s fine. I’m just…not the best for these kinds of things.” Bones pinches the bridge of his nose. Guilt swirls and claws at the base of his stomach, making swipes at his throat to try and close it. 

“It’s just for a few days. You’ll never have to do another espionage mission again, scout’s honor.” Jim fumbles his way through the boy scout salute. 

“You were never a scout.” Bones huffs, but the promise soothes him some.

“Semantics.” Jim tries to crack his back a few times. “Want a drink?”

“Your back.” Bones furrows his brow. Jim makes a dismissive noise, scoping out the selection of whiskey and gin on the bar.

“Lay down.” Bones shoves Jim onto the bed with a eyeroll he doesn’t bother to hide. Jim squeaks as he hits the mattress and bounces higher than he expects—gravity’s just a little weird here and Bones can’t figure out how to work the in-room controls. 

He climbs up after Jim and settles heavily on his thighs. Jim grunts a little and Bones affectionately swats the back of his head. 

“M’fine. Really. I’ll go to the spa or something.” Jim hides his face, suspiciously shy, but Bones doesn’t press. Jim talks when he wants to.

“I’m not letting you waste money on that frilly shit. You want a free massage or not?” Bones gives his arms a fond squeeze. Jim nods, then deflates. 

“Where?” Bones reaches for the massage oil. He makes a face at the gaudy and suggestive label before pouring some into his hands. He rubs his palms together to warm it, breathing in the notes of lavender, sandalwood, and something else he can’t quite place. 

Jim makes a noncommittal noise into the mattress. Bones chuckles and smooths his hands up Jim’s back.

Massage therapy had been an optional Academy course but it had always been one that Bones enjoyed. It took a certain amount of trust in a stranger to allow them to know your body in that way. Bones wanted to be that stranger for people, he still does. 

And with Jim, well—what isn’t better with him? That’s comically, cosmically, the problem. Bones knows nearly every atom of Jim’s being, even the ones Jim hides from himself. That’s their deal. They are bonded halves, binary stars, and they care for one another. Even when they drive each other insane. 

“Pressure okay?” Bones hums, working into a stubborn knot near Jim’s shoulder. Jim moans and dissolves into the bed. 

“Quiet down. You’ll make people think we’re really getting a use out of this room.” Bones’s face grows painfully warm as Jim makes another terribly distracting noise. It dissolves into a chuckle. Bones squirrels the entire thing away into a private corner of his brain. 

“S’rry. Feels good,” Jim mumbles, pressing his face further into the mattress. Bones chuckles and continues his work. 

“Stop squirmin’,” Bones huffs, working his way up the back of Jim’s ribs. Jim wiggles around a bit but doesn’t say anything. 

“If I’m hurting you, you gotta say somethin’.” Bones leans down and murmurs, stilling his hands. Jim makes a string of noises, attempts to shake his head into the mattress, then settles on waving his hand around dismissively. 

“Whatever you say.” Bones snorts and smooths his palms over Jim’s warm, soft skin. He finds his lower back and starts over, working his way back up, then down, and up again. The rhythm of it takes them both.

“Doin’ ok?” Bones hums, leveraging his elbow into Jim’s lower back. 

“I’m in love with you,” Jim sighs, then groans, nothing more than a puddle of captain. Bones swallows the surge of emotion in his chest and concentrates on maintaining appropriate pressure of the elbow. 

“Sorry. For the next few days, I’m a taken man.” Bones skimming his fingers slowly up Jim’s back. Jim shivers and grabs fistfuls of the blankets. He traces patterns between mottled scars and freckles, a little lost. 

Jim twitches again, muffling something high-pitched into the mattress. It does, admittedly, take a minute for Bones’s brain to catch up, but once it does…

He slides his fingers ever-so-gently up Jim’s sides, over the back of his ribs, taking great care to wiggle against the ridges of his shoulderblades. Jim jumps, turning to admonish him, but Bones is back to the charade. He works his thumbs into Jim’s shoulders, then squeezes--just above the collarbone. 

“Well h-he’s a lucky guy--holy shit--”

Jim shrieks, high-pitched and frantic, and totters off into a flustered flurry of giggles. Bones has never in his life heard him make such a sound, not even when drunk. 

“What--”

“Bones--” Jim flips over and levels a threatening finger.

“--was that?” Bones smothers his laugh in his fist, but it bursts free when Jim’s face flushes adorably pink.

“You surprised me.” Jim crosses his arms and pulls a face. Bones raises an eyebrow. 

“I surprised--c’mere.” Bones starts tickling him in earnest now, nipping fingers chasing each sensitive spot he’s come to learn over the years. Jim dissolves in his hands, giggles quickly graduating to full-on laughter. 

“B-Bohohones!” Jim shoves lightly at his shoulders as he laughs, bright and bubbly. Bones uses the opportunity to slip his hands up to Jim’s collarbone again, giving another squeeze into the muscle just above. Jim flails, his knees slamming into Bones’s back--ow--and and descends promptly into a highly-entertaining octave of desperate laughter.

“How on earth are you this ticklish and alive?” Bones muses, skittering his fingers back to Jim’s stomach for something of a break. Eventually, he just pats Jim’s stomach and swings off of him. 

“I’m never letting you forget about this. Every time you’re being annoying I hope you think of my hand right here,” Bones grins, resting his hand on the spot. He tries not to read too much into the clear giddiness on Jim’s face. 

“Oh, you bastard,” Jim gasps, eyes positively sparkling. “I’m going to get you back for that.”

Yet, Jim does nothing but flop back against the bed. The extra high bounce shakes a few stray giggles loose. 

“I’m sure you will.” Bones pats Jim’s head. Jim shakes him off, grumbling under his breath. Bones snorts, squeezes Jim’s shoulder, and trods off towards the bathroom, ignoring the indignant screech behind him.

…

Bones wakes up warm, beautifully so. Jim’s arms wind around his torso and keep him close, strong and secure. Some soft and content part of him wants to lean back into it. He’ll never get tired of waking up like this. 

Bones turns slowly so he can see Jim’s face. He looks so different asleep. Younger, maybe. 

Bones allows himself another thirty minutes of drifting sleep, letting Jim’s gentle snores guide them into the late morning. The room chimes a soft tone around ten or so, warning them of their impending loss of breakfast privileges. He has half a mind to ignore it, but he doesn’t really know what they eat on this planet. Jim can be picky as hell when he puts his mind to it, and they’re both useless when they’re hangry. 

Bones starts breaking Jim’s hold, maneuvering him gently. The sleepy whining is par for the course, but the fingers worming into his sides? That’s certainly new.

“J-Jihim.” Bones clears his throat. “Let go, ya sleepy lug.”

Jim makes a soft noise and cuddles closer, decidedly not following instructions. Bones keeps tugging, but the more he pulls, the more Jim decides to tickle. Jim finds a spot on his stomach that makes Bones choke back a squeal, shaking both of them with unreleased laughter. 

“Damn pehest. Two can play at that game.” Bones huffs. He starts poking at his ribs, still gentle, as he wiggles closer to the edge of the bed. Jim smiles and starts chuckling, his hold loosening. Bones worms his torso out of the octopus grip and starts slowly untangling their legs. He gets about halfway there before Jim grabs his leg and starts reeling him back in. 

“Jim--”

Jim smirks and opens his eyes. Oh. Oh no. 

“Gotcha!” Jim cackles, pinching at Bones’s thigh with reckless abandon. Bones screeches, his voice cracking hopelessly. Jim flops on top of him and starts tickling wherever he can reach, taking extra care to revisit his stomach. 

“Y-You absolute—“

Thump. 

Bones’s back collides with the plush carpet, along with a few throw pillows. Jim catches himself at the last minute with a yelp.

“Are you okay?” Jim laughs and peers at him over the edge of the bed. He offers a hand to help Bones up. 

“I hate you.” Bones glares up at him. His lips twitch as he tries to resist the smile that’s already consumed him. He swats Jim’s offered hand away, then smacks him with a pillow for good measure. He goes to get ready for the day--someone has to be the adult here--but Jim grabs him by the waist and pulls him back into bed. 

“I love you too.” Jim gazes down at him with an unbearably goofy smile. Bones rolls his eyes, but his face is warm, so embarrassingly warm. Bones goes to get up, Jim shoves his hands under Bones’s arms, and round two sufficiently costs them any hope of breakfast. 

[personasintro]

bloody hell | jjk drabble

⏤𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴; luckily, your boyfriend is there to get you through the pain

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: jungkook x reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff, smut, established relationship

⏤𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4.7k

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: strong language, unexpected period sex (kind of), unprotected sex, dirty talk, anal play, creampie, kinda rough sex, jungkook calls reader 'baby' a lot, pregnancy talk

Curled on the bed, it takes him approximately two minutes to get into the room, until you hear his sports bag dropping onto the floor before he joins you. Instantly cuddling up to you, you’re met with the scent of his shower gel, which means he took a shower in the gym.

You shiver at the feeling of his lips at the back of your neck, where he pecks your skin. “I’ve missed you.”

The confession is enough to make you swoon all over him, but you know he could be doing anything or nothing, and your heart would beat the same way like it always does when it comes to him.

“You were gone for hour an half,” you chuckle, placing your arms on top of his as he brings you closer to him. “I’ve missed you too.”

You were never one of those snappy couples who whispered nothing else but sweet nothings into each other ears, ending it with slow and romantic sex. Jungkook is always explicit about what he wants to do to you, and you love it. As much as making love with your boyfriend is emotional and making your heart spill with love, you love when he pounds you into the mattress. There’s just something about sweaty Jungkook, growling explicit things into your ears as he makes sure you cum before he even allows himself to.

God, these hormones are killing you.

“Why are you curled in here like a small ball of sadness? Missed me that much?” he jokes, digging his nose into the crook of your neck as he inhales deeply, causing you to giggle at the ticklish feeling.

“I think my period is on the way.” you explain, sighing as the pressure in your lower stomach just won’t leave.

It’s nothing drastic, still manageable but uncomfortable at the same time. What surprises you the most is the fact, you should get it in two days.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? That means there’s no baby Jeon in the oven.” he teases, hand placed over your lower stomach as he caresses it.

Four years of being in a relationship with Jungkook, there’s not an ounce of shock or weirdness from his words. You’ve talked about future plans many times, including the baby talk as well. But you just started to live together and even though, your sweet boyfriend made sure to tell you that if it happened it’s okay and you’ll get through it together. As of now, you both are not ready to have a baby but if it happens, you’ll face it together.

You’re taking the birth control, there’s only a little chance of you to getting pregnant, but the both of you’re still cautious. Well, trying to be. Jungkook not being able to pull out in time just a few days ago is the living proof of it.

“It is, but better get me a ring first.” you giggle, smiling when he kisses your shoulder this time. He interweaves your legs together, brushing your ankles with his own. 

“I will.” he promises with a smile.

“I shouldn’t get it for the next two days.”

He stops caressing your stomach and legs for a moment while he processes your words, before he continues with it. “Is it like a bad sign?” he asks, voice filled with worry.

Smiling, you shake your head. “No, it can happen.” you tell him, feeling him nodding behind you.

“Should I bring you your heating pad?” He sounds concerned, suddenly growing displeased at the thought of you being in pain.

Things like this can conjure an automatic smile in a second, your heart filling with even more love. You interweave your fingers together, staring at his long and slim fingers and tattoos on his knuckles, disappearing underneath the hem of his black hoodie.

“No, it’s okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad yet,” you murmur, tracing the numbers on the back of his back. His mother’s birth date. “I love you, have I told you that?”

“Mhm, many times. But I could listen to you saying that on repeat all the time. And by that, I mean — All. The. Time.” he pecks your right cheek with each word, emphasizing it.

You giggle, face pressed into Jungkook’s pillow before you wince when another cramp comes.

Jungkook sits up, staring at you with those doe eyes full of worry and empathy, even though he has no idea how fucking awful it is to have a period every month. Not just having it, but experiencing all the pain and things that go with it.

“You know,” he murmurs, tracing your arm before you look at him with a confusion, slowly sitting up. “I’ve heard sex helps with cramps.”

Widening your eyes, you almost choke on your own spit as you open your mouth in shock.

Yeah, your and Jungkook’s sex life has always been a little bit adventurous. From trying different kinks to actually using sex toys, but you’ve never talked about that.

“I’m not having a period sex, Jungkook.” you tell him, shaking your head.

It’s not as if you were totally opposed to that. It’s more like a thing of insecurity. Not every man wants to have his dick coated in someone else’s blood. Especially when it comes out of vagina.

“But you said you still haven’t got it!” he exclaims, poking his inner cheek with his tongue before he sighs. “Listen up, baby. I think it could help you with your cramps and I’m down, if you are.”

Tilting your head, you stare at Jungkook and the familiar glint in his eyes. Your eyes avert down, right into his lap where you can spot a small hint of bulge, big enough to know that it’s not in his usual soft state.

“Oh my god, are you hard?” you exclaim, causing him to shift on his spot as he hisses at you.

“Not entirely,” he informs you, “I’ve been getting hard ever since I’ve felt your ass against my cock.” he adds, causing you to nudge his shoulder as you laugh.

He joins you, catching your hand as he slips his fingers through yours and clutches them. He stays silent, playing with your fingers leaving you to think. Biting your bottom lip, you cough causing him to look at you.

“Were you serious?” you ask, your voice raspy. You don’t need to hear his answer, you can see his eyes darkened with lust but he still responds to your question.

“Of course, I wouldn’t joke about that.”

And you see it. His honesty and his soft features, glancing at the little scar on his cheek to the little mole underneath his bottom lip.

“Listen, it was just an idea. You know I’d fuck you no matter what. I don’t care about this kind of stuff and to be honest, the thought of it drives me crazy. But I get that it might not be comfortable for you, so I’ll back off now. I just thought it could help.” he shrugs, your heart swooning over this man once again as you try to push the tears away.

Fucking hormones.

He’s always putting you first, no matter what the topic or the situation is — it’s always you.

“Let’s do it.” you speak, meeting his doe widened eyes like you expected them to look like.

“What? Are you sure? But you said--“

“Not gonna lie, the thought of it and seeing you like this,” you point at his crotch, “does things to me.”

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes out, “Don’t say stuff like that.” he shifts on his spot again, and you already know he’s getting hard.

“Hmm, why? Is it driving you crazy?” you ask, leaning towards him as he clenches his jaw.

“You know it does, you little minx.” he curses, grabbing your face as he kisses you roughly.

Your lips smacks together, moving against each other in a needy kiss as you finally feel them. Okay, you might’ve had make out session before Jungkook went to the gym for his workout, but fuck, you miss him. Sometimes you wish he was lazy like you are, but he loves working out and his muscles too much. It definitely pays off, the feeling of his abs underneath your fingers, especially the sight once his shirt goes off.

“Wait,” he stops, voice muffled as he tries to pull away. “So, are we really having sex?” he asks just to check in, causing you to laugh as you nod.

“Yeah, my cramps are uncomfortable. Let’s just test your theory.”

“Well, it’s not my theory. I’ve heard about it from Jimin and now that I think about it, I’ve read it somewhere as well.”

Rolling your eyes, you don’t even question how Jimin knows that or how it took a place in their conversation, you kiss him again. He softly places you back on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable before he kisses down your neck to your collarbones.

Jungkook knows your every little spot that makes you squirm in his hold, begging for more but as much as you love his kisses and hands caressing your whole body, you pull away and sit up. His lips are getting swollen and with those big eyes he looks adorable, causing you to grin at him. He watches you with a mere confusion, until he sees you taking off your baggy shirt and pajamas shorts.

“You know I love it when you take your time with me, but my pain isn’t getting any better.” you explain, causing his lips to let out an exclamation of realization.

“Sure,” he tells you, following your lead as he starts to take off his hoodie with sweatpants.

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes already admiring his toned puffed out chest and abs. You can’t believe this man is yours. With his tiny waist and muscular thighs, he has the best body proportion you’ve ever seen. And you know he loves when you watch and admire, noticing the littlest smirk he sports on his puffy lips.

“How do you want it?” he asks, staying in his boxers as you pout at that.

“From the back.” you tell him, sliding off your panties before you throw it on the floor.

You’re already turning onto your stomach, hearing a soft whine from Jungkook who’s clearly disappointed of not having the chance to eye your breasts properly. It dies right away as you arch your back, wiggling your ass at him. He reacts immediately, grabbing the soft flesh into his palms as he squeezes it. Biting your lip, you prevent the moan escaping your mouth.

Jungkook loves when he can hear your moans, gasps or even screams in the form of his name. You guess it has something to do with his confidence and pride, knowing he’s the one making you react that way. On the other hand, you’re the one who always tries to tease him by being quiet, silencing your moans which leads to him being more rough and vocal.

You almost jump at the feeling of his finger rounding around your puckered hole, a soft gasp leaving your lips. He puts pressure with his finger, just not enough to actually enter you but enough to make you clench around nothing. He adds the rest of his fingers, trailing them down until he pushes apart your folds and starts to rubbing your heat.

“For not wanting to have a period sex, you’re certainly wet.” he comments, tone cocky and confident as you roll your eyes.

There’s no way he could see you, with your face pressed into his pillow, but he still slaps you as if he knew what your reaction would be.

“I’m not on my period yet.” you comment back, turning your head to the side just to see him from the corner of his eyes. Fuck, you want to feel him so much.

“Let me prep you.” he says, ready to push his fingers in as you flinch and shake your head.

“No,” you breathe out, “Fill me now, Jungkook. I need you.”

You don’t care how desperate you sound, all you can think about is his thick veiny cock inside of you. Knowing your boyfriend, he always makes sure he preps you just right for his cock, not wanting to hurt you. There’s always an extra bottle of lube in his nightstand.

“Are you sure?” He sounds skeptical and doesn’t move just yet. “I always prep you.”

Fuck, you know that. You just can’t wait. Maybe it’s the hormones or the uncomfortable feeling in your lower back, but you can’t waste another second.

“I’m sure, promise,” you murmur, glancing at him before you give him a tiny smile. “Just fuck me, baby.”

He curses underneath his breath, complementing for a few seconds before he breathes out a soft and almost inaudible ’okay’. The mattress shakes slightly underneath his weight as he takes off his boxers, and you take that opportunity to look at him. The sight of his thick length in his hands, pumping himself with tilted head back, you clench around nothing again. Fuck, you’re so wet.

He looks at you through his black lashes and hair falling into his eyes, darkened gaze meeting yours as he gives you the sexiest smirk of all times. He adjusts himself, the tip of his length poking your clit as you gasp.

“Don’t you wanna wear a condom?” you manage to choke out, feeling him poking your entrance this time. Oh fuck, this man will be the death of you.

“No,” he answers straight away. “Should I?” he asks, looking at your exposed back as he starts to caress it with his free hand.

You barely use condoms, but there is still at least one package in his nightstand just in case.

“Not if you don’t want to,” you tell him, smiling at the softness of his voice and thoughtfulness. “I just thought that-- you know, just in case...” you trail off awkwardly, knowing he knows exactly what you’re talking about.

You’re like an open book for him. He knows you like the back of his own hand.

“Baby,” he murmurs, hands grabbing your hips as he leans down to kiss the space between your shoulders blades. “I told you I’m fine with it.”

That’s all you needed to know to give him a nod. If he’s fine with it, then so are you. Not wanting to waste another second, he asks you if you’re ready and the wiggle of your ass is just enough of an answer for him, making him chuckle at your neediness.

As always, he’s careful and takes an extra caution since he hasn't prepped you this time. His movements are slow, even when he starts to push himself in, he gives you the time to adjust. It’s easier, your juices leaking out of you makes it easier for him to slide in, but he still takes his time. He doesn’t want to thrust into you in a harsh way, not when you’re not properly stretched out.

Fuck, he can feel how tight you are around him, swallowing him right in as you clench around him.

“Jesus baby, I need you to relax.” he groans, shutting his eyes at the tightness of walls.

“I’m trying,” you breathe out, “So good, you feel so good.”

“Fuck, I think I might cum.” he chuckles, causing you to the same.

There are times when Jungkook’s stamina is almost impossible, making it feel like a mission to make him cum. But there are times when he’s overwhelmed and needy, especially when you haven’t had sex for a few days. But you did, just two days ago and you don’t know what’s the reason behind his sudden choked up state.

You’re sensitive, knowing it’s not going to take long for you to cum. As soon as he starts thrusting in, you know it’s the end for you.

He bottoms out, letting the two of you adjust and embrace yourself for what’s about to come. He takes his time feeling up your body, hands rummaging your ass, back and slowly grabbing your tender breasts. He can tell your period is coming, not just by remembering you crying at some ridiculous scene yesterday or you scolding him for being messy this past week, but from the way your breasts feel. He pinches your nipples, caressing them right away, while he hears your soft gasps. You’re trying extremely hard not to clench from every touch he gives you, he can tell by the way you’re clutching the black sheets. Moving his hands down, he caresses your lower stomach again, like that time when he cuddled you from behind. But this time, he feels your skin and slightly bulged out stomach. Both from your period coming and his length nestled inside of you. He loves when that happens, when he can not just feel but see himself inside of you.

“Ready?” he asks, voice thick with softness and lust.

“Yes, please.” you whine, preparing yourself not to lose it all as soon as he starts to move.

He holds your hips for better support and grip, before he pulls out just to the point his head stays inside. Although, this time he thrusts in right away but still careful. You can't see him, but something tells you he's watching your reaction, making sure he's not doing anything uncomfortable to you. As soon as he's met with your gasps and moans of pleasure, he allows himself to go faster. 

“Holy shit.” he gasps, your brows pinching together but before you can voice out your confusion of his sudden reaction, he's picking up his pace.

It's no surprise that his length inside you feels fucking amazing, it always does. Your walls are slippery and tighter than usual, even you can tell the difference and judging by Jungkook's raged breathing and grunts, he thinks the same thing. The squelching sounds of your wetness and heat often make you embarrassed, but not this time. All you can focus is Jungkook and the way he controls your body, holding your ass up when you start to slide down.

“You're so fucking hot, baby,” he grunts, followed with the sound of his balls hitting your clit. “My woman.”

The bedroom is filled with so much filthy sounds, making the atmosphere even more erotic than ever and Jungkook's dirty words evoke another wave of pleasure inside you.

“Yours.” you moan, trying to perch your ass for him better but he's got you. His strong hands are holding you, making sure you won't run away from his throbbing length. 

“I'm gonna marry you one day,” he promises, your walls clenching straight away.

This is not a part of his usual dirty talk, since he's very vocal during sex saying all the right filthy words to bring you closer to your orgasm, but this time's different. And maybe because this is the first time he brought up marriage during sex, it clouds your mind with pleasure and lust even more. 

“You're gonna be my wife. You're gonna be Mrs. Jeon,” he grits through his clenched teeth, fingers digging into your skin but it doesn't hurt. You love it. 

“Yeah?” you ask, voice strained and hopeful. 

“Yeah,” he says straight away, slowing down his pace as he starts to roll his hips into you. “And then you're gonna have my kids.” he whispers into your ear, voice raspy and stern, sounding so erotic to your ears that your vision gets hazy for a moment. 

“Please.” you manage to choke out, not really sure whether you're begging for it to become true or him sending you over the edge. 

Anyways, Jungkook listens and starts to set up an animalistic pace, knowing you're enjoying this more than he ever thought you'd be. Again, maybe it's the hormones or the fact he's helping you with the pain you've quickly forgot about. He slides down his arm over your bulged stomach, holding you there while he can feel himself moving inside of you. 

“You're gonna bear my baby in here one day, and then you won't have to worry about cramps for a few months.”

In other situation, you might've laugh at his comment, knowing the actual birth is even more painful than period cramps. And the fact that woman can bleed for a couple of months after giving birth, is nothing compare to having a period for seven days. But still, he makes it sound so erotic, the way he talks about your future and is so sure of himself. It warms your heart at the same time, knowing you've chosen the right man. There's no one else who could make evoke such emotions inside of you like Jungkook can.

“Fuck, are you close?” he asks breathlessly, feeling the way you clench around him even tighter than before.

He notices your white knuckles gripping the black sheets you always complain about, telling him how dark it makes your bedroom look. Oh fuck, how much he loves you. Even when you complain about useless stuff, he loves you with his entire heart. 

Your knees are buckling, barely holding up your weight and if it weren't for Jungkook holding you, you'd be sprawled on the mattress like a dead animal. 

“Yes.” you answer, confirming his assumption.

“Where do you want it? Want me to fill you up?” he asks, his own voice getting raspier and strained at your walls barely allowing him to move inside of you. 

“Wherever you want.” Is all you say, not caring where he cums.

He loves cumming inside of you, even though it barely happens. It's just for a caution and you assume as soon as you've told him those words, he'll take this opportunity to cum inside of you.

It's not like you don't love it, oh shit, you do. The feeling of his warm cum inside you, filling you up to the brim is irresistible and mind-blowing. 

You jerk away when you hear him spitting, soon feeling his saliva sliding down your ass. He catches it with his thumb, tracing your puckered hole with it as he continues thrusting inside of you. It's too much, his finger circling around your hole while the other one is filled up with his thick throbbing length, and you feel yourself getting closer. 

With your remaining strength, you manage to reach your orgasm by meeting his thrusts. Your ass slaps against his abdomen with each thrust, the mixed sounds of your skin slapping against his and your moans with Jungkook's grunts, you feel yourself getting close.

“Cum for me, baby. Let me fill you up.” 

With a whiny moan, you're cumming around him, feeling your juices and wetness run down your thighs. It's nothing massive, but you can still feel the extra wetness of your arousal and cum. 

“Fuck. I'm cumming!” Jungkook groans, his hips halting before you feel him twitch inside of you. Moaning at the feeling, he fills you up like he promised, making sure you got every drop of him.

Your legs shake, but you don't dare to move or fall back onto the mattress that looks rather inviting. You know you've to take a shower, knowing you made a mess. Jungkook pulls out, apologizing softly when he hears you hiss, he allows his cum to leak out of you.

“Bloody hell.”

It's not the British accent that makes you turn around, it's his words and following chuckle that he makes. He sits down onto his ankles, his length already softening but you barely notice it as you stare at it.

“Oh my fucking god!” you exclaim, eyes widening and throat clenching at the sight that's in front of you. 

HIs entire length is covered in your blood and as you sit down onto your knees, you look between your legs to see the mess there. There's a line of blood and cum slowly trailing down your thigh, causing you to gasp in utter shock. 

“Baby, it's fine.” Jungkook chuckles, standing up from the bed as he reaches for his old shirt that's draped over the chair that's in the corner of the room, handing it to you. 

You snatch it from his hands, cheeks flaming with embarrassment as you clean yourself. 

“This is so fucking embarrassing.” you whine, voice quivering that makes Jungkook shoot straight to action. 

“Baby,” he calls out, already making his way to the bed before he takes the shirt from you. He cleans off the running blood with it as he smiles at you. “There's nothing embarrassing about this. We both wanted this. Look, I'm perfectly fine.” he says, stretching out his arms giving you a great opportunity to look at his length. 

You cringe, staring at him. “That's disgusting.”

“No, it's not.” he argues back, grinning at you. 

“I thought I won't get it, especially not during sex.” you murmur, watching him to clean off himself. The poor shirt does a terrible job, but still manages to clean at least something.

“It was hot as fuck.” 

“When did you notice it?” you ask him, already finding him giving you a sheepish look. 

“When I first thrusted in and pulled out.”

“Jungkook!” you exclaim, careful not to sit down onto your ass. “Why haven't you told me?”

“Because I knew you'd grow embarrassed and I wanted you to enjoy it. Baby,” you look at him with a huge scowl on your face, which makes him smile at you. “There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You loved it and so did I. Did it work? Does your tummy still hurts?” 

You realize that it doesn't hurt, there's still a throb between your legs, but it's not caused by your period. Looking down, you see your blood on the sheets and it makes you gasp.

“I ruined the sheets!” you exclaim. 

“It's fine, you hated them.” he waves his hand, before he helps you to stand up.

“But--”

“No buts, I'll take care of the sheets later. Let's take a shower, yeah?” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he kisses the tip of your nose. 

Knowing Jungkook and his love for doing the laundry, he'll probably test the new stain remover product he bought last week, to see if it gets rid of blood. Not wanting to complain or be embarrassed, you know Jungkook simply doesn't care. He's perfectly fine, kissing your lips as if to prove your thoughts, before you sigh.

“I love you.” You feel like you should tell him, and looking in those dark doe eyes full of love and affection, you know he feels the same. 

But he doesn't waste the opportunity to voice out his thoughts. 

“I love you, my love.” he says, kissing you for the last time as he leads you to the bathroom where he sets up the perfect water temperature before he allows you to step into the shower.

It's the time when you both shower, making sure you clean all the blood off your bodies, when you see the reddened water. Jungkook follows your vision, already grinning when he says; “Bloody hell.”

You slap his chest, scowling at the ridiculous joke.

“Can you stop saying that?” you scold him, seeing him still grinning at you.

“What, you don't like my British accent?” he teases, wiggling his brows as he keeps grinning. His nose scrunched and bunny teeth on display, you fight the urge to smile. 

“It's not about your British accent and you know it.” you murmur.

“I was just teasing,” he chuckles, pulling you closer to him as you let out a sequel when your legs slip. But as usual, Jungkook holds you and makes sure nothing happens to you. “I love you.” he kisses you before you can react, your lips stretching into a huge smile through the kiss. 

When he pulls away, he licks his lips as darkened lust fills his eyes. 

“Can we do this again next month? Or tomorrow? You know... since it worked.” he suggests, wiggling his brows at you as you slap his chest. This time, you find yourself laughing at your ridiculous boyfriend. 

“Jungkook!”

[s0seo]

Attitude Adjustment Pt.2

Pairing: Roommate!Jk x Reader x Roommate!Taehyung

WC: ~10.8K. Rating: M.

Description: After hearing an argument between your two roommates, you are a bit shocked to hear that they both have feelings for you. Add a bit of possessiveness and a dash of domination and you have one heck of a trio.

Genre: Smut. It’s literally just smut Bit of exposition, but it’s a filthy mess.

Warnings: little to no editing, swearing, bit of humor, dirty talk, a bit of guilt, hair pulling, slight choking, rough sex, low key masochism? (Idk they like their pleasure and pain), possessiveness, jk is sweet for a few seconds, unprotected sex (please be responsible), nipple appreciation (love to see it), praise kink  (Taehyung is a good boy), soft dom vibes, use of a wall, oral sex (f&m receiving), scratching, mentions of jealousy, possessiveness, mentions of yoga, usage of the words: princess and baby.

A/n: I hope you all enjoy! And as always I hope everyone stays happy and healthy. If you see a typo, no you didn’t, and if you don’t like fics like this, then don’t @ me I told you it was filthy.

A/n 2: I really want to send a shoutout to @mwitsmejk . Tbh I’d you hadn’t commented on the post I wouldn’t have written this, so I guess you could say this is for you ❤️😉

A/n 3: I’d also like to give a big thank you to @hobeemin and @jimidol for giving this a glance and making sure it was good enough to post.

© s0seo please do not copy or edit as protested under this license :)

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

You feel the words being whispered against your skin, pulling you from your slumber. From the gravelly tone, you're pretty sure it’s Jungkook.

For a moment, you think it’s just your imagination. After all, you were alone when you went to sleep last night, weren’t you?

A featherlight touch on your shoulder brings back everything that happened last night; the movie, the sex, god the sex, and ultimately falling asleep together.

‘Fuck,’ you think to yourself. ‘Why the hell did you have to make a move on both of them? And at the same time!’

This is definitely going to change things. But now, the only question is, how? You know that you’re interested in both of them and vice versa, but would they be willing to share?

God, just the reminder of the word makes you cringe internally at yourself. Telling Taehyung to share probably wouldn’t be that hard, but Jungkook… That needs to be handled...very, very delicately.

In retrospect, telling him that if he wanted you, he was going to have to learn to share while teasing him and making him watch as Taehyung fucked you was probably one of the worst ways you could have approached the subject. Well, you live and you learn.

The more you think about it though, the more you realize you don’t regret any of what happened. If anything you felt a bit satisfied at the look on his face as you took his ego down a few notches. What was it that Jungkook said to you last night right as you were falling asleep? “If it came down to it, you’d be all mine.”

Figures, you were a fool to think that just one night of teasing would get his ego under control.

A warm arm wraps around your body and you feel Jungkook’s muscular chest pressing against your back as he whispers, “I know you’re awake. If you want to avoid me, you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that.”

Maybe you’ll get another chance to play with his ego sooner than you thought. After all, putting him in his place and making him squirm has always been so much fun. If you didn’t know any better, you might even say that he enjoys it just as much as you do.

You release a quiet chuckle at his words before slowly sliding your body further back against his. If the firmness against your ass doesn’t tell you that he knows you’re awake, then his quiet groan in your neck certainly does.

Slowly opening your eyes, you hold back your disappointment as you find the space in front of you empty. Taehyung must have left early this morning to take a few photos. You know he’s been working on a photography project, but you thought he might have woken you up before he left.

“Morning,” you hear Jungkook whisper once more, his voice still scratchy from sleep. His fingers trace circles over your stomach, and as he presses his lips into your neck, you rub your ass against the hardness behind you, smiling to yourself as he releases another quiet groan. The sound alone brings warmth to your core.

You slowly turn over and look up at him. He stares into your eyes from behind his messy waves, his hand on his fist as he smiles playfully down at you.

“Hi there,” he says softly, and this time, his fingers slide along the curve of your waist. His smile is infectious. You’re almost tempted to run your hands along his body and turn his grin into a whimper. Almost.

“Tell me, were you pretending to be asleep because you regret what happened, or because you were hoping I’d wake you up with something other than words?”

His implication sends a wave of heat through your body, and you imagine just how good it would feel to be awoken by the feeling of his lips on your skin while his fingers tease you.

You return his smile as you admire his messy hair along with the visible bruise in between his throat and his collarbone. A small part of you knows they’re going to be an inconvenience for him, but you don’t really care. If anything, it only makes you want to give him more. Slowly, you reach up and brush your finger against his collarbone. He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against yours.

“Neither. I was just waiting for you to leave so I could have the entire bed to myself again.”

You take the opportunity to give him a light playful kiss then trail your lips down to his neck.

“I guess that’s not going to happen now is it,” you pout playfully against his skin.

His arm wraps around your body, pulling you closer, and he rolls onto his back until you’re left straddling him. He looks up at you, smirking as his hands slowly travel down from your waist to your thighs.

“Now what kind of guy would I be if I left you without even saying goodbye,” he asks as his hands finally settle on your ass.

You know his words were likely meant to be a dig at Taehyung, but you ignore them and instead glance at your clock and smile. “Don’t you have to leave soon?”

“I’ve still got like an hour. I'm sure they’ll be fine without me for a few minutes,” he assures you. “Besides,” his hands slide up your waist once more as he sits up and glances over at the mattress where Taehyung should be. “What’s wrong with wanting you all to myself for a bit? Don’t you want to have some fun?”

He leans in for a kiss but you hold a finger up to his lips to stop him.

“Uh-uh. Go. You need to shower. I don’t want to be the reason you’re late. Besides, your morning breath is practically lethal.”

He lets out a playful chuckle at your insult and before you can react, he gives your finger a playful nibble and wraps his arms around you.

You release a cry of surprise when he rolls your bodies over and settles himself between your legs. One of his hands pins your wrists above your head while the other travels down to the side of your body and lingers.

“You want to talk about morning breath,” he teases from above you. “I’m pretty sure your snoring could be heard from the other side of the city.”

A smile fights its way to your face, you are reminded once again why you consider him one of your best friends. His jealousy and possessiveness might leave much to be desired, but he is also one of the sweetest, silliest, and funniest people you know.

You let out a gasp of mock offense and see a mischievous glint make its way to his eyes. His fingers slowly slide up to your rib cage, and as you stare into his eyes, you know what’s about to happen.

“Don’t you dare,” you warn as you try to hide your grin and narrow your eyes at him. He smiles down at you suspiciously, and before you can push his hands away they’re on your sides tickling you. You release a cry of laughter, rolling your bodies over once more to straddle his waist as you begin tickling him as well.

For a few seconds that feel much longer, the two of you continue to roll one another over and claim your victory again and again. Finally, Jungkook cries out in defeat and you settle yourself on top of him once more as you look down at him and gloat.

“Looks like someone forgot they’re ticklish too…”

Your breathing is heavy as you pin his wrists above his head and you fight off a receding wave of giggles. Leaning down close to his face you can’t help but smile down at him. His eyes sparkle, and his smile is wide as he gazes up at you and steals a glance at your lips.

As you take in his expression, you realize once again how much you care about him.

His bright eyes stare deeply into yours, searching for something you can’t quite put your finger on.

You’ve noticed this look before, many times actually. It’s as if you’re the most beautiful and important thing in the world, and if he looks away even for a moment, he’ll miss you.

This is the look that has made your heart skip a beat so many times over the years, he’s always been so easy to be happy with. Joking, teasing, even when you’re struggling, you’ve always appreciated how easily he gets you.

You glance down at his mouth, your fingers lightly caressing his face before planting a soft, slow kiss on his lips. His hips rise up in response, and you feel his firmness meeting your core as he grabs your hips and begins grinding your body into his.

You know that all it would take to keep him here is sliding forward a few inches, and if you did he probably wouldn’t even argue with you. It would be so easy.

‘No,’ you chide yourself. ‘He has to get to work.’

You’re not going to let yourself be the reason he comes home later complaining about how much he’s fallen behind on his workload.

“What am I going to do with you,” you sigh as you smile down at him and caress his face once more. Just the sight of him is so precious.

He reaches up and smiles, pushing a bit of your hair behind your ear as he admires you in return.

“I can think of a few things…” he teases.

“That won’t make you late,” you counter as he sits up once more.

“Well,” he says, “I do need to shower before I leave. Thanks to someone,” he teases, planting a playful kiss on your neck afterwards, “I got a bit dirty last night.”

“How unfortunate,” you pout, “well I just so happen to have a perfectly good shower that isn’t being used.”

His hands lazily massage your ass as he pretends to consider your offer.

“Who am I to refuse the offer of someone so beautiful and kind,” he asks, releasing a fake sigh.

You roll your eyes at his cheesiness and chuckle as you climb off of him, your smile now a copy of the one he gave you earlier.

As you watch him get out of bed, you admire his figure from behind. His shoulders and back are well toned, and the tattoos that run up and along his arm are all complimented by the curve of his biceps. Not to mention the scratch marks left on his shoulders from your nails last night.

“You know, normally I’d say it’s rude to stare, but in your case, I guess I should just ask if you’re enjoying the view.”

Your gaze travels from his lower body to his eyes, only to find him smirking at you over his shoulder.

In a lot of ways, you see yourself in him. His confidence, his humor, and his commitment to those he cares about is close if not equal to your own.

He was right when he said that the two of you were perfect for each other. However, what he continuously fails to realize is that unlike him, you can keep your cockiness and selfishness in check. Well, most of the time anyways.

You return his smirk and rise out of your bed. Making sure to keep your tone innocent, you walk up to him slowly.

Looking up at him from beneath your eyelashes, you glance down at his lower body and tease, “it’s nothing I haven’t seen before…nothing too impressive here...”

He releases a doubtful chuckle before turning around to walk into your bathroom.

“Umm what do you think you’re doing,” you ask him before he can take a step in.

He looks down at you in confusion.

“I thought you said I could use your shower?”

“Of course you can, but just because I let you use my shower doesn’t mean I’ll let you track water all over the floor once you’re done.”

He lifts his eyebrows up at you as if to say “really,” but you guide him out of your room and confess, “alright, you got me. I don’t really give a shit about the water, I just really have to pee, and as close as we are, I don’t really need you to watch me.”

He holds back a chuckle at your confession, but you ignore him and continue. “Besides, you need to get your toothbrush and your clothes anyways.”

He lets out a laugh at your words and gives you a nod of defeat. “Of course, I’ll leave you to it then.” He winks down at you before casually walking down the stairs to his bedroom.

‘For someone who said they needed to get to work, he sure is taking his sweet ass time,’ you think to yourself as you rush to your bathroom and finally manage to relieve yourself.

Afterward, you quickly brush your teeth and turn the shower water on so that it’s warm for Jungkook when he comes back.

While you wait for him to return, you take the opportunity to look in the mirror and check out the damage from last night.

As your eyes finally settle on your reflection, you release a gasp, trying your best not to cringe at your reflection. This is what Jungkook called beautiful just now?

Your cheeks are puffy, smudged mascara surrounds your eyes, and there are dried outlines of black tears scattered along the sides of your face. You reach up to put your hair in a bun as you inspect the bruises on your neck and collarbones.

‘That’s going to be inconvenient to cover,’ you think to yourself. It’s a good thing you don’t have class today. You don’t know what you’d do if your professor saw his most promising assistant with bruises all over her neck.

Still gazing at your reflection, you smile and admire the marks further down your body as you remember the feeling of the mouths that put them there. The potential thought of more is already getting you much more excited than it should.

The bruises on your shoulder blades from the wall Jungkook pinned you against match the ones on your thighs from how hard he grabbed you. You were aware of his strength, but feeling him grab you like that and watching his muscles flex as he pounded himself into you was really something else.

The image of the scratches on your back brings a pleasant shiver down your spine and into your core as you remember the matching set you gave Jungkook as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him deeper.

Just thinking about it makes you want to dedicate an entire day to let him fuck you again and again until you beg him to stop.

Now that you think about it, he seems so laid back about everything that happened last night. Maybe discussing your relationship won’t be that difficult after all. The understanding between the two of you might actually form on its own.

He’s always been this way with you. No matter what you’ve done, who you’ve slept with, or what others have said about you, Jungkook has always been by your side to support you, to care for you. Honestly, a part of you sometimes wonders why. You just wish he wasn’t so fucking possessive and cocky all the time.

The reflection of Jungkook’s slender frame pulls you from your thoughts, and you make a point of inspecting his body for any marks that might seem troubling.

“What,” he asks, his toned body walking towards you.

“I feel kinda bad for all of the bruises I left on you,” you admit. While they look pretty to you, you know that ultimately they’re going to be a problem.

He looks at himself in your slightly fogged mirror and shrugs at his reflection before wrapping his arms around the front of your body.

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t really care about them.”

You lower your head a bit but persist, “Still, I probably should have asked if you were okay with it before I did it. I know I pushed you kinda far last night with the teasing and the pain.”

“Actually,” he looks up at the ceiling as he thinks, “I don't mind a little bit of pain, giving or receiving.” He adds the last part with a wink and a nibble on your ear.

“Oh really? And what about the teasing,” you ask, slowly turning your body towards him, ready to test his claim.

He grins down at you with a spark of mischief in his eyes. “I love a challenge.”

You let your eyes roam across his face and give him a smirk. “Noted.”

Reaching up, your finger traces over one of the marks you left on his neck, and grimace a bit.

“Won’t these be inconvenient to cover though,” you ask, adding a bit of pout to your voice.

He angles his head before asking, “now why would I cover them?”

“Well, they aren’t exactly the image of professionalism,” you counter.

He gives you a smirk. “What are they going to do, fire me from my own company?”

You open your mouth to argue, but he raises a finger to your lips to interrupt you. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

You open your mouth to bite at his finger, but he gives you an amused smile and releases a dramatic sigh.

“If anything,” he mutters quietly, “they might make work a bit easier.”

He leans back against the wall, a hand running through his hair as he gazes down at you through half open lids.

‘Easier?’ You ask yourself silently. ‘What the hell does he mean easier?’

You place a hand on your hip while raising an eyebrow. “I really don’t see how.”

Cockiness radiates off of him as he reaches grins and pulls your body to his. “Well, I usually have a hard time getting around the office without employees throwing themselves at me.”

His confession makes you roll your eyes. ‘Of course he can’t make it five feet without being hit on,’ you think to yourself sarcastically. ‘After all, who would ever be able to turn down the famous game designer Jeon Jungkook?’

Your eyes search his face for a moment. You can’t tell if he’s saying this to be honest or if it’s just to see how you’ll react. Knowing him as well as you do, it’s most likely a bit of both. You’ve seen first hand just how many people would like a piece of him. Yourself included.

Still, would it hurt him to show a bit of humility every once in a while? You let out a laugh at his brazenness. Surely he doesn’t expect you to fall for this does he? His hand slides down the curve of your spine as you bat your eyelashes at him. If he wants to be this way, fine. Two can play at this game.

“Why don’t you just tell them you have a girlfriend or something,” you ask, feigning innocence.

He leans his head back against the wall, a chuckle leaving his pretty lips. “Trust me, I’ve tried, but they never believe me.”

When you don’t respond and instead simply narrow your eyes at him, he continues. “I don’t have any proof. No pictures, no date nights, no random gifts. It's almost like I…” he raises his eyebrows at you dramatically, “don’t have a girlfriend.”

“And just how often does this happen,” you ask, vaguely aware of the jealousy lining your tone. Now that you think about it, as much as you complain about Jungkook’s jealousy and possessiveness, when it comes to the thought of someone else having him, you aren’t much better.

His glances down at you silently, slowly walking you backwards until he presses your body between the counter and his muscular body. The muscles in his arms flex as he places his hands on both sides of your body and traps you against him. His face is hovering just inches from yours now, and he gives you a smirk that quickly turns into a playful pout. “Every. Single. Day,” he whispers, bringing his lips closer and closer to yours with every word.

You trace your finger down the side of his face, your eyes conveying a look of mock sympathy. ‘Now he’s just begging for me to claim him,’ you think, as you graze your nails along his throat.

“Oh you poor thing, it must be so hard fighting off all of those pretty girls and boys every day,” you tease, your pointer finger now grazing his bottom lip as you continue. “Constantly begging for your attention, begging for you to make them yours…”

“Yeah,” he agrees, noticing your jealousy, “it really is. But you know what the most satisfying part is?”

You angle your head at him, and he slides his hand along your thighs before grabbing your ass and lifting you onto the counter.

“What?”

He glances down at your lips, whispering into the steamy air between your faces, “Knowing that at the end of the day, no matter how hard they try, they’ll never compare to you.” His tone is playful, but his eyes are serious. “I belong with you.”

“You belong with me,” you echo back to him, finding satisfaction in his claim. Your nails lightly graze his scalp and shoulder as you stare up at him, a seductive smile spreading across your face.

He leans into your lips and whispers, “I always have baby,” before meeting them with his own.

The kiss is passionate yet unhurried. Your tongue flicks against his bottom lip while your legs wrap around his waist to pull his body closer. As he opens himself up to you your fingers find their way to his jaw and firmly hold it in place. His lips break apart from yours as you stare into his eyes. “You’re mine,” You say slowly, placing one more kiss on his lips. He’s perfect for you. He moans into your lips, his hands sliding down to your hips to pull your body into his while his head drops down to your chest.

You slide your nails lightly up the length of his abs as you pull away and bite down on his bottom lip. He’s intoxicating. His lips, his body, everything about him.

“Say it,” you breathe.

You release a whimper as his teeth graze the sensitive skin of your nipple, your fingers lacing through his messy waves.

“I’m all yours,” he says, his words followed by the sound of your moan as his fingers pinch your nipple.

“I told you I’d make you moan for me,” he whispers.

He lifts two of his fingers to your lips, and you roll your tongue around them

A gasp leaves your lips as his mouth travels to your other nipple while he lowers his fingers from your mouth to the wetness between your legs.

“God, you’re already so wet for me,” he groans against your skin before giving your nipple another sudden nip.

“Is it because you love the idea of having me all to yourself?”

He inserts one finger, then two, smiling as you whimper. “Maybe it’s the fact that you have a bit of competition,” he challenges as he adds a third.

You slide your fingers along the side of his face and firmly grip the back of his head between your hands. When his hand between your legs stills, you stare into his eyes and bring your face a breath away from yours.

“It’s because,” you confess quietly, while slowly sliding your hand down to his cock and wrapping your fingers around it. “I love the thought of other people wanting what’s mine.”

His cock twitches at your words, and you slide your fingers over the precum that coats his head, eager to spread it along the rest of him.

He releases a gasp as you tighten your grip and smirk. God, he feels so good in your hand. So thick and long, you can’t wait to have him inside you.

You throw your head back and whine as his fingers curl upwards, his free hand now reaching down to tease your clit.

“Who knew you’d be such a slut for my fingers…” He growls the words into your neck, your walls clench around him as his breath sends shivers along your skin.

“I could make you fall apart so easily…” he teases, increasing his pace. “With my hands…” he whispers, squeezing your clit and making you whimper. You feel your orgasm building with every sentence. At this rate, you’ll be cumming in no time.

“My lips…” he continues before trailing his lips across your throat and marking you roughly. “Even my c...cock…” he sputters out as your fingers lightly caress his balls while increasing your own pace. You can tell that his self control is slipping. Just a little bit further now.

He rests his forehead on the curve of your neck and releases a groan against your sensitive skin, his fingers still roughly hitting your spot over and over again. “Tell me what you want,” he groans. “It’s all yours. I’m all yours.”

Your walls clench at his words. He’s all yours, only yours. “Harder,” you rasp as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. “Fuck...” you gasp out.

He brings his lips to your ear. “You wanna soak my fingers in your cum, don’t you baby?”

You give him a nod and whimper as he reduces his pace to a slow aggressive assault, your nails digging into his shoulder.

“Say it. Tell me how fucking desperate you are for me.”

“Please,” you whimper, “I need you inside of me.”

“I’m all yours baby,” he whispers as he finds pleasure at the sight of you falling apart on his fingers.

Your hand leaves his cock and you grab him by his hair to pull him in for a desperate and forceful kiss.

“You’re mine,” you growl and meet his thrusts with your own as he returns to his deliciously aggressive pace.

“Only yours.”

You bury your nails into his shoulder as your orgasm barrels through you and onto his hand. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through your body and you hear him groan at the pain as he continues to tease you through your orgasm.

When you come back down from your high, he lifts his cum-soaked fingers to his lips and slowly licks two of them clean.

His last finger rises to your lips, parting them. He smiles as you meet it with your tongue and swirl it around the taste of your pleasure.

He removes his other hand from your clit and pulls your head back to look up at him as he smirks down at you. “Did that feel good? Using my fingers to fuck yourself…”

You nod up at him, your eyes staring into his fucked out gaze while your hand smoothly slides down to his throat. Slowly you pull his lips back to yours, your free hand and drops your free hand back down to his cock. “How about I return the favor,” you ask softly, smirking at him.

You give it a few strokes before pulling his body forward and sliding him into your inviting core.

He groans out at your tightness, his forehead dropping to your neck. As he finally bottoms out, you let out a gasp. A grin spreads across your face as his hands roughly grab our ass and he lifts you up and pins you to the wall.

You release a cry at the force of each of his thrusts while reveling in the pleasure as your nails dig into his back. The pace he sets is slow at first, too slow. “Faster Kookie...harder”

He brings one of his hands to your throat, his grip tightening as he increases his pace.

“That’s right baby. I’m all yours. Now let me hear how badly you need me inside of you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a whine as he rams into your g-spot.

“I want to hear you fucking say it,” he growls as he brings his face close to yours and tightens his grip around your neck.

Again, he thrusts into you. And again. And again. The pace is as brutal as it is satisfying as he continues at an agonizing yet deliciously brutal pace while hitting your pleasure every time.

“Please...I...I need you…fuck…”

You are a moaning, whimpering mess as he fucks you against the wall, your shoulders already bruising once more from the force of his thrusts. It feels amazing.

Your nails rake along his back and through his waves, pulling them harshly. He leans his head back, a groan of ecstasy leaving his lips at the combination of pleasure and pain as you tighten your legs around him and pull him in even deeper.

Reaching up, you grab his face and admire his concentrated features. “Put me back down on the counter.”

He turns around and sets you down just as you instruct him. “Good boy,” you say as you slide your body down until your feet hit the floor.

You see a look of annoyance cross over his face at the name, but it disappears as soon as it arrives.

You turn around, facing the mirror as you spread your legs and reach behind you to guide his lips to your neck. You sigh at the feeling of his teeth on your skin once more and lean your head back as his body slides against yours.

As his cock passes against your tailbone, you close your eyes, your head falling forward as he teases your lips.

“Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you.”

You feel his hand reach up and smoothly wrap his fingers around your throat.

His breath tickles the skin of your neck, making tour walls clench in response.

“Look at me,” he whispers into your ear as he slowly slides in and out of you once more.

When you open your eyes, the image before you brings a moan. You watch as his fingers slide from your throat to your breast and tease your nipple with his fingers.

“I want to hear you say it.”

Your reflections are blurry, but that just makes it even hotter. Your gaze travels up to his and you tilt your head to the side and plant a soft kiss on his lips. “I want you…” you groan out breathlessly as he begins slowly thrusting in and out of you, “to show me exactly what I’ve been missing all this time.”

You tighten around him as he pinches your skin, and he leans forward and begins marking your neck once more.

“Your wish,” he says before placing a rough kiss on your neck, “is my command princess.”

You have half a thought to offer a snarky retort, but all thoughts disappear as he slowly pulls himself out and suddenly slams back into you. You can’t help the cry that leave your lips, or the stars that fill your vision as he begins his grueling pace.

You watch the way his neck flexes as he thrusts, the way his lips curve as he gasps out. God he’s so fucking attractive. And he’s all yours.

You feel yourself tighten around him and find him watching your bodies through your reflections. Fuck he looks so good like this. You both do. The only thing that could make this better is if Taehyung was here too.

You lean forward, bracing your hands out in front of you as you watch your bodies.

“Fuck me harder. I want to feel all of you inside of me.”

He grabs a handful of your hair and forces you to arch your back as he grunts and buries himself even deeper. God he makes you feel so full. He’s so rough with you. It’s perfect.

You look into his eyes as every thrust forces a gasp out of you, his hand occasionally traveling down your back and slapping you ass hard.

“Fuck, you feel so good squeezing my cock like this.”

You moan back to him in response and your eyes roll back into your head as he reaches around and begins teasing your over sensitive clit again.

“Fuck…I…I’m getting close,” you warn him. You try to fight off the pleasure, to make this moment last as long as possible, but he squeezes your clit tightly and growls into your neck. “Cum for me baby.”

When you whimper, he pinches your clit again and bites down on your neck. “Come on, don’t fight it… show me how easy it is to make you cum.”

You narrow your eyes at his reflection and release a cry as he slaps your ass hard once more and moves even faster.

“Come on...show me how much you love my cock…”

He slaps your ass again and places his fingers around your neck. You feel his breath tickle your skin with every gasp, his grip tightens as his lips tease the skin of your neck once more.

Suddenly, he sinks his teeth into your neck, and you feel your body stiffen, your legs giving out on you completely as your second orgasm finally crashes through you. He continues his thrusting and tightens his grip on your hips as he rests his body against yours and unloads himself inside of you.

You feel the vibrations of his groans through your skin and reach behind you to and guide his lips down to yours. As he finally pulls out, you look down at your legs and admire the mixture of your cum as it slowly slides down your leg.

Part of you imagines how hot it would be to see Jungkook and Taehyung on their knees in front of you licking it up. Who knows, with the way your relationship with them has been progressing, it might not be that unlikely.

Your focus returns to the man behind you, your legs still a bit shaky as you turn around. A small smile lines your face as you brush his hair from his face and caress his beautiful features.

He picks you up, and you wrap your legs around him once again as he carries you into the shower and sets you down on the built-in seat.

As you take a moment to allow your muscles to rest, you find yourself realizing just how out of shape you are.

Your body, for many obvious reasons, is exhausted. If your relationship with these men is going to continue, you’re going to need to start going to the gym again. Part of you is actually surprised you haven’t suffered from a hip cramp already. ‘Maybe some yoga would be better,’ you think to yourself.

As you somehow manage to rise to your feet and stand with him underneath the surprisingly still-warm water, your eyes close and a soft groan escapes your lips at the feeling of it.

When you finally open them again, you find Jungkook staring at you. His eyes follow the water as it cascades down your body, his teeth softly biting his bottom lip as his hands find your waist.

As your hands travel along his arms, you lean forward and drag your tongue along his neck. His grip on your waist drops down to your ass, and you begin trailing your lips along his collarbones.

You love how sensitive his body is. How easy it is to mark it, and especially how much he enjoys you playing with it. Especially his nipples.

Your lips make their way to one of his nipples, and he groans as you drag your teeth against it. Looking up at him, you smile as you slide your tongue against it and continue to tease it with your teeth. You’ve always loved watching him squirm.

Slowly, you move to his chest plate, your lips trailing featherlight kisses on his skin before continuing on to his other one.

He grabs your bottle of shampoo and squeezes it into his palm before massaging it into your hair. You close your eyes, a moan escaping your lips at the feeling of his fingers on your scalp. As the water washes the shampoo away, you take the opportunity to grab your body wash and work on cleaning his body.

You watch the bubbles form in your hands while he turns around, closes his eyes, and lets the water run over him.

He squirts more shampoo into his palms and this time massages it into his own hair while you reach forward and spread the soap along his body. God you could rub his body all day. His skin is smooth, yet firm as your fingers massage the bubbles into his muscles.

Now that you think about it, if you had known he was going to be this open with you this quickly, you would have made a move on him sooner.

His back arches as he leans into your hands, and you press your body against his back and begin spreading the body wash across his chest and stomach.

You let your hands slide lower and slowly wrap your fingers around his cock, smiling as he leans further into your body and lathers more body wash over his arms and chest. You place a few bite marks across his back and in between his shoulder blades and smile as he twitches in your palm.

Your hand begins sliding along his length, and he leans his head back and releases a groan as you slide your other hand up his chest and wrap your fingers around his throat.

His breathing quickens as you slide your thumb across his tip, and you gasp as he suddenly turns around and smiles down at you. His hands caress your face as he plants a sweet, lazy kiss on your lips. As his tongue slides against your lip, your hand returns to his cock, hoping to finish what you started.

He looks down at you once more and smirks before pulling his body away. “I thought you said you didn’t want to make me late?”

You narrow your eyes at him coyly and smile.

“Fine.”

“Good girl,” he whispers before squeezing a bit of body wash in his palm and spreading it across your body.

His hands slide over your shoulders and your breasts, then massage their way down to your ass, and finally come to a stop between your legs.

You close your eyes and let out a sigh as you feel his gentle fingers cleaning you up. Where the hell did he learn to do this?

His lips brush against yours, and a moan escapes your lips as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. God he feels good. His hands massage your ass, and as he pulls your body closer to his, you feel his still very much erect cock resting between your bodies.

Looking up and into his eyes you give him a smile, lower yourself onto your knees, and take him into your mouth. After all, what kind of roommate would you be if you didn’t help him get rid of the problem you caused?

He squirts some of your conditioner into his hands and massages it into his hair before doing the same to yours.

As his fingers slide though your hair he grabs a handful of it and throws his head back as you take him deep into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathes as you lift up a hand and begin massaging his balls.

He reaches out and places a hand on the wall in front of him as he leans forward, grits his teeth, and watches you from above.

“I’m gonna cum.”

You look up at him from beneath your eyelashes and take him out of your mouth. Smiling up at him, you wrap your fingers around him and continue jerking him off nice and slow, your lips sucking hard around his tip over and over again.

He sucks in a breath and caresses your face as you stare up and smile at him.

“Come on Kookie, what are you waiting for? I thought you said you were in a hurry…”

You feel him twitch in your hand once more and he lets out a whine as you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock up from the base and around his tip and suck it extra hard.

“Please,” he breathes.

“Come on, show me how good you taste Kookie…” you tease, giving him a taste of his own medicine. “Show me how easily you fall apart for me…”

His hands brace against the wall in front of him and he blocks the water from hitting you as you drop your hand and finally take him as deep as you can.

You feel him tense inside of your mouth a moment before you feel him shoot his load down your throat.

He releases a groan, and he thrusts himself into your mouth as he rides out his orgasm.

Slowly, you pull your mouth away from him, lick up the remaining cum from his cock, and smile up at him once you finish.

He pulls you up to your feet and places a kiss on your lips as he moans against your mouth.

“Let me taste,” he whispers against your lips before meeting his tongue with yours.

He explores your mouth for a few seconds, and your hands rise up to his chest as you rotate your bodies and moan at the feeling of the warm water running down your back.

Your hand travels down to his length you pull away for a minute as you finish rinsing him off.

His hands caress your face, and you stare up into his eyes as he looks down and lightly kisses your nose.

“Where are your towels again?”

When you don’t answer right away, he shuts the water off and steps out.

“Unless you plan on me licking you dry,” he teases, “it would probably be a good idea to give me a hint.”

You roll your eyes at him playfully and point to the nearest cabinet beneath the sink.

“And here I was thinking that you would be smart enough to look for them.”

He tosses a towel at you in response and you wrap your towel around you and head back to your room to get dressed.

“I hope you don’t mind. I went ahead and laid all of my clothes out,” he calls as he notices you staring at his clothes on your bed.

You tilt your head at him and sigh.

“Guess that means I have to help you get ready then doesn’t it?”

You reach into your dresser and grab a grey shirt you ‘borrowed’ from Jungkook a few months back and slide on a pair of comfy black sleep shorts.

“Is that my shirt,” you hear him ask from behind you.

“Technically speaking, it’s our shirt. I distinctly remember that I’m the one who bought it.”

“For me.” He adds with a laugh as he puts his underwear on.

Your eyes follow his movements as he puts on his pants next. Before he can button up his shirt though, you grab his hands and sit him down in your bed.

You straddle his thigh and smile at him as you begin sliding his tie around his neck. His thigh flexes between your legs and you angle your head and smile at him as your fingers fasten his buttons.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about this,” he confesses.

His hands slide along your body and finally settle on your ass as he looks up at you.

You leave a few of the top buttons of his shirt undone and look into his eyes for a moment. Just seeing the adoration written across his face as his gaze meets yours is enough to make you want to melt in his arms.

Taking his face between your palms, you lean down and place a featherlight kiss along his lips. He returns it earnestly. Your body responds eagerly to his hands as they travel along your ass and your back. Your mind however, keeps wandering back to his earlier confession. ‘If the workers at his office don’t believe he has a girlfriend, why not give them something to talk about’ you think to yourself.

Breaking the kiss, you lightly slide your lips along his jaw until you reach his throat, your tongue massaging his sensitive skin. Using one hand to turn his head and hold his jaw in place, the other slides beneath his collar as your lips find an empty space and mark it.

He releases a groan from beneath you, and you remove your mouth and place a feather light kiss over the fresh bruise before buttoning the rest of his shirt and tying his tie. That ought to be enough.

“What time do you think you’ll be back today,” you ask as you follow him to the living room.

He looks at his watch before sliding on his blazer and pursing his lips.

“Probably no later than six or seven. I have a meeting with a few of the game developers, and I need to fix some of the bugs that we found yesterday.”

You give him a nod. Seven should work fine. That’ll be just in time for dinner. You know that it would also be a good opportunity for all of you to finally talk and get on the same page.

“Okay. Tae and I can wait for you to get back and we can cook dinner together.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t argue as he responds dryly, “Sure.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but he ignores your irritation.

“I better go. I’ll see you later,” he says before placing a quick gentle kiss on your lips and walking out the door.

You know that he’s probably upset that you’re including Taehyung in your plans, but he’s just going to have to get over it. Taehyung isn’t going anywhere, and if he wants to act like he’s the only one who can have you then he’s got another thing coming.

You run a hand through your hair and walk back to your room as you release a yawn. A few more hours of sleep probably wouldn’t hurt. You grab the damp towels from on top of your bed and hang them up before turning your lights off and crawling back underneath your blankets.

By the time you wake up Taehyung should be back and you and him could probably make some lunch. Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky and he’ll bring some food home. Hopefully he’s taken some nice photos while he’s out.

You curl your body into your blankets and close your eyes as you imagine yourself between your roommates once again.

~

Bright light shines against your closed eyes, and you turn your head away from it and find yourself underneath the body of your sleeping roommate. Well, half underneath him.

His head is resting between your neck and your shoulder and one of his arms is resting on your waist while the other is pulled against his chest.

One of his legs is resting between yours as he holds onto you like one of his body pillows from on top of your blanket.

You smile down at him and use your free hand to softly brush a few of his curls from his face.

He seems to still be in his street clothes. His loose white v-neck and his tan pants stand out against the black of your comforter.

“God he looks so good,” you think to yourself. “He’s even adorable when he sleeps. If not even more so,” you add after a moment.

The bruises on his neck as well as the bite mark on his shoulder, courtesy of your teeth last night, send a feeling of satisfaction to your core. He looks so good like this, covered in bruises you gave him, like marks of commitment to you and only you.

The thought of that alone causes you to slide your hand down from his face to his chest and trace your finger over one of the bruises you left there.

You hold back a smile as you hear the light sound of snoring enter your ears.

Looking over at your clock you see that it’s already two pm. It’s been about four hours since Jungkook left. You wonder how long Taehyung has been back now. Maybe he was waiting for you to wake up and eventually fell asleep.

A grumble from your stomach reminds you that it’s time for lunch and you look down at your roommate and try to figure out how to remove yourself from his embrace.

After trying and failing for a few minutes, your stomach and your bladder decide that enough is enough. He’s just going to have to wake up too.

You decide to be gentle, and lightly sweep his hair out of his face as you look at him. Your lips place a soft kiss on his forehead, and you feel him move beside you and pull your body closer to his.

You watch his eyes open slowly, and a small smile makes its way to his face

“Hey you,” you whisper softly as you stare into his eyes.

He gives you a smile and reaches up for your hand before kissing it.

“Good afternoon sleepy head.”

“How are you feeling,” you ask as you continue to smile at him. “Since last night, I mean.”

He purses his lips as he thinks about it before giving you a sweet smile.

“I’m good, better than good actually.”

“I didn’t push you too far last night did I,” you ask, keeping your voice soft.

His eyes widen momentarily and he shakes his head as he tries to reassure you, “no really I liked it I promise. You made me feel good about myself, so thank you.”

You give him a slightly relieved smile and move his hair out of his face flushed.

“Was there anything that you didn’t like? Anything that made you uncomfortable?” You ask as you trace a finger along his jaw and around his lips.

He begins shaking his head in response but stops abruptly.

“I...I just...I feel kinda nervous,” he confesses.

“About what?”

“I don’t think Jungkook likes me. I mean I thought we were friends and everything for a while, but once he found out I liked you, he just got really mean.”

Your eyes search his face. Sometimes you forget that he’s the oldest of your two friends. While Taehyung used to be more or a silly jokester when you first met him, he slowly became more shy as the years went on.

You aren’t exactly sure why caused the change, but his lack of confidence in himself is what makes him such an easy victim for Jungkook’s judgement.

“It’s not that he doesn’t like you,” you reassure him. “He’s just jealous.” You know deep down that what you said is probably true, but the reality right now is that Jungkook’s jealousy towards Taehyung means that he’s already decided that he doesn’t like him anymore. Maybe you can change that though. You hope that one day he will regain that bit of confidence he had when you first met him.

You softly run your fingers through his messy curls as you think about how to make Taehyung feel more at ease while also convincing Jungkook to back off.

Suddenly, your nose picks up a smell. Looking down at your friend you ask, “Tae, did you shower before you left this morning?”

He tenses up before shyly looking away and shaking his head.

“Umm kinda, I rinsed off a bit, but it was really early so I just kinda threw on some clothes and left.”

You narrow your eyes at him as you pull out of his embrace. “You know how I feel about dirty bodies in my bed,” you groan.

He looks away again, but sits up and adds quietly, “you didn’t seem to have a problem with it last night.”

“What was that,” you counter, both amused and a bit surprised at his sudden show of sass.

He clears his throat before correcting himself and explaining, “well I uh… I know that the blankets needed to be washed anyways so I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal you know… sorry.”

You hold your frown for just a few more seconds then break into a playful smile. “It’s fine, I need to wash these sheets today anyways.”

You notice him quietly release a breath and let out a nervous chuckle at your response before standing up and stretching. As his shirt rises, Your eyes slide to his stomach and you reach forward and slide your hand beneath it.

His cheeks redden as he notices your touch and you slide your fingers a bit further up his stomach as you say, “I don't remember telling you to leave just yet.”

He rests a knee on your mattress and leans into your touch, his eyes closing as your other hand reaches up to caress his face.

“Is that what you want,” you pout innocently, “to leave me all alone in here?”

He bites down on his lip nervously, and you slide your hand downwards now, already prepared to tease him.

You want to leave me up here all by myself? Just like this morning, without a single goodbye,” you pout as your fingers tease the waistband of his pants.

“I…I don’t want to wake you,” he sputters, a small whimper leaving his lips.

“But you missed all the fun,” you pout. Jungkook and i had a nice little shower together. I know it would have been so much nicer if you were there too…”

He gasps as your finger traces over the hard outline of his cock, but you simply ignore it and continue. “I could have helped you… the same way I helped him…”

He moves his knee, and slowly slides his body down to your floor. His sweet eyes stare into yours as he gazes up at you from his knees.

You move to the edge of your mattress and open your legs so his head can rest between your knees.

Taking your index finger and placing it beneath his chin, you lean forward and taunt him. “You would have liked that wouldn’t you? Watching Jungkook fuck me until I can’t take it anymore…”

He sucks in a breath, his gaze sliding to your mouth.

Your fingers slide through his curls and grab them roughly as you whisper, “maybe, you would’ve wanted to see the look on Jungkook’s face as you fucked every last thought of him out of my mind…”

He moans at the pain from his head and you place a light kiss on his lips. “Would you have liked that?”

He nods up at you earnestly.

“That’s too bad…” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders . “Maybe if you hadn’t left so quickly this morning you could have gotten all of them.”

When he closes his eyes in frustration, you gently slide his curls away from his eyes. You can tell he’s frustrated. He’s probably beating himself up for missing the opportunity to be with you again, and losing to Jungkook.

“I meant what I said earlier though.” You whisper conspiratorially, hoping to pull him from his thoughts. “You should probably take an actual shower. You still smell like the bar from last night.”

He rubs the back of his neck with his hand and looks down at his lap as he nods.

“Yeah you’re right I don’t exactly feel clean right now anyways.”

You smile at him and playfully ruffle his curls as you say, “hurry up and shower, I’ll go ahead and put my blankets in the wash and then we can make some lunch when you finish.” He looks down at his lap, and you slide your fingers over the fabric. “Who knows, maybe we can have some desert as well,” you add with a smirk.

He gives you a nod as he stretches and tiredly shuffles out of your room before grabbing a towel from the hallway closet and heading to the bathroom.

You pull your sheets and blankets from your bed and bring them to the washing machine. You’re just about finished setting up your bed again when you hear Taehyung walk up behind you.

“Ooh that was pretty fast!”

You glance over at him, ready to respond when suddenly your mind goes blank. A stray droplet of water drips from his hair and along his chest as he leans against your bedroom doorway. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but when you saw him in the past you made a point not to let yourself stare, now there’s nothing stopping you.

“What,” he asks concerned, “is there something on me?” He looks down at his body and your eyes travel down to the towel hanging loosely around his waist.

Your mouth waters at the image of what’s behind the fabric and you begin having an internal struggle about what you want to do.

The sheets on your bed are new. You just spent the last twenty minutes struggling to put your bed together. But just look at him. How are you supposed to ignore how fucking good he looks right now.

‘Okay,’ you tell yourself, it’ll be fine. The sheets won’t get dirty, I’ll figure it out.’

You clear your throat and angle your head at your roommate who’s now looking at you like you’ve just grown a third head.

“Come here,” you whisper quietly, pointedly, as you curl your finger at him.

He walks towards you nervously, and your hands travel along his damp skin. He sucks in a breath as you reach forward and begin tracing your fingertips along the outline of his biceps. You feel the goosebumps that form along his arms and back as your fingers slide over it, and you let your eyes slowly roam up his body until you’re left glancing between his eyes and his mouth.

“Do you know how long it took me to put my bed together?”

He looks at your bed behind you and widens his eyes a bit.

“Umm a while?”

You reach up and lightly grab his chin.

“So long,” you answer, your lips lightly brushing against his.

Your hand slides up and down his chest and abdomen, your nails scratching his skin slightly as it goes.

He closes his eyes and sucks in a breath as your nails tease at his nipples, and you guide his body to your bed and sit him down.

“You know what that means,” you ask careful to keep his body in place.

When he shakes his head, you grab his chin firmly and whisper, “it means, we’re going to be very, very careful.”

He looks up at you, uncertainty filling his gaze, as you lean him back and climb up his body. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a few remaining water droplets dripping down his neck and chest.

His chest is your first stop, your tongue lightly sliding along his smooth skin until taking a detour to one of his nipples.

His hands travel to your hips, and he grabs them softly as he watches your mouth.

Your tongue swirls around his nipple gently, and you lightly graze your teeth against the sensitive skin and pull.

His fingers tangle in your hair and you slide your tongue along his chest until you get to his other nipple and do the same. You notice that he’s already hard beneath his towel and let one of your hands untuck the fabric from his hips.

From somewhere in your room you hear your phone vibrate, but you ignore it. You have more important things to worry about right now.

Your tongue travels up his chest and along his collarbones, your lips placing light kisses over the bruises you made on his soft skin last night.

His hands slide along your thighs as they make their way beneath your shirt and around your breasts.

You grab his wrists and hold them together firmly above his head, your mouth returning to his for a slow hot kiss. Your tongue slides against his and you nip at his bottom lip before whispering, “no touching.”

He gives you a nod, and you slide your body until you’re kneeling on the floor in between his legs.

“You know, seeing all of that water on you made me so thirsty,” you tease.

He sits up and leans back on his elbows, biting his lip nervously before nodding down at you.

“Maybe you can help me with that.”

You curl your finger at him once more, and he leans towards you as he waits for you to continue. You lean forward and globe him a slow kiss while sliding your hand along his jaw. You pull back after a moment and slide your tongue along his bottom lip.

“Hmm, I thought that might help, but I guess I need more.”

You watch his throat bob as he swallows, and you look into his eyes and bring two fingers to his mouth.

His lips part as you slide your fingers between them and his tongue swirls around them as you pull them back out.

“Good boy,” you praise as you slide your tongue along the same two fingers.

“Maybe this would make me feel better,” you tease as you slide your fingers over his precum and spread it along his length.

“Would you like me to try?”

He releases a whine before quietly groaning out the words, “yes...please...yes.”

You smile up at him as you slowly drag your tongue from his base to his tip.

His hands ball into fists as he gasps, and he squeezes his eyes shut as you take him into your mouth.

“Look at me,” you say. “If I see you look away or close your eyes again I’m going to stop. Understand?”

He gives you a quick nod. “I understand.”

“Good,” you say and take him back into your mouth, deeper this time.

You watch one of his hands move closer to you, and you lightly drag your nails along the insides of his thighs.

Again you hear your phone vibrate, but you’re so close now. You can’t just stop.

“Please, let me touch you…”

You slide your hand up and down his length and give him a nod.

“Sure.”

His hand slides around the back of your head and he grabs a fistful of your hair as you take him into your mouth again. You try to take him deeper each time, but he’s just too big. You feel him reach the back of your throat, and groan as your gag reflex threatens to appear.

‘Come on,’ you tell yourself. ‘Just a little bit more. If you could do it last night you can do it now.”

Your phone vibrates now for a third time, and you see Taehyung reach behind him and grab your phone from beside your pillow.

“Here, go ahead and take it. It seems pretty important if they keep calling.”

You take him out of your mouth and look at the caller ID. To your surprise it’s your father. Well, not technically your father. It’s his secretary. You know that he would never take the time to personally speak to you.

You roll your eyes and clear your throat before releasing a sigh of exasperation and accepting the call.

“What?”

“Hi Miss, Y/N, this is Keni Ouro calling from your fathers office, do you have a minute?”

You grit your teeth, as you glance at your roommate in front of you.

“Not really, what do you- I mean what does he want?”

“I’m glad to hear you’re available,” she responds sweetly.

“No I didn’t sa-“

“I have your father on the line,” she interrupts as usual. “Just a moment.”

Taehyung watches as your gaze hardens, and he mouths the words “everything okay” as you take a seat on the floor.

You give him a nod and cover the mic of your phone as you whisper, “I’m really sorry, can we finish this later.”

He wraps his towel around his waist once more and kneels down in front of you as he nods.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he whispers, “but you got this.”

He closes the door behind him quietly, and as he leaves you find yourself thinking you father better have a damn good reason for calling you out of the blue after all this time.

You hear a click on the line as your father finally picks up the phone, and take notice of your angry reflection across from you.

“Father,” you say, the word both your greeting and your method of irritation.

“Hello, Y/N.”

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

Tag list:

@mwitsmejk

@thedarkwinterrose

@ohhlalaniall

@neskapz

@bangtan-ology

@jimidol

@tangledsparkles

@baepsaesbae

[pascalpanic]

hey babe you’re the best ily very much, not to be wild but ah ha ha... may i make i request please? 🥺🥺 i’m feeling extra self indulgent so maybe just a bit of fluff? (with whatever pedro boy you’re feelin) where like, fem! rc is rlly insecure about her laugh (like i snort and laugh so loud it’s not even funny i get so nervous laughing around people skdjdjjd) so because of that he’s never really seen her let go so he’s like “no i really wanna make you laugh” and yes. stay hydrated and you’re wonderful :D

Mesh’la Kaab (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: You confide to your Mandalorian that you hate your laugh. That sets Din on a mission to hear your real, true laugh.

W/C: 2.8k

Warnings: mentions of food, but that’s all. let me know if I missed any or you’d like me to tag anything in here. Reader is called “mama” in reference to Grogu, din is called “daddy” but in reference to being Grogu’s dad.

A/N: you guys, this is the cutest fluff ever. I love Din with my entire soul. Sunny and I worked together a little to add a few things unique to her but it should be relevant to anyone! I hope u guys like it :))

mesh’la kaab- beautiful sound

A giggle rings out throughout the Razor Crest, pinging off the walls and making its way into the cockpit. 

There was a lot of other noise going on down there, Mando could tell, but it’s your laugh that makes his face warm under his helmet. He listens more carefully, trying to tell exactly what’s going on.

What was going on, exactly, was chaos. Mando’s little green son had gotten hold of your ukulele and was deciding to mimic his mama, you. You often sang and played the ukulele around the ship, bringing music and light into the cold, metallic space. It was part of what Mando loved most about you, what brought him comfort when you thought he couldn’t hear you. 

Mando had brought you on board a few months ago, and your soft and warming nature caused him to let his guard down almost immediately. He’d never been a touchy man, never one to cuddle or give keldabe kisses, but you stole his heart the moment he saw your smile.

Over time, your relationship with Mando had warmed. He’d press his hand to the small of your back as he walked past, let his ungloved fingertips brush over your hands. You were soft and kind and all he wanted.

He gave in a few weeks into your stay. He told you he cared for you, that he liked you, and a relationship had blossomed. He’d wrap his arms around you when he returned from a job, pressing his forehead to yours. He’d turn off all of the lights in the ship and press soft kisses to your lips and forehead and the tip of your nose. He’d sleep in your bunk with you and the child, pulling you to his chest and murmuring how much you meant to him. Helmetless, shirtless. Human again.

You’d learned his name late one night, his lips next to your ear- Din. It was one simple syllable, soft yet strong, a beautiful sound when his raspy voice was unmodulated. The child cooed, waking from his slumber, crawling between the two of you and nestling in. “That’s right, baby boy. Your daddy’s name is Din,” you’d hummed, pressing a soft kiss to the baby’s head and stroking his large green ears. The three of you were family now. 

Din was a romantic at heart, bringing you gifts from missions and holding you gently as he traces his fingertips across your collarbones and neck while you slept. One thing he didn’t have, you had come to realize, was a sense of humor- at least, not one you understood. It was there, you supposed, but dry. Sarcastic quips. Words with double-meanings. A joke that had to be explained after he said it. You were happy, he knew that, but you rarely laughed. 

That’s part of what transfixes him as he hears your giggle for the first time. It’s not a hard, tear-wrenching, gut-bursting laugh, but it’s a beautiful sound. Just as melodic as your beautiful voice when you sing along with your ukulele.

Din climbs down from the cockpit. You can’t see his face but his body is relaxed- he’s happy. You look up at him with a grin. “Your son thinks he wants to be a musician,” you tease, holding the ukulele above your head, sitting cross-legged on an old cape of his. 

The baby is trying to climb up on you, little green hands grabbing at your shirt in an attempt to reach the ukulele again. It makes Din’s heart warm, the way the son he had come to love is playing with the woman who makes his heart soar. “Really?” He asks, sitting down across from you and tilting his head.

“Really. And I must say, he’s not a very good one,” you tease the child, setting the ukulele down next to you and scooping your baby up in your arms. You press a soft kiss to his head and squeeze him against your chest. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Maybe the two of you would perform for me. I’ve been told I’m a good judge of talent,” he offers in that tone where you can tell he’s teasing, but it’s with all of the love in his heart. 

You look down at the baby and raise an eyebrow. “Well, baby boy? Should we show your daddy how wonderful you are?” you ask with excitement in your tone. The baby coos excitedly and nods. He’s starting to pick up on the human mannerisms that you and his father display. “Okay, let’s show him.” You set the ukulele in your lap, one hand on the fretboard. You set the child in front of you. “I’ll do the part up here, you play with the strings and sing for him, okay?” You instruct the baby, who giggles excitedly.

You look up at Din with a smile, and you can tell he’s smiling back. “Go for it, ad’ika,” Din tells the child.

His son agrees. He randomly plucks at the strings and squeals loudly. It’s utter cacophony, the farthest thing from music, but the little green baby seems to think it’s a masterpiece. He coos and shouts, little hands grabbing at the strings with no particular rhyme or reason.

You giggle but play around with the frets, letting the child choose his strings. He ends his song with a final shriek and you bite your lip to hold back from bursting into honest-to-god laughter. “Good job, bean!” You coo happily, clapping your hands. 

Din claps too, leather-covered hands muffling the noise. “You’re a fantastic musician, kid,” he tells the little green child, who runs and jumps into his father’s lap, cuddling against his chest. “You have a beautiful laugh,” he tells you honestly, looking up at you and stroking the kid’s head. 

You shake your head and look down at the ukulele, playing a few chords that come to mind. “That’s not my real laugh,” you admit, staring down at the instrument. “My laugh is really ugly. It sounds like a blurrg in labor.”

Din shakes his head, chuckling softly at the comparison. “I can’t possibly think you’d have an ugly laugh, ner mesh’la,” he tells you, resting a hand on your knee. 

“Oh, it is. And you don’t wanna hear it,” you inform him, looking up at him. 

“There’s not a thing about you that could be ugly,” he tells you, his voice sincere and solid. “I want to hear your laugh.”

“Then you’ll have to be funny for once, Din,” you tease, a small smile growing on your face. You stand, pressing a kiss to the top of his helmet and moving away to put your ukulele back in its case. 

That’s the moment Din decides he’s going to make you laugh, in a way that you can’t possibly hold back. It’s a mission.

-

Later that night, you cook dinner for your little family. It’s makeshift at best, a tiny portable flame that you had found in a junk shop on Nevarro, but you have to admit it’s charming. You sauté some vegetables, native from your current planet, that you picked up today. The smell wafts to the cockpit, where Din is fiddling with an electrical wiring problem. He can’t smell it, not with the helmet, but the child can. 

The baby coos at his father and tugs on his pant leg, gesturing towards the ladder. He wants to get down. “What is it, ad’ika?” He asks gruffly, nodding once he sees where the child points. 

Din climbs down the ladder with the baby in tow, smiling as he sees you lost in your own little world.

You’re surprisingly good with electronics, Din discovered after he took you on board, and you’d found that the Razor Crest has a stereo system. It had become your pet project, and now some music was drifting through the hull of the ship. He stands there for a second and smiles at the way you dance around and cook the food, the pan sizzling. It’s a beautiful sight. 

This is the perfect moment, Din thinks. Someone as caring and unguarded as you must be ticklish. Setting down the child and making a gesture for him to be quiet, Din quietly creeps behind you. He has no armor on except his helmet now, allowing him to be stealthy. 

He creeps up behind you, fingers wiggling along your sides. Nothing happens except you squealing in surprise and whipping around in his arms. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You exclaim as you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Just, uh… wanted to see if you were ticklish,” he admits, wrapping his arms around you fully now.

“Well, I’m not,” you roll your eyes, tossing your arms around his neck and looking up at him.

“You’re trying to hear my witch’s cackle, aren’t you?” You ask teasingly, smiling contently at the man holding you.

He shrugs lightly. “Maybe.”

“Din,” you coo and press a kiss to his cold beskar cheek. “Well, I’m almost done cooking. You might as well stay down here,” you tell him and start swaying him along to the music playing. It’s nice; he dances along with you. “You can come out, green bean,” you call to the child.

The child squeals as he jumps out from around a corner, and you mock surprise, jumping. “Oh my Maker, you almost gave me a heart attack,” you cry out to the child, who giggles excitedly. “C’mere, baby,” you laugh and pick him up, holding him between you and Din as you sway along to the music. “You and your daddy are a handful,” you coo to him and press a kiss to the baby’s head. 

“I’m going to get it out of you,” Din declares.

“Sure you are, Djarin,” you roll your eyes and smile softly, pressing your forehead to his in a keldabe kiss. “You know I’m happy here, right? I really couldn’t be any happier. I have you and the kid and I get to travel the galaxy with my two favorite boys.”

He nods. “Of course I do. It’s just… happy people laugh more.”

“I laugh plenty. When you tell me a bad joke, when the kid does something stupid.”

“You giggle or you chuckle. You never laugh.

“Neither do you.”

Din thinks on it for a second. “I suppose that’s true,” he nods in acknowledgment.

“Then you don’t need to make it such a mission, ner verd,” you tease, a loving smile on your face. You break away, keeping the child in your arms as you walk back to the vegetables. “Looks like the food is ready.”

-

It doesn’t come the way he wants it to, but Din finally makes you laugh.

Two days later, you’re dancing around with the baby in the hull of the ship, singing to the child’s favorite song. He squeals along, waving his little hands in the air and spinning in circles. “Din, come down here,” you call out happily. 

“Little busy,” a gruff voice shouts back from the cockpit.

“Din Djarin, you get your tin-can head down here!”

“Later, ner kar’ta.”

You pout and pick up the baby, heading off to the refresher with the child. You suppose it’s time for a bath for the green bean anyway. You change the song and hum along, undressing the child from his tiny brown robes and filling the sink with warm water. You drizzle some of your shampoo into the water, making the top fill with bubbles. 

The child giggles excitedly as you place a rubber ewok in the water. “I know! Isn’t it exciting?” You coo to him, nuzzling your face into his fuzzy little green head. “Oh, you’re going to smell so nice for your buir. Even if he can’t smell you with that tin can on his head. When we cuddle tonight, he’ll just want to eat you up,” you tease, your nose scrunching with a smile. 

When the sink is properly filled, you place the child in it. It’s deep enough to reach just below his armpits, and he splashes around tranquilly. “I know, isn’t it fun?” you laugh softly, scrubbing him down with a bright green sponge in the shape of a frog. 

Getting the baby’s head wet is a challenge. He doesn’t like the feeling, so you know you have to get creative. You grab the little rubber ewok and hold it up. “You want it?” You ask, and he nods. You drag it around beneath the water and he tries to grab it, dunking his head under. Perfect. He takes it from your hand and pops back up giggling. “Good job, squirt!” you coo and rub his head with the sponge.

You dry him with a fluffy towel when you’re done and redress him in a new set of clothing, smiling. “You’re such a cutie,” you murmur and press a kiss to his head. “I love you, you know that?”

And somehow, you know he knows. He can tell, and you can tell he loves you too. 

My mama, my protector, she plays with me and feeds me and snuggles with me. Love. Love love love my mama and my buir. Buir is shiny and quiet but he loves me and sneaks me snacks after bedtime when mama’s sleeping and boops me on the nose and wraps me up in his cape when it’s cold.

You’re taken aback by the sensation before Din descends down the ladder from the cockpit. He walks over to the two of you, giving you a keldabe kiss before heading to the ‘fresher. Clearing your throat, you clear the thought from your mind. You must’ve imagined it. “Well, let’s get ready for bed,” you tell the child. The water runs in the ‘fresher- Din must be showering. You change into a pair of comfortable clothes then turn off the lights and get into the bunk with the child. 

“Are the lights off?” He calls.

“Yes, love,” you shout back. Din emerges from the refresher and snuggles into bed with you and your son. His hair is damp and his face is clean-shaven, you can feel both when you reach for him as the bed dips with his weight. “Hi there,” you smile and press a soft kiss to his lips. 

“Hi,” he chuckles and kisses you a little deeper for a moment. Your hand drifts to his side- he’s shirtless, leaving him only in pants- and his finds your chest, pressing a hand over your heart. The moment is disrupted as one three-fingered hand finds each of your faces and pushes you apart. “Hello, ad’ika,” Din laughs, grabbing the child and snuggling him between the two of you. He presses a soft kiss to the baby’s head, you can hear it, and breathes in deeply. “Mm, your mama gave you a bath.”

“Sure did,” you chuckle. You know Din loves the smell of your shampoo; it reminds him of when you first showered in the Crest, and his helmet was off when he went to the ‘fresher next and it smelled clean and soft and feminine and beautiful.

“Maybe your mama will have to give me a bath sometime,” he murmurs as he kisses your face.

It’s the single most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard the man say. Before you can help yourself, a genuine laugh bursts forth from your throat. It’s loud and obnoxious, making you wiggle and wheeze and even snort. It’s a cackle, almost, but it’s the most beautiful noise Din Djarin has ever heard. He starts laughing along too, burying his face in your chest, chest heaving. Even the child joins in on the giggles, even though he doesn’t know why. 

The three of you lie like that for a minute, wheezing hard and breathing heavily. The laughter ends and you find yourself catching your breath, Din’s face still buried in your chest. His nose nudges between your breasts and you stroke the back of his head, giving a soft giggle. You feel yourself flood with the warmth of embarrassment as you realize you just let loose such an ugly sound. “Din-”

“Don’t even try to apologize, ner mesh’la,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss over your breast, where your heart lies. “That was the most beautiful noise I’ve ever heard.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “It’s you being happy, the sound of me making you smile. What could be better than that?” He asks before capturing your lips in a slow kiss. “I’m never going a day without making you laugh again.”

-

Mando’a translations:

ner kar’ta- my heart

ner verd- my warrior

buir- parent (gender neutral word)

ner mesh’la- beautiful

ad’ika- little one

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers

[chockfullofsecrets]

Star Wars: Gentler, Harder

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: He waits for Poe to twist around before continuing. “You were kind of being one, weren’t you? Teasing Rey like that.”

Finn’s got a mischievous look on his face, one Poe hasn’t seen on him before, and for all that Poe knows he’s not supposed to be moving he feels his stomach flip like he’s just entered a spiral dive.

Rey’s voice is far too close on his other side, sounding livelier than she has since he’s met her. “Does that mean we have to tickle him now?”

Wordcount: 2.6k

A/N: @ticklesofcolor event fill for @ticklishnonsense! Prompts were a combination of “Poe really loves getting tickled and has to ask for it” and “Finn gets taught how to tickle someone” - I am looking at those CR prompts, believe me, but I thought it would be fun to try something new too :)

---

“Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes!”

Poe’s still not over the way Finn beams every time he sees him - he startles a little, probably on just enough symoxin to dull the rest of his senses along with the nerves, and breaks into a smile so brilliant against his dark skin that it’s hard not to squint. “Poe!”

He sounds like he’s still excited about having actual names to call. Poe tries not to think about it too hard.

Rey, curled up on the other side of the medical bed in, does her best impression of not looking expectantly at him. Poe grins and holds out a nutrition bar that she snatches and squirrels away somewhere in her dangling wraps faster than he can follow. “Good day?”

“Yes,” she says, perfunctorily making room for him to sit. She and Finn are close, he knows, and they’re never far from one another if they can help it - they do have enough spare beds that their two newest recruits shouldn’t be sharing one, he’s checked - but she’s not much for cuddling, and over the past few days they’ve worked out an unspoken agreement that Poe gets to crawl in between the two of them whenever he comes by. “Finn’s doctor says he’s almost ready for the next round of surgery, but he still shouldn’t be moving around.”

Poe squirms into a sitting position against the uncomfortable starchiness of the singular medbay pillow and looks Finn over as the two of them attempt to quote jargon about vertebrae and internal splints at him. He does look well, bandages aside, but it looks like clapping his shoulder still isn’t a good idea- instead, he settles for smacking a kiss against the coarse corkscrew curls that are just starting to grow out of Finn’s military cut. It’s a good look on him.

Finn interrupts himself to laugh and punch Poe gently in the shoulder with his good arm. “What about you, pilot? Do anything crazy today?”

A metric ton of paperwork, mostly. “Wait, wait - Rey, what about you?”

She frowns at him, same as every time he’s asked. “I still don’t think there’s anything wrong with me that would keep me from doing mechanic work-”

Finn shifts behind him. Poe twists back to him and catches his wince just as he gets close enough to whisper loudly, “She’s only had two headaches, I’ve been watching her all day.”

“Finn! I’ve been watching you,” Rey insists, wide-eyed. “If they let me out, I can start getting supplies for us, and - Poe Dameron, stop looking at me like that-”

“Like what?” he asks, trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

“The-” She gestures tightly in the general direction of his face, which only makes him laugh harder.

“Okay, okay, I just-” He fishes another nutrition bar out of his jacket and breaks it into three, holding out a portion to either side. “We have enough supplies for you and Finn, Rey. It took me four days to recover from whatever Kylo Ren did to my head - not saying you can’t do it in less, but I know how it felt and you need rest. The General herself said so, and she knows more about the Force than anyone here.”

Rey stuffs the food into her cheek and sinks back into herself, rubbing a little self-consciously at the dark circles under her eyes, and it’s hard to stop himself from reaching out to her, unwelcome as it might be given that they’ve just met and he’s technically the reason she’s not waist-deep in machinery right now. He’d tell her about the little manifest of speeder parts and a run-down X-wing he’s been saving for her to look at when she’s well, but he’s a little afraid that it’ll make her even more restless. “I nearly escaped an enemy base by myself and no one will even let me check the hyperdrive strain on the Falcon, but people keep coming in here and asking Finn for - for intel, whatever that means.”

“First Order secrets,” Finn intones, and lets out a semi-hysterical laugh. Poe’s heart lurches. He’d do anything to keep these two protected, safe, but for the cause-

He can do his best to cheer them up, at least, even if he’s feeling a little wiped himself. “Well,” he says, flicking Rey’s knee playfully, “we all know which one of you went around calling himself a ‘big deal’ in the Resistance, so-”

“Poe Dameron,” Rey hisses, rocking forward and launching a flurry of insistent pokes at his belly, “I’ll - I’ll take the Force and - Poe?”

Poe is - he’s not that ticklish, or at least that’s what he tells himself, but prodding at his soft spots is mean and he’s already half-sunk in laughter as he instinctively scrambles away from her.

Finn makes a startled sound just to his right, and he realizes abruptly that someone’s going to get hurt if he doesn’t stop flailing around. “Rey - Rey, wahahait-”

She pulls her hand back, brow furrowed. “What was that?”

“Wait, are you ticklish?” Finn asks.

Every nerve in Poe’s body sings at actually hearing the word. Clearly, it’s been a while.

Rey looks even more confused. “Ticklish?”

“The laughing,” Finn clarifies. “It usually happens when you poke someone in a ticklish spot.”

“Oh.” Rey looks adorably contrite. “Sorry, Poe, I didn’t know you were - ticklish? There?”

Goosebumps prickle at the back of his neck - they just keep saying it - but there’s a sudden, disappointing clarity at the realization that they’re not actually going to keep tickling him if he doesn’t say anything. “Oh, uh, I don’t mind, really I-”

I like it, he finishes in his head, but the words catch, warm and embarrassed, in the back of his throat and he just coughs instead. He scoots gingerly back towards Rey and tries again. “Um. I’m used to it, it’s not like Jess hasn’t used it against me when she thinks I’m being a brat.”

“Well,” Finn says, and that’s not a tone Poe’s ever heard from him before.

He waits for Poe to twist around before continuing. “You were kind of being one, weren’t you? Teasing Rey like that.”

Finn’s got a mischievous look on his face, one Poe hasn’t seen on him before, and for all that Poe knows he’s not supposed to be moving he feels his stomach flip like he’s just entered a spiral dive.

Rey’s voice is far too close on his other side, sounding livelier than she has since he’s met her. “Does that mean we have to tickle him now?”

He whips his head around just in time to see Rey pounce on him. She pins his legs neatly with hers, one wiry forearm bracing across his chest and the other pressed lightly over his mouth, and Poe abruptly feels trapped.

He should probably be more worried about that.

“You’re loud,” she tells him matter-of-factly, her sharp chin inches from his ear, “and if you don’t stay in once place you’re going to hurt Finn. Tap out if you want me to let you up.”

His fingers are twitching. He flattens them against the mattress.

She makes a satisfied sound and turns - he can’t see Finn past her, but it’s unlikely that he’s gone anywhere in the last thirty seconds, at least. “So now we just - poke him?”

“Kind of,” Finn says. “But Rey, you’ve gotta have a hand free-”

Rey’s hand flexes briefly over his mouth. “You do it, then.”

Finn sounds uncertain. “I can barely see his face from over here; it’ll be hard to tell if I’m doing it right.”

Brown eyes abruptly fill his field of vision as Rey looks back at him. Poe holds his breath, anticipating, as she presses her thumb to the corner of the silly, helpless smile working its way over his face and grins - a brief, childish thing he’s only seen her wear in the hangars.

“I’ll tell you, then.”

Poe squeaks.

Suddenly there are five little points of warmth on his right side, tickling mercilessly over the tender line just under his ribcage. The zinging sensation shoots over his chest, up under his collarbones, and-

He dissolves into gasping laughter, arching up into Rey’s arm before he can even think about laying still. “Oh,” he gets out, “oho - ohnohoho-”

Part of him expected that Finn wouldn’t really know how tickling worked, being in the First Order and all. That part of him is currently experiencing instant, severe regret as clever fingers work their way into the grooves between his lower ribs, forming into pincers and kneading just firmly enough to make him twist and squeal. “Ahaha - aaa! - no - eheeeh-”

He kicks free, for a moment, heels dragging frantically against the bed. Rey makes a frustrated noise and kicks back. “Finn, gentle,” she orders, “it’s too much for him.”

Poe’s somewhat offended by this unflattering evaluation of his abilities - at least, until Finn makes an affirming noise and the kneading lightens to a soft, barely-there fluttering of nails against his skin.

Then, he’s just desperate.

It’s. It’s not even enough to make him laugh, is the thing - he’s just wheezing out breathless, hiccupy giggles into Rey’s palm as Finn wanders his way up his ribcage, pausing occasionally to rub gentle circles when he stumbles across somewhere especially sensitive. It’s hell.

“Rey,” he tries, muffled, making the herculean attempt to unfist his hands and nudge her in the shoulder. “Rey.”

She looks down at him, questioning, and he gives her his most pleading look. He knows she can read his desperation clear as day, he knows-

She blinks. “Keep going,” she tells Finn, “I don’t think he’s sorry yet.”

Finn, bless his non-evil heart and inability to hear Poe whine in fruitless protest, laughs and pets the soft, trembling skin under Poe’s arm with one careful fingertip. “Really? C’mon, Poe, what’s it gonna take?”

This, apparently, because Poe is ready to say anything in the entire karking galaxy to get them to actually tickle him - the only thing worse, he thinks, would be if they stopped.

He whines again and squeezes his arms against his sides as tightly as he can, hoping beyond hope that it’ll make Finn take retaliatory measures. Rey just tsks and moves her hand away from his mouth, and he sighs in relief in the brief, blessed instant before she clamps down on his forearm and pulls his arm up.

Solves the audibility problem, at least. “Finn,” he pleads, wheezing between the snickers being forced out of shivering lungs, and wow, that’s not how his voice usually sounds. “Fihihihiiiiinn - Finn! Dohon’t - just - please, I can’t-”

Finn sounds amused. “Rey, you think he wants us to stop? Sounds pretty sorry to me.”

“No,” Poe says hastily, and promptly shuts his eyes before he can see their reaction to that. “Just - do it right, come on-”

There’s sudden, piercing doubt in Rey’s voice as she loosens her grip on him. “What do you mean - Finn, are we doing it wrong?”

He has to say something, but what-

And then.

He can’t see them, but - but he can feel, just for a moment-

The thing brushing up against the edges of his mind is instantly, quintessentially Rey - grit and stubbornness and a rusty, childish mischievousness all swirling, with the bitter concern of being wrong briefly at the forefront - it skims over his thoughts like sand over desert dunes, not graceful but gentle, nothing like Kylo Ren’s digging and bruising intrusion -

It. It kind of tickles.

He laughs, sudden and startled, and with Rey braced over him it’s impossible not to hear the pleased sound she makes in response. “Oh, I see.”

The Force, Poe realizes, is a kriffing snitch.

He cracks an eye open and fails entirely not to blush at the way Rey’s beaming triumphantly down at him. “Poe,” she commands. “Tell Finn what you want him to do.”

He sputters. “What? I thought that was your job. And you can’t use the Force, that’s not fair-”

She beams even wider. “There’s more than one way to make you sorry, Poe - come on, tell Finn which one you like better, tell him!”

“Wait, you used the Force?” Finn’s confusion only makes him blush harder. “Poe? You can tell us if you want us to stop, you know-”

“I don’t,” he blurts out, and immediately has to close his eyes again as every ounce of blood in his body rushes to his face. “I - I want - Rey, I can’t-”

“Say it,” she orders, and he wonders if that’s the Force echoing in his ears.

Well, if he’s going to be pressured into saying it, might as well be by the galaxy’s newest Jedi. “Can - can you t-tick-” Come on, Dameron, lo que no me mata- “-oh, kriff it, just tickle me harder, please, I can’t take it-”

He trails off, breathing hard, and Rey pats him twice on the cheek like a proud tía before slapping her hand back over his mouth. “I think he’s going to be a lot louder now. Finn?”

Ten fingers wriggle their way into his right armpit, and Poe yelps.

It’s not any more bearable than the fluttering and tracing, except that it is, and Poe can’t help but relax into the helpless laughter as Finn prods and pinches his way all the way down to his hip before working his way back up under his arm. He lingers at Poe’s ribs, kneading between two particular sensitive ribs and giggling as Poe tries to shove his mean, mean hands away with arms that have all the strength of a used bacta patch. “Eheheeeeh - ha, aaaaa - hahaha, nononoplease-”

“He says no,” Rey conveys over his head.

“No?” Finn says, teasing. He lightens his touch just enough to make Poe shriek in panicked frustration before going right back to kneading. “Aw, Poe, I thought you said this is what you wanted!”

Poe’s pretty sure there’s a solid four inches between the bed and his spine, with how desperately he’s arching his back and wriggling to escape the awful teasing, and as Rey wrestles him back down Finn’s fingers slip onto his belly.

He screams.

There’s a moment of complete, terrible stillness as Rey looks down at him with utter delight. “Finn!” she chirps. “Do that again!”

“Hm? Right here?”

Poe feels something warm and wriggly slide between him and Rey, up under his shirt where it’s come untucked with all the struggling, and promptly makes the executive decision to tap out before he ends up earning himself a ticket to the medbay with more psychic damage.

“Wait, he’s-”

“Rey, he wants-”

Finn and Rey both pause, Finn’s hand unmoving on his belly. Rey inches her hand off his mouth. “Poe?”

“Tapping out,” he wheezes. Rey gets halfway off him before jerking back to lean on his shoulders, fixing him with a mock-stern look that nearly has him breaking down into nervous giggles all over again. “I will get to fly the Falcon again, right?”

Poe tips his head back onto the bed, gulping down air. “I get the feeling I couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to, but yes. General’s even got it listed under your name in the manifest, now.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh. I - I have a ship?”

“You’ve got a ship,” he confirms, and loses his breath all over again as she darts in for a fierce, joyful hug. It takes a bit of doing, but he manages to shove his way to enough of a sitting position to lean the both of them up against Finn, wrapping their arms together in a joyful tangle.

It feels right - like fighters flying in formation, like the spiraling balance of the Force the few times he’s been witness to it.

His cheeks are red and sore from laughter, but he can’t help smiling.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

chapter 30

The Stars Look Very Different

Social Media AU

previous chapter

tag list: @yellowballoon @cleocc @ijzermanora @boldlydeepestcupcake @pduwd @notallthereyall @gingerhead007 @groeneweiden @nyttvera @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @curiouskopf @engelkeijsers @xiaomailab @honeyandsinn @lauren-bk @saraben00 @tailsbeth @boysrunaway @howlingsaturn @menamesniall

I only decided to do this this morning and that’s why it’s so late. super sorry. I hope you still like it ❤️ and as always, sorry for any mistakes

Warning: discussion of mental illness

~^~

Robbe pulled Sander after him, away from where Jens and Lucas were still curled up on the sofa, into his bedroom where he could shut the door tight behind them. He almost expected Sander to flop right onto his bed, but instead he stayed right behind Robbe, ready to bring him closer once he turned, shifting a hand into his hair and connecting their lips.

Robbe made a small sound in his throat and then sighed, gripping at Sander’s waist to pull him closer, even though the other boy had already done well at eliminating the space between them. Still, the kiss was kept soft, free of their usual urgency but with a familiar neediness, the constant desire to be ever closer. This was evident when Sander pulled away only to press his forehead against Robbe’s, eyes shut and hand still firm on the back of his neck, not letting him pull away. Robbe wouldn’t have even if Sander wasn’t holding him. He had no reason to want to be anywhere else.

“Your bed looks very appealing,” Sander mumbled, lips brushing against Robbe’s.

Robbe hummed. “You also look very appealing. I think a combination of the two would be truly mind blowing.”

Sander huffed, and Robbe just had time to trace a fingertip over his smile before he leaned back in for another kiss. Robbe gladly reciprocated, but moved his hands to slide under the edges of Sander’s zip-up hoodie, pushing it off his shoulders and tossing it onto the end of his bed. Then he gave the same shoulders a careful push, and Sander let himself be guided backwards, finally falling onto the mattress with a pleased sigh. He held his arms out immediately, however, making grabby hands towards Robbe, who complied without an ounce of hesitance, crawling over Sander and settling on his hips. He cupped his face and squished his cheeks, making Sander laugh through puckered lips that Robbe eventually leaned down to kiss.

“This is why it’s better being at yours,” Sander mumbled, and Robbe couldn’t argue. He ducked his head down to trace kisses along Sander’s jawline, peppering his cheek, the spot behind his ear, further down his neck. Sander melted further with every press of his lips, sinking lax into the bed underneath him. It left Robbe grinning against his skin, nipping at it lightly with his teeth to make Sander whine and squirm away.

Sander huffed as he pushed Robbe off him, only to follow him onto their sides and pull him back in by the waist. Robbe giggled and slid his hands back over his cheeks as he kissed him again.

“Wait, do that again.” Sander drew his head away, gazing at Robbe in something a little too much like awe, making him turn his face into the pillow and groan.

“Do what?”

“That little giggle.”

Robbe groaned again. “Oh my god.”

“Please, Robbe, it’s so cute. What do I have to do?”

“Leave me alone, preferably.”

Sander pouted, shaking his head rapidly at Robbe’s denial, squeezing his sides pleadingly. It had the unintended effect of making Robbe wriggle, an aborted laugh escaping him.

They both froze.

“Oh my god—“

“No,” Robbe warned.

“—you’re ticklish,” Sander finished, and now that was definitely awe. “Oh my god. Why did I not know that?”

“I am not ticklish.”

Sander rose a disbelieving brow. His fingers twitched against Robbe’s side. Robbe’s hand flew down to still them.

Sander snorted and kissed his nose, tugging him in closer and slotting a leg between Robbe’s. “Too cute.”

“You’re so annoying,” Robbe breathed, in the instant before Sander’s lips connected with his and all words were lost. He couldn’t help but make this kiss deeper, threading his fingers into Sander’s hair and parting his lips. The faint ache in his head had all but slipped away, soothed under Sander’s gentle touch.

Sander himself was a little more lethargic than usual, but no less responsive. He reacted easily to Robbe, lips parting and tongues tangling and hands drifting. Robbe had to keep his grin under control as Sander’s hands slipped under his shirt, skimming over his sides to settle against his back, tracing light patterns. Robbe hummed against his lips and felt him smile, and then Sander brushed over a faint scar.

Robbe’s heart skipped, but Sander’s movements hadn’t stopped, so Robbe kissed him harder and hoped that would be enough. Instead Sander’s hand trailed back over his side, around to his front, and landed on another old mark.

“You really like getting yourself into trouble, huh,” Sander said, and Robbe lifted his shoulders in a shrug. He didn’t want to discuss this.

Instead, he thought of a new tactic, and lifted himself up before pulling his shirt over his head. He rose a brow as Sander gazed up at him, unflinching, nothing giving him away but the slight uptick of his lips. It didn’t take long for him to reach out, sliding his hands back over Robbe’s skin as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. However, instead of drawing him into another kiss, Sander leaned forward and pressed his lips to Robbe’s collarbone, where another scar rested over the bone.

He looked up at Robbe through his lashes, and Robbe smiled at him and gave his hair a light tug. “And you call me the cute one,” Robbe mumbled.

Sander smiled brightly as Robbe traced a finger down his cheek and kissed his forehead. He remained silent as Robbe dropped back onto his pillow with a sigh. Sander followed, rolling onto his side to face him and waiting patiently.

“You remember how I told you about...why I’m staying here?”

Sander nodded, expression gentle. “About your mom?”

“Yeah. I didn’t really explain.”

“You don’t have to,” Sander said softly.

Robbe offered him a smile. “I don’t, usually. It’s not really something I talk about. But I want to tell you.”

Sander’s nod was encouraging.

“She, uh. She suffers from psychotic depression.”

He waited, but nothing in Sander’s expression changed, so he went on.

“She’s always managed it okay. Even when she’d have her episodes of psychosis—she was brought out of them pretty easily. Then when I was thirteen, her mother died. She didn’t take it well. Her episodes got worse. But it was still something we managed, still something she had control of. Then I turned fifteen, and my dad decided he’d had enough. He packed up and disappeared. A few weeks later she was admitted for the first time.”

Sander gently took his hand where it lay between them, rubbing his thumb over the back of his fingers.

“I had to stay with Jens for a week. I’ve had to a lot of times since then. But I never wanted to—to actually leave her. We managed. She was only ever gone for a week or so at most, and it really wasn’t that frequent. Then this past year...it wasn’t so good. She’d space out more often. Talk to herself and then act like nothing happened. She was admitted again just days after I met you and they haven’t been able to release her since.”

“Fuck, Robbe,” Sander muttered.

Robbe shook his head. “When I went to see her—the time I told you about it—it was bad, Sander. They called me because they’d had to sedate her. She was convinced she was being held prisoner, that someone was coming to her. To hurt her. She knocked down one of the nurses. But when I went to see her—“ Robbe paused, choked, “—she didn’t know who I was. She just looked right through me. It was like she couldn’t see me, couldn’t hear me. She acted like I wasn’t even there. That’s never happened before. They called me because—because I’m the only one who’s always been able to calm her down. But she couldn’t even remember me. I meant nothing to her.”

Sander shook his head, ready to protest, but Robbe went on before he could.

“That’s why I drank so much and why I—why I just needed you there. I just felt so...so alone and so stupid and so insignificant. And I knew I’d stop feeling like that if I had you. I never feel like that when I’m with you.”

He looked between Sander’s eyes intently, begging him to understand, and Sander shifted forward and wrapped him up in his arms. Robbe sunk against him, tucking his arms around his waist as Sander kissed his cheek and then tucked his chin over his shoulder. He ran his hands soothingly up and down Robbe’s back, and Robbe was horrified to realise his cheeks were wet. But Sander hadn’t said anything, and he still wasn’t. He simply held Robbe together until he stopped feeling like he was about to crack apart, and Robbe clung to his shirt and allowed his comfort to seep through him.

“I’m sorry, Robbe,” Sander whispered against his neck. “I had no idea.”

Robbe pressed his face to his shoulder and shook his head. “There was no way you could have.”

“I could have been here more.”

“Sander, if you were here anymore, your parents would start to think you’d been kidnapped.”

Sander didn’t react the way he’d expected to the joke. He barely reacted at all. He just tightened his grip on Robbe and said, “You shouldn’t have had to deal with all that.”

Robbe shifted away, onto his back, as he shook his head. “She’s my mama, and I love her. Sometimes the worry just takes over. It’s just—the first thing they did was tell us all these ways it could get worse. Like she had more chance of developing further psychotic problems, or that it could develop into bipolar disorder. I don’t know how to deal with it sometimes. It just gets too much.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, harsh, as Sander remained quiet. When he looked over, Sander wasn’t looking back. He’d dropped his gaze to a spot on the sheets, even as he continued to stroke absentmindedly over Robbe’s hand.

Robbe smiled self-deprecatingly. “What a way to kill the mood, huh?”

Sander looked up at that, and there was something equal parts fierce and haunted in his gaze as he stared at Robbe. He moved his other hand up to stroke over Robbe’s cheek, then leaned forward to kiss him deeply. Robbe couldn’t even feel surprise, too relieved as he kissed back, allowing Sander’s intensity to encase him and remind him there was nothing unsure about this.

He pulled back and looked at Robbe seriously as he wiped the remaining dampness from his cheeks. “Thank you for being honest with me, Robbe.”

Robbe smiled, sneaking a short kiss to his nose. “Thank you for listening to me.” They lay and watched each other for a moment, and then Robbe chanced a lazy smirk. “I suppose it’s too much to pick up where we left off?”

Sander smiled again, and this time it was tired. “I don’t think this hangover is going to appreciate much more action, to be honest.”

Robbe snorted and gave his hand a tug, laying flat on his back again and drawing Sander with him.

Sander lay his head on his chest and dropped a kiss over his heart, hugging him tightly around the waist. “I just wanna stay here with you for a little while longer.”

The words were no more than a whisper, and Robbe held him tighter and dropped a kiss on his head as a weight slipped from his shoulders. “You can stay as long as you like.”

[commanderserwin]

hugs & kisses

↦ pairing(s): levi x reader

↦ word count: 1.3k

↦ anon request: 

↦ author’s note(s): the way that i suck at titles omg please forgive me!!! please enjoy !! i wrote this with how i thought levi would actually be cuddly, what give me thoughts as HOW is he really, do u think? 👁👁

ps. the chunk in italics are somewhat a ~flashback~ just to give a beginning

╍╍╍╍╍╍╍╍╍╍╍

It was late, deep in the night, when the Scouts returned to the base. The Mess Hall is exceptionally quiet after every expedition and this wasn't too different from the last one that you have joined. If it wasn't for your broken ankle, you would be joining them for a week outside the Walls. So, to make yourself useful, you decided to work around the kitchen and stables to ease everybody's work while you were healing. Cleaning, cooking, and tending to the young horses was how you spent your week waiting for them to return. 

Specially Levi. You've heard stories about him before, from being called as the Humanity's Strongest Soldier, and you held that title as the point of your admiration for him. He used to make things harder for when you joined since you have joined a little later than most. You've had a calling from seeing the titans first hand when it attacked the District, and it has scared you shitless for hiding in your families' stables while everybody screamed for their lives. 

Levi started avoiding you more and more as the days done by, until he called you on to his office at night. It was evident on your face that you were angry and hurt from his behavior of constantly avoiding you like the plague. Levi was toying with this empty mug when you entered his office. 

“Aren’t you going to sit down?” His voice loud and clear as he eased back on his chair. He looked somewhat nervous as he fixed his cravat and paid more attention to it than the situation. 

“I’m fine right here, Captain,” you said, stoic, still wondering why he called you late at night. “Can’t this wait in the morning?”

It couldn’t wait in the morning. Levi walked towards you that night, and he voiced himself out to you. The reason why he was distant, cold, and hurtful towards you is because he couldn’t bear to be close to somebody else. He couldn’t bear to pour himself out to, and then one-day, see them... gone. He couldn’t bear it with his heavy heart but he wanted to try. He wanted to try with you. Levi was out of breath when he confessed to you that night, and all you could was hug him. The following day, he was still cold, but he was trying to make it work. Levi would leave subtle gifts, a little nod here and there, little late night conversations. Until he came to you, and it just... happened. 

╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾

Levi entered the room, tiresome and soft steps as he approached you over by the table where were sat in the middle where his dinner was waiting for him. He took a deep breath, and kissed your hair, your temple, your cheek, and your lips as he softly moaned into the kiss. He pecked your lips one time and left to take his bath.

He spent a long time in the bathroom, but you waited, until he was ready to face you. He exited the bathroom, his hair sticking to his face, and his clothes loose as he took a sit with you as he ate quietly. 

“Did you make this?” He quietly asked, taking small sips of the cold soup as it waited for him. 

“I did,” you answered, pouring him a glass of water. “I’ve got nothing to do so I cooked.” 

He relaxed into the sit, crossing his legs, as he tilted his head with an small, amused smile. He fixed his hair and mused it to dry. He then pointed at your bandaged ankle, “You’re not going to heal any faster if you keep doing work.” 

“I had to keep myself busy,” you admitted, pulling your legs up to the chair as you hugged it with your back on the chair. “Are you done with your meal?” 

“Yes,” he answered, picking up his plate to return to the kitchen as he insisted, ‘You need to rest.’

You let him be, as you wiped down the table and set aside his chair and used uniform near the door as to not forget to wash it. 

When he came back to his room, he looked even more exhausted, his shoulders slumped and dragging feet as he plopped himself on to the bed, waiting for you to finish. 

“Come to bed,” he murmured against the pillow, fixing the blanket over his body. 

“In a minute,” you grinned as he loudly groaned in response. His gray eyes following your every move until you blew on the candle on the table, and leaving the one near the door as it is. 

You plopped down on the bed, and his hand immediately enveloped you to his. His hand slipped under your shirt, and he sprawled his hand on your stomach near the band of your trousers. He moved you closer to his chest, his lips reaching your ears as he mumbled how much he missed you. Feeling you. Kissing you. Holding you. 

He was always too affectionate after every expedition, grabby, his hands always exploring as if to grip every little last of you to keep with him. His lips marking lazy kisses to your ears he mumbled softly with things of love, miss, want, and need. His lips wouldn’t stop until he kissed every patch of your skin just where he could reach. 

Levi would propped himself on his elbow, as he bent down to kiss you: the middle of your eyes, nose, cheeks, and throat. He would lift your jaw to pepper kisses on it, and bit on just where your collarbone is. He would listen to you moan and he would kiss it off of your lips. 

Always like that. 

If he’s done, he’ll inch you closer to his chest as he laid his head on your neck. He would hold you tight just like that as you held on to his arm over your stomach. You twisted in his hold so that you could look at his gray eyes that would pierce right at you. 

“Hi,” he kissed your cheek, as you blinked at him. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, giving him a little kiss. 

He closed his eyes, and nuzzled on your neck. 

“If you hold me any tighter,” you joked, making him open his eyes, “I’d just be able to breathe a little better.” 

“Really?” He chuckled deeper, his fingers hovering over your ticklish waist, his eyes twinkling mischievously. 

“Levi,” you warned, squirming away from his touch. “Levi...” 

“What?” He remarked, his fingers still threatening you, “I can’t hug my you? My little... dear, sweet, thing?” 

“Levi!” 

You shrieked as he attacked your waist, neck, and pits as he tickled you as your laughter filled the whole room. The blanket was falling off and the bed was slowly banging against the wall, and Levi was still tickling you to the ends of your breath. 

“Stop,” you begged, laughing as he continued to tickle you. 

“Fine, fine,” he smiled, kissing you one last time on the lips. 

He settled on the bed, chuckling softly as you stared darkly at him for making you out of breath. Levi fixed the blanket on both of your bodies as he enveloped you once again in his arms. His warm hand sprawled once more on you stomach, his legs intertwined with yours. 

His breathing fanned your neck, and leveled as he is falling asleep. You held on to his hand, holding it over your mouth, to kiss him on his calloused fingers. 

“Goodnight, Levi,” you whispered, holding his hand close to your heart. 

Levi nuzzled closer, his lips over your ears as he mumbled, “Love you, [Y/N].”

[spritewrites]

inhibitions (or, high five)

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Characters: Vanya & Five

Word Count: 2062

Warnings: drug use, mentions of alcohol abuse

“Ahem.”

Slam. “Ow.”

“What are you doing?” Vanya asked, peering around the cabinet door to where Five was cursing and rubbing his head.

“Nothing.”

Vanya raised her eyebrows. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Yeah, well, it’s nothing, okay?” Five snapped, sticking his sore head back in the cabinet.

Well, that’s bullshit. “You sure?”

Five huffed. “Let me assure you, I am one hundred percent certain that I am doing absolutely nothing of interest to you right now.”

He briefly pulled his head out (carefully avoiding the top) to see Vanya giving him one of her soft smiles. “Rooting around in the back of a cabinet is pretty interesting to me.”

A long, low exhale. He was eyeing her carefully, the same way he did the first day he came home. Like he didn’t know who to trust. “Fine. Do you happen to know where dear old Dad kept the alcohol?”

The crease between Vanya’s eyes deepened. “We have a whole bar, Five.”

“Yes, yes, I know, but we’re… uh, out. Did the old man have any backup storage?”

“I think he got rid of it all when Klaus started drinking.” She put a gentle hand on Five’s shoulder, startling him. Instantly, the hand was back at her side. Right. The touch thing. “Are you okay?”

He sighed, running his small hand through his hair. “Yep. Fine. Great. Just… need to take the edge off.”

Everything went still.

“Five.”

“What,” he snapped. “Are you going to lecture me about the long-term effects of alcohol on my goddamn pre-teen body like everyone else? Because trust me, I’ve calculated exactly the blood alcohol content that –”

“No, I – no. I was just going to say…” She swallowed hard, then met his gaze, her kind eyes and his blazing ones. The corner of her lip tugged upward. “I’ve got something that might help.”

*

Honestly, Vanya never thought that her birthday gift from Klaus would ever be anything more than a joke. “So you don’t blow up the moon again,” he’d said with a wink, “now that you’re off your pills and everything.” But now, sitting on the floor of her childhood bedroom ripping open a package of laced gummies with her 58-year-old brother, she was so, so glad she had it.

The circles under Five’s eyes had gotten worse over the past few weeks, and even though she knew he’d never say anything, it was clear that putting down the staggering weight of the apocalypse after forty-five years of carrying it was proving difficult for her brother. She saw the way he startled at his reflection, the way his fingers flexed absent-mindedly toward his hip, right where a holster might be, the way he counted the people in the room, the way he would talk too quietly or too loudly, or left out details in stories, as if he couldn’t gauge how much of a given conversation was supposed to happen in his head.

He’d taken to drinking, of course – he’d been drinking since he got back. But now he seemed to rarely be without a glass in his hand. And Vanya saw the way his shoulders relaxed when he took a sip, the way his tapping foot and twitching eyelid settled.

Vanya was used to watching. She knew how to see things.

She’d been saving the candy especially for him, for when he needed it. Tomorrow she’d go to the liquor store for him; she knew better than to recommend he go cold-turkey. Five was smart. With the right support, he’d slow down on his own, when he was ready. That was her job, being the right support.

Therapy would probably be good too.

“I don’t like sweets,” he reminded her, and for a second her heart lurched for the thirteen-year-old boy who was once caught with a half-empty can of cake frosting under his bed.

“These’ll help. Just trust me?” It was a request, an olive branch. Slowly, he nodded.

“Okay.”

*

“—It wasn’t even the most dangerous situation I’d been in that week! Dolores was furious at me for days, of course, but at least I got some wine out of it,” Five said, tipping his head back to stare at the popcorn ceiling. Vanya was giggling at his story, watching the faint smile dance over her brother’s face at the memory.

“I thought the apocalypse would be, just like… shitty forever.”

Five sighed. “It was. But you know. You can’t be unhappy for 45 years straight, your body doesn’t work that way. There were good times.”

Vanya giggled again. She couldn’t seem to stop doing that. “I can’t do anything straight.”

For a beat, Five studied her, his expression unreadable. Then he broke into a surprisingly bright smile.

“That was a joke.” It wasn’t a question.

Vanya gave her brother a light shove. The way a sister might to a brother. “Of course it was, idiot.”

He shoved her back, smiling wider than Vanya had seen in a long time. “Don’t call me an idiot. Idiot.” The twitch in his eyebrow was gone. Vanya suddenly went quiet, the light feeling in her core spreading throughout her chest at this realization.

“Five?”

“Hm?”

“I love you a lot.”

Five was quiet too, then, but not unusually so; Five was always quiet, when he wasn’t yelling. His eyes traced patterns in the ridges and dips of the ceiling plaster.

“I love you too.” He turned to look at her. “I missed you.”

“I know, Five,” she replied, because she did. “I missed you too.” Because she does. Did. Does.

His face split again, into that same bright, open smile. “You know what I would think about? Out in the apocalypse?”

“What?”

“When we would stay up all night sometimes talking. Remember that? Jesus, we must’ve been… ten? Eleven? And we’d be up for hours… I don’t even remember what we talked about. Math, probably.” Five shrugged. “I had conversations like that with Dolores, after. Or sometimes you.”

“Me?”

He smoothed out the fabric of his shorts. “Yeah, you were there in the apocalypse with me. I had your book, remember? Closest I could get to someone talking to me.”

Vanya tried to meet his eyes, but he was gone somewhere. A gentle hand found his arm. He flinched a little, but didn’t pull away. “I’m here now.”

He nodded, and when he spoke, it sounded strangled somehow. “Thanks.”

A passing truck honked its horn. Vanya thunked her head back on a bedpost, sinking into the floaty feeling that had settled right around her sternum. She got why Klaus did this. It felt like she could say anything, or do anything, and everything would be okay.

Five made a kind of whining noise in the back of his throat. “I want donuts.”

Vanya closed her eyes, smiling. “Shit, donuts sound great right now.”

“The jelly-filled ones from Griddy’s.”

“Yeah, when you get there at like eight p.m. and they’ve just finished the last batch of the day so they’re, like, fresh and shit.”

“Fuck,” Five sighed, pulling the back of his blazer over his head and slouching. “I want donuts.”

Despite herself, Vanya started giggling again. “You look ridiculous.”

“Excuse you,” Five replied, wrinkling his nose. “I am a trained assassin of the Commission, licensed to travel space and time with an assault rifle. I never look ridiculous.”

“You look like a Founding Father.”

The look that Five shot Vanya sent chills running down her spine. But like, in a fun way.

“Take that back.”

“No.”

“You asshole, take it –”

“No, you look like Benjamin goddamn Frank – hey!” Before she could so much as blink, Five had pounced, swatting at her arms when she laughingly brought them up to protect herself. “Go away, you know I’m right!”

Five was grinning too, slipping his fingers past her weak defenses to mess up her hair and poke at her cheeks until she had to hold her stomach in laughter. “Take it back, I said!” he crowed, sounding like he was on the edge of laughter himself. He managed a lucky strike when blunt fingernails skated over the crease of her neck, and she scrunched her shoulder with a squeal.

“No – no, fuck, Five –”

Vanya’s flailing hands struggled to gain any sort of advantage against Five’s skilled assassin reflexes, to no avail. She was horribly ticklish at the best of times, but now the ruthless pokes that were attacking her nerves overwhelmed her, and she curled up into a ball of giggles on the floor.

Through wet lashes she could see Five’s grin as he methodically took her apart, relentlessly tickling all the places he knew were torture – ears down to collarbone, and then jumping down to squeeze at her sides, making her shriek. His skinny teenage fingers were unfortunately perfect for tickling at her ribs and sneaking their way into the crease of her neck.

Vanya was laughing the hardest she’d laughed in a long time, maybe ever. Nobody in recent memory had known her like this, known her well enough to completely eviscerate her the way that Five always, always could. Damn him. This was definitely cheating.

Her laughter hit a fever pitch when Five got a hold of one of her kicking feet. Shit.

“Please, I – fuck! Okay, okay, I take it back, mercy!”

Five stopped, smirking. “Assassins don’t show mercy, except to ticklish sisters.”

A few residual giggles escaped through Vanya’s nose. “Shut up.”

“Me, shut up? Me? Excuse you, you called me a fucking Founding Father –”

“I didn’t say you were a Founding Father, I said you looked –”

“Vanya, I don’t think you understand that I am still holding on to your ankle, and strategically – hey!”

Swiftly, Vanya scooped up his own ankle and held it in her lap, a mischievous smirk on her face. She had completely forgotten about Five’s thing with unanticipated touch, but his eyes were just as bright as hers. “Oh yeah?”

Five’s smirk didn’t waver. “Nice try, I’m not ticklish.”

“Is that so?” She tugged on his leg, tucking it under her arm and hovering her fingertips over his knee. Five nearly choked.

“Wait –”

A squeeze was all it took for Five to collapse into hysterical laughter, squirming and flailing, but more squeezes couldn’t hurt. Vanya was grinning, digging in mercilessly. Served him right for attacking her, he wasn’t not the only one who remembers ticklish spots. It occurred to her that she was maybe being a little cruel, going right for his weakness immediately, but the loud, bright cackles pouring out of her brother’s mouth were worth every kick that he landed.

Five pounded a fist on the floor, mouthing something resembling words, but he couldn’t manage anything coherent through his helpless laughter. All right then, mercy it is. She graciously released his leg, which shot up into his body as he curled in on himself.

“F-fuck you,” he panted.

Vanya chuckled. “Oh come on, surely assassins are familiar with the concept of revenge?”

He said nothing, but his smile, weak from tickles, widened. She wrinkled her brow. “What’s that for?”

“S’nothing. Hic.”

“Are you… are those hiccups?”

“No.” Hic. “…Fuck off.”

Vanya burst into another fit of laughter, earning her a light shove. Five tried to school his face into an angry expression, but he was laughing too.

“I take back everything I said, I didn’t miss you, I don’t love you, you’re an asshole –”

She giggled and shoved him back. “You’re an asshole, but we love you anyway.”

The faux-anger melted away. “I know.”

For a long moment, a comfortable silence fell over the siblings, the kind that they used to fall into around four in the morning when they had both squeezed onto Five’s bed for the night to talk about training and music and math and family.

Five yawned despite himself. “M’fuckin’ sleepy,” he grumbled.

Vanya smiled. “You sound like a kid.”

“I look like one, too,” he said, and at first Vanya thought he might be angry. He usually was when he talked about his body. But then he smiled again. He kept doing that. His eyes were shining. “I’m sorry it took me so long. The calculation took years.”

Vanya shifted to face him. “Talk to me about it.”

Five’s smile grew, and Vanya knew, somewhere in her chest, that they would be okay.

[stressedspidergirlsfandomblog]

Day 2 Potion

Title: Potions

Ship: Geralt x Yennefer

Prompt Day 2

Warnings: Reaction to potions/poisoning. Pain, urge to vomit, etc.

Summary: “a pain so dreadful that only the greatest effort stopped him from screaming. His heart began to beat frantically and, compared to his usual pulse -four times slower than that of a normal person- it was an extremely unpleasant sensation. Everything went black, the world spun around, blurred, and dissolved.” – “drinking the elixir had never caused the effects it had that night. For an hour after drinking it he had fought cramps and extremely powerful vomiting reflexes, aware he couldn’t let himself be sick… he fell wearily into a deep sleep.” -Andrzej Sapkowski, Season of Storms

Word Count: 1506

Read on Ao3

He threw up. Violently. The acid seared his nose, making him choke. The smell burned alone was enough to make his eyes tear, and he retched helplessly trying to clear his nasal passages. When he could breathe, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Geralt could smell piss and wasn’t sure if he hoped it was his or not. Considering the alternatives.

He had survived worse before, he knew he had. When he had lost his swords. His throat felt raw and he heaved again, knowing how pointless it was to do so. Nothing was going to make the poison come up. It had been injected through a vein in his arm, it never touched his stomach. The Golden Oriole he’d taken to counteract it, had, and was now going to do him absolutely no good.

His body shook so hard he thought he might crack his teeth, and nothing he did seemed to ease the pain or his body’s need to empty his stomach. Snot clogged his nose and he choked and spat before his body convulsed again. Practically blind with pain, Geralt crawled across broken glass to the window and looked out. The drop wouldn’t kill him. Staying in this room to be found in this condition surely would. So he did what any sane person would do, and heaved himself out a window.

Something cracked inside of him, and he laid there for a few moments, blackness circling around him as stars and sparks shot through it, keeping it at bay. He whistled once, pursing his lips, then retched again, helpless. He didn’t have more potion in his belt, there was nothing that would help him. Curling into a ball he did his best to stay conscious until the sound of hooves roused him. Terror swamped him until he felt the muzzle of his horse gently lipping at his hair and clothes, whickering softly. Roach. He was saved. It took quite a bit of patience on Roach’s part as she kneeled down and did her best to encourage him to crawl onto her back. His hands were bloodied from the glass, and they hurt abominably, so much so he wondered if he had crippled himself in his desperate attempt to escape the lord’s torture room.

If he was being honest, he had no idea how he got there. He remembered a contract, a portal, and then pain. So much pain. New poisons to try. Nothing had killed him, but then finally something had happened. His memory won’t fill in the details and it’s all he can do to hold onto Roach and not fall off while she canters off before breaking into a gallop. The bouncing hurts and makes his muscles scream in pain and he knew he was hitting her saddle wrong and couldn’t imagine the pain in her back and that was the last thought he had before the darkness claimed him.

Water dripped into a bucket as a cloth is wrung out, and he turned to the sound. When he felt goosebumps break out across his skin, he realized he was naked. Concerned at this change, he wondered briefly what might be tested on him next. Tensing, he prepared to open his eyes and attack.

Cool hands touched is forehead, and he relaxed. He would know those hands anywhere. “Yennefer,” he slurred, then frowned. What was wrong with him?

“I’m here. Try not to move. Or speak. Not yet.”

He knew that arguing with Yennefer was often pointless, but also that she could read minds. Hopeful she might be listening in, he wanted her to tell him what was going on.

“I suppose you won’t settle until you know. Of course not, then you wouldn’t be you.”

Gentle hands ran over his chest and stomach and he flinched in pain.

“I don’t know everything that happened. You’re lucky we have mutual friends. One of them notified me you had been hurt. Gone on a contract and disappeared. I set about looking for you, more out of curiosity than concern. A mutated beast won’t kill you, you’re too good at your job. Then I heard of some lord who wanted his sorcerer to develop the world’s best poison and I started to worry.

“I wasn’t expecting Roach to bring you to me. I’m not sure she meant to, either. I hadn’t planned to be in that town as long as I was. I got delayed.”

The soft splashing of water resumed and he realized she was wringing out a cloth. Then he felt it against his forehead and temples and near whimpered in relief. His head ached. All of him ached. The cool fabric was a blessing and when his jaw relaxed, he hadn’t even realized he’d clenched it before.

“You were unconscious, looked like you’d taken some of the potions you take before a contract. I’m not sure what was done to you. I thought about taking some of your blood to find out, but the idea of hurting you worse upset me deeply. You cut through some tendons in your fingers. Or someone else did, I don’t know. I’ve repaired them, but you mustn’t use your hands just yet.”

The cloth was moved down his neck, back up behind his ears, then along his collarbones and chest before it was returned to the bucket and wrung out again. She ran it over his arms and under them, and he was glad for a moment he wasn’t ticklish. The water dripping might have made him twitch and injure himself further.

“You broke two bones in your leg, snapped your wrist, and then somehow also cracked your skull.” The irritation and fear in her voice blended together and all he heard was anger. “You could have died. I saw enough in your dreams that I know you threw yourself out the window. And the worst part is you thought the jump wasn’t so far. It was near three stories. Even with your witcher’s mutations you’re lucky to have lived. It’s a good thing you hit legs first, then fell on your arms. A small miracle you broke as few bones as you did. Lucky Roach was able to get you onto her back at all. I know you didn’t do it. Clever girl probably did most of the work on her own.”

That tracked with what he remembered. She had lipped at his shirt, bit him, he thinks, and shoved him as best she could with her head after she’d knelt down. He had dragged himself into the saddle and slipped off twice when she tried to stand before he finally stayed in. His backside and groin ache and he knows he rode poorly. Hopefully Roach was less sore.

“She’s fine. I looked her over, she’s eating the finest mix of grains and grasses and she’s enjoying quite the beautiful stable. Dry, mucked out twice a day, all of that. Just like you deserve the pounding your balls took, doing something that stupid.” More water dripping, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You know full well I’d miss them just as much as you would.”

The cloth swept across his belly and he hissed in pain, the cloth froze.

“I don’t see bruising, Geralt. Is it truly the skin that hurts?” Gentle fingers probe his abdomen, palpating gently. Tears worked their way past his eyelids to run over his temples. “I’ll come back to this,” her voice was softer, kinder.

Her touch moved across his body and down his legs, and he found himself trembling. The splash of the cloth hitting water startled him, and he bit back a whimper when the sharp movement made him jostle half healed bones. Jars were corked and uncorked, and the sharp scent of various herbs stung his nose. Geralt could barely feel flakes of them touch his skin, but he knew from the sound alone Yennefer was lightly crumbling some over his stomach.

“I’ll get you some water to drink in a moment. Ease your throat. Is there a reason you haven’t opened your eyes?”

He considered this and found he couldn’t. At least not yet. They fluttered when he tried but they were too heavy for him to lift. His whole body was heavy and painful. It only moved of its own will when the pain increased and it tried to dance away. The words she spoke in Elder danced past him and he couldn’t grasp them. Fire flashed across his belly and he would have screamed but it was over before he could. His gut cramped again briefly and he was fairly sure if his bladder hadn’t been empty he would have pissed himself.

“I’m sorry Geralt, I honestly had no idea it would hurt that badly.” Cool hands ran over his abdomen and to both their relief it didn’t hurt him this time. “Rest, darling, just rest. I’ll take care of you.”

He believed her. Any time he’d been badly hurt, she had helped him. If she had known about it. He slept.

@geraltwhumpweek

[august-anon]

1, 6, 7

1. What’s your personal favourite thing you wrote this year?

Answered this one here

6. What’s your favourite piece of dialogue you wrote this year?

Lol see this is where my intense memory issues (and inability to choose favorites) become a problem because I’ve written so much fic this year that I don’t remember most of it lol, so let’s see what I remember lol. 

I really like this exchange from Touch [ao3] (with parts removed so it’s mainly just the dialogue):

“So you trust this, trust me, enough to let it happen?” Kravitz asked softly.

“I’m in your lap,” Taako teased, “what do you think?”

Kravitz let out a startled laugh, wrapping both hands around Taako’s waist to intertwine at the base of his spine. “I guess that proves it, doesn’t it?”

Or maybe this exchange from You Like It [ao3], I think it’s kinda funny lol:

“Geralt—Geralt, you do know what tickling is, don’t you?”

“In theory.”

“In theory, he says. How has a man never once in his life seen or experienced tickling. What, have you been living under a rock, who do you talk to?”

7. What’s your favourite piece of description or narration?

Once again difficult for the same reasons listed above lol. Also, I’ll try not to pick from the same fics I did above lol, so there’s some variety

I like this one from TT2020 Day 13 Wake Up! [ao3] 

Dipper and Mabel both gave him incredibly mischievous looks before rushing out of the room without another word. Stan huffed out a breath, watching them go. Then, he quickly rose to follow them. Either his brother was about to get absolutely wrecked by two 12-year-olds, or those kids were about to have quite the round two (six fingers did wonders for tickling skills, based on what was coming back to Stan) and he didn’t want to miss a moment of either scenario.

After all, he knew more than anyone, now, that the memories he made with his family were beyond precious.

Okay and this one is a BIG section from TT20 Day 6 Kiss [ao3] but I really do like it a lot lol

So Jaskier switched back to ticklish little kisses against Geralt’s skin, making sure to utilize his breath where he could. Geralt squirmed under him and squeezed his waist as his laughter got sweeter and more high-pitched and Jaskier couldn’t help letting out an involuntary giggle of his own.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) that seemed to just create a feedback loop of tickles and giggles. Jaskier giggling sent his breath fanning out over Geralt’s sensitive neck, which in turn made Geralt shiver and giggle himself. In his shivers, however, Geralt kept twitching and squeezing Jaskier’s waist (though Jaskier couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not), which sent Jaskier giggling again and started the cycle all over.

It took a few rounds of this for Jaskier to be able to get a hold of himself well enough to start mouthing at Geralt’s neck again. He trailed breathy, giggly kisses from Geralt’s collarbone all the way up to his ear. When Jaskier started to focus his kisses around and behind Geralt’s ear, Geralt let out a startled noise that Jaskier was even tempted to call a squeal . His giggles switched from being bouncy to bordering on hysterical. And now , he was squeezing Jaskier’s hips instead, which only made Jaskier laugh harder into his ear.

Geralt’s feet were scrabbling at the ground, digging trenches into the dirt, but Jaskier could feel the tension in his upper body. It was like he was having to hold himself back from tossing Jaskier off as a reflex. Despite that, Geralt’s head had slowly tilted further and further back, giving Jaskier more access to the sensitive skin, and he hadn’t even noticed until now.

Slowly Jaskier pulled back, both of them caught in panting giggles even though the tickling had stopped. Geralt reached a hand up to rest against Jaskier’s neck and jaw, gently pulling him in until their foreheads were pressed together and they were sharing air. Jaskier’s heart pounded at the intimacy, but he didn’t dare pull back, not when he finally got Geralt’s walls low enough for him to initiate the affection.

And I’ll leave it at two lol

[aqvarius]

HLITF: This is not the story of your first night: Soma - otona love - chapter 5 summary/translation

two chapters in one day? who is this queen of productivity?! it’s me, adhd tea, hyperfocussing on my newest obsession. if you missed it, you can find the previous chapter translated here or check my new translations page to read from the beginning. my translations masterpost is not rebloggable or mobile-friendly yet but i will update when i make one! otherwise, you can always just search the tag “summary” or “translation” on my blog or follow the links in my previous chapter posts to find the previous posts.

anyway, reading and translating this chapter today too was so worth it, because i can say for sure that this is probably the smuttiest and most explicit chapter of hlitf i’ve ever read in my entire life. it’s also a loooong one. 

here we are, in my favourite bathroom in the world. 

“mm, it smells good,” you say. you were successfully led to take a bath together and you feel so healed...

soma explains that these bath salts are supposed to be a blend of herbs that relieves fatigue. you comment that the aroma seems to be very effective. soma says that the moisturising ingredients are perfect, so your skin will be smooth. 

“my arm is caressed in the hot water, and my heart pounds a little.”

“but his hands slowly rise up and he tenderly loosens my shoulders.” 

you think “oh what, it was just a massage...” you feel relieved, but somehow also disappointed. (lmao what a thirsty girl. hlitf mc has the highest libido of any voltage mc out there.)

“but it feels good...”

soma comments that you’re pretty stiff. you reply that it feels so good you’re dizzy, so soma says “then shall we get up and wash our bodies?” as he said it, you were lifted up and your voice came out a little louder. 

“it’s embarrassing to be princess carried while naked...”

you get placed onto a bath chair. soma, crouching behind you, gets the soap and lathers it. “is he going to wash me?” you think

“um, i can wash myself,” you say, but he tells you to let him do it. he turns your body back [that had turned to him when you talked to him] and he strokes some foam down your shoulder. 

“the way he’s using his hands is a little... suspicious”

your eyes meet soma’s, who is lathering up your whole body from behind, in the mirror.

soma: “it seems that washing with bare hands is the best way to protect your skin”

slkdjf;alskjdfal ahaskjdslkjsda!!!

you agree, but say that it’s a little ticklish. he says that your blood circulation is improved when it’s like this and you’re like "ahh i wonder if that’s true...?” as you tilt your head, soma smiles.  

soma: “raise your arms a little”

“when i do as i was told, soma’s hand that was gliding wraps around my breast.”

“with a cushion of foam, he gently strokes the sensitive tip”

“my heartbeat is pounding loudly, but soma-san’s supple hands leave my chest and slide down to my stomach.”

“he washes my whole body like this, stroking me, and then finally rinses me off carefully.”

“next is shampoo,” he says and you’re like “i can wash my hair by myself!” but he says there’s no need to be reserved. so you’re like “then onegaishimasu”. he smiles at you and you decide to be honest. you think he’s being really kind today. he’s always kind, but he’s thoroughly smart. even in the bathtub, he didn’t come onto you teasingly/meanly like you thought he would. 

“what’s wrong?” soma asks. you say it’s nothing... 

lathering plenty of shampoo, soma laughs a little for some reason and you wonder what he’s smiling about.

i have to just interject here because let’s be honest, we all know soma is setting a trap. of course he’s kind and caring and loves pampering his gf but we all know our favourite high libido mc is going to crack at some point if he doesn’t make a move, and we all know that’s what he wants to happen!! i’m sure he just wants her to admit that she loves when he’s mean. 

anyway, soma, who took care of you even after bathing, rushes you into bed. he even held the dryer for you and dressed you in pyjamas... 

you’re so scared that you become exhausted? (i don’t really know what this line is supposed to mean: “怖いくらいに至れり尽くせりだったなぁ” someone help me pls)

he brushes your freshly washed hair and kisses you on the neck. 

soma: “you smell good”

“is it the same scent as soma-san?”

soma: “your scent is special”

(😍😍😍)

“[his] kiss that descended from the nape of my neck traces my collarbone and goes further down.”

he unbuttons your pyjamas, and the underwear that had just been put on is stripped off. 

soma: “you shouldn’t have put it on if it was just going to be removed immediately” 

with a soft smile, soma gently kisses the top of your chest. you moan and he presses a kiss to your lips as if to catch a small sigh that leaked from you. 

“while our hot tongues entangle with each other’s, his fingertip stimulates the tip of my chest again.”

soma gently narrows his eyes at you when you press your lips together. 

soma: “[you’re] cute”

“that’s it...?”

“he’s not saying “it’s getting hard” ... or “[you’re already] like this” ...”

 you get kind of embarrassed hearing only complimentary words. but his kisses rain down on your whole body as usual, and your body floods with heat. 

soma: “moist and smooth... is this the aroma[therapy] effect” 

he strokes your whole body with his palm and your body heats up. eventually, his hand passes over your hipbone and stops at your inner thigh. 

soma: “slowly”

“exactly as he said, his slow and supple fingers inserted into my hottest place.”

“the part that was already wet welcomed his finger without difficulty.”

(🔥🔥🔥)

while making love to you with his fingers, soma places his lips just below your navel. after feeling a tickle/tingle, a slight ache comes. you let out a small cry at the sweet ache that you’ve tasted time and time again. 

“soma-san always leaves a love mark somewhere”

“that makes me happy...”

ugaksfjlsd she’s so in love~

“as my body and mind were being filled, soma-san’s hardened part touched my lower abdomen.”

“before i knew it, he put on a condom [contraceptives] and was about to enter my ~honey jar~.”

“quickly, come on...”

okay i’m not kidding but seeing that smile after all that sexual buildup was like a shot to my heart. i need to take a quick break because ;laksjf;lskjdsl fasd

as if he heard the whisper in your heart, soma smiles quietly and sinks his hips down [into you]. 

“eh...? usually...”

“he’d ask “do you want it?”“

even though you think it seems strange, your thoughts fade away at the feeling of his hard, proud, hot mass entering you. quietly, slowly, gently moving inwards, the heat inside your core also increases. you moan his name. 

“soma-san’s passion became so hot that my inner walls clenched tightly.”

you wholeheartedly do not want to let go of your beloved person.

you apologise, saying that you just got really into [enthusiastic about] it. 

soma: “i’m happy. every time you accept me, i feel blessed.”*

*by accept, i think he means you accepting/receiving him [into your body]. the word used for blessed is shiawase, which can also mean happy/fortunate/lucky.

lskfj he’s normally so teasing but my heart races when he’s sweet too... ;~~;

you moan his name. hanging on his unusually kind words, you are swayed by his waves~ 

“it feels good but... why... why does something feel different,” you wonder.

being made love to gently, your body is burning, but something is missing. 

“is it frustrating when he’s too gentle...”

when you think about it, it was the same with dinner and the bath. 

“even in situations when he usually makes fun of me, he’s always smart...”**

**by smart, i think this means like emotionally/socially smart. btw this is reminding me exactly of one thing huedhaut once said in one of his povs (cupid lovestruck valentine, where he worries because he always tries not to take it too far when he jokes with you)

you suddenly remember when he said he would “refrain in the future”. is he keeping true to that declaration? if so... will it always be like this...? what would that be like...

“if it’s like this, it will end with incomplete combustion.”***

***i think by “incomplete combustion” she’s saying that she can’t orgasm lol?? someone let me know if this actually means something else and my mind is just in the gutter

you think that’s sad, for soma too. 

you still haven’t seen his face that smiles so happily when bothering you today. 

“that’s why... for soma-san’s sake too...”

“maybe i have to honestly say “it’s not enough/i’m not satisfied”.”

but... to say that yourself...

soma: “you’re so cute”****

****he says your name here but mine is still set to anata/you lol

as if you’re being swayed in the calm and slow waves of the sea, your heart sways too. 

“i don’t dislike gentle waves but...”

“i want to feel soma-san more...”

“i want to drown in the formidable waves that only soma-san can make...”

“more than anything, i want to see soma-san’s satisfied gaze on me as i drown.”

“because soma-san’s pleasure is also my pleasure...”

even though you’re feeling good, you bite the bullet. 

soma: “what’s wrong?”

“you’re not the usual mean/teasing soma-san...”

even the ~gentle waves~ stop completely, and he looks at you directly. you panic bc he pulls out. 

--

and that’s the end of chapter 5. omg the suspense is UNREAL!! was that not the most steamy chapter of hlitf you’ve ever read?! and you know it’s only going to get better in the last chapter, when soma finally unleashes his true ijiwaru self. this chapter had my heart racing at so many points. i definitely enjoy being spoilt by soma, but more than anything i enjoy being teased by him and i think our dear mc feels the same way! something that i love is how she also prioritises his pleasure/gratification? even if it means being super embarrassed because of how mean he is, she just wants to see his absolute satisfaction. something that i realised while reading this story in japanese is that he definitely comes across as a lot meaner/more sarcastic in japanese (except for this chapter where he’s being extra gentle), even more like my eternal star-crossed lover huedhaut. 

anyway, let me know if you prefer gentle soma or mean soma! i hope you enjoyed this chapter and stay tuned for the final chapter coming tomorrow (probably)! 

i’ve also set up a ko-fi page here and would be incredibly grateful if you would like to support me for translations and being able to purchase more routes to recap in english!

click here for the next chapter

[ultsoobins]

nightmares&nose kisses - CSB

requested:

that soobin imagine with the kisses was the most adorable thing I’ve ever read, you’re making me soft in the early hours of the morning 😂💕 you’re such a good writer! Please could I request a soobin imagine with cuddles and soft kisses, you can have the plot as anything you’d like! thank you~

hi!! can you write an imagine about comforting soobin after he wakes up from a nightmare? i love your writing ❤️❤️

hello uwuwuwuwu i was the one who requested the 5 types of kisses for yeonjun and i was hoping if you could do the nose kisses thing with soobin hhhh i'm in my soft hours ): thank youuuu

notes:

yes i AM shoving three requests into one piece thank you for noticing i hope that’s fine by everyone who requested them lmao

summary:

nothing remedies nightmares like the one you love

you wake up to an unfamiliar emptiness beside you, the only indicator that soobin was ever there at all being the few wrinkles he hadn’t been able to smooth out of the sheets. the other boys are out - after all, it’s barely 3 in the afternoon - leaving you and your boyfriend to your own devices in the dorm. 

tired as you both are, it only made sense to take a nap as soon as everyone else cleared out. 

considering, however, that your boyfriend is no longer beside you, you don’t think napping worked out as well for him as it did for you. after all, soobin never gets up if you’re still sleeping. 

you sit up, stretching out your arms and rolling out your neck before getting up to go find your boyfriend. doing so takes no time at all - the kitchen is barely a step away from the door of the boys’ room, and soobin’s at the table with his head in his hands. 

you know what’s wrong almost immediately. 

“soobin?”

your boyfriend sharply intakes a breath, rubbing his eyes haphazardly before glancing at you over his shoulder. “yeah?”

“sit with me on the couch.”

you wait for soobin, who tries to wipe at his eyes again before he gets up. he sniffles, and its all you can do to look away so he doesn’t see how much the sound wrenches your heart. he sits down before you do, and you sit down half on him - your legs are slung over his. you do this only so he can easily bury his face in your neck, like he’s bound to. 

he does, in fact, bury his face in your neck. 

you wince at the shock of feeling his tears on your skin, pulling him closer nonetheless. running your fingers through his hair, you pull back for a split second to press your lips to the top of his head. you say nothing, waiting for him to talk first. 

“...do you - will you always stay by me?” 

his voice is so soft you have to strain your ears to pick up his words. once you do, you close your eyes for a moment to take his words in. 

“...was it a nightmare?”

you know that you haven’t answered his question just yet, but you know that he knows that you will. he mumbles a “yeah.” into your skin. 

“can i... can i ask what happened in it?” 

soobin sighs, pulling back far enough for you to see his face. he wipes at his eyes again before looking back at your collar, wincing as he does. 

“i stained your shirt.”

“it’s just water,” you smile at him, hoping that you look more reassuring than anything. “besides - i’ve cried on you plenty of times. it’s just equality.” soobin gives you a watery laugh at this. he sighs right after, face reverting back to the melancholy he’s felt for the past hour. 

“i was being chased by this demon, except the demon had no horns. but i did? i think i had antlers, or something. and it was in a maze, so i couldn’t get out. i think it was the labyrinth. i got to the center, and -”

soobin’s words rush out of him as if he knows that speaking will get it off his chest. he chokes up towards the end, though, and you find yourself reaching out to wipe his tears as if on auto-pilot. 

“yeah?” you ask softly, moving the bangs out of his eyes as you do. he sniffles, looking away for a moment. 

“- and it was you, suspended - suspended from the ceiling by a rope, and the rope was so, so thin and frayed, and you were over a whole vat of some liquid that i didn’t know what it was. you weren’t moving, and you weren’t dead, but your eyes were open, and you looked so - you looked so terrified.” soobin bursts into fresh tears at the last word, moving back in to cry into your neck. he hiccups out the remainder of his story into your neck. 

“and i was stuck between the demon, which i knew would find me eventually, and figuring out how to save you, and i was panicking. just as i figured out what to do, the rope snapped and - “

he gives a shuddering sigh, long and drawn out. 

“- and then i woke up.”

you rub his back as soothingly as you can while thinking of what to say in response. after what feels like eons - but is really mere seconds - you speak. 

“i’m here now, and i’m here to stay. whether i’m physically by your side or not, you’re always in my heart - and i know that i’m always in yours. yeah?”

soobin sniffles, his breathing slightly more stable after telling you about what was bothering him. “yeah.”

you continue, your fingers fiddling with strands of his hair. “i won’t leave you - not now, not ever. not for as long as we last.” 

“so... forever?” you can feel his growing smile against your collarbone and let out a light laugh at how ticklish your skin is where his lips meet it. 

“forever.” you agree, smiling softly to yourself as well. soobin pulls away to face you, and you reach up to wipe the last of his tears off of his cheeks. 

“will you feel better if we go out to get food?” soobin sniffles and laughs in response to your question before nodding vehemently. 

“yeah.” he replies, smiling, before his face suddenly turns serious. “...you know that i love you, right?”

it’s your turn to nod with abandon, and you do so before grinning widely and leaning in to press a gentle kiss to soobin’s cheek. “i do. i love you too.” 

soobin chuckles before sandwiching your face between both of his hands. he leans in, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. a blush dusts your cheeks immediately, and you bury your face in your hands on instinct to cover it. soobin moves your hands away from your face, taking both of them in both of his instead. he leans in and kisses your nose again, before kissing your forehead, both of your cheeks, your chin, and the corners of your mouth. 

“cut to the chase, already!” you laugh, and soobin’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with you. he doesn’t respond with words, opting instead to lean in and press his lips to yours, tilting your face up with one finger. 

once you separate, he grins at you before gently taking your legs off of his. “i’ll go wash my face, and then we can go out, yeah?”

you nod in agreement. “what about the place two blocks down? the new cafe place with the cat painting in the main window?”

“the cat is purple, right?”

“mhm.” 

soobin shoots you a double thumbs up before turning to go. after barely one step, however, he turns back. 

“you might be in my nightmares, but waking up and realizing that you’re mine is a dream i live everyday.” 

one corner of his mouth upturns while he’s speaking, and once he finishes he winks at your now speechless self. 

“i - you - just - go wash your face!” you sputter out finally, placing your face in your hands to hide the scarlet that’s quickly spreading across it. you hear soobin’s loud laugh float out of the bathroom right before you heard the sound of running water. you’re glad - he’s already back to being in a fairly good mood.

you sigh, shaking your head slightly as you lower your hands and stand up to find your shoes.  

after all, you have a purple cat to go find. 

[sebspocketsquare]

Wishing you were here... 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (chatroom)

A/N: Hey guys! here’s the fourth installment. I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you think. Part 5 will be posted next monday! ps: if you want to be tagged, please inbox me directly!

Warnings: language, flirting, pet names, feels, nerves, angst

masterlist

The ride to Sarge’s apartment takes less time than you anticipated, but you’re not sure if it’s because he lives so close or if he’s speeding just so he can get there faster. 

He pulls into his parking space and is out of the car with your luggage in hand faster than you can even unbuckle and open the car door. 

He leads you inside the building and to an elevator, pressing a button for one of the highest floors. You can feel his eyes on your face every few seconds, as if he’s trying to gauge your reaction to everything that’s happening, but you try your best to keep your face composed.

Once inside his apartment, you feel some of your nerves from before resurfacing.

Sarge disappears for a few minutes to put your bag in the appropriate room, and you take the brief moment of solitude to take in and exhale a couple shuddering breaths. “You can do this. You’re fine.” Murmuring to yourself, you run a hand through your hair and close your eyes in an attempt to bring your heart rate down. 

You’re so caught up in your breathing that you don’t hear him come up behind you, and the feeling of his hand on your lower back makes you jump.

“Woah there. It’s just me, kitten.”

Opening your eyes slowly, you look up to meet his gaze for the second time that day. 

He exhales a sigh of relief as he smiles, left hand staying at your waist while his right comes to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Still weird, right?”

You nod, unintentionally nuzzling your face into his hand, but leaning into it when you realize how comforting the action really is. Your eyes shut once more and his thumb sweetly strokes your cheek while his fingers press a bit more firmly to the muscle in your back.

“C’mon..” He says after a few minutes, “Let’s sit down. We can watch a movie. Just hang out.”

You let him lead you to the couch, choosing to sit by the arm while he sat in the middle, but left plenty of space between the two of you, in case you didn’t want to practically cuddle him.

Closing the distance had already crossed your mind, but you decided to play it safe for now, staying on your own side of the furniture while he chose a comedy for you to watch.

Thirty minutes into the movie, and you can’t recall a moment where you couldn’t feel his gaze on your face. He’d shifted two or three times, before finally settling on putting his arm over the back of the couch, almost a silent invitation for you to snuggle into his chest.

You knew he wouldn’t ask you to, he made that very clear before you even arrived, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t something that you desperately wanted.

“Sarge..?” The name leaves your lips and he turns to you, grinning. “You can call me James. Or Bucky if you’d like.” 

“James or Bucky?” You repeat, smiling coyly in return.

He nods, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “James Buchanan Barnes is my full name. Most people just call me Bucky.” 

You hum at the idea of calling him anything other than Sarge, but decide to see how the name felt on your tongue. “Bucky.”

It only makes his smile grow.

Deciding it's time to be brave, you slowly move closer to him, ducking your body under his arm to rest your head over his heart, keeping your hands to yourself for the time being by wrapping them around your middle. He immediately notices how uncomfortable that seems and takes your hand in his, bringing it to rest on the open side of his chest, tracing your knuckles with his fingertips. His arm moves from the back of the couch and around your waist instead, securing your body against his with a content sigh.

You’ve never been more comfortable in your entire life.

He continues to trace mindless patterns over your fingers and the back of your hand, breathing deeply and slowly, almost as if he’s afraid of disturbing you. You find yourself gripping onto the fabric of his shirt and tucking your face into his neck to hide the evidence of your embarrassment - heat flooded cheeks and a shy smile. 

He chuckles and the vibration from it moves through your body, as well.

“You alright, kitten?” He wonders, squeezing your waist as if to reassure you that everything’s okay. 

You simply nod into his neck, which only makes him laugh again. “You gonna be all shy on me, now?”

He pokes and prods at your side some more, until he gets a small giggle as a response. 

“Donnnnn’t!” You protest, “I’m very ticklish.” 

His eyes brighten as his fingers continue dance along your ribs. “Oh? Are you really?”

He coaxes more laughter from you, causing you to squirm and writhe on the couch beside him. He seems to enjoy the fact that it’s bringing you closer to him, physically and in the sense of your comfortability.

Your laughter eventually dies down, but his hand stays securely at your side. Your face is buried in his neck once again, nose brushing over his pulse point with each slight movement your breathing causes. He rests his chin on the top of your head and and a hum sounds from deep in his chest.

“I’ve dreamt about it, y’know.. Holdin’ you like this..” He pauses and squeezes you a bit tighter, “Doesn’t quite compare to the real thing.” 

You smile against his skin, which he seems to notice and releases a chuckle. 

“You keep gettin’ shy on me, kitten. Am I making you uncomfortable?”

You shake your head, bringing your hand up to trace the bit of his collarbone that’s now peeking out of his shirt. You take note of how he stops your hand when your fingers dip below the fabric, towards his left shoulder.

“Now that you’re here.. now that this is really real.. I think there are some things I should tell you.” He brings your knuckles to his lips, brushing soft skin against even softer skin. 

You sit back from him slowly, studying his face, noticing that he can’t make eye contact with you. 

Your stomach drops immediately.

“You’re married, aren’t you?”

He meets your eyes and laughs loudly, shaking his head as he does so, “No, definitely not, it’s nothing like that, it.. it has to do with my job.”

You cock your head slightly and narrow your eyes, silently asking “what is it?”.

His hand is still clasped tightly around yours, his eyes trained on the intricate lines that surround your knuckles. It feels like decades pass before he speaks.

“You’ve heard of ‘The Avengers’, haven’t you? Captain America? Iron man?” His voice is quiet, and shakes with each word. 

You nod slowly. You’d seen the group of heroes on the news a handful of times over the past few years. You, and most everyone owe your lives to them after an otherworldly being turned half of the population to ash. 

“Yes, but..” your mouth goes dry mid sentence and you have to pause to clear your throat. “Do-Uh.. do you know them or something..?” 

A sad half-smile forms on his lips and he nods slightly. “Somethin’ like that..”

His hand gently slips from yours and he cracks his knuckles absentmindedly. “I-I’m part of their team, Kitten. I’m one of them. I’m.. they call me The Winter Soldier.. Well, they used to.. not too sure if that’s who I am, anymore..” 

Your mind goes completely blank for a whole ten seconds. All you can do is stare, and as the time passes, panic becomes more and more evident on Bucky’s face.

“You.. you.. what?” Is all you can manage to push past your teeth. 

“I’m an Avenger.. that’s why I was gone for so long. I was on a mission.” 

You’re not sure why, but the only reaction you have to his confession is laughter. Loud, manic laughter.

He watches you with concerned eyes. 

“Kitten?”

You shake your head, standing up from the couch in a haze, “This is a joke, right? You’re an Avenger? That’s the real reason you were gone?” You laugh again, drier this time, and shake your head.

He follows suit, standing up beside you with an exasperated expression. “Kitten, I’m being serious. Why would I lie about that?” 

You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest, “Maybe to hide the truth from me? Was there someone else?” 

He exhales a rough sigh, his left hand coming up to rake through his hair. This is the first time that you notice the glove, which his right hand lacks.

Cottonmouth suddenly returns and you can’t take your eyes off the appendage, remembering that itch you’d felt in the back of your mind earlier, the one that told you he looked familiar.

“You.. you’re..”  Not lying? Telling the truth? The fucking Winter Soldier? You’re not sure what you’re trying to say, but it just won’t come out. You know a weapon is shielded by the fabric of his glove, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little scared of that prospect. 

He follows your gaze to his hand and nods, staring at the fabric with sorrowful eyes.

“I am.”

The breath you let out is quick and violent, tears brimming your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt of comfort. “H-holy shit. I-uh.. wow.. That’s um.. unexpected.”

Air is entering and exiting your body in quick little pants, and you don’t realize that you’re nearly hyperventilating until Bucky takes a step forward and breaks you away from your thoughts.

“I-I need some air.. um..” Without realizing it, each step he takes towards you causes you to take one back. You can see the hurt in his gaze, but he nods anyway, only wanting to fix this - to make you as comfortable with him as you were ten minutes ago.

“We can go for a walk? I can open a window? Anything for you, Kitten.. Just tell me what I can do.” His voice is soft and it breaks your heart, knowing that you’ve hurt his.

You shake your head, opting for a different route, one that might get you a few moments alone to clear your head. “Um.. bathroom?”

You can read in his eyes that he doesn’t want to let you out of his sight, that he’s afraid you’re going to run, but he points you in the right direction anyway.

As soon as the door is closed behind you and you’re alone, you swear you hear his fist hit the dining room table.

TAGS: (IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE INBOX ME, ITS GETTING DIFFICULT TO KEEP TRACK OF TAGS VIA NOTES). @mindingmyownbusiness @plumfondler  @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @loricameback @tinaferraldo @geminimoonbeamx  @preserumsteverogers @moderapoppins @lowkeysebby @buckyshattergirl  @jayattemptstoruletheworld   @the-observant-fangirl @moondancewrites @moonbeambucky @trinityjadec  @stevieang  @bionic-buckyb @eyecandybarnes @propertyofpoeandbucky @promarvelfangirl @ballyhoobarnes @bucky-plums-barnes @cate-lynne @witchymarvelspacecase @imaginingbucky @theimpossibleg1rl @babygurl8840 @wonderlandmind4 @buckysthing @formulafun @curvybihufflepuff @fanficsformarvelkillme  @shadyskit @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @reading--mermaid @fuckmestan @siliverin @verygraphicink @sallyp-53 

[salamanderskin]

Comfort

cr//it//ical r/o/l/e (m) sickfic. This is one of my more favourite fever scenarios I’ve written, I’m very happy with it though idk if the rest will make any sense if you don’t know the show. 

After a near drowning in episode 40, Nott has a panic attack, Caduceus has wet fur and the start of a cold. They bond over their shared misgivings about seafaring life and give each other some comfort. 

Or... Caduceus leverages Nott’s caring instincts to calm her down. Platonic intimacy ensues. 

It has been hours since they left the water. 

Whole hours, which means Nott is fine, she is safe, everything is fine and she did not drown and she can breathe just fine. So why then are her lungs still working like she'll never breathe again? 

She knows this feeling, knows it just her body telling her she's dying when she's quite safe here in hammock on the Squall Eater. She's felt it a thousand times, knows it always passes, but it's horrible horrible horrible.

Where's Caleb? Where's Frumpkin?

In their own hammock, with the cat curled tight on the wizard's own chest. He doesn't look exactly peaceful either, but they are asleep. If they were in an inn or camped outside she would take her own place on his chest, or at his feet, and let his steady breathing remind her own lungs how they are supposed to work. Perhaps she could climb up there with him? 

The motion of sitting up sets her hammock rocking in a way that reminds her immediately of the waves below. Nausea rises in her throat. 

She could certainly climb in and sleep with Caleb but that would rock the hammock even more, and between their two bodies the cloth would constrict her limbs and maybe she couldn't climb out of it easily and- no, not that then. That's not the answer.

Nott leaps from her own cocoon of blanket and paces the floor, hand on her chest to remind her to breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

She slips out of the door. Let Caleb rest. He needs it.

In the narrow, dark passages below the deck she takes stock.

Caleb? Asleep.

Jester? Most likely asleep but wouldn't mind being woken.

Beau and Yasha? Most likely asleep and would mind being woken.

Fjord? Would also mind being woken. Not asleep but with Avantika, getting his rocks off most likely. That leaves…

Caduceus? Most likely asleep?

As she paces past the cabin she knows the Firbolg shares with Fjord, Nott listens hard. She expects to hear slow even breaths, but instead she can hear the a tall body moving around and the rustle of fabric. A sniffle, a set of ticklish coughs and a muffled exhalation that might have been a sneeze.

Not asleep then.

She enters without knocking.

There is a hurricane lamp it and in it's flicker she can see the firbolg sitting on the floor on a pile of blankets. Of course he is far too tall to take a hammock. He is shirtless and the glow picks out pools of shadow beneath his collarbones, a smear of deeper grey between every rib in his thin chest.

 “Nott!” he looks up, surprised. “Is everything ok?”

“Yes, no, I'm-” her breathing hiccups and her vision gets spotty from lack of oxygen. Maybe she stumbles, because she is caught by strong hands and settled to sit beside him on the floor.

“Whoah. Hey there.” His deep voice is gentle but clear. “Why don't you take some deep breaths. Like this, with me.”

He takes her hand in his and presses it to the broad plain of his chest, so that she can feel the slow rise and fall in her own body.

“That's it. Nice and steady.”

It's hard. It's really, really hard when her body says can't you see you're dying. Mastering her breath is like reigning in a galloping horse. But it will work. She knows it will work if she can just get control of it. Ignore her heart, ignore the way her the room seems to tilt, ignore the nausea and the terrible skin- tightening panic.

Trouble is, there's a fine line between deepening her breathing and focusing on it too much. She wants to be aware of it, but if she gives all her attention to the sensations they will become too much to bear. In Nott's mind she grasps for ways to make the situation normal, to find something, anything to make small talk about.

Caduceus helpfully provides it by tucking his head away for a sudden sneeze.

“Gesundheit!” she offers. The routine response momentarily overrides her panic. It happens again and he offers a sheepish sniffle as he turns back to her.

“Pardon. Got a lot of water in my nose today.” He sniffles. “You want me to count your breaths for you? Some people find that helps.”

Nott considers and shakes her head. “Can we- talk to me- about something else? Anything?”

“Sure I can.” 

He agrees easily, without questioning her further. At that moment, she could kiss him. It must be working with so many people who are grieving- he is really, really good at this, and launches into easy, light conversation that doesn't require a meaningful response. He just chats away as he picks up the towel he was using to try and buff at his fur.

She can see how that the longer patches of are spiked, like a plush velvet cloak that should definitely not have been washed in salt water. The shortest parts around his face and arms are dry but the rest of his fur still holds the water.

“I know it's tropical out there but I can't get warm till it's dry.” He tells her, sniffling again.

 “You should definitely dry off or you'll get sick.” She comments absently.

“You don't get a cold from being wet and cold,” Caduceus tells Nott.

“Says you.” She fires back, desperately glad to put her attention on any subject other than her recent near drowning and the way still can't seem to get a proper breath. Her heart hammers uncomfortably in her throat but it seems further away when she has something to focus on.

“Yeah. says me. I'm the h- the heal-er-”

Nott hears his usually deep voice go all tickly and shuddery as he winds up for another sneeze. He looks so over it afterwards that it makes her heart flip but it's a soft caring flip not a drowning, panicking flip and it actually makes her chest feel warmer. She grabs the towel from beside him and stands, so that his pink hair is level with her chest.

“Come on, let me dry you off. Don't you know any spells for that?”

“I don't. And I don't fancy asking Caleb to try a fireball, so we'll have to do it the old fashioned way.” He shakes his head under the towel.

Nott can feel the firbolg shivering under her ministrations. In response she begins to buff the towel down his shoulders and upper arms, then follows by rubbing with the palms of her hands to try and get the circulation back. The sensation of silk-velvet fur beneath her palms is so delightful that she is no longer sure whether she is doing it for his comfort or hers.

“That's really nice.” He comments, closing his eyes and tipping his head forward with a huffing sigh.

“You're freezing. You should put a shirt on. And a sweater. And socks. Do you even own socks?” She fusses.

Caduceus laughs. “You'd make a good mom.”

 “I'm-”

He notices how her shoulders rise back up to her ears and diverts, “Okay, okay, clearly that's a conversation for another day!”

“Yeah. Thanks. Sorry.” Nott manages. 

She can deepen her breathing by herself now. After the initial gasp she gets when she thinks about her family, memories of caring for her son do actually make her calmer. There was that same coolness in a crisis that she is feeling now. Not that this is a crisis, but the vulnerability she feels in Caduceus is quieting her own worries to a dull roar and she likes it that way. At least the fur on his torso is mostly dry now. It is standing up fluffier than usual and he seems to be shivering less. She did that. That's something.

Caduceus runs his own hands over his arms, assessing, and clearly her efforts will suffice because he puts a dry shirt on leans back against the side of the ship. He isn't entirely relaxed however, Nott can see his nostrils twitching while a little furrow deepens between his brows.

“Caduceus?” She asks.

His answer is to double forwards with a wrenching sneeze and then another, barely smothered against the crook of his arm. Nott winces. That sounded... wet. She casts around the little room to find a handkerchief. It might technically be Fjord's but she doesn't suppose he'll mind, especially when the alternative is a very sniffly room-mate.

“Here.” She presses it into his hand. He casts her grateful look, sidelong over the press of his wrist to his nose.

Standing up and searching the room felt good. Doing things for someone else feels good. As Caduceus blows sheepishly, inspiration strikes.

“I'm going to make you some tea!” She declares.

Her companion frowns slightly. “I can make it-” he begins. Stops. Sees the slightly frantic good will in her eyes and just nods slowly. “Sure. That'd be nice. Thanks Nott.”

He still uses his magic to heat the kettle but he lets Nott set out his beloved cups, marvelling that they had not broken on the voyage. He shows her to some pre-made blends in pouches and lets her do the rest, leaning back against the wall and letting his heavy head droop.

  Nott is fastidiously careful as she handles Caduceus' most precious possessions. She can't quite believe he is actually letting her manage the process herself. It is kind of a gift, she realises.

She watches him critically as he takes the cup from here. Did his hands shake just a little? Her keen eyes spot a tiny wince with each swallow.

“Does your throat hurt?”

“Yeah, a little. The tea will help, I think.”

“Let me just-” Before he can protest, she reaches to feel his forehead for a fever.

Even with him sitting she has to stretch to reach. His brow is broader than the length of her hand. She thinks his dove-grey makes her green skin look more emerald than muddy, for once.

There's no heat there, that she can tell. She switches her palm for the back of her hand and then as an extra measure applies it to the side of his neck. Nothing to feel but soft, slightly damp firbolg. He looks at her curiously.

“No fever.” She tells him. “Yet. So I don't think you have what Beau had. But I'm keeping an eye on you.”

“I’ll bear that it mind.” He agrees mildly, and sips his tea. He knows full well he hasn't got whatever magical malaria had briefly sunk it's teeth into their human companion- he had a word with the biting insects and politely asked them to back off. 

Nott is satisfied with her work and comes to sit beside him with her own cup of tea, and she seems to finally have settled.

“Nott?” He asks. “Feeling calmer now?”

She draws a breath and makes a mental check of her heart, her lungs. “Yes. Yes, thank you. I’m fine now. I was just having… having a time.”

There is a long silence as they both sip. She nestles in closer beside him, filling the crook beneath his shoulder so that his arm is almost around her. He is so tall and soft that she feels particularly small and gnarly by comparison but it’s nice, too, being under the protection of someone so big. She wonders how it feels for him, being mothered by someone so small. Speaking of… 

“Caduceus?” She asks at last. “Were you maybe faking a little bit to get me to fuss over you? To calm me down, I mean?”

He laughs, then turns to look down at her with his lovely almond-shaped eyes and his brows in a solemn arch. 

“Well. Lots of people find helping someone else calms them down a lot, so there's that.” He pauses, scrubs at his face with the little sniff-swallow that is becoming more frequent. “I wish I was faking it for you. My nose feels really stuffed now.”

She makes a sympathetic face and is about to move beside him when there is a knock at the door.

It isn't loud, but the suddenness makes her jump as though she was slapped.

Nott feels ice cubes drop down into her gut, a sharp ache at the top of her chest and it's hard to get a good breath and it's starting again oh shit

She looks down, finds her claws pressing too hard into Caduceus' arms, sees his strong hands gently peeling them off. 

“It's okay. It's just Caleb, see? I think the noise made you jump.” He doesn't seem mad.

He's right, it is Caleb coming into the room with his cat in his arms, his ginger hair mussed and lank from the near-drowning, and a worried look that eases somewhat when he sees Nott.

“Ah, there you are.” He says. “Nott, are you okay?”

“She’ll be okay.” Caduceus tells him evenly. “That's good.” This last is directed to her with a warm hand rubbing her back.

Nott comes to herself enough to watch a couple of different expressions drift over her wizard's face. She wonders whether he might even be jealous that it is Caduceus easing her through this, the way she might be jealous if Caleb were to confide in someone else before herself. Talking her down from the panic is usually Caleb's job.

But Caleb doesn't seen to mind exactly.

“It seems I startled you.” Caleb says. “I am very sorry my friend.” 

“It's fine,” She reassures him. “I- it's nothing.”

What she loves about Caleb is that he doesn't force an explanation. He knows that sometimes people's minds don't work quite right and then their bodies follow. He just sinks down to sit beside them on Caduceus' makeshift bed and wraps his arms around Frumpkin, who is purring aggressively. Caleb doesn't look to be in good condition either. He moves as though his joints ache and his expression is deeply unsettled.

The firbolg between them is shivering again. Nott can feel his teeth chattering and apparently Caleb can too because he raises an eyebrow. Caduceus shrugs, pulls one of the blankets from the pile and adds his over his knees. He also sniffles audibly.

“He's getting sick.” Nott tells on him.

“There's no need to be concerned.” Caduceus begins.

“With respect,” Caleb tells him. “I agree with Nott. You don't look so good.”

“With respect,” Caduceus echoes, “neither do you.”

The wizard laughs. “Can we just agree that we all nearly drowned and we all look like shit and today was a really shitty day?”

“It was an incredibly shitty day.” Nott agrees.

She feels calmer now. It's nice, sandwiched into this tiny space with Caleb and Caduceus both together.

“It was a, uh, really quite a day.” Caduceus agrees. “But we all made it our alive and unharmed.”

It's a pity the firbolg has to sneeze immediately after that statement. Caleb doesn't seem to mind.

Nott winces at the sound. So does Caleb, and she notices him squeeze Caduceus' hand.

“Definitely coming down with something.” Caleb remarks. 

Nott tries to give him a told-you-so look but Caduceus looks so worn down that she can’t muster much fire in it. They sit together for a long time, just the three of them, collectively wincing when the ship crests a particularly huge wave. Eventually Caduceus sighs heavily and looks at them both. 

“If you don’t mind, I should probably try and get some sleep.” 

Caleb nods agreement and rises, reaching for Nott’s hand. “Do you think you could try to sleep, Nott? You can come in with me if you want?”

“Sure, I suppose so.” She agrees. She does feel better now but more importantly if she stays up, Caleb will stay up with her, and he needs his sleep or he’ll end up as sick as Caduceus. 

Before leaving she turns back to the firbolg and gives him a firm hug, trying to show her gratitude through the cling of her limbs. Caleb is less demonstrative but his voice is warm as he says, “Rest well.” 

So Caleb leads Nott back up to her cabin, her bony fingers nesting securely in his broader, bandaged-hands. She lets herself be taken. Let Caduceus sleep. 

………

Morning comes, bright and hot and wave-tossed. Nott wakes in Caleb’s hammock, curled over her boy’s legs like a stringy green cat. She takes a moment to assess the situation; they are out on the open sea in a ship filled with untrustworthy pirates, the opportunity to drown is still very present, but she feels a little better today. Her fear is back at it’s usual level;  lurking around the pit of her stomach rather than gripping her throat. Thank whatever gods are out here. 

Then she remembers. How is Caduceus?

He is usually an early riser. She’d expect to find him in the galley knocking up a meal or perhaps standing on the deck and looking out for land with a longing nearly as strong as her own. He must still be in bed. Nott seeks him out. 

Below decks the movement of the ship seems worse somehow. She stumbles whenever the floor pitches under her and makes a conscious effort not to think of fathoms of saltwater underneath her feet. 

Fjord has already vacated their shared quarters, if he even came back at all, and left a pile of blankets on the floor, rucked into a mountain range by the bony angles of a still sleeping Caduceus. Laying down, he is all limbs and knees and shoulder blades. For once she feels grateful for her goblin body, in that it curls in on itself easily. There is just too much firbolg and he is too skinny to make a ball for warmth. He looks like he would if he could. 

She shakes him gently, then harder. “‘Duceus? You in there?”

No answer, though his eyes open. Nott can see a bleary slither of pink which blinks out for an unsteady breath and a sneeze that just wrenches through him. Poor guy.

“I was going to ask how you’re feeling-?”

His answer is another sneeze, well-smothered into a handful of blankets, and a thick sniffle showing he can barely breathe through his nose. “I…” He tilts his head bashfully. “Yeah… that’s about the shape of it.” 

He raises up on one elbow and shakes his head as though testing his focus and finding it wanting. “Wow. Yeah. Not too good.”

“Oh no.” Nott comes to sit beside him and notes the flood of warmth released from under the bedclothes. She agrees. Not good at all. 

“Bit of a fever there, ‘Ducey,” she sighs.

He blinks at her muzzily. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“C’mere.” She crawls over and leans to lay her cheek against his forehead. There is a noticeable warmth, nothing alarming, just enough to make the big guy miserable for a day or two. 

“Mm, that’s nice.”

“Huh? Oh-” She adds her cold little hands to the sides of his face, first the backs and then the palms. “I can do that.”

When he leans in to the touch, she scoots close enough to give him a hug. She wishes her arms were a little longer but he seems to welcome it all the same. 

At that moment, the ship gives an especially noticeable roll. They shudder in unison and look queasily at each other. “I hate this. I can’t wait to be back on dry land.” Nott voices their shared thoughts.

“You and me both.” Caduceus nods. His eyes are weighing closed and he looks weak and shivery. He sniffles and it turns into a persistent, painful cough. 

“You should lie down. See if you can go back to sleep”

He lies down but keeps his eyes open, looking up at her. To Nott he suddenly looks really, tired and really, really sad. 

“Are you feeling worse? Should I get Jester?” 

He shakes his head, swallows hard. She can feel him shiver convulsively despite the warmth of the day. 

“No, no, it’s not that. Don’t tell Jester, she’ll worry and she’ll tell Fjord and he’ll worry. He needs to focus on the ship, he doesn’t have time for this-” a gesture to himself.

Caduceus continues in a husky whisper, “I don’t even mind getting sick, not really. Every creature has periods of weakness and then the Wildmother lifts them through it. But in the Grove, surrounded by my family, with evidence of her power everywhere, it wasn’t so bad. Out here it just…”

“Really sucks.” Nott finishes his thought.

“Yeah. Yeah. It really sucks.” He agrees 

His big eyes gleam with wetness at the corners and it hurts her heart. 

“Can I do anything for you?” Nott frets. “I could make some more tea?”

“Thanks.” He says through chattering teeth. “But I think I’ll just try and sleep it off.” 

 “Okay.” She twists her hands in the hem of her dress for want of something to help him. Maybe she should leave him to his misery. 

The ship is heaves from side to side again. They watch a loose copper coin slide across the floor when the angle changes. Nott grimaces. Her heart kicks in her chest as a unspoken voice says drowning, you’re drowning and you can’t breathe-

“Nott?” Caduceus’ deep voice cuts through the panic. “Would you… stay for a bit?” 

She must have given him some goblin-faced look because he retracts it immediately; “You don’t have to.”

“No, no. I’ll stay. I’d love to stay with you. I don’t want to go up there.” Her own voice is high and scratchy and fast and relieved. She returns to his bedside as though drawn by a magnet to his feverish form. 

Where he lies on his side there is a perfect, Nott-sized hollow made by his bent legs where she can lean her back against him and have a hand free to smooth along his flank. He reaches an arm over her lap to give her a squeeze  then tucks it back under his head, trying to find a way to rest his neck. The simmering, febrile heat of him is not unpleasant for her, though it makes him kick off his blankets. She can hear his breath getting shallower as his fever crests. 

She rises from the embrace only once, to dampen a rag with water from the canteen and lay it carefully on his brow. His eyes crack open and he manages a quiet, “thanks…” without truly surfacing from sleep. The soft, grateful tone nearly breaks her heart. 

Nott settles back at the head of his blanket nest, where she can reach to lift his sweaty hair from his neck. She sifts through it, allowing the breeze to reach his skin. His silken, goat-like ears are pressed back against his head and the effect is rather pitiful, even without the frown pulling down his mouth as he sleeps. 

“I hate seeing you like this.” She says to his drowsing form. “We need you better,’Duceus. Who's going to make us  tea and remind us to eat and be the butt of jokes they don’t really understand?”

Caduceus must be more awake than she realised, because he turns his head to her. His eyes have a glassy sheen that make them look more like costume jewellery than rare sapphires. It’s not right at all. But he does manage a smile. 

“S’alright.” He slurs sleepily. “We can’t stay on the sea forever. And I’ll be okay. I’ve got all of you. And you’ve got me…” 

He rolls over. Nott feels some tension she wasn’t aware of leaving her body. Maybe she could sleep too, just for a little.

At different times during the morning, both Caleb and Fjord crack open the door to the cabin. Greeted by the sight of two unlikely bedfellows, they carefully push it closed again and turn away. Lots of things are going wrong for the Mighty Nein, but they are doing right by each other. That’s a comfort. 

t has been hours since they left the water. 

Whole hours, which means Nott is fine, she is safe, everything is fine and she did not drown and she can breathe just fine. So why then are her lungs still working like she'll never breathe again? 

She knows this feeling, knows it just her body telling her she's dying when she's quite safe here in hammock on the Squall Eater. She's felt it a thousand times, knows it always passes, but it's horrible horrible horrible.

Where's Caleb? Where's Frumpkin?

In their own hammock, with the cat curled tight on the wizard's own chest. He doesn't look exactly peaceful either, but they are asleep. If they were in an inn or camped outside she would take her own place on his chest, or at his feet, and let his steady breathing remind her own lungs how they are supposed to work. Perhaps she could climb up there with him? 

The motion of sitting up sets her hammock rocking in a way that reminds her immediately of the waves below. Nausea rises in her throat. 

She could certainly climb in and sleep with Caleb but that would rock the hammock even more, and between their two bodies the cloth would constrict her limbs and maybe she couldn't climb out of it easily and- no, not that then. That's not the answer.

Nott leaps from her own cocoon of blanket and paces the floor, hand on her chest to remind her to breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

She slips out of the door. Let Caleb rest. He needs it.

In the narrow, dark passages below the deck she takes stock.

Caleb? Asleep.

Jester? Most likely asleep but wouldn't mind being woken.

Beau and Yasha? Most likely asleep and would mind being woken.

Fjord? Would also mind being woken. Not asleep but with Avantika, getting his rocks off most likely. That leaves…

Caduceus? Most likely asleep?

As she paces past the cabin she knows the Firbolg shares with Fjord, Nott listens hard. She expects to hear slow even breaths, but instead she can hear the a tall body moving around and the rustle of fabric. A sniffle, a set of ticklish coughs and a muffled exhalation that might have been a sneeze.

Not asleep then.

She enters without knocking.

There is a hurricane lamp it and in it's flicker she can see the firbolg sitting on the floor on a pile of blankets. Of course he is far too tall to take a hammock. He is shirtless and the glow picks out pools of shadow beneath his collarbones, a smear of deeper grey between every rib in his thin chest.

 “Nott!” he looks up, surprised. “Is everything ok?”

“Yes, no, I'm-” her breathing hiccups and her vision gets spotty from lack of oxygen. Maybe she stumbles, because she is caught by strong hands and settled to sit beside him on the floor.

“Whoah. Hey there.” His deep voice is gentle but clear. “Why don't you take some deep breaths. Like this, with me.”

He takes her hand in his and presses it to the broad plain of his chest, so that she can feel the slow rise and fall in her own body.

“That's it. Nice and steady.”

It's hard. It's really, really hard when her body says can't you see you're dying. Mastering her breath is like reigning in a galloping horse. But it will work. She knows it will work if she can just get control of it. Ignore her heart, ignore the way her the room seems to tilt, ignore the nausea and the terrible skin- tightening panic.

Trouble is, there's a fine line between deepening her breathing and focusing on it too much. She wants to be aware of it, but if she gives all her attention to the sensations they will become too much to bear. In Nott's mind she grasps for ways to make the situation normal, to find something, anything to make small talk about.

Caduceus helpfully provides it by tucking his head away for a sudden sneeze.

“Gesundheit!” she offers. The routine response momentarily overrides her panic. It happens again and he offers a sheepish sniffle as he turns back to her.

“Pardon. Got a lot of water in my nose today.” He sniffles. “You want me to count your breaths for you? Some people find that helps.”

Nott considers and shakes her head. “Can we- talk to me- about something else? Anything?”

“Sure I can.” 

He agrees easily, without questioning her further. At that moment, she could kiss him. It must be working with so many people who are grieving- he is really, really good at this, and launches into easy, light conversation that doesn't require a meaningful response. He just chats away as he picks up the towel he was using to try and buff at his fur.

She can see how that the longer patches of are spiked, like a plush velvet cloak that should definitely not have been washed in salt water. The shortest parts around his face and arms are dry but the rest of his fur still holds the water.

“I know it's tropical out there but I can't get warm till it's dry.” He tells her, sniffling again.

 “You should definitely dry off or you'll get sick.” She comments absently.

“You don't get a cold from being wet and cold,” Caduceus tells Nott.

“Says you.” She fires back, desperately glad to put her attention on any subject other than her recent near drowning and the way still can't seem to get a proper breath. Her heart hammers uncomfortably in her throat but it seems further away when she has something to focus on.

“Yeah. says me. I'm the h- the heal-er-”

Nott hears his usually deep voice go all tickly and shuddery as he winds up for another sneeze. He looks so over it afterwards that it makes her heart flip but it's a soft caring flip not a drowning, panicking flip and it actually makes her chest feel warmer. She grabs the towel from beside him and stands, so that his pink hair is level with her chest.

“Come on, let me dry you off. Don't you know any spells for that?”

“I don't. And I don't fancy asking Caleb to try a fireball, so we'll have to do it the old fashioned way.” He shakes his head under the towel.

Nott can feel the firbolg shivering under her ministrations. In response she begins to buff the towel down his shoulders and upper arms, then follows by rubbing with the palms of her hands to try and get the circulation back. The sensation of silk-velvet fur beneath her palms is so delightful that she is no longer sure whether she is doing it for his comfort or hers.

“That's really nice.” He comments, closing his eyes and tipping his head forward with a huffing sigh.

“You're freezing. You should put a shirt on. And a sweater. And socks. Do you even own socks?” She fusses.

Caduceus laughs. “You'd make a good mom.”

 “I'm-”

He notices how her shoulders rise back up to her ears and diverts, “Okay, okay, clearly that's a conversation for another day!”

“Yeah. Thanks. Sorry.” Nott manages. 

She can deepen her breathing by herself now. After the initial gasp she gets when she thinks about her family, memories of caring for her son do actually make her calmer. There was that same coolness in a crisis that she is feeling now. Not that this is a crisis, but the vulnerability she feels in Caduceus is quieting her own worries to a dull roar and she likes it that way. At least the fur on his torso is mostly dry now. It is standing up fluffier than usual and he seems to be shivering less. She did that. That's something.

Caduceus runs his own hands over his arms, assessing, and clearly her efforts will suffice because he puts a dry shirt on leans back against the side of the ship. He isn't entirely relaxed however, Nott can see his nostrils twitching while a little furrow deepens between his brows.

“Caduceus?” She asks.

His answer is to double forwards with a wrenching sneeze and then another, barely smothered against the crook of his arm. Nott winces. That sounded... wet. She casts around the little room to find a handkerchief. It might technically be Fjord's but she doesn't suppose he'll mind, especially when the alternative is a very sniffly room-mate.

“Here.” She presses it into his hand. He casts her grateful look, sidelong over the press of his wrist to his nose.

Standing up and searching the room felt good. Doing things for someone else feels good. As Caduceus blows sheepishly, inspiration strikes.

“I'm going to make you some tea!” She declares.

Her companion frowns slightly. “I can make it-” he begins. Stops. Sees the slightly frantic good will in her eyes and just nods slowly. “Sure. That'd be nice. Thanks Nott.”

He still uses his magic to heat the kettle but he lets Nott set out his beloved cups, marvelling that they had not broken on the voyage. He shows her to some pre-made blends in pouches and lets her do the rest, leaning back against the wall and letting his heavy head droop.

  Nott is fastidiously careful as she handles Caduceus' most precious possessions. She can't quite believe he is actually letting her manage the process herself. It is kind of a gift, she realises.

She watches him critically as he takes the cup from here. Did his hands shake just a little? Her keen eyes spot a tiny wince with each swallow.

“Does your throat hurt?”

“Yeah, a little. The tea will help, I think.”

“Let me just-” Before he can protest, she reaches to feel his forehead for a fever.

Even with him sitting she has to stretch to reach. His brow is broader than the length of her hand. She thinks his dove-grey makes her green skin look more emerald than muddy, for once.

There's no heat there, that she can tell. She switches her palm for the back of her hand and then as an extra measure applies it to the side of his neck. Nothing to feel but soft, slightly damp firbolg. He looks at her curiously.

“No fever.” She tells him. “Yet. So I don't think you have what Beau had. But I'm keeping an eye on you.”

“I’ll bear that it mind.” He agrees mildly, and sips his tea. He knows full well he hasn't got whatever magical malaria had briefly sunk it's teeth into their human companion- he had a word with the biting insects and politely asked them to back off. 

Nott is satisfied with her work and comes to sit beside him with her own cup of tea, and she seems to finally have settled.

“Nott?” He asks. “Feeling calmer now?”

She draws a breath and makes a mental check of her heart, her lungs. “Yes. Yes, thank you. I’m fine now. I was just having… having a time.”

There is a long silence as they both sip. She nestles in closer beside him, filling the crook beneath his shoulder so that his arm is almost around her. He is so tall and soft that she feels particularly small and gnarly by comparison but it’s nice, too, being under the protection of someone so big. She wonders how it feels for him, being mothered by someone so small. Speaking of… 

“Caduceus?” She asks at last. “Were you maybe faking a little bit to get me to fuss over you? To calm me down, I mean?”

He laughs, then turns to look down at her with his lovely almond-shaped eyes and his brows in a solemn arch. 

“Well. Lots of people find helping someone else calms them down a lot, so there's that.” He pauses, scrubs at his face with the little sniff-swallow that is becoming more frequent. “I wish I was faking it for you. My nose feels really stuffed now.”

She makes a sympathetic face and is about to move beside him when there is a knock at the door.

It isn't loud, but the suddenness makes her jump as though she was slapped.

Nott feels ice cubes drop down into her gut, a sharp ache at the top of her chest and it's hard to get a good breath and it's starting again oh shit

She looks down, finds her claws pressing too hard into Caduceus' arms, sees his strong hands gently peeling them off. 

“It's okay. It's just Caleb, see? I think the noise made you jump.” He doesn't seem mad.

He's right, it is Caleb coming into the room with his cat in his arms, his ginger hair mussed and lank from the near-drowning, and a worried look that eases somewhat when he sees Nott.

“Ah, there you are.” He says. “Nott, are you okay?”

“She’ll be okay.” Caduceus tells him evenly. “That's good.” This last is directed to her with a warm hand rubbing her back.

Nott comes to herself enough to watch a couple of different expressions drift over her wizard's face. She wonders whether he might even be jealous that it is Caduceus easing her through this, the way she might be jealous if Caleb were to confide in someone else before herself. Talking her down from the panic is usually Caleb's job.

But Caleb doesn't seen to mind exactly.

“It seems I startled you.” Caleb says. “I am very sorry my friend.” 

“It's fine,” She reassures him. “I- it's nothing.”

What she loves about Caleb is that he doesn't force an explanation. He knows that sometimes people's minds don't work quite right and then their bodies follow. He just sinks down to sit beside them on Caduceus' makeshift bed and wraps his arms around Frumpkin, who is purring aggressively. Caleb doesn't look to be in good condition either. He moves as though his joints ache and his expression is deeply unsettled.

The firbolg between them is shivering again. Nott can feel his teeth chattering and apparently Caleb can too because he raises an eyebrow. Caduceus shrugs, pulls one of the blankets from the pile and adds his over his knees. He also sniffles audibly.

“He's getting sick.” Nott tells on him.

“There's no need to be concerned.” Caduceus begins.

“With respect,” Caleb tells him. “I agree with Nott. You don't look so good.”

“With respect,” Caduceus echoes, “neither do you.”

The wizard laughs. “Can we just agree that we all nearly drowned and we all look like shit and today was a really shitty day?”

“It was an incredibly shitty day.” Nott agrees.

She feels calmer now. It's nice, sandwiched into this tiny space with Caleb and Caduceus both together.

“It was a, uh, really quite a day.” Caduceus agrees. “But we all made it our alive and unharmed.”

It's a pity the firbolg has to sneeze immediately after that statement. Caleb doesn't seem to mind.

Nott winces at the sound. So does Caleb, and she notices him squeeze Caduceus' hand.

“Definitely coming down with something.” Caleb remarks. 

Nott tries to give him a told-you-so look but Caduceus looks so worn down that she can’t muster much fire in it. They sit together for a long time, just the three of them, collectively wincing when the ship crests a particularly huge wave. Eventually Caduceus sighs heavily and looks at them both. 

“If you don’t mind, I should probably try and get some sleep.” 

Caleb nods agreement and rises, reaching for Nott’s hand. “Do you think you could try to sleep, Nott? You can come in with me if you want?”

“Sure, I suppose so.” She agrees. She does feel better now but more importantly if she stays up, Caleb will stay up with her, and he needs his sleep or he’ll end up as sick as Caduceus. 

Before leaving she turns back to the firbolg and gives him a firm hug, trying to show her gratitude through the cling of her limbs. Caleb is less demonstrative but his voice is warm as he says, “Rest well.” 

So Caleb leads Nott back up to her cabin, her bony fingers nesting securely in his broader, bandaged-hands. She lets herself be taken. Let Caduceus sleep. 

………

Morning comes, bright and hot and wave-tossed. Nott wakes in Caleb’s hammock, curled over her boy’s legs like a stringy green cat. She takes a moment to assess the situation; they are out on the open sea in a ship filled with untrustworthy pirates, the opportunity to drown is still very present, but she feels a little better today. Her fear is back at it’s usual level;  lurking around the pit of her stomach rather than gripping her throat. Thank whatever gods are out here. 

Then she remembers. How is Caduceus?

He is usually an early riser. She’d expect to find him in the galley knocking up a meal or perhaps standing on the deck and looking out for land with a longing nearly as strong as her own. He must still be in bed. Nott seeks him out. 

Below decks the movement of the ship seems worse somehow. She stumbles whenever the floor pitches under her and makes a conscious effort not to think of fathoms of saltwater underneath her feet. 

Fjord has already vacated their shared quarters, if he even came back at all, and left a pile of blankets on the floor, rucked into a mountain range by the bony angles of a still sleeping Caduceus. Laying down, he is all limbs and knees and shoulder blades. For once she feels grateful for her goblin body, in that it curls in on itself easily. There is just too much firbolg and he is too skinny to make a ball for warmth. He looks like he would if he could. 

She shakes him gently, then harder. “‘Duceus? You in there?”

No answer, though his eyes open. Nott can see a bleary slither of pink which blinks out for an unsteady breath and a sneeze that just wrenches through him. Poor guy.

“I was going to ask how you’re feeling-?”

His answer is another sneeze, well-smothered into a handful of blankets, and a thick sniffle showing he can barely breathe through his nose. “I…” He tilts his head bashfully. “Yeah… that’s about the shape of it.” 

He raises up on one elbow and shakes his head as though testing his focus and finding it wanting. “Wow. Yeah. Not too good.”

“Oh no.” Nott comes to sit beside him and notes the flood of warmth released from under the bedclothes. She agrees. Not good at all. 

“Bit of a fever there, ‘Ducey,” she sighs.

He blinks at her muzzily. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“C’mere.” She crawls over and leans to lay her cheek against his forehead. There is a noticeable warmth, nothing alarming, just enough to make the big guy miserable for a day or two. 

“Mm, that’s nice.”

“Huh? Oh-” She adds her cold little hands to the sides of his face, first the backs and then the palms. “I can do that.”

When he leans in to the touch, she scoots close enough to give him a hug. She wishes her arms were a little longer but he seems to welcome it all the same. 

At that moment, the ship gives an especially noticeable roll. They shudder in unison and look queasily at each other. “I hate this. I can’t wait to be back on dry land.” Nott voices their shared thoughts.

“You and me both.” Caduceus nods. His eyes are weighing closed and he looks weak and shivery. He sniffles and it turns into a persistent, painful cough. 

“You should lie down. See if you can go back to sleep”

He lies down but keeps his eyes open, looking up at her. To Nott he suddenly looks really, tired and really, really sad. 

“Are you feeling worse? Should I get Jester?” 

He shakes his head, swallows hard. She can feel him shiver convulsively despite the warmth of the day. 

“No, no, it’s not that. Don’t tell Jester, she’ll worry and she’ll tell Fjord and he’ll worry. He needs to focus on the ship, he doesn’t have time for this-” a gesture to himself.

Caduceus continues in a husky whisper, “I don’t even mind getting sick, not really. Every creature has periods of weakness and then the Wildmother lifts them through it. But in the Grove, surrounded by my family, with evidence of her power everywhere, it wasn’t so bad. Out here it just…”

“Really sucks.” Nott finishes his thought.

“Yeah. Yeah. It really sucks.” He agrees 

His big eyes gleam with wetness at the corners and it hurts her heart. 

“Can I do anything for you?” Nott frets. “I could make some more tea?”

“Thanks.” He says through chattering teeth. “But I think I’ll just try and sleep it off.” 

 “Okay.” She twists her hands in the hem of her dress for want of something to help him. Maybe she should leave him to his misery. 

The ship is heaves from side to side again. They watch a loose copper coin slide across the floor when the angle changes. Nott grimaces. Her heart kicks in her chest as a unspoken voice says drowning, you’re drowning and you can’t breathe-

“Nott?” Caduceus’ deep voice cuts through the panic. “Would you… stay for a bit?” 

She must have given him some goblin-faced look because he retracts it immediately; “You don’t have to.”

“No, no. I’ll stay. I’d love to stay with you. I don’t want to go up there.” Her own voice is high and scratchy and fast and relieved. She returns to his bedside as though drawn by a magnet to his feverish form. 

Where he lies on his side there is a perfect, Nott-sized hollow made by his bent legs where she can lean her back against him and have a hand free to smooth along his flank. He reaches an arm over her lap to give her a squeeze  then tucks it back under his head, trying to find a way to rest his neck. The simmering, febrile heat of him is not unpleasant for her, though it makes him kick off his blankets. She can hear his breath getting shallower as his fever crests. 

She rises from the embrace only once, to dampen a rag with water from the canteen and lay it carefully on his brow. His eyes crack open and he manages a quiet, “thanks…” without truly surfacing from sleep. The soft, grateful tone nearly breaks her heart. 

Nott settles back at the head of his blanket nest, where she can reach to lift his sweaty hair from his neck. She sifts through it, allowing the breeze to reach his skin. His silken, goat-like ears are pressed back against his head and the effect is rather pitiful, even without the frown pulling down his mouth as he sleeps. 

“I hate seeing you like this.” She says to his drowsing form. “We need you better, ’Duceus. Who's going to make us  tea and remind us to eat and be the butt of jokes they don’t really understand?”

Caduceus must be more awake than she realised, because he turns his head to her. His eyes have a glassy sheen that make them look more like costume jewellery than rare sapphires. It’s not right at all. But he does manage a smile. 

“S’alright.” He slurs sleepily. “We can’t stay on the sea forever. And I’ll be okay. I’ve got all of you. And you’ve got me…” 

He rolls over. Nott feels some tension she wasn’t aware of leaving her body. Maybe she could sleep too, just for a little.

At different times during the morning, both Caleb and Fjord crack open the door to the cabin. Greeted by the sight of two unlikely bedfellows, they carefully push it closed again and turn away. Lots of things are going wrong for the Mighty Nein, but they are doing right by each other. That’s a comfort. 

END.

Thanks for coming with me on this wild ride. I’m not spelling out sneezes these days, idk why.

[jeminy3]

Our Winter Was Warm.

Originally written for a secret santa exchange on an FMA fandom server with my friends for Christmas 2018. Specifically for Ange, a sweetheart and lovely au/headcanon-jammer in regards to anything with Roy/Hughes/Gracia. They wanted Hyuroi fluff + Gracia, and we'd talked about Hughes wanting a 2nd child named Elias with either Gracia or trans man Roy (referenced in their fic here), so this seemed the best gift for them. Not published till now because of life shit + bonus drawings I've added.

My original summary: Secret Santa gift for Ange. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I did the fluffiest hyuroigracia I could think of - married and having a baby on Amestrian Christmas <3 16k words and yet it still doesn't feel like enough, I could write forever about them ;_; but then I'd never finish, lol. This was very self-indulgent for me. Anyone is free to read if you are into it, I put a lot of work into it, and tried to be tasteful about the pregnancy and trans stuff, hopefully it is ok! Read the Google Doc here.

Read it on AO3 here. Features: hyuroigracia poly pile, trans man Roy being pregnant, Amestrian Christmas, baby Elias arrives, lots of headcanons, mostly fluff with bits of angst. Set in a divergent 03-ish universe where Hughes lived. 

---

Roy wakes from dreaming, startling a little.

The nightmares seem to have lessened lately - maybe, he's not sure - either way, at least he wakes somewhat gently this time, the horrors of his brain ebbing back into his subconscious to be forgotten, for now. They leave him to blink at his surroundings and realize that he is not there again - he is in bed, at home, safe and warm within his bedsheets.

His eyes adjust to the dim, warm light of morning streaming in through the window curtains, casting everything in a sort of glow - the cozy wooden furniture, the haphazard toiletries on the dresser, the white porcelain lamp on the nightstand beside him, with pink flowers painted across its surface. Roy takes it all in, and for a hazy moment, wonders how he even reached this point in his life.

A lot has happened this past year - over a year and a half now, actually. It's been a whirlwind of events since the scarred Ishvalan appeared, and the Elrics made their grisly discoveries. Since then, Roy has exposed a deep-seeded corruption with his own government, lead a quiet, deadly rebellion against it, and personally destroyed the monster at its heart - or at least, its strongest pawn.

He gave up his dream of Fuhrership in the process, becoming branded and cast out as a traitor to his country afterwards, but in the eyes of many, he was a hero - a real hero this time, not a monster with a hero's title. Despite occasional bouts of regret, he thinks this particular exchange was worth it - figuratively, and almost literally, conquering his own Pride and ambition for the greater good.

But what feels more poignant in this moment is his more intimate accomplishments.

With enough funds and string-pulling, Roy has fully buried both his past, and past identity. Within the past few years, he finally changed the last of his records to reflect his chosen name, cutting all ties to the lonely, miserable child he once was. And even more significantly, he's changed his body as well, with an expensive, secretive chest surgery that took great pains to arrange, endure, and recover from - all without drawing suspicion. But it was done, and Roy couldn't be happier with the results.

More surgeries were a possibility, of course, but for now Roy was content with himself - he's not looking to change anything internal quite yet anyway.

Not long after that, in the midst of the chaos of the unfolding conspiracy, he finally gained the courage - or just enough blind idiocy - to finally confess the depths of his love for his dearest, dearest friend. If it made him less of a man, or even a person of dignity, ultimately it didn't matter. To keep his heart closed to it, to hide it any longer, would have slowly destroyed him.

And unbelievably - his feelings were reciprocated. Wholeheartedly, genuinely, and for a period of time that Roy had been foolish to blind himself to. The love of his life loved him back, and nothing had made him happier than in those moments when they finally consummated the years of tension and affection between them, and promised to never again be apart.

And with the blessings of a mutual friend just as dear, and their renewed devotion to each other, they could all face the danger of the previous years together.

Roy eases out of his own thoughts as he listens to the quiet breathing of another body next to him - and he turns to see the aforementioned dear friend and dearest love, Maes Hughes, lying next to him in their bed.

To his mild surprise, Maes is also awake. His usually-slick hair now a messy, unkempt mop on his head, his bare, glasses-less green eyes squinting at him. It's unfair that he's still attractive like this.

"Mornin'," he says, smiling warmly.

Roy gives him one of his many incredulous smirks. "Awake too, huh? Why didn't you say anything?"

Maes shrugs, then reaches up with a hand to brush at Roy's hair with his fingers. "I like watching you wake up. You're cute."

"No I'm not," Roy growls, but there's no real bite to it, and he's trying and failing to bite back a smile at Maes' touch. "I'm smart, charming, suave, sometimes irresistible- but I am not cute."

"Wrong. You're adorable," Maes says matter-of-factly, and he leans forward  to peck him on the forehead, as if he were a precocious little child.

Roy grumbles again, frustrated both by the gentle contact and being momentarily unable to think of another retort - instead, he decides to enact his revenge by reaching up, wrapping an arm around Maes' shoulders, and gently, but assertively, pulling their mouths together for a kiss.

Maes is the one to growl a little now, and returns the gesture with affectionate lips and tongue.  He's strong and hearty beneath Roy's touch, in good health save for a few new scars across his torso, some aches and pains he'll complain about sometimes. But he's allowed to - it's not every day one faces undead, unkillable homonculi and lives to tell the tale. The same went for Roy - he has his own share of injuries, resulting in several new scars and a small limp in his step, but between the two of them things could be much worse.

Eventually they are sated with their kissing, for the moment, and the two pull away to gaze at each other warmly.

"So- how you feeling?" Maes asks.

Roy blinks at him. "About what?"

"I mean- you know, in general. Still don't feel any different?"

"Oh. Mm... I don't know," Roy murmurs, searching the ceiling with his eyes. "But I do feel a little weird in the stomach, as I think about it..."

Maes' eyebrows lift up significantly. "Oh ho- stomach, huh? I think we know what's coming, then," he says, with a maddeningly knowing tone and even more maddening smile.

Roy rolls his eyes. "Ugh- I'm really not looking forward to that."

Maes just snorts. "You signed up for it, hun."

"I know," Roy says with a deflating sigh.

"You'll be fine, darling, it's only for a few months," Maes says. "...And I promise, I'll be right there keeping the hair out of your eyes when you're barfing your guts into the toilet."

"My hero ," Roy drawls with sarcasm, snickering lightly.

Maes snorts again, then rolls forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Hey, I'm your husband now. I'm supposed to do stuff like that."

Roy smiles, but there's something wavering in his dark eyes, a bit of sadness in his tone. "Ah, Maes- if only that were true in the records..."

Maes is crestfallen for a moment, reminded that in the eyes of the Amestrian law, their recent betrothal was bare-bones at most - a loophole in the civil partnership clauses, really - and kept tightly secretive from anyone who wasn't a friend or accomplice. A proper marriage between men like themselves simply wasn't possible (yet) - much less a second marriage to give an already-taken man another partner.

But the moment passes, and Maes reaches forward and takes Roy's hands in his, considers the second ring on his finger - a brilliant silver-white band, complementing Gracia's gold one and matching Roy's own.

He intertwines their fingers, and kisses lightly at Roy's knuckles. "Someday, darling, someday. Things'll change. But even if it doesn't, as far as I'm concerned I'm yours forever, and you are mine, and I'm the luckiest man in the world to have Gracia and you both."

Roy just looks at him the whole time, looks with eyes soft with love and affection, and a smile just as warm.

- And that smile falters slightly as Maes lids his eyes and tugs his smile into another knowing smirk. "...Besides, since when did you start caring about the legality of a situation?"

Roy blinks, looking adorably bewildered as he searches the ceiling for an answer. "Er- When it involves the man I love?"

Maes' eyes crinkle, and he releases their hands to wrap an arm around Roy's shoulders and draw him in to laugh into his neck. "That's a shitty answer."

"I know," Roy says, snorting softly.

They cuddle together 'till the laughter dies down, and Maes proceeds to kiss Roy again, now along his neck and collarbones, working steadily down towards his chest. He nuzzles his face into the dip between his pectorals, presses his lips against the variety of scars there, surgical and otherwise. Roy sighs with contentment, petting at Maes' hair and squirming slightly when a ticklish area is touched.

Maes moves down further, trailing kisses until he's reached Roy's belly button, where his stomach is still flat and toned - but there's a bit more softness to it than usual, at least to Maes' senses. Which are, admittedly, fairly clouded with excitement due to recent developments.

He hums into his Roy's skin. "Mm. You feel softer already."

Roy snorts against him. "Bullshit."

Ignoring that, Maes keeps humming as he nuzzles at his stomach, his voice rising into a recognizable melody - a children's lullaby, one he often sang to Elicia when she was smaller and more frightened of the night.

Roy snorts again. "They can't hear you, you idiot- Gracia said it's barely the size of a pea by now, there's no organs yet."

"You can never start too early," Maes sing-songs, his lips tickling the skin of Roy's belly.

Roy suppresses his laughter. "Start what? Inducting them into appreciating your terrible singing voice?"

"Oh c'mon, I'm not that bad," Maes grumbles, drawing away to frown at him. "Honestly, I feel sorrier about them listening to you for the next eight months."

"Shut up," Roy laughs, and lightly shoves at Maes' shoulders to get him off him. Maes, being the larger and broader man, responds with a playful growl and a lunge, trapping Roy in a bear-hug in which he is helpless to a barrage of kisses against every part of his face.  Knowing better than anyone when he's strategically out of his depth, Roy surrenders to being nothing more than a giggling mess in Maes' arms.

Suddenly there's a shuffle of footsteps, a creak of the bedroom door, and the voice of a four-year-old girl cuts through their rough-housing.

"Daddy! Stop it! You're gonna squish the baby!" Elicia cries out, a little arm stretched precariously up to the doorknob, her other arm pointing accusingly at her father.

"And Mommy says to wake up, breakfast is almost ready!" she adds, the original intent of her interruption.

Roy and Maes stare at her - then at each other - before Maes throws back his head in laughter.

"I am not squishing your other dad, honey," Maes wheezes, "I'm keeping him nice and warm, see?" He demonstrates with a much gentler version of his previous bear-hug, enveloping Roy into his warmth. Roy himself merely smiles with bemusement, and enjoys the attention.

Elicia sticks out her tongue in disgust, at both her father's blatant affections and complete disregard for her concerns. "Then put another blanket on him! If you squish my baby sister I won't ever forgive you, Daddy!"

Maes laughs again, but relents this time, releasing Roy and sitting up from their bed. "Alright, alright, honey- I'm sorry. Tell Mommy I'll be up in a minute. Does she need any help?"

"Nope! You burn things!" Elicia exclaims, hilariously irreverent, and she turns and darts back into the hallway, haphazardly closing the door behind her.

Maes rolls his eyes - "No respect, even from my own offspring," he mutters under his breath - as he rolls himself up and out of bed, and makes his way towards the dresser to prepare for the day.

He stops midway to circle around to Roy's side and give him another quick peck on the forehead. "You heard the little lady - time to get up. We've got that thing to get to, after all."

"Of course, " Roy sighs despondently, wishing he could spend another hour or so basking in the heat of Maes' body and bedsheets instead. But the day must begin eventually, and he follows Maes' example and rolls himself in the direction of the bathroom to freshen up.

---

After a quick shower, a change of clothes, and a delicious breakfast courtesy of Gracia's fine cooking, Roy returns to the bathroom to brush his teeth and apply the rest of his usual toiletries in preparation for the outing this afternoon.

He was looking forward to it - it's a clear, sunny day of the weekend, and so, members of his and Maes' former squadrons have planned a get-together on the outskirts of Central, in a park popular for such gatherings, per Havoc's recommendation. ("It's perfect for families," he'd said. "Or at least mine - my folks n' I went there all the time.")

It's far from the first time they've held such gatherings together since he and Maes retired, and it certainly won't be the last - they're opportunities for their still-military-bound colleagues to unwind from their stresses, discreet exchanges of updates and information, and of course, quality time to spend with good friends.

Roy's mind wanders as he continues his routine - he wonders what bitter complaints Riza will no doubt bring up, seeing as she’s stuck helping navigate the massive power vacuum in Central as it’s officials scramble to appoint a new Führer  - when a strange feeling jerks him out of his thoughts suddenly.

There is an odd, twisting sensation in his belly - the "weird feeling" he'd mentioned to Maes earlier, but it was more intense now. Not incredibly so, but certainly more noticeable. Roy quietly ignores it for now, praying it won't get any worse as he continues with the gelling and smoothing of his hair and light application of face-powder.

But, of course, minutes later his stomach is slowly churning, definitely turning nauseous now, and Roy rolls his eyes toward the ceiling and sighs again. He's not sure what's more disappointing - that Maes was right after all, or that he'll be throwing up most of Gracia's wonderful meal.

Instead, Roy decides to prepare for the inevitable - he washes the gel out of his hair and powder off his face, lifts the toilet seat, and calls into the bedroom:

"Maes? Come here a moment - it looks like I'll need your hair-lifting services after all."

"I told you," Maes calls back.

"Just get in here."

---

An hour or so later, Roy has recovered from his nausea enough for their little family to be well on their way to the hangout - namely, through one of Gracia's odd variety of home remedies. This time it consisted of making Roy suck on a slice of lemon, claiming that its sour, citrus-filled scents and flavors were a natural counter to nausea. Despite his reservations (and intense dislike of said flavors), the remedy worked, and his stomach has settled (for now).

That still didn't stop him from complaining about it through most of the drive.

"-Still, of all the days for it to start ," he groans from the backseat. "I'll be spending the whole time refusing everyone's food and drinking nothing but fruit juice, I just know it."

Gracia, sitting next to him, has been comforting him with a hand rubbing his shoulder. "You should be fine, dear, it's been a while already... but if you start feeling queasy again, just stick to small things, like crackers. You know, nothing heavy on the stomach. Besides, if worse comes to worse, I brought more lemons."

Roy only groans again, rolling his eyes this time. "Everyone's already getting suspicious of me after quitting alcohol, cold turkey, without even an announcement - and now, nibbling on crackers and lemons for my stomach? I may as well wear a damn sign on my head."

Maes, in the driver's seat, glances back at them with a frown. "And what's so bad about that? You're gonna have to tell them eventually , Roy, it's been a month already. If you wait any longer, well-"

Roy cuts him off, anxiety filling his tone. "You know why I can't tell them yet, Maes, not until we know for sure- wait, what's that?"

He cuts himself off because at this point they've entered the park at Central's outskirts - a lovely, well-kept swathe of grass and trees within sight of its eastern river, dotted with tents, benches, playgrounds, and other recreational structures. But what's strange is that, in the distance, one can see a particular group of benches that's decorated with flower bouquets, bunches of balloons, and strings of ribbons, all in pastel colors of blue, pink and white. The people setting up these decorations, along with various food and drinks, are hard to make out at this distance - but they appear to be their friends and ex-coworkers, all in casual wear.

Maes makes a curious "Huh," sound at this, and makes another, more worried sound as they pull into a nearby parking space and see more clearly that the distant human figures are definitely their friends (Major Armstrong's massive frame is unmistakable at any distance).

"It's a party now? What's the occasion?" Roy asks out loud. "It's not a holiday today, is it?"

"Not that I know of," Gracia says. "The colors look like something for Children's Day... but that was a month ago, wasn't it?"

Maes glances nervously between his partners and the apparent celebration, chewing his lower lip. "Uh- yeah, yeah, pretty sure. I, uh- I dunno, hun."

In the meantime, Elicia, who had been spending most of the drive quietly busying herself with her favorite doll's hair and dresses in the passenger seat, has tossed it aside in favor of bouncing in her seat at the mention of a party. "Party! A party!" she cries, clapping her hands. "I wanna go! I wanna go! Can I go to the party please, mommydaddy?"

Maes shushes her with promises of yes, she will be going, right now in fact, as he carefully unclips her seatbelt and helps her out of the car as everyone else steps out.

As the family approaches the party area, sunlight glints off a pair of large glasses on the distant face of Kain Fuery, and when he notices them, he waves a greeting with an exuberant wave of his arm. Then he turns to the others and distantly calls, "Hey! Looks like the guests of honor finally arrived!"

The others turn to him, then to Roy and the Hughes', and break out into excited waves, hellos, and even a little applause. Fuery, meanwhile, jogs down the small slope between them to take Roy's hand in an enthusiastic handshake, giving him a beaming smile. "Ah - salutations and congratulations, sir! We're all very happy for you and the good news!" he exclaims.

Roy hardly has time to wonder at all this strangeness going on, for as soon as he opens his mouth to speak, he finds that he can hardly get a word in edgewise as his other former squad-mates approach him with the same boisterous congratulations.

Havoc (who Roy briefly realizes he might need to either put distance from, or ask him to put out his cigarettes around him for his health), runs up and claps a hand to his shoulder, all but shouting, "Mustang! You old so-and-so, I didn't think you had it in ya! Congrats, man!"

Breda flashes a cheeky grin from behind Havoc's shoulder. "Good luck with the new additions," he chuckles. "You'll need it."

Meanwhile Falman approaches from behind, somewhat cautiously, as he often is in social situations. But he seems nonetheless chipper as he claps quietly, saying, "Wonderful news, Colonel, congratulations." The addressing of Roy's military title was a habit he still had to break.

And bringing up the very rear was Riza, a bit hampered by her dog, Black Hayate, attempting to entrap her legs with his leash in his excitement. But she still offers a warm smile in his direction as she makes her way down the slope.

Maes' friends, consisting of Major Armstrong, Maria, Denny, and Sheska, also swarm him and Gracia with the same amount of bewildering praise and applause, and the same greetings of "congratulations" and "great news" (and Armstrong nearly crushing Maes' bones with one of his hugs, again).

All the while, little Elicia claps her hands in a mimic of Falman and intensifies her bouncing, singing "congratulations" right along with everyone else.

Between Roy's sputtering and Maes' breathlessness, Gracia was the one to finally get in the burning question - she spreads her hands, gestures in a shushing motion, and raises her voice in a tone not unlike one she'd have used in her days as a librarian.

"Hey- excuse me, everyone- what's all this about?"

At that, everyone quiets, their greetings devolving into confused noises and stares. For a moment, an awkward silence falls, but its quickly broken by a nervous, mousey Sheska. "Well, you know- you said you were, um- expecting again, with Mr. Mustang, sir," she says, addressing Maes. "At least, you told me over the phone that time. You seemed so excited, so I thought it was only fair to-"

"-Y-you what?!" Roy blurts out.

"Uh, yeah," Denny Brosh chimes in, "she told me when we were drinking last weekend, so of course, I told Maria-"

"-And since they knew, it seemed only fair to tell the Major," Maria continues;

Armstrong, smiling merrily through his mustache despite the confusion in his eyes, says "-And I was so moved by the blessed news, I simply had to tell your former squadron, Mustang sir. They seemed to know already, informing me of your behavior as of late;"

And Havoc, quirking his mouth around his cigarette, finishes with a shrug. "-So we decided to turn this hangout into an early baby shower for you guys to save you the trouble. I did say this place was great for families, after all."

If Roy could see himself in these moments, he'd be amused at how quickly the color drained from his face, then returned tenfold and turned his face and neck a bright scarlet color. By the time Havoc finishes his last sentence, he's covering his face with both hands and wishing he had his ignition gloves on hand in order to obliterate his own existence - but of course, that wouldn't be fair to his unborn child, so perhaps a better target would be his damnably excitable, loose-lipped husband.

He loosens his grip on his own face to better see said husband, who is now also sporting a deeply flushed complexion, scrubbing at his neck and avoiding eye contact with everyone except Roy himself - a mistake.

As soon as they lock eyes, Roy's shame boils over into an unbridled rage, and he brings down his hands, clenches them into fists, and proceeds to wave them erratically while shouting obscenities at Maes.

"Goddammit Maes, you goddamn big-mouthed idiot ! I told you not to say anything! Now everyone knows and we have all this bullshit when we don't even know if it'll even-!"

Maes spreads his hands in surrender and shrinks away from his incensed partner, spluttering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Okay okay, I got excited and let it slip to Sheska, and maybe one or two others, but I swear that's all-"

Quickly, Gracia gets between them to play peacemaker, attempting to seize Roy by the shoulders and saying "Roy, stop, please, it's alright-"

Thankfully, the mood passes. As soon as she lays hands upon Roy, a pallor passes over his face, and he grows pale again - then he keels over and starts dry heaving, his nausea returning with a vengeance.

The others can only look on with equal parts worry and amusement as the Hughes family tends to their newest and oddest member(s) - Gracia supporting Roy as he wobbles on his feet, Maes offering apologetic hugs and forehead-kisses, and Elicia looking upon the whole scene with the most amusing look of confusion a four-year-old could wear.

Riza, having finally given up on making Hayate stop squirming and barking at all the excitement, rolls her eyes and sighs deeply behind Havoc and the others.

"I told you this was a bad idea," she grumbles.

---

But the party wasn't a bad idea after all - after the initial misunderstanding, Roy calmed down from his nausea and somewhat-violent mood swing, and everyone was readily understanding, considering his condition. The party was enjoyably smooth afterwards.

True to his fears, Roy did end up consuming mostly crackers and more lemon slices, broken up by the occasions he was brave (and hungry) enough to eat more. But he did avoid actually-heaving, so it was a victory overall.

Besides refreshments, their friends also brought gifts, ranging from congratulatory cards to supplies for the new family member - mostly diapers and cleaning supplies, safe options and arguably, the most useful. No clothes except for a pair of tiny, white-ribboned shoes from Armstrong - purchased from a clothier who has provided high-quality infant clothing to the Armstrong family for generations, he claimed - and as Roy held the tiny articles in his hands, he found himself fighting an onrush of tears at the idea of the tiny person who would be filling them someday soon; then proceeded to angrily deny the redness in his eyes, curse at his hormones, then at Maes for cooing over him and attempting to calm him with more hugs and kisses.

As evening approaches and the small party winds down, Roy finds himself pretty much spent on the social side of things. After making this known, his friends and partners courteously allow him some needed time alone, which he spends sitting at a bench slightly apart from the others, pecking at leftover food scraps, as his stomach's settled again.

"Roy," the voice of Riza says softly as she approaches, and he turns to her with a smile. Close friends since teenhood, he's never minded her presence even when his energies were spent, and he nods for her to sit beside him.

"I tied up Hayate by the tent poles," she says as she settles in. "Looks like Elicia finally tired him out."  She jerks her chin towards the black-and-white-furred dog flopped on the grass near the pole he was tied to.

"And likewise for her," Roy adds with a chuckle, nodding towards a bench nearby, where a content Gracia gently rocks her daughter's exhausted form in her lap.

Riza smiles warmly at the scene. "Aw- so sweet. Hard to believe that'll be you too, months from now."

Her smile takes on a mischievous slant as she turns it back on Roy, looking at him from the corners of her eyes. "Or maybe not. You seem to have that 'motherly glow' already."

Roy scoffs loudly. "Oh, don't you start too- I get enough of that crap from Maes as it is. Besides, that's a myth anyway - your skin might change color in some areas, but it doesn't glow ."

Riza doesn't laugh much, not outwardly - but you can see it in her eyes, clear as day, if you know what to look for. Which Roy does - and it always annoys him.

"Probably, yeah," she replies. "But you do seem happier."

"I am," Roy says, pursing his lips, then bothering the bottom one with his teeth for a moment. "And, honestly... kind of terrified?"

He phrases it like an unsure question to take the edge off - he isn't sure why, he should know by know that Riza can always see through his bluffs, and always has over the years. And it's been equal parts annoying and comforting, because on the one hand, nothing gets past her, but on the other, there is no one better than her to divulge one's honest insecurities. Especially ones that he hasn't admitted to any of his other friends at this party.

So Roy can only blame his own niggling demons of anxiety for trying to mask this admission at the last moment.

Familiarly, and thankfully, Riza just looks at him, nodding. "That's understandable," she says matter-of-factly.

"I mean, I'm sure it is," Roy stammers, trying to spill himself freely in her understanding presence. "It's a lot to- you know- it's just so much . Between the pregnancy and the birth, that'll be hard enough, and not just physically. And then with everything afterwards- I mean, it's a whole person , Riza-

He takes a breath in response to a pleading look in Riza's eyes, one she often uses to silently tell him, Please, sir, try to breathe.

A little more centered, he continues. "I just- I've never done this before. And... to be honest, I never thought I would . I've never really thought of myself as a parent before. I mean- let's be honest, I haven't made the best decisions with children lately..."

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling his nervous heart pounding in his chest. But Riza only nods slowly, considering him and his words.

"True enough," she says finally. "But things were different then- and those boys were an exceptional case, one that wasn't always in your control. In the end, I think they made their own decisions... I wish you wouldn't blame yourself so much for them."

Roy only sighs despondently. It's something he's heard before, from multiple people - a nice reminder, but it seemed there would always be a part of him that would blame himself for what happened to the Elric brothers (among many, many other things).

Riza meets his eyes. "Honestly, I think you'll be just fine, Roy. You've  changed. You might not have noticed it, but I have."

Roy suppresses the temptation to laugh at that, since she's being sincere. "Really. How?"

Riza cocks her head slightly, searches the surrounding grass for words. "You are... kinder," she says. "More gentle, more selfless. Which only makes sense, I suppose - in giving up your ambition, you let go of some of your selfishness, in a way."

She meets his eyes again. "But I think the fact that you even agreed to this, and decided to see it through, is what really shows who you are now. The Roy that I knew only a few years ago would never do this."

At this point Roy is flushing nearly to his neck again, staring down into his lap and trying vainly to do something with his hands. "You- You flatter me too much, Lieutenant."

He can practically hear the cheeky smile in her voice. "I only speak the truth, sir."

Roy scratches idly at his neck before finally deigning to look at her again. And she is smiling, but its less cheeky than he imagined. It's equal parts sincerity and amusement, and she brings it closer as she moves to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Even if you mess up, you have not one, but two partners by your side - loving, protective, and already experienced in child-rearing. Between the three of you, the baby will want for nothing."

And now she's all sincerity, almost beaming at him. She leans further and offers him her other arm in a rare gesture, coming from her - a hug. Which Roy welcomes, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and welcoming her warmth against his. Riza isn't the sort of person to give physical affection very often, if at all, so when she does it's for something she deeply, deeply cares about.

He has to fight back an urge to cry, again - and again blames it on his rampant hormones, damn them.

"I'm proud of you," she says softly, pulling away and meeting his eyes. "After losing so much, starting from nothing- and now, you have a family."

Roy blinks away the wetness from his eyes, wipes them with one hand. "Well, so do you- I mean, you've come far as well, Riza."

And she has - she was, like him, a fellow orphan of Amestris’ constant warring. However, she was courageous enough to forge a new name for herself and her future, distancing herself from what little family she had left when they ultimately proved to be cold and uncaring. In some ways, she is far braver than him - so Roy never minces his words about her.

She brushes at her bangs with one hand, slightly flustered. "I guess so- I'm happy too, work troubles notwithstanding. I do have my work cut out for me, after everything's that's happened."

"You have support too," Roy assures her. "And mine as well, even if I can't be there leading the charge anymore. You'll be fine - both of us will."

"Here's hoping," Riza says, smiling warmly.

---

Months pass, and the blooming Spring mellows out into a lazy Summer around Central. The flowers fade, the grass dries, and Roy no longer complains of nausea - now he gripes about his weight as he slowly grows rounder.

His fairly-toned physique from years of military training had already started smoothing out since his retirement, but the pregnancy only hastens this process - at this point, he's outgrown most of his dress pants and shirts and has surrendered himself to wearing mostly loose shirts and casual short pants. Maes and Gracia have no qualms with these new developments.

Despite his anxieties, Roy's progress is smooth, according to Gracia, their books on the subject, and the specialist he's hired for this occasion - they came with high marks after overseeing his chest surgery and successfully keeping it under wraps. And if all goes well, they'll be overseeing his delivery soon.

One morning is particularly warm, and Roy trudges into the kitchen, already tired and sweating - it is entirely the worst time of year to be hormonal and gaining weight. As he opens the fridge to search its contents, he’s tempted to stay there just to bask in its cool air for a minute longer - and to look for something cold and sweet to sate his hunger.

“If you’re looking for more cookie dough, don’t bother,” Gracia’s voice pipes up from across the room, startling him slightly. “I’m not making any more.”

Roy plays off his flinching by smoothing his hair and forcing a chuckle. “Ah- I was not doing that, actually, just cooling myself off a bit,” he says, which was partly true, so it definitely wasn’t a lie. “But, uh- no cookies today, Gracia? Why?”

Gracia, making breakfast at the kitchen stove as usual, rolls her eyes at him. “Because a certain someone nibbled at the dough so much throughout the day that when I finally baked them, at least a third of it was already gone. And even after the cookies were done, someone ate so much of them there wasn’t nearly enough to last everyone for the month. Elicia was looking forward to having dessert every night instead of, you know- only two or three.”

Roy stares, gaping dumbly at her for a moment - then snaps his mouth shut into a frown, huffing softly. “Well- that wasn’t entirely my fault. If it weren’t for the baby giving me these damn cravings-”

“You’ve had a sweet tooth for as long as I can remember, Roy, don’t blame the baby for that,” Gracia tuts at him. “You’re just using them as an excuse to give up your self-control.”

“I- Well- Ugh. Fine, I’m sorry,” Roy relents, ears burning with shame at this point. Not for the first or last time, he wonders why he insists on surrounding himself with people who had a penchant for seeing through his bullshit.

Gracia laughs brightly, finishing off the last of her cooking and turning off the stove. “Don’t apologize to me,” she says smugly, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. “Apologize to your future self when you’re spending twelve hours in labor to deliver our child.”

Roy’s mouth drops open. “Twelve hours ?”

“That’s what happened to one of my old coworkers,” Gracia says, nodding grimly. “Too much ice cream, too small in the hips. They had to open her up to deliver her son - and no surprise, he turned in at nearly eleven pounds at birth. And his mother never did lose all the weight she gained.”

Roy swallows nervously, feeling a chill up his spine - then remembers he’s still standing in front of the open fridge. Feeling plenty cold enough, he carefully closes its doors. “That’s, uh- that’s rough.”

“Oh, that’s not even the worst of it,” Gracia chuckles, and she straightens and turns to pour herself some coffee from the pot on the stove. “I’ve heard so many horror stories, you wouldn’t believe it - bearing children is very difficult. A lot can go wrong, and badly.”

“So I’ve heard,” Roy mutters, recounting articles he’s glanced over in the newspapers, about mothers losing their lives in the effort to bear their children; babies born with terrible illnesses or deformities that claim their lives before they’ve even lived a year, or leave them crippled for a lifetime; countless tragedies that leave orphans, widowers, and other such suffering in their wake. To say he was anxious about his own child’s birth was an understatement.

He glances nervously at the small curve of his stomach as he moves to sit at the kitchen table, sighs harshly and runs a hand through his hair again.

Gracia hums sadly across the way, and after an awkward silence, she joins him at the table while setting down their plates of breakfast. Roy looks at it, but does not feel hungry anymore.

“I wish I could say it gets easier,” Gracia says, still crestfallen in her tone. “But then you have a newborn on your hands - totally helpless, completely dependent on you. Your whole schedule revolves around them, which usually means you’re alternating between sleeping or staying awake for two hours at a time. And that lasts for a year, at least.”

She smiles a little, plucking herself up. “But then they start getting a personality - it’s so fun, watching that develop. And then they’re walking and talking - of course, that’s the toddler years. You’ve seen some of that already.” She chuckles at this last part.

“I do,” Roy says tiredly, now recalling the evenings he’d spent babysitting a smaller, more hyperactive Elicia in the years before he married Maes. In his misguided, pining state, he probably thought he could win favor by looking after his daughter - and this partly worked, as it led to a closer friendship with Gracia, tearing down the awkward walls between them.

He bows his head and sighs again. “Ah, Gracey- if I didn’t know better, I'd wonder if all this was even worth it."

Gracia chuckles again. "Well, you are bringing a whole human being into the world. Then raising them as your own, giving them the best possible start towards their future- Of course there's going to be prices to pay for that sort of thing."

When he looks up, she’s twirling her fork at him, wearing a wry smile. "Didn't you Alchemists have a rule about that? ‘Equivalent exchange,’ right?"

She lowers the fork to rest her chin on her knuckles. "It's kinda like that - this is our version of Alchemy, in a way."

Roy stares at her for a long moment - then crumples into a long and loud fit of laughter.

"Ah, Gracey," he says as he comes down from it. "You're so much better than any Alchemist."

Gracia laughs too, at that - then suddenly leans over to peck him on his cheek. "So are you, dear."

The affection catches Roy off-guard, a bit, and he spends a few moments blinking dumbly. He opens and closes his mouth to retort, but when nothing comes to him, he grumbles, and busies himself with poking at his breakfast. "Hmph."

---

Roy still suffers the occasional mood swings as he progresses, which is normal, according to Gracia and the doctor.

But what isn't normal is how deeply, deeply low Roy's mood becomes at times - when his movements become sluggish, his appetite diminishes, and he no longer finds joy or laughter in much of anything. At his absolute worst, he spends one morning unable to get out of bed at all - and both his partners know this can't entirely be blamed on the pregnancy.

"Dear, please," Gracia says softly, kneeling by Roy's bedside, gently brushing his mussed hair out of his eyes. His plate of breakfast sits on the nearby nightstand, untouched. "You need to eat, now more than ever."

"I know," Roy mutters, but he doesn't move, still curled within his bedsheets with his face half-buried into his pillow. His eyes are red and tired from too little sleep and too many tears.

"At least a few bites, or a nibble," Maes murmurs at his other side, his form curled around Roy's own, hugging him from the back, his face nuzzling his husband's ear. "You need it. So does the baby."

"I know," Roy repeats, but again he makes no move to obey them.

"Darling," Maes kisses into his hair, "Please. Try."

Roy squeezes his eyes shut, and his breath hitches, but he says nothing and still doesn't move.

Gracia keeps gently stroking his cheek. "At least say something," she pleads. "Tell us what's wrong. We're here, we'll listen."

Roy's breathing becomes erratic for a few moments, as if pushing back a quiet sob. But eventually he settles and opens his eyes, seeming to get up the nerve to speak his mind.

He chokes out, "What... did I do... to deserve this?"

"Deserve what?" Maes asks.

"All of this," Roy says, voice watery. "You, and Elicia, and the baby- how..." He swallows, and clears his throat. "...How can I bring life into this world when I've brought nothing but death?"

Gracia and Maes exchange glances, understanding. Gracia less so, but she is very familiar with the look of helplessness that again crosses her husband's features, the look that Maes gives when he remembers that Roy went to Ishval and he did not, and he will always, always be sorry about it. That he couldn't be there to stand by Roy's side, to share in its horrors, its suffering, and all he could do ever afterwards was try to put him back together with kind words, soft smiles, slices of Gracia's homemade pies.

It wasn't enough - never enough - but it was something , and it helped.

So again, Maes blinks back his tears, then adjusts himself so he can wrap his arms around Roy's shoulders and take his hands in his own, gently intertwining their fingers and bringing them down to touch the small dome of Roy's belly.

"You saved my life, darling. Multiple times. That's not nothing," he says, kissing into the crook of Roy's neck. "You've saved all of us - our friends, our family, even the whole nation."

Roy squeezes his eyes closed again. "But, Edward-"

"That wasn't your fault, dear," Gracia interrupts, her hand joining Maes' and Roy's. "Whatever happened down there, that was his battle, not yours. He's strong - wherever he is, I'm sure he's doing just fine."

"Yeah," Maes agrees. "We have to believe that... He'd hate for us to worry over him anyway. You know him," he adds, forcing a chuckle.

Roy sighs, but he nestles a little within Maes' hold. "Mm. I wish I could... Believe, that is. In anything."

"...What about our child?" Maes asks, his hand at Roy's stomach rubbing gently. "You can believe in them. They'll be here soon, after all."

Roy's eyes lose focus, and he exhales again. "Ah, even then- I'm still... scared they might not."

Gracia starts, her face pinching with worry. "Dear, please, don't even think of it. You're doing so well, even more than the doctor predicted- please, don't risk it all by worrying needlessly. Don't-"

She takes a breath, bows her head slightly. "Don't be like me."

Maes makes a strained sound. "Honey-"

"It's fine." Gracia flashes a small smile in Maes' direction, then turns it toward Roy, who still stares out at nothing in particular.

"Roy," she says. "You remember before I had Elicia, don't you?"

"Mm." Roy makes a noncommittal noise. He must remember those times, but he makes no effort to make it obvious, so Gracia sighs and decides to remind him.

"We miscarried so much," she continues, exchanging soft glances with Maes. "The doctors never could find out what was wrong with me. It was awful - and neither of us breathed a word to anyone, we were so ashamed. At least, I was."

She squeezes Roy's hand in her own. "We only told you after you found me crying after dinner, that day. I thought I was broken, and worthless, and all these terrible things - and that only made it worse. I was my own self-fulfilling prophecy."

She bows her head and leans in, planting a kiss on Roy's knuckles, near his stomach. When she looks up again, his eyes are looking intently at her, soft with pain and sympathy. He does remember.

"Without you and Maes, Elicia wouldn't even be here," Gracia says. "And she'll always be my little miracle, but I can't put myself through that again. You'll never know how truly, truly grateful I am for you doing this for us, Roy. For our family."

When she meets Roy's eyes again, they're wet with tears on the verge of spilling. This time she leans over to kiss his cheek, and wipes away the wetness with her thumb.

"I'm so proud of you, darling," Maes says behind him. "All of us are. Even Elicia - she's so ready to be a big sister. It's kind of funny, actually - she acts like she'll be ten years older instead of four."

"God, she does," Gracia says, chuckling softly. "All she talks about lately is all the toys and clothes she's going to share with her 'little sister,' and all the food she's going to make for her. She keeps asking me to show her how to cook dinner now - and she can't even reach the stovetop without standing on a chair."

Maes snorts with laughter. "God, that's adorable - how is she doing by the way, cooking-wise?"

Gracia levels a knowing smirk at him. "Well, she's a step up from you, Mister Water-Burner."

"Oh, ouch- ouch . You're so cruel, honey," Maes whines, feigning hurt.

Gracia laughs harder now, shaking her head. "Cruel? I've been trying to show you how to cook for years , but when you're not making jokes out of everything, you're turning it into something not even dogs would eat. It's pretty sad when a toddler's a better student than you."

Maes laughs, hard, dropping his forehead against Roy's back until he composes himself. "Oh Gracey, you're so mean ," he drawls out. "That's it, I'm only sleeping with Roy from now on. He wouldn't make hurtful jokes about his poor husband's cooking skills. Isn't that right, darling?"

Roy doesn't appear to respond for a moment - but listening carefully, one can hear erratic breaths and a slight shifting of fabric, and his shoulders and chest tremble within the blankets and Maes' arms. But there are no tears - Roy is quietly snorting into his pillow and suppressing soft laughter.

"Hey- are you laughing ?" Maes exclaims. Roy tenses within his grip, now squeezing his eyes to suppress a grin threatening to break out on his face.

"You're laughing, aren't you. I can't believe this. Both my wife and husband, laughing at my expense," Maes says, withering into laughter. Gracia does the same, and Roy's resolve crumbles, and it isn't long before all three of them have devolved into a shared laughing fit.

The mood was lighter, and it was warmly welcomed.

And later on, after more lighthearted conversation and gentle encouragement, Roy's depression lightened to the point he could sit up and eat a slice of toast and spoonfuls of porridge without much issue. He still stayed in bed most of the day, and only ate a bit more as it went on, but by the evening his body's needs began to outweigh his lack of appetite and he ate ravenously of his dinner, and he could sleep soundly through most of the night.

He improved slowly - at least, his mood didn't often dip into such a low point after that, but when it did, Maes and Gracia were once again there to hold him and remind him how much he was loved, and loved others in turn.

...Or to make more jokes at Maes' expense. Those helped too.

---

Fall is here; the greens and yellows of Summer have faded into shades of red, gold and brown, the leaves of trees darken and cover the ground, and the air grows colder.

Roy's moods have improved, along with his health, and now his child's movements can be felt within him. At first, it was strange and exciting -  there are few words he can find to express how simultaneously incredible and incredibly weird it is to feel a tiny person moving around inside him.

By now, the novelty has worn off - Roy could swear that the child shifts only in ways to spite him, pressing up into his lungs when he's trying to eat, or down onto his bladder when he lays down for the night, and he ends up struggling against his own unwieldy body to get up and use the bathroom for the umpteenth time. Or, usually, they just kick him constantly. At this point he's welcomed Maes' attempts to sing lullabies to their unborn child to soothe them. It actually seems to work, sometimes.

Between all this, even more egregious weight issues, and his ever-rounder appearance, no one blames him for his complaining now. Maes and Gracia offer as much comfort as they can, like taking turns offering him massages every evening, especially for his sore feet.

At least one positive is that the colder weather means he can sequester himself in large, billowing sweaters and pants, offering much in comfort and hiding his un-flattering figure.

Elicia, however, delights in these developments, as it proves that the reality of her becoming a big sister is drawing ever closer. She often puts her hands to Roy's stomach to feel its movements, and keeps asking him and everyone else when the baby will arrive.

One morning, Gracia, after making some calculations, says the delivery should occur right in the middle of winter - "Right around the Winter Solstice, actually," she says, jabbing her pen at the day marked on the kitchen's calendar. "Could even be the day of-  that'll be interesting," she chuckles.

Maes scratches at his chin. "Well- shit. We'll be with your folks all week to celebrate... We really should have planned this better, hun," he says, directing this last statement at Roy.

Roy, seated at a nearby table with his chin balanced on one hand, rolls his eyes at his husband. "Don't look at me- You're the one who decided knocking me up in Spring instead of Winter was a good idea. It's usually the other way around, you know."

Maes turns several shades of scarlet at this and starts spluttering. "I- Well- Y-you agreed to it!"

"I did," Roy sighs long-sufferingly, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair to ease his sore back a little.

Gracia giggles at the two of them. "Oh well," she says. "It's fine, really. I'd rather it happen with more people around anyway. Feels safer."

"True, but- what're we gonna do for the kid's birthdays?" Maes wonders aloud. "They're going to live the rest of their life being forgotten. I had a coworker like that, y'know- poor girl was born on Couples' Day, so people either didn't believe her, or treated all the cheap chocolates as her birthday presents. Terrible."

"Yes, the poor thing," Gracia says, shaking her head. "But I think this is different - city-folk don't really celebrate the Solstices anymore, so maybe they'll end up getting birthday presents from their city friends, and Yule presents from the family."

Maes rolls his eyes. "So they'll be spoiled rotten instead. Great."

"I don't see anything wrong with that," Roy says, grinning.

"You be quiet," Maes tuts at him. "I thought you were an orphan , you hypocrite. Don't you want our child to appreciate things?"

"Of course I do," Roy says, patting his stomach with an air of pride. "They're going to appreciate getting lots of money and free things every year."

Maes sighs, shaking his head. "Terrible. Absolutely terrible."

Gracia just laughs harder.

---

Weeks later, and it is only a few days before the Winter Solstice - or Yule Time, as some people still call it, like Gracia’s family.

Roy is due any day now - and at this point he's more or less numb to the constant dysphoria, anxiety, and dozens of other unpleasant symptoms. He is very heavy, very grumpy, and just wants his child to be born so he can finally hold them in his arms and be done with this.

The family does their best to make him comfortable in these final days - which now includes Gracia's kind-hearted parents and their siblings, as they are now rooming in their family home for the holiday.

The house isn't massive, or terribly luxurious, but true to Gracia's family, it is the very picture of coziness: old rugs and paintings adorn the walls and floors, wood and earthen furniture throughout, and large, worn sofas with plenty of throw pillows and blankets.

It’s a proper abode for generations of a country-born family staying true to its roots, constructed by a patriarch of Gracia's forefathers. This is most evident in the Yule decorations that now adorn everything - the front of the house wears wreathes of pine needles and sprigs of holly on its doorways, tied together with ribbons of red, green and gold. Within the house proper are various bells, knick-knacks and decorations on the walls and  furniture, wicker baskets filled with candies in the kitchen, and all sorts of pleasantly-scented candles throughout.

Everything is concentrated in the main parlor, where a small evergreen tree stands proudly in its corner, covered in the highest concentration of these decorations. More baubles, ribbons and bells; dolls and figurines made of fabric and clay; preserved pinecones, berries and flowers; garlands of tinsel and colored beads. And it's all topped off with a hand-worked, golden metal star at its tip, allegedly made by a grand-relative skilled in metalworking. It’s construction is somewhat rough, even at a glance, and makes the part of Roy that was still a haughty State Alchemist wonder why the family didn’t hire one to make the star with a much more efficient metal transmutation - the rest of him chastises himself for being so shallow. He is deeply privileged to now be a part of such a family, rich in its history and heirlooms.

Beneath the tree's branches and surrounding the large pot holding its trunk, is a pile of wrapped presents, glimmering with shiny colored paper and bows. It captures the fascination of child and grown-up alike - mostly the children. Some of the more excitable ones, like Elicia, need to be kept under close watch to ensure they don't open them ahead of time. Roy feels grateful that his child is not yet among them.

And yet, for Roy, this place  inspires a strange mix of both homeliness and alienation in him - the first and last time he was here was over four years ago, on the Solstice that followed Maes and Gracia's wedding.

It was a bittersweet occasion for him, marked with equal amounts of happiness and heartache because of still-buried feelings for Maes. In the presence of his friend's family, and that of his new wife, he felt like an intruder with no business being there; his attempts at socializing were  cold and aloof when he wasn't drowning his feelings with rum and hard nog. Between his awkwardness and the chaos of the past few years, he'd politely declined further invitations back here.

But things are different now. He is different - it's just as Riza said all those months ago. Roy feels more relaxed, less caged within his own defensive walls, and has been having an easier time opening up to everyone - and in turn, others open up more to him. Of course, it helps that his partnership to Maes and Gracia now makes him a more proper member of the family, but even without that difference, the overwhelmingly warm vibes here suggests they would have welcomed him just the same, even all those years ago.

(Being very heavy with child also helps - he's too exhausted to put up many walls to begin with, gets plenty of sympathy and attention from just about everyone, and can't retreat back into a bottle even if he wanted to.)

Right now, sitting with Gracia's mother and father in the parlor, wrapped in conversation, he is the very picture of comfort: wearing the loosest sweatpants and the biggest, puffiest, Yule-colored sweater Gracia could find for him, covered in large throw blankets, and sipping from a mug of warm chocolate milk in his hands.

His only source of discomfort is of course, his unborn child, who still shifts constantly - there's also an occasional, somewhat-painful pressure inside him that comes and goes, but Gracia says these 'fake' contractions are common at this stage, so he does his best to ignore it.

Sebastian, Gracia's father, leans from the sofa with his elbows on his knees, recounting tales from his past as a war journalist, when times were simpler, and war was as well. His talk of the old-fashioned photography and recording equipment they used back then would be of endless fascination to Fuery. For Roy, he appreciates the wartime experiences, and can share his own to a sympathetic ear.

Gabriella, Gracia's mother with a history as a nurse, is more concerned with baby-talk: both embarrassing stories of Gracia's early childhood, and concerns about Roy's health and that of their new step-grandchild.

“-And that’s why Amestris never tried to push its borders eastward, and thank God for that,” Sebastian is saying. “We already have our hands full with the North.”

“You can say that again,” Roy groans, recounting the almost-war with said country not long ago. It’s still a wonder that his efforts dissipated the conflict, even if it’s merely boiled down into a cold war now. “Anyway,” he continues, not wanting to dwell on the subject, “This eastern desert - what’s beyond it?”

“Eastern countries, and then the ocean, I presume,” Sebastian replies, idly scratching his beard. “They say Xing is over there too, but who knows, no one’s heard from them in decades. Probably for good reason, knowing us.”

“True,” Roy hums sadly.

“It had a name too, that desert,” Seb continues, searching the ceiling for a memory. “And a weird one - something like... Silk-sees? Serk-sees? Or was it more of a "z" sound..."

Gabriella interrupts him, one of many times already. "We get it dear, the name was weird. Say, Roy, have you all picked out a name for the baby yet?"

Roy, slightly awkward but becoming familiar with these rapid changes in subject, stutters in response. "Ah- we do, actually-"

"C'mon Gabby, what d'you take us for?" Maes cuts him off, balking. "Of course we've got names picked out. If it's a boy, Elias. If it's a girl, Eleanor. Easy."

Gabriella laughs, shaking her bobbed hair. "Easy, huh?" she teases, "Sure it's easy, when it's more "el" names. Couldn't think of anything else?"

Maes blanches at her, sputtering again. "Hey- they're nice names! It'll be cute when they match with Elicia! Gracey likes it too!"

Gracia was giggling softly. "C'mon Mom, it's Yule Time. Lay off the teasing a little, yeah?"

"Aw- But it's so easy ," Gabriella says, smirking mischievously.

Sebastian, rolling his eyes at most of the exchange, turns back to Roy. "You're the one actually having the child - did you have any names in mind, Roy?"

Roy shrugs at him, pursing his lips. "Honestly? Not really. Naming things isn't really my strong suit."

"You could've asked me," Riza suddenly pipes up, leaning above them on the sofa with her elbows on the head-cushions - she's here early on in the week to help with party preparations.

"I would have suggested some good names," she says, pouting slightly.

Roy cocks his head to look at her, giving her a stink-eye. "You named yourself after a bird of prey and your dog after a violent weather pattern. Forgive me if I don't exactly trust your particular taste in names, Lieutenant."

Riza rolls her eyes. "Fair enough."

---

Another difference this year is the absence of Maes' family members - aside from one of his nicer cousins, none of the Hughes are here. There were a few phone calls giving well-wishes and happy-new-years a few weeks ago, but other than that, it's been radio silence from them.

It's fair to assume that this was foretold by a letter they received about a month prior - one that Maes frowned down at and said, "Hm. It's from my parents."

They had not heard from his parents, or most of his relatives, since Roy and Maes announced their retirement from the military and their romantic partnership thereafter (which didn't go into detail, but the fact that Roy had permanently moved into Maes' and Gracia's home should've been enough of a tip-off).

The letter spent the majority of that day laying on the kitchen counter, untouched - only towards the evening, after Gracia had retired to put Elicia to bed, did Maes finally open it.

Roy didn't get a chance to see its contents, but did witness Maes' expression darken considerably as he read it, and heard him mutter something about "lifestyle choices" and "unsightly partners" under his breath with intense disdain.

"Maes?" he'd asked him, out of concern, but his husband only spared him a glance before briskly turning and walking back into his office. Roy followed him, cautiously- and peered into the room soon enough to see him crumpling the letter into his fist, raising it to throw it into his trash can.

"Maes," he said again, softer this time. Maes lowered his arm, and turned to look at him fully - and Roy could more clearly see how his eyes burned with something cold and bitter.

Maes let out a long, angry breath through his nose, and a beat passed. "...You're lucky, in a way," he finally said. "You lost your parents before you got to know who they really were."

"Mm," Roy hummed, starting to understand this now.

Maes turned away, sighing again. "You never had to grow up and realize that you've been living with a pair of hypocrites all your life. Talking all the time about how much they loved you, how much they cared - but when you needed a shoulder to cry on, or an ear to listen, they pushed you away, told you to suck it up. Nothing you did was ever enough for them."

He unfurled the crumpled letter, stared at it. "I did everything they expected of me - I got good grades, I joined sports teams, I even got a girl and settled down. And I worked hard - I reached Major without ever even touching an Alchemy textbook, Roy, you know how much I busted my ass for that. And you know what they said to me? When I showed them my credentials? 'Oh, that's nice, but your cousin's a lawyer and makes even more money than that. Don't you think you could do better, dear?'" He mimicked a flighty, nasally voice, probably mocking his mother.

"And now, after all this time, they send me this shit- " And Maes slammed the letter onto his desk, violently, causing a whipping sound of paper-on-wood that made Roy flinch, but the suddenness of the act was what really made him shrink away - he rarely saw Maes so angry like this.

Maes, meanwhile, seemed to snap out of whatever rage-like stupor he was in once he realized Roy was frightened - he blinked, then started toward Roy and wrapped him up in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing Roy's hair. "I'm just- I'm so tired. The things they said about you..."

He took a breath, then drew away, giving Roy weak smile. "But it's fine. They're not coming to Yule with us anymore - and good riddance."

"They're not?" Roy wondered at him, recalling the very few times he'd seen Maes' family - who seemed like fairly well-off people of the upper middle-class, decent folk, if a bit stilted in their mannerisms. Maes never seemed comfortable around them, and he rarely spoke of them in all their time together - it seemed there'd been good reason for that.

"No, they aren't," Maes said, kissing at Roy's forehead again. "And you know what? I'm fucking relieved . This could actually be the best Solstice I've ever had, because for once I don't have to pretend that I'm happy around anyone."

He lowered his hands to Roy's stomach, looked at him softly. "Because I am. With both of you."

Roy had felt his eyes watering, at once heartbroken and brimming with joy for his dear husband, and he returned his affections with a long, tender kiss and embrace.

When they drew away, Maes asked him one last thing. "Roy- just do me a favor, okay?"

"Anything," Roy said.

"Keep me honest," Maes said, his expression soft, open, painfully vulnerable. "When I tell the kids I love them, make sure I mean it."

"Aw, Maes," Roy said, resting his head against Maes' chest. "Don't worry. You already do."

When Gracia heard the news later, she readily agreed with both ideas - good riddance to Hughes' family, and "Goodness' sakes, Maes, if you were any more earnest about your children, even I couldn't stand you."

---

The absence of Maes' family was not long missed - in their place are select members of Roy and Maes' former squadrons this year. They're a welcome presence in the house, and a great help with the preparations. Gracia's parents welcome them warmly - and are in agreement that Maes' family are better off gone, after hearing the news.

Some, like Armstrong, Maria, Fuery and Havoc, will only be here for several hours of Yule's Eve, planning to spend the holiday proper with their families; those without much of a family to go back to, like Riza, Breda and Falman, are here for the entire week; and those who are absent entirely are spending the extra time with loved ones who need it, which are Denny with his many younger siblings, and Sheska, who is staying with the Rockbells to offer her support.

Sheska even sent a letter in advance, and when an evening wound down and allowed time to spend on it, Maes reads it aloud to Gracia and Roy in the parlor:

A wonderful Solstice to you and your families, Mr. Hughes, Gracia, and everyone else. Special regards to Mustang and the new baby, I hope everything goes well. Miss Winry and her grandmother need all the help they can get after everything that's happened - you know, with Alphonse and that homonculus boy - I think they're all in need of a good Solstice. Rose and Paninya are here as well, and they send their regards. Miss Winry does too, and sends congratulations for the new baby to Mr. and Mrs. Hughes.

Maes frowns a little after reading the last line. "Nothing for the man actually giving us the baby," he mutters under his breath.

"Honey," Gracia whispers, catching his attention to shake her head at him. He looks at her, seated at his side on the couch, then looks to his other side, where Roy lays curled within his throw blankets against the armrest. He stares out at nothing, seeming to be in a low mood again, and Maes isn't sure if it's from the day wearing him out or his comment on the letter.

Maes lowers his eyes. "Sorry," he says.

Roy glances at him, then away, and just shrugs. "It's fine," he says distantly. "It's what I expected from her."

He's not talking about Sheska.

---

Days later, and it is finally Yule's Eve. The merriment in the household only grows as Fuery, Havoc, Maria and Armstrong arrive to partake in the festivities.

True to Roy's prediction, Fuery spends most of the evening deep in conversation with Sebastian about the technical wizardry of years past; Havoc enjoys playing Big Brother with Elicia and her little cousins; Maria aids in the last of the holiday dinner preparations, to the appreciation of Gabriella and her sisters.

Armstrong, meanwhile, does what he does best - being himself, as grand and boisterously as possible.

Early on, when his loud greetings rang out through the house and his massive frame approached Roy and Maes in the living room, a look of real, genuine terror flashed across Maes' face for a moment - and within the next moment, he'd whipped out a protective arm in front of Roy.

He said quickly, "M-Major! I would ask that you, uh- refrain from your usual form of affections, seeing Roy's current condition-"

Roy attempted to protest at the same time. "Wh- for goodness' sake Maes, I'm not made of glass -"

But both were drowned out by Armstrong's bellowing laughter. "Ah, please, no need to worry, sir! I wouldn't dream of laying hands upon your husband in such a state. I merely wished to extend my congratulations again - and a humble offer, if you do not mind."

He extended a massive hand forward, which Roy took, surprised at the man's gentleness in his grip, for once - at the same time he asks, "An offer, Major? What kind?"

Armstrong nods, and after exchanging less-gentle handshakes with Maes, replies, "In regards to your coming child, sirs - I've heard they will arrive very shortly! If you have need, the Armstrong family midwife and her assistants are eager and ready to help at a moment’s notice! They come highly recommended, believe me-"

He starts into what will no doubt be a tirade about the many good qualities of this midwife and her team, and how they assisted in bringing multiple generations of Armstrongs into existence, but Roy hurriedly gives him a polite shushing gesture and cuts him off.

"Ah- I'm sure she is, Major but uh- we have the midwife thing covered already, don't worry."

Armstrong stuttered mid-sentence, stared in confusion. "Ah- Oh. By whom, if I may ask?"

This would be answered just later that evening.

---

And sure enough, there is one last guest who has arrived fashionably late to the house - one that Roy has waited for anxiously.

When the doorbell rings and an all-too-familiar voice is heard across the living room, he lights up brighter than any flame could produce, and grunts his way to his feet to meet them at the door personally.

Shuffling in through the doorway, in a flurry of winter fur coats and bags, is a somewhat-portly woman of middle age, dark-haired and dark-eyed, well-dressed and made-up, with a beauty mark on one cheek. This woman is known to most as Madame Christmas, the owner of a once-prolific bar-and-brothel in East City; In reality, she is Chris Mustang, Roy’s aunt and foster mother.

She is the only living relative of his family, having survived either by miracle or her own wit; she took him in and raised him as her own, bringing him out of the orphanages and under her wing, in honor of her brother and sister-in-law; she and her girls gave him the ideal home and family to rediscover himself in the wake of losing of his parents; and they have taught him everything he knows about secrecy, subterfuge, and weaponizing one’s charms into a fine, precise point.

Her knowledge spans a grand swathe of subjects that most people would call “unsavory,” but among her clientele and employees, they are nothing less than essential. Among her skills is several years of experience in midwifery, and ensured that Roy’s mother had a safe, successful delivery on the day of his birth - she has, quite literally, known him for his whole life - so it is only appropriate for her to do the same for Roy and his own child all these years later.

In short, he would be nothing without her, so Roy he gives her the best hug he can muster, despite his large stomach getting in the way. But she squeezes back with just as much affection, even as she draws away with a sarcastic frown on her face as she looks upon him. Her first words to him are, "My goodness, Roy, you're huge ."

Roy snorts, then breaks down into a fit of giggles. Maes and Gracia laugh their way to the doorway to also greet Chris, along with several women that are both her fellow charges, and Roy’s adoptive sisters.

They’re equally surprised and delighted at Roy’s condition. “Oh my! You all must be so excited;” “Wow, you weren’t kidding, you look ready to pop!”; “Roy dear, you should really sit down…”

“She’s right, darling,” Chris says, agreeing with the last one. “You didn’t tell me you were this close! Goodness, didn’t I teach you any sense? Sit down, sit down, before you throw your back out…”

Roy, still laughing, lets himself be lead away and back to the sofa. “You did, Auntie, you did- It’s just- ah, it’s been too long. I missed you.”

And he means it - Chris and the girls were a constant well of support for him until recently,  as when the string of serial killings and conspiracies started up a few years ago, Roy was quick to call her up and advise her to leave the country for their safety. Chris begrudgingly obeyed, moving out westward and re-establishing herself there as best she could. Now that things are relatively settled (finally) and changing for the better, she’s recently moved back to Amestris - just in time to spend their first, proper Solstice together.

“Hmph! Then you could have called or written me more often, you sap,” Chris retorts, but there’s rarely any bite to her banter.

“Calls don’t go out to Creta,” Roy says as he settles back into the sofa. “And I wrote you as often as I could, Auntie. It was, ah- pretty crazy for a while there. I’m sorry I didn’t write more.”

“I’ll say,” Chris says, rolling her eyes. “The Cretan newspapers were having field days with it. I almost started getting worried about you - then I heard you blew up the Führer.”

Roy laughs again. “I did, I did. That was… ah, man. There’s so much to tell you, Auntie.”

Chris smiles at him - a real, genuine smile - and takes his hand, gently, something she hasn’t done in a long time.

“Well, I’m here now, darling. Tell me all about it.”

---

And talk they did, for many hours - between introductions to Gracia’s family and Roy and Maes’ squadron members, the details of the past few years’ adventures, and plenty of embarrassing stories of Roy’s childhood, there was no shortage of conversation.

Soon enough, it is near-midnight - Armstrong, Fuery, Havoc and Maria bid their farewells and left long ago, the children have been put to bed, and most of Gracia’s family have retired for the night as well. Only Roy’s little family (minus Elicia) is still awake, bleary and yawning as they curl up together on the parlor sofa, still exchanging stories.

Chris, slightly buzzed from the wine, is still deep into the ‘embarrassing stories of Roy’s past’ part of their conversations. “I always knew you’d tie the knot with Maes someday, always knew,” she’s saying, side-hugging her adopted son and admiring the silver ring on his and Maes’ fingers. “It was just a matter of time - for you to get up your nerve, of course.”

“Oh, c’mon ,” Roy whines, suppressing a yawn at the same time. “I wasn’t nearly that bad. And you know there were other reasons I was hesitant.”

“I know, darling- but it’s still funny,” Chris says, smirking.

“Was he, now?” Maes says, grinning wolfishly. “I have an idea of how long you hid it from me, but I’m dying to hear your side of it, Ms. Mustang.”

“ Maes- ” Roy starts, but Chris leaps upon the chance before he can protest it.

“Oh, it was practically star-crossed ,” she waxes. “There were sparks from the moment you first met. He’d talk about you all the time when he called me from the Academy - as in, how much he hated you.”

Roy groans, and Maes throws back his head in laughter. “Ah, man- that checks out,” Maes wheezes. “I was a pretty big asshole back then.”

“ Was ,” Roy drawls sarcastically, earning him a playful jab in the shoulder from his husband.

“Shut up, I’m better now!”

“Debatable,” Gracia murmurs sleepily from the other end of the sofa.

“Don’t you two start again-”

“You three are adorable ,” Chris laughs. “I’ll admit, I was worried when you and Gracia hooked up and poor Roy was left out- but I’m glad it’s worked out now.”

Maes’ laughter grew uncomfortable. “Ah, well, I- I didn’t know. Or I wouldn’t open myself to it, I guess. I just- didn’t think it was an option at first, you know?”

“I know, dear,” Chris says. “I’m sure your family didn’t help there. We’ve all had our run-ins with conservatives - my brother probably would have balked at the idea if he were still here, rest his soul.”

“My father,” Roy muses at the mention. “Do you think… would he have accepted me, Auntie?” He asks with genuine curiosity, only tinged with sadness at its edges. Chris frowns, and thinks, and hugs Roy more closely.

“With time, darling, with time,” she says finally. “He was still a good man. And people change, they always do.”

“Yeah, we changed,” Maes says, after pecking Roy’s cheek with affection. “We went from hating each other’s guts to this . Pretty crazy, huh?”

“Yeah, Roy hums, growing quiet as he feels another pang from a fake contraction creeping upon him - he’s been dealing with them on and off all day, but they feel more intense than earlier in the week...

“And say, I wanted to ask,” Maes continues. “If you liked me for that long, why didn’t you say anything? I mean, I’m sure Ishval had to do with it, but-”

“That is part of it,” Roy murmurs. “But- hm. It’s uh, hard to explain,” he trails off, suppressing a grunt of pain.

Chris eyes him for a moment, then takes over in his explanation. “You see, Roy was in a very… tenuous place in his life, you could say. When he started attending the Academy, he’d only recently changed his name and started his medications, as I recall.”

She exchanges glances with Roy, who nods to confirm this.

“-Oh,” Maes says. “So you were still… in-between, kind of?”

“In a sense, yes,” Chris replies. “Physically and emotionally. Very insecure, very frightened, poor thing. He’d call me many times to talk about how scared he was of anyone finding out about his ‘secret’. And we all know how the military tends to treat people who are… different .” She says the word with a disgusted sneer.

Maes hums, nodding. “Yeah, yeah… didn’t want to get too close to anyone, then.”

“That, and he couldn’t allow himself to,” Chris continues. “Opening up his heart to anyone would risk his career, maybe his life, but most of all, it would’ve betrayed everything he was building up about himself. Admitting to being in love with you, a man , would’ve made him no different than the young lady he once resembled.”

She shrugs, frowning slightly. “...That was misguided, obviously, but like I said, he was young and insecure. And, obviously, Ishval didn’t help with that.”

Maes nods slowly, frowning. “Mm. I see.”

He looks back to Roy, seeing something pained in his husband’s face, and huddles closer to wrap his arms around his shoulders and press his face into his dark hair. “But I wish I could… y’know, really understand, completely. So I can be better for you,” he murmurs softly.

Roy snuggles against him, his warmth a small balm for his pain, both from his stomach and the memories. “That’s okay,” he whispers. “Just trying helps. Just being here, for me- that helps.”

He feels another pang, more acute this time, and can’t quite suppress a groan from it. Chris sits up at his other side. “Darling, what’s wrong? Are you-”

“False alarms, Auntie, false alarms,” Roy says hurriedly, a little strained. “It’ll pass in a minute-”

“Roy, you’re due at any moment , Gracia says, now sounding more awake. “Those might not be false anymore.”

“Hey hey, easy now,” Maes says, supporting Roy against him. “I know I kept joking about the baby being the best Yule present, but I wasn’t serious- ”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Roy cuts in, leaning away, breathing easier since the pain was now fading. “It’s passing now, I’m okay- just like I said.”

There’s a beat of audible relief between everyone. Chris shakes her head, still frowning with concern. “Still, too close for comfort- you should really get some rest, dear. It’s late anyhow.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Maes says. “C’mon honey, let’s go to bed already.”

Roy gives a small sigh, mainly at the prospect of trying to stand up again. “Alright, alright…”

---

Maes was a light sleeper for as long as he could remember. This was useful after becoming a soldier, needing to be alert at all times on the warfront - it was not useful after he came back to city life, gained a stressful, overworking job, and was expected to still function as a normal human being. After that, he was nearly an insomniac.

He has spent many long, lonely nights alone in his own bed, with his own wife and child - he has spent countless more before he was married at all. Being married a second time, to a second partner, has not lessened this - but it has made it a little easier. Because at the very least, he can be comfortably trapped between two partners and feel safe, no matter what his paranoid brain tells him, and lying still and quiet between them for long enough can finally set him drifting into unconsciousness.

So it’s just his damn luck that on this particular night, Yule’s Eve, of all evenings, he is tired and content enough to actually fall asleep within a reasonable span of time, and sleep soundly - and then be rudely shaken awake only a few hours later by a trembling hand and distressed voice.

“Maes- Maes, Gracey, wake up. You were right, I think- ugh- I think it’s coming-”

“Ngh- Roy?” Maes drawls out sleepily. “What- What’s coming?”

“The baby , you idiot, we- ow- we need to go- ”

“Coming…?” Gracia yawns awake. “What- Oh, oh god, Roy-”

Gracia’s form jerks to an upright position at his other side, jostling Maes further, and now there is no hope of him returning to that blessed space of mind where he is genuinely sleepy - instead it is replaced with panic over the realization that Roy is in labor.

“ Shit- ” he curses, and all but leaps to his feet from their shared bed - tight quarters in an already-small guest room - and haphazardly gets himself dressed as Gracia eases Roy to his feet, taking him through the breathing exercises they’d been practicing for months in preparation for this. They ease the pain, allegedly.

Maes can’t really tell as they shuffle out into the hallway, watching Roy double over from the contractions when they come, wishing he could do something, anything - he hates feeling helpless, and didn’t enjoy this when Elicia was born.

They turn a corner towards the living room, and he nearly jumps out of his skin - coming down another hallway is Chris and a few of her girls, wearing robes and holding oil lamps.

Chris’s eyes widen at the sight of them, and she lifts her lantern to look better. “It’s happening?” she asks.

“Yes, ma’am,” Maes and Gracia say, almost in unison.

“Hmph! I knew it. C’mon then, we’ll take my car, it’s roomier.”

---

The next several hours are a blur, between the haze of pain Roy is experiencing and the panic everyone else is having. The car ride consisted of Gracia sitting by him in the back seats, breathing in time with him in their exercises, and Chris at his other side, instructing him to rock himself to and fro to ease the pressure. Maes and one of his sisters, Bridget he recalls, sat at the front of the car, struggling with maps and directions in the pitch-black of the night, toward the Central hospital where his specialized doctor would ensure a discreet delivery.

There was a lot of yelling and cursing, mostly from Maes against Central’s ‘backwards-ass street system,’ but at some point they finally arrived and Maes all but launched himself from the driver’s seat to run inside and schedule with the doctor. Soon, Roy was being lowered into a wheelchair and sped along into an operating room by a nurse, meeting with his doctor, and then entering the painful, arduous process of childbirth.

He tries not to dwell on anything - if he does, it’s on the small things. Gracia and Chris squeezing his hands as they lead him through various pain-relieving positions; Maes kissing his sweating forehead and muttering small prayers; everyone’s praise and encouragement at even the smallest amounts of progress.

In short, it’s as awful as Gracia warned him it would be, even with painkillers - but eventually, blessedly, he hears the tiny cries of the child he’s brought into existence, and when they are cleaned and brought into his waiting arms, he is told they are a healthy baby boy. As planned, he is named Elias Mustang Hughes.

Poor Elicia - she was looking forward to a sister.

---

The golden light of morning peaks over dark winter clouds, and gently streams through the plain curtains of the hospital room  - morning is here, on the Winter Solstice, and Roy’s family has welcomed the birth of their son.

There was a flurry of emotions within and without him as Roy first held his child in his arms - rampant thoughts of “oh my god I’m holding a tiny person in my arms that I made inside my body and he’s here and he’s mine ”; Maes kissing him over and over, practically sobbing with happiness; Gracia all but climbing into the bed with them to hug him, also crying; Chris nearly shoving them both aside to get a closer look at her new grand-nephew and saying, “Oh, Roy… he looks like your mother, a little.” And that got Roy’s waterworks flowing as well.

Things have calmed down by now - Gracia has taken Elias aside (making Roy begrudgingly let go of him) to feed him milk formula she’d prepared ahead of time, seeing as Roy was not equipped to do so; Maes is pacing the room and whispering curses at himself for forgetting his camera in all the rush; Chris has pulled up a chair by Roy’s bedside to tell him more stories about his parents and the days he himself was an infant.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, and it creaks open - a nurse peeks in, saying “Excuse me - Hughes family? You have visitors- erm, a lot of them.”

“Oh, uh- let them in,” Maes stammers as he goes to the door, and he opens it fully.

Once again there a flurry of activity, for as soon as the door is thrown open, a small throng of people and things make their way inside the room. Gracia’s parents and aunts, Elicia and her cousins, Roy’s sisters, and Riza, Breda and Falman, all file inside with armfuls of boxes, baskets, and other containers filled to the brim with Yule decorations - the decorations from the house, Roy realizes, as they set about placing them around the hospital room in a similar manner to how they were back at the house.

Sebastian, broad and strong, even carries the entire Yule tree into the room with Breda and Falman’s assistance, setting it in the corner and piling the wrapped presents underneath it, just like it was in the parlor.

The nurses and doctors, of course, are none too happy about this; neither is Gracia, because the noise and commotion makes little Elias start crying again, and she has to place him back into Roy’s arms to calm him. Gabriella apologizes for everyone, but soon the work is done and things have settled again.

Bridget, who was nowhere to be seen during his labor, Roy realizes belatedly, turns to them and smiles triumphantly after placing the last of the decorations. “Sorry for the mess,” she says. “I called the house while you were in delivery to tell them the news, and Ms. Gabby had the best idea - since you guys would be stuck here and missing the party, we brought the party to you !”

Roy doesn’t know what to say to this; Gracia’s anger is calmed, but still thinks the whole thing’s a bit excessive (but it is something her mother would absolutely do); Maes is completely flabbergasted, mouth hanging open stupidly.

This is quickly rectified by Elicia approaching her mother and father to berate them - “You made me miss the baby! Why didn’t you wake me?!”

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Gracia tells her, lifting her into her arms to make up for it with hugs. “But it was the middle of the night, and we were in a hurry.”

“You wouldn’t have liked it anyway,” Maes says nonchalantly. “Just a lot of screaming and crying. But look, honey- this is your baby brother, Elias.”

Elicia stares at the bundle in Roy’s arms - then pinches with disgust. “I thought it was a girl- and he’s so ugly .”

“He was just born , dear, give him a break,” Roy says tiredly, but he’s laughing too. “You looked a lot like this when you were born too, as I recall.”

“Gross!” Elicia cries, shaking her pigtails, and Maes and Gracia are laughing as well.

And the rest of that day was just as enjoyable - the other guests acquainted themselves with little Elias and extended praise and congratulations to the family; presents were given out and opened with much joy and appreciation;  food and drink was brought and shared over happy conversations; even music was brought in the form of Riza’s portable radio to smooth out the atmosphere with pleasant, quiet jazz.

The Yule gifts ran the gamut from clothes and candy to tools and appliances, some a perfect match to their recipients, others not so much, but nonetheless appreciated - after all, the most important aspect of the gift-giving was the well-wishes given alongside the physical presents. According to Sebastian, the ancient tribes of Amestris who started this tradition exchanged nothing more than small good-luck charms under their trees, for hope to survive the rest of the bitter winters.

For indeed, there is an overwhelming atmosphere of hope in this hospital room - for love, living, and a brighter future, especially after the strife of the past several years. For Roy, this is most evident in the new life he now holds in his arms.

---

Nearly a month later, the Hughes family have long since returned to their home with little Elias in tow - and as Gracia also warned, it is very tiring to care for a newborn. Especially with a somewhat-bratty four-year-old who must now deal with the reality of no longer being the sole center of attention from her parents.

But between the three of them, it’s manageable - two people to exchange shifts of sleeping and tending to the baby, a third person to tend to Elicia’s needs.

It was harder in the beginning, with Roy not only being new at this, but also very drained from the effort of delivery - luckily they received helpful visitors every few days after the Solstice, in the form of Gracia’s relatives, Chris and the girls, or members of Roy and Maes’ squadrons. For those who were absent, it also serves as their first opportunity to see little Elias and extend their congratulations (Armstrong, in his usual form, burst into tears at the sight of the child, he was so happy).

So far, only Elicia is unimpressed with her baby brother - on top of not being a girl, she complains of his small size and inability to walk, dashing her hopes of a new playmate anytime soon, and that he does nothing but sleep, eat, cry, and soil his diapers.

Again, her parents must remind her that he is mere weeks old, and she was much the same at that age. And again, she does not believe them. Ah, children.

One morning, finally feeling hale and healthy enough, Roy spends a few hours sitting outside on the porch with his coffee, watching morning traffic go by as the sun rises over Central’s skyline.

And it’s strange - he feels kind of empty, somehow, despite how full his life is. He must be slipping back into his low moods again - Gracia warned of postpartum depression as well. He tries not to dwell on it, as usual - he sips his sweetened coffee, watches the sunlight dance upon steel and wood rooftops, and wonders what sort of person his son will grow up to be.

He can’t settle on an answer - who could, with how broad the possibilities could be - but he does hope beyond all hopes, that Elias, and Elicia as well, will be better than the terrible mistakes their fathers have committed and still live with.

There is a shifting behind him suddenly, and the opening and closing of the front door - Roy turns to see Maes joining him on the porch, pulling up a deck chair beside him.

“Good mornin,” Maes says, pecking Roy’s cheek. “You’re up early. Feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” Roy says, shrugging. “How are the kids doing?”

“Eli’s been fed, so he’s down for the count for now,” Maes says. “And Elicia’s still sleeping. Gracey’s tucking in for a nap while it’s safe, and sent me to check on you.”

“Oh,” Roy says. “Well, like I said, I’m fine, so…”

“Are you?” Maes asks, eyes searching. “I mean, I know it’s been a while, but you had a rough time of it- if anything’s bothering you, you can tell me, hun. You know I’m always here.”

Roy frowns, and attempts to deflect him again - but as usual, his husband’s pretty, pleading eyes make it hard to keep up any facade for very long.

He sighs sadly. “I don’t know- I’m still tired, I guess. And I keep thinking…”

“Of what?”

Roy pauses, thinks for a long while, bothering his lower lip with his teeth again.

“Maes,” he says finally. “What are we going to tell them? About us, and what we’ve done?”

He swallows, thick with emotion suddenly. “How- how do I tell my son about Ishval ?”

Maes’ smile fades, his mouth a thin line, and he sits back, turning away. He searches the skyline for a small eternity, eyes squinting, as if searching for the answer. But eventually, he closes his eyes and exhales, and turns back to Roy.

“We’ll tell them everything,” he says solemnly. “The good, the bad- all of it. They deserve to know. We have to be better than the old bastards at Headquarters.”

“Mm,” Roy hums sadly. He’s right. He usually is.

“And then,” Maes says, taking Roy’s hand, squeezing it. “We’ll tell them to be better than us.”

He meets his eyes at that, and Roy can see something misty behind Maes’ glasses - and feels a prickling in his own. He dips his head and leans in, letting Maes hug him by the shoulders and lean against him in kind.

They watch the rest of the sunrise together. They hope that someday, their children will see something similar - a sun rising on a better world.

END.

[waywardnerd67]

Perfect Size

Title: Perfect Size Square Filled: Size Kink Pairing: Dean x Plus Size!Reader Characters: Dean Winchester, Plus Size!Reader Warnings: Fluff/Smut Summary: No matter how many times Dean tries to reassure (Y/N) that he is attracted to her, she always shy away from him. Finally, he takes matters into his own hands. Word Count: 3012 Created for: @spnkinkbingo

Looking in the mirror, (Y/N) pulled her flannel over the bulge of her stomach. Even with all the hunting and training she had gained some weight. She blamed mainly herself for not being able to say no to Dean whenever he would bring her home hamburger and fries instead of the salad she had requested. He did not understand since he could eat whatever he wanted and still look like a damn model.

She took of the flannel and grabbed another one that she recently purchased that was a size bigger. Once she slipped it on, she felt her body relax seeing that all her rolls were well hidden. She put her boots on and opened her door immediately being hit with the smell of bacon.

“Great, Dean’s cooking.” She mumbled making her way down to the kitchen.

Walking in she saw Dean standing in front of the stove shaking his cute little butt to music playing within his own head. Sam was sitting at the table reading from his tablet, “Morning (Y/N).” he said looking up to take a drink of his coffee.

“Morning Sam is it okay if I have some of your fruit this morning?” she asked as he simply nodded at her.

“Fruit?! Forget the fruit sweetheart! I made you the Dean Winchester breakfast special.” He proud displayed a plate filled with two fried eggs, a load of bacon, pancakes drowning in butter and syrup with some red-skinned potatoes.

Her mouth dropped opened slightly as a wide smile crossed the gorgeous hunter’s face, “Dean… I can’t…” she began to say but he placed a piece of bacon on her lips.

“I know right? I’m like a master chef or something. Sit. Sit.” He said as she chewed on the delicious piece of bacon.

(Y/N) sat down the sound of her seat creaking echoing in her ears. Sam looked up at her sympathetically knowing the struggles she had with her weight. Many nights he had stayed up with her as she poured her heart out about how she wanted to be thin and pretty. He trained with her most days and really had helped her finding a good balance of a workout schedule. The only thing neither of them could control was Dean always feeding her crap.

She stared down at the plate in front of her as Dean watched and waited for her to take a bite. It all smelt and looked delicious, but she could also feel her jeans getting tighter from just looking at it. “Come on, eat up!” he said like an excited kid in a candy store.

She took a bite of the pancakes which were cooked to perfection and she hummed her approval as she chewed. (Y/N) watched as Dean’s olive eyes darken slightly and his tongue slowly swept over his full lips. She slowly made her way through the plate not being able to eat it all which then Dean took and finished.

(Y/N) felt like the girl from Willy Wonka who turned into a blueberry and had to be rolled out her stomach was so full. Looking down at herself she swore her stomach looked twice as big as it did when she got dressed.

The rest of the day was filled with researching in the library, an afternoon training session with Sam where thankfully he got them both salads for lunch afterwards. Finally, movie night with Dean in his room. She changed into her flannel pajama bottoms and over sized t-shirt with her slippers to make her way down to his room. Opening the door, she found him sprawled out across his bed in sweatpants and black t-shirt.

“Winchester, you’re going to have to move over, so my fat ass can fit on the bed.” She said smacking his firm legs.

He rolled over sitting up, “We fit just fine on here and I happen to love your ass.”

She rolled her eyes at him grabbing one of his pillows and placing it in front of her to lean on. Dean was always flirting with her, but she knew it meant nothing. That was just the way he was with everybody. Though when she was alone in her room she would often let herself fantasize about Dean really having feelings for her. Lord knows, she had feelings for him since the moment she laid eyes on him.

They were watching Dean’s favorite horror movie sitting side by side. His long legs stretched out crossing at his ankles while she sat cross legged her thigh resting against his. Dean brought his arm down around her as his hand gently rubbed her back. (Y/N) shivered as his fingers brushed over one of her back rolls.

She glanced over to see him smirking his eyes never leaving the screen. When the credits were rolling she began to get up, but Dean gripped her hip keeping her firmly in place. “Stay for a little while longer, please.” He asked pouting slightly.

“O-Okay, are we going to watch another movie?” she stammered as a wide smile spread across his face.

“(Y/N), we’re close friends. Right?” he asked sitting up and leaning in closer to her.

She swallowed the large lump in her throat as she nodded, “Y-Yep.” She squeaked.

“Why is that I know so little about you then? Like, if you’re ticklish or not.” There was a mischievous look in his green eyes as she felt his hand on her hip creeping up her shirt.

(Y/N) placed her hand on top of his stopping it from moving any further, “To answer your question, yes I am ticklish. Here’s a better question, what are you doing?”

He chuckled removing his hand and bringing it up behind his neck, “I guess I was trying to flirt with you because I like you, (Y/N).”

Her heart was pounding in her ears as she stared at him shocked, “You… you what?” she asked the urge to run propelling her body to get up out of his bed.

Dean quickly followed her, “I like you. I’ve always like you, but I know I’m not all that great of a catch. This last hunt when you were hurt it just made me realize that I must at least try. Try to see if something is here between us.”

(Y/N) shook her head, “Dean, you… I mean, I’m definitely not your type. You’re funny, smart, gorgeous and fit. I’m literally a bag of potatoes or large bowl of jello.”

“I like jello.” He said his lips curling into a smirk as he stepped closer to her.

She held out her arms to him, “Dean, I can’t. I think you like me because you know deep down I’ve always had feelings for you and you’re trying to be nice. There’s no need to be nice though because I know guys like you don’t like fat chicks like me. It’s fine. So, let’s just end all of this now and go to bed.”

She turned quickly leaving his room never turning back even hearing him call out to her. As soon as she was safely inside her room she crawled into bed with tears streaming down her face. The only man she ever dreamed of being with had said he liked her, and she had pushed him away. She knew deep down, she would never be enough for him and he would leave her for someone skinnier and prettier.

(Y/N) did not know when she fell asleep, but she woke up when she felt her bed dip down in front of her. By the smell of whiskey, she knew who it was, and he heart began to beat rapidly. “Dean?” she said as he placed one of his fingers on her lips.

“Shhh.” His warm breath tickling her cheek as he pressed his lips against it.

She tried to push him away, but he grabbed her wrist pinning them above her head, “Are you pushing me away because you’re insecure about your body or because you really don’t want this. If it’s for reason number two then I will stop now, but only if it’s that reason.”

(Y/N) could not lie to him even though she knew she should in order to save her own heart. He took her silence as her answer and brought her arms back down. His lips kissing her hand up her forearm to her giggly bicep and shoulder. When his lips reached her collarbone, she let out a breathy sigh.

She felt him smile against her skin as his arm wrapping around her waist as his lips kept moving towards her own. Dean hovered over her lips, “May I?” he whispered.

“Yes.” She said breathlessly as his full lips pressed against hers. His tongue swept across her bottom lip asking permission than she granted.

He tasted like mint and whiskey. She slipped her hand up into his hair loving the feeling of his silky hair between her fingers. He growled pulling her bottom lip between his teeth gently. His large hand was making its way up her back where once again she shivered when he touched the rolls of her skin.

“You shiver whenever I do that, why?” he asked pulling slightly away from her.

She bit her lip nervously, “I don’t want to disgust you.” It was an honest confession and even in the dark of her room she could see Dean’s wide eyes.

“Oh sweetheart, there is absolutely nothing about you that could ever disgust me. You are incredibly beautiful inside but especially on the outside.” He said unhooking her bra with his one hand. “Please (Y/N/N), I want to see all of you. I need to see all of your beauty.”

(Y/N) nervously sat up so Dean could lift her t-shirt over her head along with her bra. She heard him suck in a breath, “Jesus (Y/N), you’re even more gorgeous than I could have ever imagine.”

“Winchester, if I’m going to be shirtless then you better be as well.” She said earning a soft laugh as she watched him pull off his t-shirt.

No matter how many times she had seen him shirtless rather him coming out of the shower or having to patch him up after a hunt he still mesmerize her. “I love it when you get demanding with me.”

Dean crawled up her body settling between her legs as she laid back onto her mattress. His warm skin pressing against hers as he kissed her again. His lips pressed against her neck as he grinded his hips into her making her gasps slightly.

“Feel the effect you have on me, (Y/N). That is all from seeing you, being around you.” She felt his hard length against her as his mouth moved further down.

His hand covered her breast kneading softly as a moan escaped her lips. He brought his lips around her nipple with his tongue leisurely lapping over it. “Dean…” she sighed pushing her breast further against his mouth.

(Y/N) could feel her arousal soaking through her panties and as if her body was on autopilot she lifted her hips against him to relieve some of the pressure building within her. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m going to take good care of you.”

His lips left a wet trail of kisses down her stomach as his hands slid down her curvy sides to her pants waistband. Lifting himself long enough to pull her bottoms and panties down her thick legs tossing them to the floor. Instinctively she closed her thighs together.

“Don’t hide from me now, sweet girl.” Dean’s voice raspy and deep. His hands resting on her knees as she slowly opened herself to him. A low groan came from deep within him as he looked down at her.

He ran one long finger against her slick folds bring out a strangled breath from her lips, “Good god, you’re already so wet for me. Now, I have to see if you taste as sweet as I think you do.”

Watching Dean Winchester’s head lower between her legs was better than any fantasy she could ever dream of. His sandy brown hair wildly sticking up and tickling her inner thighs. Her back arched off the mattress as his tongue took one long stride against her.

“So sweet…” he murmured as he took another leisurely swipe of her as if she would a lollipop.

His hands pressed against her thighs spreading her legs a little wider as he focused on her sensitive clit. “Oh god… Dean!” she cried out gripping the sheets on either side of her.

(Y/N) shamelessly grinded her hips against his mouth feeling the pressure deep within her getting ready to burst. Dean pulled his mouth away kissing her thigh as he pushed one finger into her entrance. A deep moan echoed off her walls as he pulled out and pushed two fingers in her.

“Come on sweetheart, I want to feel you come on my fingers.” He said kissing up her leg. He was mercilessly pumping his thick fingers in her curling them in just the right spot. It was not long until she was calling out his name as the dam busted and she came hard.

She was barely coming off her high when she watched Dean get up pulling his pants and boxer down his long bowlegs. She watched as he smirked down at her grasping his hard length stroking it. (Y/N) wanted to feel it within her own hands and taste him. She licked her lips making him chuckle.

“There will be plenty of time for that, but right now I need to be buried deep within you.” He said crawling back onto the bed laying next to her.

“Dean… what are you…” she began to ask them realized what he wanted. “No, I’ll squish you.”

He pulled her arm gently getting her to roll onto her side. His hand guiding hers down over his length as he sucked in a breath. He was large, and her walls clenched at how wonderful he would feel within her. “Baby, you are not going to squish me. The only thing you’re going to do is fulfill a long-time fantasy of mine.” His voice was straining as her hand slowly stroked him.

She swallowed hard before lifting herself up kneeling beside him. He placed her hands on his shoulders helping her to brace herself as she straddled his hips. His cock nestled between her slick lips as he gripped her thighs. As she lifted herself he held himself as she slowly sank down onto him.

“Fuck.” He groaned as he was buried deep within her. “Shit, you feel so good sweetheart.”

(Y/N)’s fingers were digging into his shoulders as she got used to the way he stretched her. Never before had she felt to connected or full by a man. She looked down at him as a lopsided grin spread across his face. His hands gripped her hips urging her to move. She leaned forward slightly slowly pulling him out and then moving back against him.

He little grunts and whimpers gave her the confidence to move a little fast sitting up slightly as his hands gathered her breasts. “Fuck, baby just like that. You look so damn beautiful riding my cock.” His husky voice fueled her to ride him a little harder.

The sounds of their skin smacking together echoed throughout the room turning her on even more. He pulled her down on top of him rolling them so her back was pressed against the mattress. He put her legs over his shoulders as he pushed into her wrapping his hands around her thighs.

He thrusted into her at a feverish pace. She could feel every inch of him stretching and hitting all the right spots. He wrapped her legs around him as he leaned forward capturing her mouth with his. “Come on sweetheart let me feel you come. Feel you clenched around my cock.”

He reached between them his thumb brushing against her clit a couple of times before she was crying out for him, “Yes, just like that Dean! Oh god, I’m coming!”

Dean buried his head in the crook of her neck pounding into her chasing after his own release. “Fuck (Y/N), I’m so close.” He grunted.

“Come for me, Dean. Come now.” She panted and felt his body go rigid as he pumped into her. His body was trembling as he slowly pressed into her one more time before resting on top of her.

His breathing was coming out in short bouts, “Am I hurting you?” he asked trying to lift himself off of her.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him keeping him in place not wanting to break their connection yet, “Stay.” She whispered hearing him chuckle.

After a few minutes she let him go whimpering as he slipped out of her. He rolled over pulling her with him as she wrapped her arm around his stomach. “(Y/N) can I tell you something?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“Of course.” She answered nervously.

His hand was stroking her hair as his other hand laced their fingers together on his stomach. “Ever since I met you whenever I was with another woman I also imagine she was you. To be honest, I never have liked small woman. I just never found a curvy woman who would actually give me the time of day.”

(Y/N) looked up at him surprised then she started laughing. He scoffed at her, “That was an honest confession and you’re laughing at me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I promise.” She reached up touching his cheek gently, “Any woman who is big like me would have never believed in a million years that a man like you would be into them. Their loss because wow you’re more amazing than I could have ever fantasized.”

She leaned up kissing his lips feeling him smile, “Well no one else could ever compare to you. You are perfect in every way including the perfect size.”

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