Bambi

[gardenfa1ry]

☆ I can see the whole world,from my own little cloud ⁠~⁠♪

Andromeda ✧.she/her. written by Olivia dean. black girl. february pisces. ravenclaw. james potter's girlfriend. spring girl. once upon a broken heart. reader. real life willow hale. daughter of Aphrodite. Minhkhao khan's Wife.og pink lover. Iridessa coded. the art of loving. Bambi. dreamer by laufey

please don't interact if you are homophobic, racist, misogynistic

[reina-mab]

female versions of Parker, Stebbins and Barkovitch that no one asked for

[sundrop-writes]

Double Stuffed

Sub!Ray Garraty x Sub!Fem!Reader x Dom!Pete McVries

Summary:

Pete hates sharing a wall with Stebbins. The guy gets up too early, works out too loudly, and is generally damn annoying. Luckily for him, one night that close proximity comes in handy. On a night when Stebbins kicks you out of bed for a very petty reason, Pete and Ray happen to be right there to swoop you up and give you just the kind of comfort you need.

Dom!Pete McVries x Sub!Fem!Reader x Sub!Ray Garraty. Friends with Benefits. Smut/PWP. Set in the 70s College AU.

Word Count: 12,700

The Long Walk Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader is referred to as a ‘woman’, has breasts and a vagina, and uses she/her pronouns (but as with most of my fics, the primary pronouns used are you/yours); the reader is described as wearing a dress and being generally feminine; the reader’s looks are not described in any major way - the reader’s hair colour, race, eye colour, weight, etc. are not described; this takes place in my 70s College AU - so all the boys live in a house together and it’s not the modern era; background Billy Stebbins x reader - the basis of this fic is the reader being in a sexual relationship with Billy Stebbins and experiencing a rejection from him, and Billy is insistent that he is not the reader’s boyfriend (their relationship is purely a sexual one); everything that happens in this fic is consensual - there are mentions of Billy having ‘rules’ for the reader and doing things such as spanking her, and it is all consensual and enjoyed; established Gavries - Pete and Ray have been dating before the fic begins (and it’s mentioned that they had sex right before the fic) (mentions of bottom Ray and top Pete); mentions of smoking weed (not done by any of the main characters in the fic); it’s implied that the reader has a sweat kink (and so does Pete); Stebbins calls the reader ‘babe’ (might not be accurate slang for the time but I can’t think of anything else fitting); the reader slaps Stebbins during an argument (this is one of my favourite fictional tropes, I can’t help it - it brings the drama); Stebbins is likely OOC in this, but we need a villain for the drama; clothes sharing (a mention of the reader wearing one of Ray’s shirts) - I know I said I hate this trope but Ray is one of the only fictional men whose shirts would fit me, so let me have this ONCE. JUST ONCE 

For the actual smut (which is most of the fic lmao) - threesome (duh), there is no specifically outlined roles, but Pete is more dominant, and Ray and the reader are more submissive; accidental voyeurism - Pete has listened to Stebbins and the reader fuck multiple times before because they have adjoining rooms; mild food kink (Ray eats Oreo crumbs off the reader’s breasts but it’s not a centric moment); breast worship - from Ray towards reader (Ray is a tiddy guy and I will take no questions); mild objectification kink (the reader is turned on by the idea of being ‘a prize to be won’); Pete calls the reader ‘pretty girl’, and ‘sweet thing’, and ‘babydoll’; hair pulling (towards Ray, from both reader and Pete); something similar to subspace is described (for Ray first and then the reader) but it’s not explicitly labeled that); implications of Ray have a puppy kink and a humiliation kink; vaginal and anal fingering (reader receiving); finger sucking - from Pete toward Ray; PROTECTED SEX THIS TIME!!! They use condoms, YAY!!; HOWEVER there is discussion of having a kink for unprotected sex and creampies (I couldn’t help myself); double penetration - the reader receives vaginal and anal sex from Ray and Pete at the same time; (also mentions of punishment anal - between Stebbins and reader, but again, all consensual); mentions of Ray having some insecurities about his body BUT the reader says that she loves his body type (and it’s a passing moment); praise kink - a lot of verbal priase from Pete (and Ray) towards the reader, including the use of ‘good girl’; oral - from Ray towards reader AND oral from reader towards Pete (mentions of deepthroating, but no descriptions of breath restriction or choking); snowballing - aka kissing with someone’s cum in your mouth (between Ray and reader with Pete’s cum in her mouth); I think that’s it. I hope you guys enjoy the fic!

Notes: WARNING - there is a small kind of 'plot hole' with this fic. I said that Stebbins is 'disgusted' by the reader having pubic hair, but if this did actually take place in the 70s, bushes were popular then, and that likely wouldn't happen. I just wanted him to be an asshole about something that would actually be forgivable, and that was just what I came up with in the moment. Also, this fic might not make total sense unless you read my Kink Headcanons for these characters, where I discuss (what I believe to be) Stebbins's sexual habits, and how he would be more emotionally distant in an effort not to get emotionally attached. So you could say that he just lied about being disgusted by bushes because he was looking for an excuse to get into a fight because he doesn't want to get emotionally attached... in that case, there's layers. Also, I have considered (forcefully) putting Stebbins in the cuck chair as atonement for his crimes. We can discuss this further, and decide as a jury of peers if this needs to happen (especially because I feel like Stebbins would hate the cuck chair - he would hate not being in control, and it would be such a good punishment for him). Also also if you can't tell while reading this fic, I am obsessed with Pete's voice and Ray's hands. And no, I will not apologize.

...

Usually, Pete loved the afterglow of sex. 

The time after sex was one of his favourite things - right up there along with sex. If prompted, he would say that his favourite things in life were: cooking, eating a large meal that he had made, having vigorous sex with a partner who had the same libido as him, and basking in the glow after sex when he got to cuddle with his partner. That time when he got to laugh and talk about nothing and everything with them. Fuck, he really loved cuddling. Being with Ray made all those things better, and usually, at this time of night, especially on a Saturday, he would be enjoying one of those things - but of course, one of his many roommates just had to go and ruin it for him. 

He had been waiting in bed for Ray to return - it wasn’t uncommon for Ray to crave a snack after a particularly over-zealous session, his body worked up and craving the extra calories. And while Pete had offered to go and ‘whip him up something quick’ (which could mean anything from a grilled cheese to an entire quiche, even at this time), Ray insisted that he would grab a snack and ‘be right back’. He was excited because he had hidden some good snacks from the other guys and he wanted to eat them before Hank and Art got to them on one of their stoner binges where they cleared out the cupboards. For two skinny guys, they could put away a lot when they got the munchies. 

Pete’s cock was softening and he was getting nicely sleepy, enjoying some soft jazz at a low volume coming from his record player in the corner that Ray had turned on before he snuck downstairs. It was a peaceful, wonderful post-nut atmosphere to relax in. But then - then came the yelling. 

“God - you are such an asshole! You’re such a fucking hypocrite, Billy!” 

Pete recognized your voice immediately. Sharing a wall with Stebbins meant that your voice had become ultimately familiar to him. He had known you for a while now, and he had taken an interest in you pretty much instantly upon seeing you - anybody would. You were fucking gorgeous. He was more than surprised when you seemed unreceptive to his flirting at a party and instead went upstairs with Billy Stebbins. Yeah, Stebbins was stereotypically attractive, but you could do a lot better than a guy like him. 

It shocked Pete when it became more than a one time thing. You had been visiting the house with a growing frequency, mostly to sleep with Stebbins. Well, ‘sleep with’ was the wrong term. Pete was sure that you almost never slept in Stebbins’s bed. He had some weird policy about girls never being allowed to stay overnight - something about it ‘messing up his training regime’. (He whined about needing to get the proper amount of sleep, and not being able to do that with someone else in his bed.) But truly, Pete thought that he was afraid that cuddling would make him weak. He was afraid of getting attached. It was the same reason that he never hugged you, and never kissed you on the mouth. 

Most times, he practically kicked you on the curb with a boot print on your ass while you were still rushing to straighten your clothes. It was all a little rude in Pete’s eyes. And it’s why he never fully understood why you kept coming back for more. Yes, he heard the way the walls shook when the guy made you cum, but anybody could do that. Other than that, he treated you like just the way you had phrased it - a huge asshole. He kicked you out of bed before the sheets could get cold, he never said anything nice to you, and he never walked you home. 

Pete was always tempted to say something, but he wasn’t sure if it was his place to. 

“Hypocrite? I am not! I groom myself on a regular basis, I-!” Stebbins argued, his words soon cut off by your voice butting in once again. 

“Yeah, and I’ve fucked you plenty of times before when you’re sweaty and covered in mud from your stupid little drill practices!” 

Sharing a wall with Stebbins meant that most often, Pete was subjected to two things: the obnoxious grunting of the tall blond doing push-ups on his bedroom floor when he woke up at five in the morning, and the even louder, more obnoxious sounds of him having sex when he had one of his hook-ups over. Stebbins never felt the need to keep quiet or reign it in, or even turn on music to drown out the sounds of sex. He was never ashamed of having very loud sex. 

But the yelling - that was definitely new. 

“Because you said you like it! You practically begged to suck on my balls without me taking a shower first! Don’t lie now, babe - you like me sweaty and gross.” Stebbins’s voice was sharp and whiny, and though Pete knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, the conversation was intensely difficult to ignore. 

‘You like me sweaty and gross’ rang in Pete’s head like a siren, and he felt himself getting hard again. He tried to will it down. He had a very hard time not picturing you on your knees in front of him, mouthing along his own sweaty balls after he played a game of pick-up basketball with Parker. 

That lovely mental picture was disrupted by more yelling. 

“It’s not my fault you barely make time to shower after playing military man!” You argued dully, sounding caught. 

“Playing?” Stebbins scoffed harshly in return. “ROTC is a serious-!” 

“You play in the mud with fake guns all day trying to impress your stupid daddy!” 

Ouch. Low blow. Pete wondered what Stebbins had done to deserve it. 

“God you’re such a whiny bitch! Are you PMSing?” Of course, Stebbins responded in kind rather than trying to wind the situation down calmly. “Should I check and make sure you didn’t get blood on-?!” 

A harsh slap resounded through the air, more than palpable, even through the walls. Pete held his breath - it was a sound he had heard before, but it was usually followed by your moaning, deep in the throes of pleasure. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to go over there. He was relieved when he heard Stebbins groan in pain. (There was that unbalanced, slightly sexist thing that said it was okay for Stebbins to get slapped and not you, but hell - the guy could defend himself.) 

“Ow!” Stebbins said, clearly playing it up and being dramatic. “You know what? Get out! We’re not doing this tonight!” 

You let out a harsh laugh. “Oh what, did you want me to cry over losing your prize of a dick?” 

“You can fucking cry somewhere else-” Stebbins grumbled, a bit quieter, clearly having no real argument. If him kicking you out was a threat where he wanted you to respond with an apology and beg to stay, then he had to follow through. 

There was the distinct sound of his bedroom door being ripped open, and Pete couldn’t help himself - he needed to see what happened next. 

He raced to shove on a nearby pair of pants, finding them a bit loose on his hips and quickly realizing that they were Ray’s (he had gone off in just his boxer briefs and a tee shirt). He rushed to tighten the string enough and make sure they were right on his hips, hoping that his partially hard cock wasn’t too obvious as an outline in the grey sweats as he moved toward his own bedroom door. He was still shirtless, but he didn’t care. He was going to walk to the bathroom to further eavesdrop on the conversation, and maybe talk to you on your way out, maybe offer to actually walk you home like a gentleman. 

Lucky for him, Ray was just coming up the stairs (his arms full with a bounty of junk food for the two of them to share) and they naturally met in the middle of Pete’s open doorway while you burst into the hall. 

“I can’t fucking believe you!” You screamed, pointing an accusing hand at Stebbins, who was still lingering in the room, unseen. “It’s the most sexist, stupid, petty thing-!” 

“Sexist? Stupid?” Stebbins chuckled in return. “That’s big coming from the bimbo who practically begged me to-” 

“Shut up!” You yelled, cutting him off. 

Pete felt too eager for him to finish that sentence, felt hungry for more of your secrets now. (Even though, with all the late nights he had spent on the other side of that wall, he had discovered quite a few that he had held onto…) 

Immediately, Pete noticed your state of undress. The front section of your dress was open, unbuttoned, revealing a black lace bra that had been pulled down, just barely revealing the edges of your nipples, and your neck was covered in harsh marks that surely would have bloomed into hickies in a few hours. Your lipstick was smudged and your hair was messy, and you were missing shoes. Your black tights had rippling runs down the thighs, as though the material had been clawed at, especially near your center. He couldn’t see it with the skirt of your dress covering you, but there was a large hole in the middle of your tights, leaving you open to the air where you weren’t wearing any panties. 

You were a mess, but you didn’t seem to care who saw you - and if you had been eager to have sex before, that eagerness had definitely been disrupted. You were glaring at Stebbins with your arms folded, hell in your eyes, unintentionally enhancing your cleavage with this pissed off stance. 

“Just - you’ve never had a problem with it before.” You sighed quietly. “You’re been an asshole for no reason-” 

“No, I specifically told you to clean that shit up before the next time.” He argued, snippy and petulant in a way that made Pete want to slap him for himself. 

“I thought you were joking.” You ground out, rolling your eyes. 

“I don’t joke, babe.” He sighed, sounding far too satisfied, leaning into the doorway, revealing that most of that lipstick was smeared over his torso. “And I don’t want fucking rugburn on my face. Get your shit together or I’ll find someone else to keep my dick warm. It’s that simple.” 

He had a smug look on his face that was appearing increasingly punchable, and Pete couldn’t take that he was threatening you like this, holding this over your head - as if his dick was truly somehow that precious. 

Wait - rugburn? 

Holy fuck. 

Was he seriously complaining because you hadn’t shaved? 

Pete cast Ray a sideways look, and the redhead immediately mouthed ‘what the fuck’. Both of them were clearly on the same mental wavelength: that Stebbins was being immature, and incredibly stupid. Especially to pass up having sex with you for such a petty reason. 

“You are such an asshole!” You screamed at him, your frustration mounting, unable to find any better words. 

“Whatever.” He sighed. “Goodnight.” 

Pete was more than shocked when Stebbins closed the bedroom door in your face, no more ceremony or thought to it. This left you in the hallway in a state of vulnerable undress, Stebbins seemingly uncaring about whether you got home safely or not. You let out a harsh scoff, shaking your head in disgust. Then, dawning came over your face and you banged harshly on the door. 

“I need my shoes! And my purse!” 

The door cracked open again, and the items were tossed toward you without a word, tumbling out past you without grace. Your purse even spilled some of the contents, and Pete couldn’t help but to notice that a few condoms fell onto the floor from your mess of belongings, among things like make-up and a small notebook with some pens. 

“Fucking hell.” You sighed, and you fell to your knees, trying to clean up the mess. 

Pete looked to Ray and again, and with a single nod, they had an understanding. Ray retreated back into the bedroom and left the door open, and he began tidying the bed, putting the snacks off to the side for later while Pete knelt down to help you. 

“Bad night?” He posed, trying to be as gentle as possible - purposefully positioning himself as the opposite of Stebbins, who was almost always overbearing. 

He began helping you gather your things, and the embarrassment finally hit you when you looked up at him and saw nothing but softness and sweetness in his eyes. That, paired with his obvious attractiveness and his rippling shirtless torso - it made you feel like even more of a mess in his presence. 

When his gaze flickered down your breasts, your cleavage more than shown off with the state you were in, you rushed to hold your dress together. You didn’t hate that he was looking, you just hated that you hadn’t even thought about how bare you were. You shuddered under the attention, feeling a lustful heat rise up in you once again - one more intense than when Stebbins had been touching you, brought on by nothing more than a wordless look from Pete McVries. 

“I - I’m sorry.” You mumbled out. “You shouldn’t have ringside seats to my freakshow. This is all so bothersome-” 

“It’s not a bother.” Pete assured you, letting out a gentle, smooth laugh - one that easily carried away your anxiety. 

“You’re sure?” You posed. 

He nodded. 

He handed you back your now refilled purse, and you both rose to a standing height, you still awkwardly holding your dress closed as he made it a point to stare into your eyes. 

“You know, usually that’s the part I like.” He said, confusing you for a moment before he continued. “Your freakshow. I like my ringside seat. I like the way you sound.” 

It was something so simple - such a simple set of words that sent a chill through your body, had slickness forming between your thighs, wet and slippery against nothing but your own flesh - that hole in your tights a gaping reminder of what you had been denied, what you wanted so badly. The no underwear thing was another one of Billy’s ‘rules’. A part of the game that the two of you played. 

With the lustful look in Pete’s eyes, it was only then that it truly occurred to you. He had heard you before. With his bedroom being right up against Billy’s, it meant that he had heard you being fucked so many times before. He likely knew what you liked, knew how you liked it. He could unravel you without even trying. 

“I-” You started, unsure what to even say, and luckily, Pete didn’t let you struggle for even a moment before he continued. 

“See - the part that bothers me is when he treats you like shit afterwards.” Pete added on, that rumbling sweetness so ripe in his voice, the words wrapping around you like a blanket, causing gooseflesh to perk up all across your skin. 

You shrugged. “It’s just sex, it’s not like he’s my boyfriend or anything.” 

“That don’t mean the art of being a man gotta to be lost on him.” Pete said, disgust seeping into his voice. “A woman like you should be cherished - girlfriend or not.” 

The words hit you hard. And just then, to drive the point home, Ray appeared in the doorway once again, giving you equally sweet eyes, holding a distinctive blue package in hand. 

“You wanna share some Oreos with us?” He asked, his tone all too casual. “Double stuffed.” 

Pete rolled his eyes at the stupid, dirty joke, and heat flared in you at how casually he threw out the double entendre. 

“Double stuffed?” You posed, hoping that you weren’t mistaking his meaning as a flood of filthy images came to mind. 

“Excuse him.” Pete sighed. “He can be a bit… forward. He gets eager when he sees something he likes.” 

Ray let out a laugh at this, and you bit your lip, far too flattered. 

(That had not been your previous experience with Ray - someone who usually wouldn’t look you in the eye. You were curious what was different now.) 

“But - me and Ray do like to share.” Pete added on easily, the words so smooth coming from his lips, just a hint of flirtatious lust floating out with that natural sweetness he always carried. 

Your eyes were glued to the floor in contemplation, imagining all the ways it could have gone, imagining all the positions you could have ended up in. Naturally, he mistook it for shyness, believing he had gone a step too far. 

“If you don’t want to, I can show you to the bathroom to clean up, and then I can walk you home. No problem.” Pete told you, giving you a gentle, honest smile. “But just so you know - Ray and I like to cuddle.” 

You let out a nervous laugh, the offer sounding more and more appealing by the second. 

You had always found both of them attractive, but you never thought that anything would ever come from it. Even if it was taboo and not something you would ever say aloud, you always thought that they were for each other, not for girls. You thought that was something unspoken about them. (You had always interpreted Pete’s flirting and calling you ‘pretty girl’ as him just being nice.) But god, being shared between them… that would be a dream come true. One of your most secret, filthy dreams. You had no clue how Billy had managed to room with so many guys who were so insanely attractive. Sometimes you made a habit of flirting with Harkness for fun just because he was so cute and so shy about it.

“Can I ask you something?” You said, gently letting go of the hold on your dress, exposing yourself to their eyes once more. You become hot and ego-inflated at the way Ray’s eyes eagerly drank your cleavage in, like he was seeing a beautiful oasis in a desert for the first time. 

“Of course.” Pete said, glancing over and seeing the glazed over, ‘tiddy obsessed’ look in Ray’s eyes and knowing that the question had gone right through his ears. 

“What wall is your bed on?” You posed, gently biting your lip. 

“Oh, don’t worry-” Pete began. 

“I wanna piss him off.” You said, giving a wicked grin, cutting off Pete’s assurances that Billy wouldn’t hear you from his side. “I wanna make him really regret kicking me out.” 

Pete let out a chuckle at this. 

… 

Naturally - Pete moved his bed. 

Watching him heave it to the other side of the room like it was nothing, his shirtless torso flexing, had you even wetter. When Ray stepped in to help, Pete shooed him off with a grunt. 

So he shrugged and opened the package of Oreos, reaching over to feed you one. You bit it in half, and some crumbs fell down onto your breasts and you were surprised with the eager, unshy way that Ray leaned down and began mouthing off your tits to ‘clean’ them. It was something that had you giggling as you only became hotter. He was someone who usually wouldn’t even talk to you unless he was drunk, now freely drooling across your cleavage. Something about Pete’s room, and Pete’s presence in general made him feel bold. You were more than eager to see more of this side of Ray. 

By the time they peeled off your clothes completely and ushered you into the bed, your wetness had spread across your inner thighs, sticky across your cunt lips and the untrimmed pubic hair that Stebbins had been so loudly complaining about. You were more than ready for them. 

“God damn.” Pete sighed, running a hand down the front of your body where you now laid between them, teasing you with his fingertips, causing you to shiver with anticipation in the wake of his touch. “We are fuckin’ lucky tonight, Ray.” 

It was wonderfully intense, feeling Ray’s plush, hot body pressed into your side with one of his arms eagerly tight across your stomach, almost possessive, while Pete straddled one of your thighs with his own muscled legs, hovering over you, so clearly in control, but not demanding anything from you. Both of them were still mostly dressed - Ray wearing a tee shirt and boxer briefs and Pete wearing those grey sweats that he had come out into the hall with. 

You were the only one truly naked and bared, and you felt like a goddess in their eyes. You felt so perfect being lavished with their attention. 

Ray hummed in agreement, still eagerly mouthing at your tits, glad to get his mouth on you in this relaxed position. He was a pure contrast to Pete - where Pete was patient and soft and slow, Ray was clearly eager to devour you, not holding back or shy to show enthusiasm to have you in the bed. He gave a particularly harsh suck to your now swollen nipple as he popped off, already looking delightfully lust drunk, his expression so cute and hazy, his lips still hanging open. His cock was straining against his boxer briefs and leaving a wet spot where he was leaking furiously against the front, so turned on just from lavishing on your tits. 

He gave a heady grin toward Pete before he spoke. 

“Usually I hate it when we have to deal with Stebbins’s fuck-ups, but this is pure fuckin’ gold.” 

“Maybe it’s karma.” Pete theorized. “Payback for all the times we took care of his bullshit.” 

“And everyone else’s bullshit.” Ray mumbled, descending back down to your breast, kissing along the roundness of the flesh, giving a heavy moan like he couldn’t get enough. 

A thrill went through you at the way they talked about it - talking about you like you were a mindless prize, like you were an object that they had won in some competition over Stebbins. And in a sense, that was true. It was a far cry from how Stebbins usually treated you. Like you were a dumb whore (which, sometimes was a fun part of the game). Treating you like nothing more than a mindless hole to fuck, something for his pleasure (which could be thrilling in its own way, and convenient when you needed to get off) - but it often meant that your pleasure wasn’t much of a priority to him. 

Being awed over, being treasured… this was definitely new. 

“You enjoyin’ yourself, pretty girl?” Pete asked, his lips hovering just barely over your mouth, causing the words to rumble across your skin in the most perfect way. 

You nodded eagerly, and Pete smiled. 

“Come on, tell me.” He said. “Tell us. We wanna hear.” 

“Definitely enjoying myself.” You replied, your voice already breathy when they had barely touched you. “Fuck - I love it.” 

“Oh, sweet thing. We’ve barely even started.” Pete replied, edging on a moan, causing you to bite your lip. 

Pete kissed you, a wonderful, firm attention on your mouth, and you moaned into it, loving the feeling. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed this simple form of intimacy after months of Billy’s ‘no kissing’ rule. Now you were soaking up the feeling, enjoying the softness of his lips as his fingers skimmed across your inner thigh, continuing to tease you. 

Ray’s hand had raised up from your waist, obsessively groping your tit, he let out another loud, needy moan as he fed your other nipple into his own mouth, the sound vibrating around the flesh. It was something that had you squirming and sighing with delight into Pete’s mouth. Even with your eyes closed, you definitely didn’t miss it when Ray started grinding his cock into your hip, using eager, stiff movements, clearly trying to get off. 

“Ray, Ray-” Pete called out, a gentle tone of warning in his voice, clearly trying to get Ray’s attention. “Ray.” 

Pete sighed in scolding and took his hand off your thigh, moving the touch over to Ray’s head, weaving his hand so comfortably, so knowingly into that bright red hair and pulling Ray off your tit. He used just enough force to be effective, firm and decisive. The move caused you to let out a mild sound of disappointment as cool air rushed over the coating of spit that Ray had left across your skin, but you couldn’t be upset for long. 

You absolutely loved the beautifully dumb, fucked out look on his face - his glassy eyes and the way his lips were now so swollen, still gaped as if missing you there, waiting for your tit to fill his mouth once again. He was so sweet and stupid as he stared up at Pete. 

“What?” Ray asked, his voice entirely ragged even though this had barely started. 

(You didn’t have it in your head that Pete and Ray had fucked earlier that night, and holding back moans while Pete was deep inside of him had already worn on Ray’s vocal cords.) 

“Come on, be a gentleman.” Pete sighed, scolding softly, racking his fingers through Ray’s hair in a way that was downright sweet. Ray let out another gentle moan, leaning into the touch. “This is about her, not about you getting off on her body like some damn dog. Get it together, Garraty.” 

You felt Ray’s cock twitch against you, and you had a feeling that he liked being called a dog. That he liked being scolded a little. You would keep that one in your back pocket for later. 

Pete removed his hand from Ray’s hair, and Ray’s lips flexed into a frown. You could tell he was a little embarrassed. Embarrassed that he had been so caught up at the sight of your bare tits, his eagerness to touch you that he hadn’t been employing any skill - that he hadn’t thought to ask what you might want and might like before he had dove right in, selfish and blind with his own pleasure. 

“Pete.” You said, forcing his eye back to you as he soothed his touch down Ray’s neck and shoulder, petting him, clearly trying to soothe some of that embarrassment away. “I liked it. It’s sweet. I haven’t had a guy so eager to suck on my tits in a long time.” 

Any other time, you would have thought of it as brutish and immature, but it seemed so damn endearing coming from Ray. You would let him suck on your tits and help your leg for hours if he wanted to. You liked seeing him so eager, so empty-headed. 

Ray shoved his face into your neck, trying to hide, his face beating red with blood, so damn warm against your skin. You combed your fingers through his hair, liking that he was like a sweet little puppy - wanting to be reassured and petted in the process. You never would have guessed that he would be like this in bed, but you loved it. 

“He is a tiddy man.” Pete chuckled. “You’re gonna have to start wearing turtlenecks around him from now on.” 

“Maybe I’ll buy a habit.” You said, referring to the full coverage outfit that Nuns wore. “The staring was bad enough before-” 

“You noticed?” Ray croaked, his voice quiet, slightly muffled by your skin, still adorably humiliated. 

“It was kind of hard not to, sweetie.” You replied, trying hard to hold back laughter. 

Ray was shy enough that he had a hard time looking you in the eyes before, but it meant that he spent a lot of time with his eyes stuck on your breasts. You didn’t think that it meant he was specifically attracted to you - you thought he was just bad at hiding his fascination for breasts. Especially when you wore lower cut tops, and especially when he was drunk. 

“I told you.” Pete sighed, sounding so utterly self satisfied. “You’re no subtle, Garraty. You’re cute, but you’re sure as hell not subtle.” 

You felt Ray let off a whine into your skin. 

You loved the thought that they had talked about you before. It made you even wetter as the ego boost hit you. 

“Come on, baby.” Pete said, giving a gentle tap to Ray’s cheek, pulling his attention once again. “Let’s show the pretty girl a good time.” 

Before you could theorize what he meant by this, Pete grabbed Ray’s hand and guided it between your thighs, encouraging you to spread your legs - which you did, more than eager to accept them. Your knees were wide, comfortably resting on the roundness of Ray’s stomach on one side and hooked over Pete’s muscled thigh on the other. 

You felt like the luckiest girl on earth, getting to be between them. 

In a quick moment, Ray’s thick fingers were dipping down into your folds, eagerly poking at your entrance, two thick fingers moving to fill you up. Fuck - his hands were so big. So big and warm and so perfect. Meanwhile Pete slicked his fingers up with some of your wetness and began playing with your clit - slow, agonizing, teasing moments that had you breathless. It was a perfect, wordless harmony between the two of them, no real communication needed as they moved perfectly in sync.

Ray’s middle fingers slipped inside of you slowly, like he was truly indulging in your wetness and your tight warmth. Feeling every inch of you, like he would have with his cock. A moan vibrated through his chest like he was experiencing true pleasure just from pushing his fingers inside of you, and you knew that he must have been imagining that it would be like to fuck you, imagining your heat and tightness around his dick. 

Pete began to rub slow, barely there circles on your clit that had your whole body lighting up, eager for more. He grinned, not even concealing his satisfaction as you let out small gasps and angled your hips into their touches, clearly needy. They were so perfectly in sync, both knowing exactly what to do, and you soon realized that Ray had his eyes locked with Pete, Ray’s head laid on your chest, Pete smirking at him while still hovering above you, propped up with his other arm beside your head. They spoke volumes of silent conversations with their eyes, and it made you wonder how many nights they had spent in bed together; made you wonder if they had ever shared a girl like this before. 

“Such a pretty pussy.” Ray sighed, sounding so wrecked, so deeply convicted in lust. 

“Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier one.” Pete easily agreed, winking at you in a way that almost made you recoil in shyness. 

It was nothing like the way Billy ever treated you. He pinned you down and fucked you hard and fast, forcing the breath out of your lungs. He did always make you cum - and he made you cum hard, but it was so different than being treasured like this. It was so different when these boys were acting like you were a wonder to explore… acting like your pleasure was a prize to behold, not just a collateral happening next to their own. 

“You like that?” Pete asked, an edge of taunting on his voice. “You like having your pretty pussy touched? All sweet ‘n slow?” 

He was affirming that you were enjoying yourself, seeking your consent, but he was fishing for something more. Wondering if you were missing that roughness Billy always gave you, or wondering if this did it for you too. (He should be able to tell by the overwhelming wetness under his fingers, but of course - you were going to tell him.) 

“Fuck - ah. Fuck yes,” You breathed out in return, your nails gently digging into Ray’s shoulder, your other hand reaching out and grabbing onto the glory of Pete’s bicep where it led down to your pussy, still stroking your clit in agonizingly slow touches. 

Pete grinned at you, and gave you another sweet, simple kiss on the lips. 

“You’re so fuckin’ wet.” Ray moaned, seemingly more to himself than to you, seemingly amazed by it, like he couldn’t believe how abundant and free flowing it was around his fingers. He was fascinated by the feeling of your pussy, loving how soft and silken it was - driving his fingers in a big sharper, causing a wet sound to radiate out, proving his point. 

“Your fingers are so big.” You moaned in return, turning to Ray, who gave a Cheshire-like smile. “Fuck, I’ve always loved your hands.” 

That part was very true. A guilty pleasure of yours - you had been obsessed with his hands since the first time you had nearly fallen in front of him (stumbling drunk at a party) and he had rushed to help you, putting a hand on your lower back to help stabilize you. It was a moment that forced you to truly feel how large his hands truly were. Since then, you had found your eyes on those hands whenever you were allowed to sneak a glance, and even found yourself comparing hands with him while drunk, something that Hank and Collie assured him meant that you were practically begging him to fuck you. (And unconsciously, that had been the truth too.) 

“He does have nice hands, doesn’t he?” Pete said, all breath and sweetness and pure lust puffing against your cheek, causing you to echo a moan in return. 

Pete took his fingers off your clit, and it created a disappointed lull in you as the bit of stimulation you had was removed. But that lull was soon filled with intrigue when Pete grabbed for Ray’s wrist, pulling those perfect fingers out of you and bringing them up to his own mouth, beginning to suck your taste off Ray’s now soaked digits. You watched with rapt attention, your cunt now pathetically clenching around nothing as Pete’s lips wrapped around the base of Ray’s two middle fingers and he let out a moan, showing you enthusiastically that he enjoyed your taste. Ray raised his head to watch more clearly and let out a sharp, whiny breath. 

“Dammit, Pete.” Ray sighed. “Fuck - how does she taste?” 

Pete made a show of pulling off slowly, making you and Ray hold your breath for every bit of Ray’s skin that was revealed, even sticking his tongue out and licking between Ray’s fingers before he finally pulled off and gave an answer. 

“Fuck.” He sighed, giving a wide grin. “She tastes fuckin’ perfect.” 

Your cunt throbbed so hard it was almost painful, a needy wound between your legs, crying out to be filled. 

Ray must have picked it up like a psychic connection, because in the next second, he tore his hand away from Pete’s grip and reached for the band of his underwear with absolutely frantic movements. 

“Fuck, fuck - I need to be inside you.” Ray demanded sharply, clearly speaking to you. 

He tore down his boxers, letting his cock bob freely in the air - a nice six inches, thick and wonderfully fat like he was, leaking desperately from the bright pink cockhead in a way that made your mouth water. 

“Fuck, man, have you lost the art of asking?” Pete scolded him again. “Don’t assume that just ‘cause a woman is naked in your bed, she wants your cock.” 

“Technically, it’s your bed.” Ray griped in return, rolling his eyes. “And I’m not assuming anything - you should know I’m not above begging.” 

“I might take you up on that.” You told him with a smirk, loving the mental image of Ray on his knees, begging to fuck you. “You’re probably so cute when you beg.” 

Ray looked away, glimmering with that cute redness again. 

“He is.” Pete affirmed with a gentle laugh, and then he turned back to Ray. “Nobody asked you to beg, doggie.” He sighed, and you could have sworn you saw his cock let out a little dribble at the nickname. “But you still have to ask nicely, at the very least.” Pete reminded him sharply. “How much have I spoiled you to make you forget that, Garraty?” 

The last part was sharply mumbled, seemingly more to himself as he rolled his eyes. 

So they had spent many, many nights in bed together. Interesting. 

“A lot.” Ray chuckled, and Pete reached over and lightly poked him in the side, causing him to let out a laugh. 

Before you could feel like you were intruding on a private moment, Ray turned to. 

He was now fisting his cock eagerly with the hand that Pete had sucked on while he continued to shove his boxers down with the other, rising up on his knees to loom over you. 

“Can I fuck you?” He asked, an eager smile spreading across his lips. “Please?” 

That word sounded so good on his lips, and you couldn’t help but to be intensely flattered by how eager he was. 

“Yes, of course.” You replied, already breathy. 

Then, you thought of something. 

“I want you both.” You added on, turning toward Pete. 

“You can have me, babydoll - after Ray’s had his turn.” Pete assured you, the words sending a thrill through your stomach. “Like I said, we like to share.” 

“What about… at the same time?” You posed, slightly shy to voice exactly what you wanted, but knowing that of all people, they would be open to it. You had more than enough evidence to support that now. 

Ray fisted his cock faster, and Pete reached over and batted his hand away, mumbling something like ‘save it, this is gonna be good’, and you felt more heat flushing through your whole body, your cunt giving another pathetic squeeze around horrible emptiness. This was gonna be so good. 

“What? You meant like one of us in your mouth and-?” Ray began, and you cut him off. 

“Not quite.” You replied, licking your lips, summoning your bravery to ask for it. “One of you in my pussy and the other in my ass.” 

“Fuck.” Ray hissed sharply, squeezed his eyes shut tightly, almost as if he was holding back the urge to cum just from your words alone. 

“Goddamn.” Pete said, biting his lip, his eyes becoming heavy with lust. “Have you ever…?” He trailed off, giving you a suggestive look, wondering how gentle they would have to be with you. 

“I’ve been fucked in the ass before.” You said, saying the first thing that came to mind, not even realizing how much more terribly explicit your words were becoming as you got more comfortable. “Just - I’ve never been with two guys at the same time before.”

Ray took another sharp breath, a different kind of redness working up his neck - a distinctly lustful one. Pete swore sharply under his breath, looking at you with deep, decisive heat in his eyes. You didn’t go into detail about how your first time doing anal had been with Billy - technically as a ‘punishment’ for breaking one of his many rules, a denial of touching your pussy in exchange for him using ‘your other hole’ to get off and leaving you wanting. He didn’t realize how much you had liked it, and it was something you used to your advantage, goading him into doing it more than once because he was very easy to rile up. 

“Well I’m sure we can accommodate.” Pete told you, his voice now leaking into his something much more sultry, his own overwhelming lust creeping in. “Ray, get me the lube.” 

“Fuck yes.” Ray hissed, eagerly jumping for the drawer of the nightstand. 

Pete took control of the whole situation, unsurprisingly. He had Ray perch himself against the pillows at the headboard - which was now conveniently touching the wall that he shared with Stebbins, who none of you knew was still defiantly brooding on the other side, carefully listening to all of this rather than putting in the earplugs he wore every night for his ‘restful sleep’ and trying to actually get some sleep at this late hour. When Pete passed Ray a condom, he told him specifically to wait, giving him a pointed look. You had a feeling that it was because Ray was liable to blow his load before Pete was even ready, someone so eager and needy. It was adorable. 

Pete had you straddle Ray’s thighs, gorgeous and wide and plush under you, a perfectly comfortable seat. Pete positioned himself behind you, a strong presence at your back, and he kissed along your shoulder while he warmed up the first bit of lube on his fingers, planning to be gentle and slow with you, even though you had experience in this area. 

You couldn’t help it, growing impatient, you reached for the hem of Ray’s shirt. 

Instinctively, he clamped his arms to his sides and a look of panic struck him. It was something that caused your stomach to sour - did he not want to take his shirt off? 

“Sorry,” You mumbled out, hating the idea that you had potentially done something wrong. “I just wanted to see you.” 

You let out a gentle gasp as Pete eased that first finger past the tight pucker of your ass, and Ray hoped that it would be a distraction from him taking off his shirt, that the moment would pass and you would forget about it. But still, your fingers lingered on that hem, and your eyes traced over his body with a kind of hunger that he had only seen from Pete before. 

“Yeah, but - I’m no fuckin’ fitness model.” He huffed back, trying to seem cute about it, pushing down a plague of insecurities that Pete had tried to fuck out of him many times. 

“Baby, I said-” Pete began to talk to Ray firmly, and you cut him off. 

“You ever see those strongman competitions?” You posed. Ray shook his head. “They - they used to hold one in my town every year.” You stuttered slightly, leaning into Pete’s touch, letting out a gentle moan. 

“You can add another.” You told Pete over your shoulder, and he smirked. 

He added more lube, causing you to let out a gentle gasp as the cool liquid seeped over your skin, but he followed suit. And Ray watched in cock-throbbing fascination as your jaw fell open in a moan, your body shuddering with pleasure at the feeling of being stretched open. He wished he could see. You had to focus hard to think in order to get back on track with your story. 

“And see - those guys are amazing. Those strongman guys. They - they lift cars, and they throw big logs. They have hug fuckin’ arms, and big hands.” 

You said those last two words with crazed lust on your lips, and Ray’s insides shook. He knew what you had to be talking about, but that tiny little insecure peep inside of him wouldn’t quite let him make the connection. Surely, you didn’t think of him as some fantasy strongman.  

You reached out and squeezed Ray’s hand, seemingly enjoying the feeling of his thick fingers in your own, as Pete’s fingers scissored deep in your asshole, stretching you open, causing you to let out another moan. 

“Your point?” Ray wondered aloud, his cock letting out a pathetic dribble of precum against his shirt, his heart beating so fast in his chest as he took in your every expression, hanging on your every word. He loved the sight of Pete behind you, the gentle sheen of sweat on Pete’s perfect muscles - 

“Those guys - they eat like - like ten thousand calories a day.” You said, your voice breathy, your hips now actively dipping back into Pete’s touch. “They have big guts. They’re definitely not skinny - and not - not abbed up. It’s the type of guy that’s always turned me on.” 

Ray’s stomach twisted with an intense joy that he had seldom felt before. Somehow, he knew it was something that you weren’t just saying for his benefit - it was something that had actually lived in your mind for a long time. Something that was genuinely true for you. And that made it infinitely hotter, made him flush more as the truth of it hit him. You found his body sexy, and he couldn’t deny that. 

“Kinda makin’ me feel like chopped liver here, babydoll.” Pete chuckled, kissing the rim of your ear after he said it - and you could feel the joking smile on his lips. You let out a light laugh, and he joined you. 

“It’s ironic that you would say that, Mister Venison Tartare,” Ray argued with a smirk, pointing out how, in Pete’s world, chopped liver was not a bad thing. 

“Trust me, Pete. You turn me on too. It’s hard not to get turned on by those big muscles.” You said, letting out another, louder moan when he added a third finger - easing in gentle, and then adding more lube, making it all so wet. “Fuck - I’m the l-lucky one. Being between both - both of you.” 

You were becoming more breathless by the minute, and you leaned back into Pete for support, his free hand coming to hold you by the center of your chest, his arm wrapping around you in a way that was almost loving. When your eyes drifted closed with the pleasure of it all, Ray took a breath and had a moment of courage, ripping his shirt over his head and tossing it away. 

Pete grinned at Ray, sending him a wink. 

“Look at that,” Pete whispered in your ear. “There’s your strongman.” 

You peeled your eyes open and drank in the sight of Ray - strong shoulders and a soft, round body - something you yearned to feel pressed up against you, imagining the roundness of his gut slamming into you with every thrust of his cock making your insides do a perfect flip. His skin was flushed from being turned on, his cock still standing stiff between his legs and still leaking in small spurts. 

You couldn’t wait any longer. 

“Fuck.” You breathed out. “I’m ready now.” 

Pete gently eased his fingers out of you, and you already missed the feeling of fullness. 

“You sure?” Ray posed, raising his brows at you. “You have to be ready ready for Pete.” 

You knew that Ray was speaking from experience, and he didn’t seem shy of it or eager to deny that fact. It was an oddly seductive warning. 

“I’m sure,” You replied, your voice coming out as a rusty whine, increasingly pathetic as they broke you down, and truly got to you. “Fuck - I need you. Both of you.” 

Pete took his pants down - technically Ray’s pants that he had been wearing, and tossed them away. You gasped when you felt the large presence of his cock brushing against your thighs, something that caused a shiver up your spine. You craned your neck over your own shoulder, trying to see, and Pete let out a laugh, pushing his front closer to your back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist, trapping you in place. 

“You want it?” Pete whispered in your ear, his voice so warm and lustful that it easily forced a whine out of you. 

Such simple words that would stick in your mind forever because of his perfect, liquid honey voice. 

“Yes,” You hummed back desperately. “Fuck, Pete - please.” 

“Two big boys all to yourself. You’re a lucky girl, aren’t you?” Pete whispered to you, rubbing his cock against your thigh, clearly becoming a little needy himself. Finally. 

Ray’s eyes were glazed over again, and he ran his hands up across your thighs and your stomach, soon capturing one of your breasts in each of his hands and squeezing with intense greed, causing you to lean into the touch warmly. You wondered if you would ever find someone as obsessed with your tits as him, and part of you didn’t even want to try.

“Fuck yes.” You moaned back. “I’m so lucky. I - I should’ve come to you first.” 

“No time for regrets.” Ray said, his voice all hot and breathy in the best way. 

Pete glanced over your shoulder at Ray, and saw that his cock was still leaking freely, so he reached for the condom that Ray had dropped by his hip, giving it to you. 

“Help him.” Pete told you. 

You ripped open the package with your teeth while Ray continued to greedily grope your tits, and you heard Pete tearing foil behind you, which caused an excited jolt in your stomach. This was really happening. You rolled the condom onto Ray and he let out a moan at the bare minimum contact against his cock. Pete chuckled at this. 

Pete used a firm grip on one of your hips, the other hand reaching for Ray’s cock with a natural ease, so comfortable, and he easily guided Ray inside of you while he guided you down. 

“Fuck,” You moaned out, instantly loving the way he filled you up. 

Ray moaned into your neck, wordless and needy, some of his spit smearing against your skin in a way that you couldn’t help but to love. 

“There you go, pretty girl.” Pete hummed into your ear. “Nice and full.” 

Fuck - Pete was right. Ray was spreading you open in such a perfect way, filling your pussy up even better than his fingers had. But still, you had one thing in mind. 

“Not yet.” You moaned in return. “I need you too, Pete.” 

“Greedy,” Ray chuckled, lifting his head up to give you an utterly filthy smirk. 

“That’s big coming from you.” Pete told Ray, and they exchanged a look over your shoulder that made Ray blush and hide his face against your breast once again. 

It was something you found both hot and endearing, and you began to pet your fingers through his hair again, while he kissed along your skin and sucked your nipple into his mouth like he truly owned your tits. Your stomach fluttered in anticipation while Pete ran his hand up and down your body, his fingers ultimately settling on your clit and rubbing in firm, smooth, slow circles. It sent small jolts through you, making you moan and hump gently against Ray, the feeling of your cunt clenching around him causing him to moan loudly against your tit. 

Pete finally lined himself up, the tip of his cock just barely pressing against your ready, needy asshole. 

“How does she feel, Ray?” Pete asked, the first hint of true desperation coming into his voice as he teased you with the tip of his cock, just barely dipping in, just threatening to let you feel the extent of his thickness. 

“Fuck, she feels so fuckin’ good.” Ray breathed out, pure need filling his lungs, causing you to clench around him, driving another moan from him. “Fuck - you’re gonna have to try out this pussy later - so fuckin’ warm ‘n tight…” 

He moaned against your breast and dug in with his teeth, a tight knit of desperation across his brows that only made you wetter around him. How was he so cute and hot all at once? 

“Fuck, please,” You moaned, leaning back into Pete. “Don’t make me wait anymore.” 

“Sound so pretty when you say ‘please’.” Pete breathed against your neck. “You’re lucky I can’t wait no more. Otherwise I’d just keep makin’ you say it.” 

“Please.” You moaned, dragging the word out for his benefit, as exaggerated and porn-y as you could make it. 

You loved the feeling of his breathy laugh against your neck, all hot and teeth - right before he finally pushed into you, slowly easing his cock into your ass, stretching you open. He moved in a way that was an agonizing, inching stretch, something so dizzying that made you grip harder onto Ray’s hair and lean more onto Pete, his firm body being the only thing holding up your back. 

“Good girl.” Pete groaned, stretched you so damn much, making you so perfectly full, just like Ray had warned. You didn’t even feel his hips flush with your ass yet - he was still holding back. “So fuckin’ good for us. Fuck - fuck, you’re so tight.” 

Everything became a perfect mess from there. 

Pete grabbed a tight, commanding hold on your hips, and he began to forcefully rock you between him and Ray. With your thighs quivering and your lungs beginning to shake, you could do little more than grip tightly onto Ray’s shoulders and lean onto Pete for support, becoming lost in the sensations. 

You were so. Fucking. Full. 

It was a perfect burn building in your pelvis, the feeling of being stretched open so well, them slowly rocking into you now, slowly building a pace. Ray became a mess of moans, his head still collapsed against your breasts, enjoying cuddling into the soft flesh, his eyes closed in perfect bliss; Pete letting out quieter breaths and sweet little hisses of pleasure into your neck. 

There was another needy voice that you soon realized was your own, your throat straining with the sounds, too focused on the perfect feeling of being trapped between two hot, perfect bodies to even think about controlling yourself or holding back. It was too damn good not to make noise. 

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck-” You choked out, humping your hips more frantically, pure need crying out from inside of you. 

“Hey, hey, shh.” Pete soothed, gripping you tighter, slowing your movements, forcing his cock deep inside of you in a firm stroke that made your head spin. “We got you, babydoll. I’ss all good. We gotchu.” 

His words slurred with pleasure, the first real sign that this was affecting him just as much as it was affecting you and Ray, his composure just beginning to slip. That only made you hotter, of course - knowing that you were truly affecting him. 

“Fuck, Pete-” You choked out, and he nipped your neck, causing you to let out another loud moan. 

“Holy fuck.” Ray whined against your skin. “So fuckin’ good.” 

Ray fucked up into you harder, Pete following suit, and you dissolved into a litany of near inhuman sounds, your jaw wide and your throat already becoming sore from the overuse of your voice. But you couldn’t even begin to care, not with how perfect it was, not with the feeling of them both filling you up so perfectly, creating such a wonderful fire in your gut, hot tingling all across your skin. You couldn’t see, but your wetness and the lube had leaked down and smeared across their balls, creating a sloppy mess where they were rubbing together beneath you, driving them both more insane, making the joining of the three of you even more perfectly messy and intimate. 

As Pete unraveled more, he dove more into that little chest he had tucked away. Those little secrets he knew about you from the other side of the wall. He couldn’t help himself - those were all things he wanted too. And he wanted you to cum on his cock so badly. 

“Fuck - next time we ditchin’ the condoms.” Pete grunted, his consciousness freely leaking from his lips as the thought came to mind. “I - I can’t wait to feel it. I wanna feel Ray leakin’ out of your pretty cunt, leakin’ all over my thighs right before I fill you up. I wanna feel his fuckin’ cum drippin’ out of you, makin’ a mess all over my fuckin’ balls.” 

Pete’s words dissolved into a growl and you let out a throaty whine in response. He painted such a vivid picture with his words - and fuck, you wanted it too. You found yourself grinding back into him with frantic need, clenching around the both of them as your orgasm drew nearer. 

“Jesus, Pete.” Ray gasped. “If you keep talkin’ like that, I’m not gonna fuckin’ last.” 

“Good.” Pete grinned. “I can just picture it now. Our pretty girl all filled up, all messy. Make me wanna fuckin’ lick it up-” 

You choked on another gasp. 

You almost begged Pete to pull out and rip off the condom, but you weren’t coherent enough to form the words - all you could do was let out a terribly garbled moan and yank on Ray’s hair, desperate for something to grab onto. 

Ray followed suit, making a loud, echoing whine - and you realized that the frantic jolting of his hips beneath you was a sealing of that promise - just as he had warned Pete, he didn’t last. He was cumming into the condom (which created a small lull of disappointment in you as you couldn’t truly feel it), but you did love the way that he moaned frantically and drooled against your breast. 

Soon, Pete reached over and grabbed Ray by the hair, sweeping him into a demanding kiss over your shoulder, trapping you tighter between them in a way that was so warm and satisfying. 

“Fuck, please-” You moaned, and you choked a gasp when Ray pulled out of you, pulling away from Pete’s lips. “Don’t stop!” You begged, the irrational horny part of your brain not even registering that Ray would likely go soft soon, and he needed to throw away the condom. 

“It’s okay.” He mumbled back, gently gripping your sides in assurance. “‘m not goin’ nowhere.” 

This did make you feel better. He tore off the condom and tossed it somewhere (into a trashcan that you couldn’t see), and he began kissing down across your skin as he moved out from under you. This was helped by Pete, who lifted you up higher on your knees, seating his cock deeper inside of you and putting a firm arm around your middle to hold you against his body, supporting you there. 

“We’ve got you, girl.” Pete grunted in your ear. “No need to worry, pretty girl.” 

Next thing you knew, Ray was kissing across your pelvis and gave a greedy suck on your swollen clit, moaning against you as he enjoyed your taste. Your mind became lost to the world - you became lost to the sensations as you fisted his hair, unintentionally forcing him further into your cunt in a way that he loved that only made him moan harder. You leaned back into Pete once again as he sped up his thrusts, now beginning to pound into your ass with sharp, unforgiving movements that had your whole body lighting up with pleasure. 

“There it is.” He hissed against your neck. “That’s what pretty girl needed. That’s what you needed, yeah? You needed Ray’s mouth on your pretty pussy, huh?” 

“Yes! Fuck, oh fuck, fuck!” You cried out, nearly breathless. 

You gripped tightly onto Pete’s arm, enjoying the feeling of how strong he was, now so limp and boneless from pleasure that he was basically the only thing holding you up. Your legs quivering, your body boneless as the world dissolved underneath you. 

“Can’t even remember your own name, can you?” Pete hissed, an edge of malicious joy in his voice that only turned you on more. “Just a sweet thing, here for our pleasure. Such a good girl.” 

His hand moved down to join yours beside Ray’s head, holding him there as he frantically licked into your cunt, loving your warmth and wetness on his tongue. 

“Fuck, he’s so eager, isn’t he?” Pete groaned. “Ray, you love eatin’ pussy just as much as you love suckin’ cock, huh?” 

Ray let out a deep moan in response, and it shook your whole body. 

It put a picture in the back of your mind of him on his knees for Pete, mouth open eagerly, tongue out, and that only added to the cloud of lust currently overtaking you. 

With just a few more eager strokes of Ray’s tongue and a few more firm jolts of Pete’s hips thrusting his cock deep into your ass, the dam broke. 

“Oh fuck!” You released a scream far louder than you realized, thrashing between the two of them as the pleasure shook you. “Oh fuck! Fuck me, fuck me! Pete, Ray-!” 

“Can you shut the fuck up?!” 

Stebbins’s voice burst through it all, paired with angered banging on the wall - and as much as it startled you, it barely ruined your orgasm. You gasped, and still dizzy with the pleasure flowing through you, you tore your eyes open to find Ray sitting up and answering with a heavy fist on the wall himself. 

“You shut the fuck up!” He barked back, his voice surprisingly deep and sure for someone who had just been whining into your cunt. “You’re the one who kicked her out of bed, asshole!” 

Stebbins didn’t reply. You almost thought you could hear the sound of his bedroom door slamming and a distant huff as he stomped down the stairs, but Pete’s arm tightening around your waist and the perfect sight of Ray’s jaw clenching in annoyance distracted you. 

“Shit,” Pete huffed, slowing to gently grind his hips against yours, still rock hard and throbbing inside of you. “Motherfucker - the fucker distracted me.” 

As your brain came back down to earth, you quickly realized what he wanted to say was ‘Stebbins being a pissbaby ruined my orgasm’. And as much as you hated that for Pete, it gave you a brilliant idea. 

“Pull out,” You said, reaching to gently tap him on the thigh. 

Pete slowly inched out, not hesitating to follow your instructions, never questioning you voicing needs over your own body. 

“Look, don’t let him ruin your fun-” Ray huffed, using a hand to wipe some of your wetness off his chin (something that shouldn’t have been nearly as hot as it was). 

“Who said I was?” You giggled, turning your whole body to face Pete, like bambi on shaking legs for a moment, which caused both boys to hold their hands out, waiting to catch you. But when you were fully situated, you were met with a wide grin from Pete. 

“I just wanna thank you for inviting me in.” You told Pete, reaching down and tearing off the condom, throwing it away carelessly. 

You were glad to finally see Pete’s cock - and you realized in a blink that he had definitely been holding back. You had not felt his entire length inside of you, and that thought alone sent a thrill through you. He was longer than Ray at eight inches, so fucking thick, and veined. You could practically see him throbbing with need, a bit of precum drooling from the uncut head. 

“You should get to cum in my mouth.” You added on, your words slurring slightly past the drool gathering in your mouth at the sight of his perfect cock. 

“Fuck.” Pete sighed, moving a hand to grip himself at the base, seemingly needing to stave off his orgasm, the words alone so damn appealing, wanting to save it to truly enjoy your mouth. “You’re gonna kill me, babydoll.” 

“Oh I wouldn’t do that.” You said, giving him a smirk. “Then I wouldn’t get to play with you anymore.” 

You moved to straddle one of Ray’s thighs (he had laid back against the pillows at the headboard, lounging back comfortably to watch what was about to unfold), sitting with your back to him this time and leaning down to become eye-level with Pete’s cock. 

“She has a point.” Ray confirmed, laughing gently. “And if she wants to play with us more, we should let her.” 

He stroked a gentle hand up your back, and it sent a small shiver through you. You liked that idea - the thought that this would become a regular thing. 

“Well, my-” 

Pete was about to affirm that his door would always be open for you, but you cut off his words when you grabbed the base of his cock and wrapped your lips around his tip, causing a moan to shudder through his chest. He quickly forgot what he wanted to say, his mind becoming blank as he was consumed by the feeling. 

“Oh.” Pete sighed, his eyes drifting shut, and his head tipping back. “Sweet fuckin’ tongue.”

His hand went to your hair - it was a gentle touch, not demanding or gripping or intending to steer your head in order to fuck your mouth. It was nothing like you were used to. (Almost to the point where it startled you and left you unsure what to do.) Even though he commanded the room, he used that control to let you lead this, clearly knowing that it was a privilege to have your mouth. 

“Such a good girl.” Ray hummed, continuing to pet his hands all over you, seemingly just enjoying the fact that he got to touch you, greedy hands roaming over your flesh, gripping and grabbing, so big and warm. “How the fuck did Stebbins ever get you in bed?” 

“Don’t talk about him right now.” Pete grunted out, giving Ray a small glare. “I’m tryna enjoy this.”

You descended down further, opening your mouth with a practiced skill, taking his girth easily and not gagging at all. You were more than used to someone of this size. Your lips were soon stretching around his base, your nose bristling in his pubic hair, inhaling his perfect, musky scent. 

If you were feeling at all combative or bratty, you would have pulled off and mentioned that Stebbins was the one who taught you how to deepthroat cock so well. But you weren’t sure how Pete and Ray would react to that. You couldn’t guarantee that it would get you a pleasurable spanking, or fingers shoved deep into your cunt with the heated promise that you would pay for what you had said. 

It might just get you pushed back out into the hall again. So instead, you put some of those skills to use - you swallowed around his tip, humming nicely, causing Pete to sigh out a heady ‘fuck’, gripping your hair slightly tighter, desperately looking for purchase. You loved that you could feel his thighs quivering, could feel him becoming unsteady in his stance. 

“Fuck, babydoll-” Pete groaned, and you loved that you could feel him twitching on your tongue already, so close. 

You bobbed your head gently, paying special attention to tonguing a prominent vein along the underside, reaching up and massaging his heavy balls. You wanted to pull off just to suck them into your mouth - but this was about his pleasure, about getting him off. You could have your own fun little exploration later if you were invited back. 

And you were enjoying each hot, heavy sound he let out, enjoying the feeling of Ray gripping onto your thighs as he became utterly enraptured in watching Pete’s expressions shift and warp with pleasure. It was something he had never truly taken in before because he had always been lost in pleasure himself when Pete was so close to cumming in his presence. 

“You like that, Pete?” Ray asked, his voice tense and heated, absolutely eager for an answer. “You gonna cum in our girl’s sweet mouth?” 

Our girl. The words warmed your gut and the next moan you vibrated against Pete’s cock wasn’t part of the performance. 

“Ah, fuck. Yes.” Pete groaned. “m gonna cum - fuckin’ swallow it, pretty girl.” 

He groaned the words lowly, grinding against his throat with lustful madness - a phrase that usually would have had you recoiling with disgust now turning you on more than you could have imagined it. The ragged words had you gripping the sheets, looking up at him - wanting to get a glance of his face. 

You were met with the sight of him biting his lip, moving that hand from your hair to brush along your cheek in a way that was purely sweet. You pulled back slightly, pumping his now spit slicked cock with your hand and sucking harshly on the tip. The two of you locked eyes as he came in hot spurts all over your tongue, and you drank it all greedily, swallowing it down with a moan as he looked at you with hot, lustful affection in his eyes. 

“So fuckin’ perfect.” Pete moaned. 

(If you were feeling more spiteful, you might have told him that was something you had never done for Billy - always making him pull out of your mouth or making it a point to dramatically spit in front of him, even if you didn’t mind the taste. You just always wanted him to know that he wasn’t worthy of you swallowing his cum. It was a big part of the games that the two of you played.) 

You let out a gasp when Ray reached around you, using those big, perfect hands to drag you back against his body. You let out another whorish moan when you felt the soft roundness of his gut pressing into your back, relaxing into him. In a blink, he had his mouth pressed against yours, shoving his tongue against yours to get a taste of Pete’s cum before you could swallow it all. You gave a high pitched whine into his mouth, absolutely loving his eagerness to taste Pete on you. Somehow, this sent another lustful wave through your tired body. 

“Now, now.” Pete sighed, reaching up and gently pushing Ray away from the kiss. “Give the girl a chance to breathe.” 

“I wasn’t complaining.” You argued lightly. 

Pete and Ray both laughed at this. 

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Ray asked. 

You had no clue. 

… 

The next day, in the afternoon, when Stebbins was coming in from a run through the back door, sweaty and huffing for breath, he was surprised to see that you were in the kitchen. You were standing at the counter, reading some book, not looking up, not paying attention to him even though he hadn’t tried to be quiet coming in. 

He thought you would sulk for a few days before coming to apologize. You were dressed up nicely - wearing a vest over a tight fitting black turtleneck with a tight, short skirt and black tights with boots, your make-up done nicely. You knew that he had a thing for you wearing black tights… he could only guess that you weren’t wearing anything underneath them, waiting for him to rip a hole in them and go to town. 

He smirked to himself. Of course you had come crawling back, dressed up all pretty for him, ready to beg for forgiveness. But he wasn’t going to play your game that easily. 

He tried his hardest to suppress that smirk as he unzipped his sweatshirt, revealing his bare, sweat-glistening torso. Something he knew would easily catch your eye - a part of him that you loved to lick clean. 

“Look, I don’t have time for the mass of grovelling and long apology that you owe me - at least not right now. I have to be at drill practice in twenty minutes.” He said, smoothing his presence toward you to lean on the counter, purposefully flexing his muscles as he propped himself against the island in front of you. “But if you wanna blow me while I take a quick shower as the start of your apology, I might consider going easier on you later.” 

You put down the book slowly - one that Ray had recommended to you, and you stared at Billy blankly, seemingly deciding what you wanted to say. And then, you burst out laughing. 

His stomach soured because he hated that he didn’t immediately know why. He hadn’t said anything funny. 

“You - you think I’m here for you?” You gasped, nearly breathless from how hard you were laughing. 

For the first time ever with you, Stebbins recoiled in embarrassment. 

“What… are you here for?” He asked, hating how timid and unconfident it sounded. 

“I’m going to an art show with Pete and Ray.” You explained, an entirely smug look on your face. 

His stomach became heavy as concrete. An art show. The art show. The art show that you had asked him to take you to several times - but he had insisted that it was something only a boyfriend would do, and he was definitely not your boyfriend. Stebbins resisted the urge to swear. Loudly. Your expression grew more smug when his muscles visibly tensed. 

“I’m waiting for them to get ready.” You added on. “But you know, it’s a nice change of pace. I came in the front door. I was greeted with a hug. I was invited to a beverage while I wait.” 

You said, gesturing to the glass of wine in front of you - a pinky rose that Stebbins never bought for you because he found it too sweet. Pete and Ray were brown nosing hard. You took a sip of it and gave him a big smirk. 

“But don’t be too sad, pookie. I’ll probably see you in the morning.” You said, sounding increasingly smug. “Pete wants me to try his quiche.” 

You took another sip of the wine, and Stebbins felt pain in his jaw before he realized he was grinding his teeth with tense anger. 

“Pete can go fuck himself.” He ground out through his teeth, the words slurring with anger. 

“He probably won’t need to. Not now that he has me.” You shrugged. “Look, babe, I really don't have time for the grovelling and long apology that you owe me.” You continued, parroting back his words to him in a mocking way. “But you can give me a little kiss… if you wanna know what Pete's dick tastes like.” 

You swore that you could see steam spewing out of Billy's ears. 

“I swear to fucking God-” He spewed in anger, only to be disrupted. 

“Everything good here, babydoll?” Pete asked brightly as he came into the room, Ray naturally on his tail. 

“You two look sharp.” You said, giving an impressed whistle as you caught sight of Pete and Ray - Pete wearing a crisp white tee shirt and a brown blazer with dark jeans and Ray wearing a dark button up shirt, grey slacks, and corduroy jacket. 

Stebbins’s anger only brewed more when you breezed right past him, now actively ignoring him, and went to them. It seemed like you didn’t even care about his reaction, not looking back for a second, not even doing this as an act to try and make him jealous as you continued to flirt with them. 

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself.” Pete said, giving you a smooth kiss on the cheek. 

“Yeah, you - you look amazing.” Ray added on, his eyes becoming glued to your chest, staring at your breasts even with you wearing such a well covering top. 

“You told me to wear a turtleneck!” You laughed, a flirtatious giggle, entirely uncaring that Ray was staring so blatantly. 

“I think that’s my curse - now that I’ve seen them, I’m never gonna stop thinking about them.” Ray replied, lowering his voice, but making no true effort to conceal his words, even though it was clear that Stebbins was listening as he glared at the three of you intensely. “It’s like seeing God up close.” 

You let out a bright laugh at this and gently swatted his shoulder. 

“Well - that’s not so bad, of all the curses to have.” Pete added on. 

The three of you laughed, bright and cheerful. You recoiled in shock when you heard a loud bang. 

It took you a moment to realize that it had been the sound of Stebbins leaving through the back door once again - slamming it shut behind himself so hard that he had broken one of the hinges. (Which might have said more about how old the house was than how hard he had slammed it.) 

“He’s such a dipshit.” Ray sighed. 

“Well - he’s the one who kept insisting I’m not his girlfriend.” You shrugged. 

“His loss.” Pete grinned. “You ready to go?” 

You had a really great night with Pete and Ray. You browsed the art show, went out to dinner, and you ended up in bed with them again. When Stebbins came downstairs and saw you sitting at the table in the morning, your neck visibly covered in hickies and Ray’s shirt distinctly wrapped around you while you sat in front of a plate of the quiche that Pete had freshly made, he went on another long run without having breakfast first. 

Fuck - he had really fucked up, hadn’t he?

...

Note - I don’t typically do 'Part 2’s for fics, especially not short ones like this that I intend to be PWPs, and I find it kind of rude when people ask for a second part right after reading something instead of just commenting on what has already been written.

If you read it and you want more, I’m glad about that. I could imagine some sort of continuation with Stebbins joining in, but I don't want the comments to be just about that. If you want to discuss further ideas, please adjourn in my inbox. And if you want, you can send in a request for something different with these same characters (or send in a request for something completely different, if you want) via my inbox, but please don’t ask for a direct continuation of this, especially not in the comments of this post.

I hope you have a great day if you’re reading this, and if you want more, you can check out My Masterlist for The Long Walk or My Main Masterlist or follow me for more!!

Happy Reading,

Sunny ☀️

[puckmegirl]

ALL MINE (ft. John Logan)

blurb: pt. 2 to jealou$y. lingering feelings of jealousy bubble up into desire inside logan. it certainly doesn’t help that you look so good in your costume.

warnings: fem!reader, smut, established relationship, alcohol (not under the influence), CONSENT KING JOHN LOGAN, oral (f!receiving), john logan tits guy CONFIRMED, fingering, riding, lots of praise because it’s john logan i don’t make the rules

You stopped having drinks after that incident. If you were getting lucky tonight, you needed to be sober and ready to pounce on Logan in the right state of mind.

Logan seemed to have the same idea, for you noticed he switched out his bottles of beer for cans of Sprite for the remainder of the night. Neither of you addressed it.

“Bro, don’t be so fucking boring!” Dean clapped him on the back and tried to hand him a suspicious-looking green concoction.

“Not boring, just responsible,” Logan replied, but his eyes were on you when he said it.

He also kept a heavy hand on the small of your back any moment his hand was free. You put on a good act, pretending it didn’t get to you every time his fingers drew small shapes over your top, or whenever his digits slipped beneath the fabric when the boys were too busy laughing, leaving you with a hitched breath and a warm feeling between your legs.

When the other half to your dynamic duo, Kendall, stepped between the two of you and grabbed your hand, spluttering something about dancing to her favorite song, Logan’s grip tightened on you for a moment before he loosened up and plastered a pursed smile on his face.

“As long as you bring her back to me,” he said. Kendall laughed at his joke as she dragged you away. But one look between you and Logan and you knew he wasn’t trying to be funny.

“He’s so down bad for you, it’s hilarious,” Kendall giggled to you with a roll of her eyes. “He needs to lighten up.”

The pair of you danced to an ABBA song, laughing and belting out the lyrics. You closed your eyes and let loose, submitting to the tingle of whatever alcohol remained in your system.

John watched like a hawk. The irony wasn’t lost on him considering his bird costume. You looked so good. He wanted to hold you from behind and make you feel how heavy his—

“Any more staring and she’ll burst into flames.”

Logan snapped out of it and turned to Garrett, who wore a knowing smirk and offered him another can of Sprite.

“Thanks, man,” Logan said gratefully, taking the refill.

Garrett looked at your dancing figure. “Freshmen on the team were asking about her.”

“Yeah? What’d they say?” Logan replied almost absentmindedly, sipping his drink and staring at you.

Garrett sighed. “Rather not say. I’m supposed to be Hannah’s ‘boyfriend’ and all.”

Logan peered at him from the corner of his eyes, feeling his protective instincts start to wake. Garrett noticed and gently bumped their shoulders together.

“Not like that. Wasn’t bad. Just…” Garrett hummed into his red solo cup. “Horny.” He settled on that word.

That was enough.

Logan chugged down whatever was left in the can of soda before making his way over to you. He crossed the room in quick strides, ignoring Kendall’s amused voice when she cooed, “Uh oh, return to sender already?”

Logan took your hand and pulled you away; away from the dance floor, away from the party, and most importantly—away from the lingering gazes so many guys sent your way.

“Logan?” You queried as he brought you up the stairs.

He didn’t respond, just kept tugging you along.

“Logan.”

Nothing.

“Baby—”

He finally stopped and turned to look at you. His stature towered over you and you suddenly felt small with the way he was staring down at your face.

He exhaled a heavy breath. “Fuck, baby, I’m trying really hard to be respectful.”

You cupped his cheek. His skin was hot to the touch. He subconsciously burrowed closer into the palm of your hand.

“You don’t have to be,” you murmured.

He closed his eyes for a moment. “How many drinks have you had?”

“A can and a half of beer,” you answered.

He opened his eyes to make sure you were being honest. You stood unwavering.

“You’re sober?” He asked.

“Mhm.”

“You’re sure?”

“100%. Are you?”

He sighed, turning away. “Yeah. Yeah, I made sure not to…” his words trailed off.

You smiled. “You made sure not to drink too much so we could fuck?”

He looked at you again. “Don’t say it like that.”

You giggled, pushing away a strand of fallen hair from his forehead. “I’m saying it as it is.”

“I made sure not to drink too much to be responsible,” he corrected.

You nodded along, “Oh, yeah. Responsible. My responsible and respectful boyfriend.” You teased. He did not appreciate that.

“Okay,” he let out an amused sound as if he were faced with a challenge. He leaned in and whispered, “Let’s see who’s laughing when I stop respecting you and start doing all the things I plan to do to you.”

You gulped.

+

He led you to the nearest vacant bedroom in the Maxwell family home before pushing you inside and locking the door behind him. You thought he’d pin you against the door and makeout with you.

Instead, he said, “Sit on the bed,” in that husky voice you rarely hear so you knew you had to listen.

You sat down. The covers were soft and cool. You watched and waited for his next words, but Logan was too busy pacing in front of the door and running his hands through his hair. He looked so yummy.

“Take your clothes off. Let me see you.”

You blinked. You weren’t used to Logan being like this. He usually did all the work. But this new side of him was hot, so very hot.

You slowly unzipped your boots and kicked them off along with your socks. Next, your headpiece with the sprinkles. Then, your tube top, revealing your bare breasts, and lastly, your skirt, leaving you in nothing but underwear.

You felt exposed, just sitting there on the bed as Logan stared at you without a word. His eyes were nearly black from how blown out his pupils were, his bottom lip chewed and slightly pink from how much he dragged it beneath his teeth.

“Pretty,” he finally commented. “That’s new.”

You glanced down to where he gestured, looking at the lace thong you wore. He was right; it was new. You and Kendall bought matching ones for the costumes, but you didn’t need to tell him that bit right now.

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

“Was it expensive?” He asked.

“Not…really…”

“Good,” he nodded to himself. He pushed off the wings he wore for his costume and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.

He knelt down in front of you and spread your legs apart. “So I can ruin it, right?”

That shot up your spine. Your thighs wanted to rub against one another at his remark, but he held your knees firmly. “Answer.”

You nodded without thinking. “Yes.”

He smiled at your obedience and nodded. “Yeah, we’ll get to that. But for now…” his words died down as his lips attached to yours.

It was all tongue and messy. Logan pinned your wrists to the mattress as he kissed you. He grunted against your lips every time you bit his lip teasingly. Eventually, his kisses trailed downwards. To your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. He made sure to give all your sensitive spots an abundance of attention.

Then? His favorite bit. Your tits. John Logan was a tits guy, through and through. Doesn’t matter what size or shape, he was enamored with them.

“Missed my girls,” he murmured before he took one of your breasts into his mouth, swirling his tongue over your pebbled nipple and sucking softly, then switching to the other boob and giving it the same treatment.

Your head tilted back and let out soft sighs. The comfort of him mouthing at your breasts left you aching and squirming on the bed. “Oh, baby…”

He pulled away at your voice and left a sloppy kiss between your tits. He peppered a few more kisses on your abdomen—nipping an especially ticklish spot below your rib—before diving in and licking you over the fabric of your lace thong. You gasped, your hand flying to his hair like second instinct.

He groaned against you, the sound muffled but the vibrations sending sparks to your core. “Already so wet for me. I hardly did anything.”

“Logan, please…”

He kept licking up your slit through your panties. He could feel your juices seep through the delicate material. The friction was doing wonders for your pleasure, but you grew impatient. “Logan…”

He finally pulled your thong to the side and resumed his ministrations with extra fervor. The direct contact had you jumping in your seat, but Logan’s strong arms held your hips down.

He groaned again, pulling away just to mutter, “Fuck, gorgeous, maybe he was right to call you cupcake. You taste so fucking sweet.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before his words fully registered in your head. “James?” You asked, breathlessly.

He pulled away and looked at you with a deadpan expression. He crawled up your body until he was face-to-face with you and said, “Please don’t ever say another man’s name when my tongue is inside you.”

That had your hole clenching around nothing.

“Got that?” He asked.

You nodded right away, “Mhm.”

“Words,” he demanded.

“Yes. Got it.” You responded quietly.

“Good,” he murmured before smoothing your hair down and admiring you for a moment. Then, his head was back between your thighs.

“Ah, Logan!” You breathed out, digging your nails into his scalp.

He raised up two fingers to your lips without stopping. You blinked back bleary eyed at that. “Open,” he said.

Immediately, you parted your lips. He shoved his ring and middle fingers inside your mouth and you sucked on them diligently, running your tongue over his calluses earned from hockey and various handyman jobs. Once they were appropriately wet, he pulled his fingers out and into your pussy.

You keeled over with a loud cry, “John!”

He raised his head up, letting his fingers do all the work now. “You like that? Yeah?”

You bobbed your head up and down, unable to find any words left in you from how nicely Logan scissored his fingers inside you, all whilst keeping his thumb on your clit in steady motions.

“Look at you. So pretty and whiny for me,” he murmured, voice smooth as honey. “Letting me wreck you like this and I haven’t even used my cock yet.”

You whimpered, hand gripping onto his bicep. You were sure you’d see nail marks on his skin even tomorrow morning.

“Oh, you like that?” He asked, tilting his head. “You want me to fuck you stupid with my cock?” The pace of his fingers increased.

Your eyes screwed shut. “Yes! Please, I want that.” You tugged him closer so you could bury your face in his neck, feeling so overwhelmed by pleasure.

He let out an airy chuckle. “Such a good girl. Just for that? I’ll reward you.”

He made you cum on his fingers. The heel of his hand applied pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves until you seized and melted against him with a moan.

“Shhh, that’s it. Come down from it, you’re okay,” he kissed the top of your head.

You mumbled incoherent sentences into his neck and he merely smiled and rubbed your back.

After a minute of breathing, he pulled back slightly to look at your face. “You okay?” He asked, pushing a lock of hair away from your face.

You nodded, still buzzing from what had happened. “Yeah,” you exhaled.

He nodded, watching you carefully in the vulnerable afterglow. Your hands trailed down to his jeans, tugging at his belt, silently asking for it to come off.

Logan chuckled softly before helping you remove his belt and jeans. He reached into the pocket then chucked them on the floor and you instantly started palming his eager boner through his boxers.

He hissed, tossing his head back. “Fuck, baby.”

“Please tell me you have a condom,” you said.

He held the small foil up in his fingers.

At that, you rid him of his boxers and watched in tense awe as he teared the packet open with his teeth and rolled the condom on. You settled back against the bed pillows as you waited in hot anticipation.

“Uh uh,” he wagged his finger before curling it in a come hither gesture.

You sat up, letting out a surprised squeal when he lifted you by your thighs and settled on the bed before placing you above him. Your hands scrambled until they settled on his abs.

He looked up at you with hooded eyes, “Look good for me, gorgeous. I want a show.”

You leaned down and peppered kisses over his face. He let out a relaxed sigh and rubbed up and down your sides lazily. You nibbled on a spot right below his ear, earning you a delicious whimper from him.

“Tease,” he muttered and you grinned.

“Thought you wanted a show,” you remarked.

He hummed, “Mm, yeah. But just for me. No one else.”

You looked down at him, realizing he’s still a bit hung up from the incident earlier that night. Your finger slid sensually from his adam’s apple to his naval. “No one else. Only you.”

“Yeah?” His voice got deeper. “Show me.”

Sir, yes, sir. You held his dick from the base and slowly sank down on him. Logan groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. The stretch of him filling you up was deliriously good. You bit your lip as you took him in, inch by inch.

Finally, you both let out a sigh in unison. You planted your palms flat on his abdomen and started rocking back and forth.

The room succumbed to the sounds of soft moans and the subtle creak from the bed. The party downstairs was long forgotten. Here, it was just you and Logan.

“Just like that, baby, hah,” he breathed out, moving you back and forth. Even if he put you on top, Logan would always end up doing the work for you. You were his pampered princess.

You threw your head back, feeling the pleasure build up in your tummy once again. You took one of Logan’s hands and guided him through rubbing circles on your clit.

“Do you like that, sweetheart?” He asked.

You nodded fervently. “Yes. Fuck, yes, Logan. Keep doing that, baby, I’m so close.”

He held you firmly and started bucking up into you. You cried out, slumping against his chest as he thrusted in and out of you, reaching so deep inside, hitting that spongy part that left you seeing stars.

“Cum for me, baby. I know you can do it,” he said.

The coil snapped and you released, letting out a long moan. Your body shook, the pleasure and adrenaline rushing through you like a live wire meeting water. You collapsed against him, your bones feeling like putty.

He took your chin in his hand and tilted your head up to meet his face. He was still rocking into you. “Need to see you, baby. Need to see your pretty face when I cum.”

You were so out of it, barely processing his words. You simply nodded and chewed on your bottom lip. He looked so hot all sweaty and breathing heavily.

His eyes squeezed shut when he came, letting out a guttural groan. You felt his hips falter as he bucked up into you, rhythm sloppy and erratic. He let out a shuddering breath and dropped his head back onto the pillow.

The room was quiet now. The hum of electrical circuits and the distant noise of the party below filling up the space. You traced shapes onto his ribs, your touch barely skimming his skin. His hands caressed your back slowly, giving a small squeeze every now and then.

“Not jealous anymore?” You murmured, looking at him with an amused smirk.

He scoffed. “I wasn’t jealous.”

You hummed, “Ohhh, okay. Not jealous. Just possessive.”

He rolled his eyes fondly, a smile threatening to tear his lips wide. “Just…want you to be mine. All the time.”

You smiled, “I am.”

“I know you are.”

mr. i get wet at the thought of you being a responsible guy fr

[krowwle]

Toph Modern AU (ig and tiktok: k.rwly)

I wanted to represent people with visual impairment more so I gave Toph a service dog inspired by badgermoles. At the same time despite that I think she'd also be an athlete, a paralympic wrestler (she gives me pitfighter vibes like her first arcs). I watched a documentary on a blind wrestler that said wrestling is a pretty good sport for blind people considered it relied more on physical contact and grappling. Blindness can come in a spectrum, some still have 40% vision, some have 10% which can be used slightly in that sport. Anyways hope you all like my take on modern au toph ^^

Thinking about doing the rest of the gaang if this goes well ^^

[skywwwalker]

Ryland Grace who gets BONERS from KISSING. Walk with me…

pre/post PHM, doesnt matter.

Ryland turns when he feels the weight of your gaze prickling at the skin between his shoulderblades and scalp. Your head is tilted a little bit, a smile on your face as you watch Ryland move toward you.

He barely murmurs a small “hi” before he’s got his lips on yours, feeling the rushing blood under his fingertips as he brings his hands to your waist. Slipping his hands under your shirt, Ryland feels the warmth radiating through your lower back and feels a pulsing in his own body. Feeling you, here and now, hot and loving him was just… an answer to a prayer he’d forgotten he’d asked for.

You do that thing where you press your front to his after your pointer finger sloooowwwly pulls him closer to you by his belt loop, and damn is Ryland a goner. You groan a little into Ryland’s mouth when he pulls you up and towards him: the sheer tangibility of his want only adding to the lust in your mind. You feel the little spikes of his hair as you slowly bring your hands up to the nape of his neck to feel him and then the smoothness of his skin as you bring your hands to his face in any attempt to mold you two impossibly closer.

Only when you start to feel your head physically weigh heavier and when you hear the loud whooshing of your blood behind your ears do you force yourself away. Panting, you see Ryland’s eyebrows screwed up. He whines and rests his forhead on your chest: how could you be so cruel as to pull away from him? Ugh. “I’m hard,” he whispers.

You chuckle breathlessly. “What’d you say?”

Ryland looks up: the epitome of want and desire and undercover eroticism. “I’m fucking hard.” His hand reaches for yours and he palms the back of your hand. Eyes locked on yours as he brings your hand to the crotch of his pants to make you feel just what you do to him. The way his throat vibrates with a barely withheld whimper when you palm him makes you want to drop his pants right then and there. “Y/n.”

An evil glint is in your eyes. “I love when this happens.”

Ryland groans, this time from embarrassment. “I love that you love it but I- it happens so often.”

You exhale a laugh throught your nose as you lean in to kiss him again. “We’ll take care of that, honey.”

[glossiercheek]

john logan takes care of his drunk girlfriend . ♡

“where are we?” you slur lazily, body leaning against your boyfriend for support. one of his hands is wrapped around your hip and the other one slams his bedroom door shut. “thought we’d go t’yours.” you pout.

and logan has to do his best to not bark out a laugh. a breathy laugh bubbles out of his throat. you’re funny when you’re drunk. he wipes a stray lock of hair out of your face. “we are at mine, baby.” he mumbles, eyes glistening. “c’mon. i’ll remove your make up.”

he walks you over to his soft bed. the one you lay in almost everyday. you immediately melt into a sleepy puddle of limbs. “give me a kiss first, johnny.”

you tip yourself up on your elbows, glossy lips puckered up. logan is too down bad for you, because he immediately indulges in your request and pushes his soft lips to yours.

the kiss is dramatic. you dramatically moan into his mouth, your lips smacking against his. it’s not a fluid kiss, it’s mouthy and swirly, but logan makes it work with a stable hand cupping your chin to coordinate you.

“happy now?” logan questions, pulling back. you let yourself fall back on the duvet, his smell lingering on the sheets. your eyes flutter shut.

“yes,” you reply, “you’re a really good kisser. now we can sleep. maybe i can sleep with you.” you giggle, mischievous grin on your face.

“oh— does your boyfriend know?” logan pulls back, plucking the micellair water from the night stand, faux-shocked expression on his face.

you burst out a laugh, hoisting your legs up from laughing too hard: “you are my boyfriend, silly!”

logan laughs that gentle laugh when he lightly traces the cotton pads over your skin. he hums in approval. “i’m a lucky guy, my love.”

he continues to clean your pretty face up. sleep is at the verge of conquering you, but before it pulls you under, you ask: “can i wear your shirt to bed?”

“of course, honey. of course you can.”

eventually you and logan end up tangled under the sheets. you’re wearing one of his old training shirts, his name and number on your back. and some old, oversized basketball shorts.

logan doesn’t really sleep with you like that. of course not. instead, your face is pushed into his neck. you’re knocked-out cold, softly snoring as logan presses a kiss to your knuckles. slowly intertwining your hands before placing them on top the duvet.

a/n: this guy looks so much like the guy i was into during my first year of uni. i have such a hard time not texting him. omgggggg and we're graduating i HAVE to text him right. RIGHT????

[fezrus]

Thigh high

John Tucker x Reader

Tucker finally catches you staring at his thighs and decides a cooking lesson isn't what you actually need.

word count : 2.1k — explicit — thigh-riding — dry-humping — praise — tuck being super sweet and cute and a giver — tuck (he deserves a warning cause damn) — my boy tucker deserves the filth so i'm not sorry about that one — enjoy and please tell me what you think !

There was a fine line between patience and sheer torture, and John Tucker had been dragging you across it for months.

It wasn't his fault, that was the worst part. He wasn’t playing games—he was just genuinely, wholesomely oblivious. Every time you wore his favorite jersey, or intentionally leaned close to touch his forearm while he laughed, or made a pointed comment about how he’d make an incredible boyfriend, Tucker would just beam, give you that sweet, devastating dimpled smile, and say something like, "Appreciate you, darlin', always so good to me."

Always so good to him. His polite deflections were a special kind of psychological torture.

Right now, you were sitting at his kitchen island, supposed to be chopping garlic for the shrimp scampi alfredo he was teaching you to make. Instead, you were entirely hypnotized by the view.

Tucker was standing at the counter, leaning over a cutting board. He was wearing a pair of very, very thin, gray athletic shorts. Because he was leaning forward, the fabric was pulled tight, completely mapping out the staggering size of his thighs. They were dense, farm-boy quads carved out by years of heavy squats and explosive skating. You could see the distinct, powerful sweep of muscle definition, and the way they flexed every single time he shifted his weight.

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the knife. You wanted to bury your face in them. You wanted them gripping your waist. You wanted—

"Uh, darlin'?"

Tucker’s sweet voice shattered your trance.

You blinked, snapping your eyes up. He was looking at you, a half-bun of messy dark curls sitting on top of his head, holding a block of aged asiago cheese. He was frowning slightly, but his eyes were warm and amused.

"You've been hacking at that same clove of garlic for five minutes, and I think you're about to slice your thumb off," he laughed, stepping away from the counter.

"Oh. Right. Sorry," you muttered, looking down at the mangled garlic.

"Everything alright?" He walked over, stopping right beside your stool. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating off his bulky frame. "You've been quiet all evening. Not like you."

"I'm fine, Tuck. Just... distracted."

"By the cooking?" He smiled, entirely missing the mark. "I can take over the chopping if you need a break."

Amused, Tucker leaned closer, resting one hand on the edge of the counter to look down at your messy chopping board. The movement brought him directly into your space. Because you were sitting and he was standing, his broad chest was right at your eye level, and his solid leg was practically brushing against your knee.

The kitchen went dead silent, save for the low sizzle of the butter and garlic simmering on the stove.

You froze, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm. Up close, the sheer size of him was completely overwhelming, and your eyes helplessly darted right back to the thick muscle of his leg, just inches away from you. The weight of your own dirty thoughts made you dizzy, and a wave of mortification washed over you. You couldn't think, couldn't breathe, and you definitely couldn't handle him being this close while your brain was doing that.

"Tuck," you choked out, your voice tight as you gently pressed a hand against his chest to keep him from getting any closer. "Can you... can you back away just a little bit? Please?"

Tucker blinked, completely caught off guard. He froze, looking down at your hand, and then up at your face. The easy, golden-retriever warmth in his eyes instantly shifted into pure, panicked concern. He immediately took a large step back, his shoulders tensing.

"Did... did I do something wrong?" he asked, uncharacteristically quiet and hesitant. He looked entirely heartbroken at the idea that he’d made you uncomfortable. "I swear I didn't mean to overstep, darlin'. If I said something insensitive, or if I'm being a bad teacher—"

"No! No, Tuck, it's really not you," you interrupted quickly, your face burning a violent, hot shade of red as you looked away shyly. You wrung your hands in your lap, wishing the kitchen floor would open up and swallow you. "It’s... it’s a really silly thing. Honestly. I'm just being ridiculous, but I... I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all evening, and having you right there was just too much."

Tucker frowned slightly, his concern melting into soft, focused curiosity. He leaned forward just a fraction, throwing the dishtowel he was holding over his shoulder, trying to catch your eye, his tone incredibly sweet. "What is it? You can tell me. You know you can tell me anything."

You swallowed hard, your throat completely dry. You tried to find the words to explain the last three months of unrequited pining, but your brain entirely short-circuited. Instead of speaking, your gaze helplessly dropped again.

You just stared.

Tucker followed your line of sight. He looked down at his own lower half, at the thin, gray athletic shorts stretched taut over his quads.

He looked back up at you, his brows arching high in utter disbelief. He slowly raised a hand, pointing a thick index finger directly at his own leg.

You gave a tiny, incredibly embarrassed nod.

"You're... you're thinking about my legs?" he breathed, his voice dropping into a register that was completely new. The confusion on his face melted away, replaced by a sudden, breathless warmth.

He didn't back away this time. Instead, he took a slow, deliberate step forward, re entering your space again until your bodies almost touched. Up close, he was so bulky and warm, and as his eyes locked onto yours, his gaze softened into something... different. Heavier. His eyes dropped down, noting the deep flush spreading down your neck, the way your breathing had turned shallow, and the distinct, telling tension in your posture.

Tucker’s breath hitched. A slow realization hit him.

"Oh," he murmured, his voice deep and velvety.

A faint, endearing pink crept up his own neck, but he didn't back down. Instead, a sweet, slightly stunned smile touched his lips. He reached out, his large hands surprisingly gentle as they settled on your cheeks. He leaned in, leaving barely any space between your faces.

"Well, little darlin'," he whispered, his voice low and teasingly soft near your ear. "If it's bothering you that much... do you think you'd let me help you with it?"

You gave a tiny, helpless tremble. You couldn't even breathe, completely undone by the sudden, heavy hunger in his eyes.

"Yes," you whimpered.

The sweet, patient boy didn't hesitate. With one easy, seamless movement, Tucker took a step back, pulling up the barstool right next to yours. He sank onto it heavily, rotating his frame so his back was resting flush against the edge of the countertop.

He looked up at you through his long lashes, his chest heaving as he let out a low exhale. The golden-retriever innocence was far gone, replaced by a quiet intensity that made your pulse skyrocket. Without a word, Tucker raised his hand and firmly patted the top of his rock-hard thigh.

"Come here."

Your breath hitched, a sudden wave of nerves making you freeze. You stared at his leg, then up at his eyes, faltering on the edge of your seat.

Seeing your hesitation, Tucker's expression softened into a look of pure, reassuring patience. He reached out, sliding his hand over yours. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, warm and steady, and he slowly guided you off your stool. He pulled you into the narrow space between his knees, lifting you just enough to guide your legs apart until you were straddling his right thigh.

The contact was electric. Before you could pull away, he took both of your hands in his. He brought them down, pressing your open palms flat against the bare, burning skin at the hem of his shorts. He forced your fingers to curve around the thick, dense sweep of his quad.

"Touch it," he hummed, his voice a sweet command against your ear.

Even now, with the air thick and heavy between you, his true nature didn't change. Tucker was, at his core, a caretaker. He was the boy who always quietly made sure you were looked after, and this moment was another extension of that—him easing the ache you’d been carrying all evening, giving you exactly what you needed. But as your palms settled fully against his skin, his chest rose in a slow, deep breath, his eyes closing as he let out a shaky exhale. His thigh flexed under your hands—not to pull away, but leaning up into your touch, completely yielding to it. Because Tucker wasn't just doing this for you; he was sinking into it just as deeply, needing the closeness just as much.

The sheer sensation of his muscle flexing under your fingertips sent a jolt straight to your core. Your hips twitched instinctively, a helpless, desperate movement that ground your center right against the hard ridge of his leg.

Tucker let out a low, ragged growl, his hands instantly locking onto your waist to hold you right where he wanted you. "Do that again. Ride it, darlin'. Let me feel you."

All your built-up frustration broke. You shifted your weight, and slid your hips down against his leg in a heavy, deliberate rhythm. The friction through your clothes was devastating. Tucker leaned his head back, a choked sound escaping his throat as you rode him, his fingers digging possessively into your hips. He braced his foot against the bottom rung of the stool, angling his thigh up to give you more leverage, matching your frantic pace with steady, torturous upward thrusts.

The friction alone was sending him over the edge. Up close, you could feel the sheer, radiating heat rolling off him; he was burning up, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Beneath the thin gray fabric of his shorts, his length had grown shockingly hard, straining painfully against his waistband as he watched you work yourself against him.

The pleasure built too fast, coiling tight and sharp in your stomach. You whimpered, your movements turning wild and uncoordinated as the edge rushed up to meet you.

As your body began to tighten and tremble, Tuck reached up. He brought his large hand to your face, cupping your jaw with a fierce devotion. His thumb brushed over your lips, parting them, and he pushed it ever so slightly into your mouth.

You didn't even think. Your eyes locked onto his blown-out pupils as you instantly wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking on it desperately while your hips shuddered through a hard, breathless climax.

He leaned in close, pulling you up until your foreheads pressed flush together, his hot, heavy breath mingling with yours. As the waves of heat crashed through you, Tucker watched you shake, his attention entirely locked on you as he guided you through it.

"Good girl," he husked, the warm pad of his thumb moving gently inside your mouth. "Look at how perfect you fit against my thighs."

You cried out around his finger, your core pulsing helplessly against his solid quad as the release completely emptied you out. The intense, tight contractions of your climax clamped down on his leg, and the sheer sight and feel of you completely unraveling in his lap shattered whatever remaining restraint Tucker had left.

His jaw went rigid, his eyes rolling back as a harsh, violent shudder tore right through his bulky frame. He choked on a breath, his fingers digging bruisingly deep into your waist as his hips gave one last, desperate, involuntary jerk upward into you. He came hard right there in his pants, the thick heat of his release soaking through the front of his gray athletic shorts, matching the wetness you had left on his thigh.

For a long moment, the only sound in the kitchen was the ragged asymmetry of your shared breathing. Tucker’s forehead rested heavily against yours, his chest heaving as the tremors finally subsided, leaving him thoroughly spent and slumped against the counter.

Gradually, a slow, familiar warmth returned to his eyes. He slipped his wet thumb from your mouth and used it to gently tap the tip of your nose, that devastating dimple finally cutting through his dazed expression.

"You know," he chuckled breathlessly, looking up at you through his messy curls. "Next time you want to skip the lesson, all you have to do is ask."

He gave your waist an affectionate squeeze, his eyes dancing with mischief as he looked down at the dark wetness soaking through his shorts.

"You spent all that time on this one," he teased, his gaze dropping to where your hands were still molded around his right quad. A slow, playful grin touched his lips as he nudged his left leg slightly against yours, drawing your attention to it. "But I promise the other one is just as good."

@addisondavenport @slvrstrs @coolfrogs868 @ficdelusioncore @kristenm74 @jujuonthatbeat1357 @ayeeshuh @linnygirl09 @unknownsangel2 @rollsonrollss

[twinkeringstaro]

Hi, how are you? I wanted to know if I could request a fanfic about a reader x Vaughn/Yulian? With the reader and Vaughn already being together

AT THE SAME DAMN TIME

Summary: Everyone warns Yulian about going for a man already in a relationship but what will they say when in fact he wants him and his partner?

Warnings: jealousy//yearning!Yulian//lime//dirty thoughts//public erection

Reader: Gn!Reader (referred to as Name)

Notes: I’m good and thank u for this lovely request! :) These men love you and they’ll share you 🧚🏽‍♂️

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Yulian sat on the couch at the back of the mansion, legs spread wide open and cigarette in hand, smoke leaving his soft lips slowly as his eyes burned into the couple a few meters away from him.

There, in the midst of the chaotic party, sat his Mishka with his arms around his partner of four months Name. The two were all over each other. Vaughn left bright red marks all over Name’s neck, one of his hands tightly squeezing their ass while the other pulled them close by the waist.

If he was sharing this level of affection in public, Yulian could easily guess that his Mishka was extremely drunk or on the verge of it.

Yulian should be furious.

He had made a fantastic plan to get with Vaughn, a plan he had been working for since their first kiss in the cave. He even went as far to sleep with Danika and make a huge show about it, hoping to catch Vaughn’s attention.

Which it did but not for long because three months later apparently Vaughn had sudden eyes for some cutie from REU. Their romance blossomed after an accidental meeting at some niche cat café.

He heard whispers that Vaughn was absolutely obsessed with Name since locking eyes with them. Yulian didn’t believe it until he caught Vaughn openly stalking the poor soul at a nightclub.

He should be fucking pissed that his Mishka—His obsession was prancing around like a love sick fool for some random posh kid.

But he wasn’t.

Because as he sat there all by his lonesome, watching as the dear couple hungrily make out, Yulian felt his pants tightening and blood rushing to his cheeks. He licked his lips to stop salvia from dripping down.

God. He felt like such a pervert. Yulian adjusted his position, grabbing a pillow and placing it over his lap.

The scene was addicting, a porn-like imagination flooding his head like a tsunami.

Just imagining Vaughn’s lips on Yulians as Name—the poor sweetling—stuck between the two on all fours. One end with Vaughn pounding inside and the other with Yulian face-fucking them.

Yulian almost let out a moan at the thought.

He continued to stare at the couple, face flushed and sweat dripping down his neck. Yulian rubbed his bulge under the pillow, soft huffs leaving his lips. He watched as Name pulled away from the kiss and move to attack Vaughn’s neck, licking and sucking like a deranged beast.

Yulian wished it was his neck Name was sucking on like that. Yulian paused as the thought came in and out his head. He raised his eyebrows, a tiny chuckle escaping him.

Oh?

When did he start thinking like that?

Yulian tilted his head to the side, getting a better look at Name. Their hair was gorgeously styled, the colour glistening as the lights reflected upon them. The outfit they wore fit their aesthetic perfectly, just hugging in all the right spots.

Name was attractive.

A little too attractive one would say.

At that moment, the brunette had an awakening. That the jealousy he felt deep inside was not aimed towards the fact that his Mishka was with someone else—but from the fact that he wasn’t included in their relationship.

“Well that changes things..” Yulian muttered to himself, interest lacing his voice. “Name is rather enchanting.”

He bit his lips to stop a moan, his erection growing harder as images of Name poured into his mind.

The sly sweetling had somehow attracted Vaughn and now Yulian was falling for the same little tricks. ‘Sly fox’ Yulian chuckled to himself, perhaps he did have room in his twisted heart for one more.

Yulian’s attention went back to the scene in front of him. Vaughn was getting up from his spot, one arm still settled on Name’s backside. The two were walking up stairs with matching grins. It was clear what they were going to explore up there.

Specks of jealousy appeared once more. ‘What I wouldn’t give to join—‘ Yulian’s thoughts paused as he felt a buzz in his pocket, he quickly grabbed his phone out.

His eyes widened at the message.

Mishka

Name saw you peeking.

Mishka

Join us before I regret asking.

He looked up to see the couple staring right back at him, Vaughn’s expression was cold but the way his lips twitched upwards gave away his true feelings. Name had a warm smile, they held out their hand and made a ‘come here’ motion.

That was all it took for Yulian to sprint towards them with an excited smile.

This was going to be the best night of his life.

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[stationarystardust]

Aang x Reader - Seasonal Habits

You start putting together pieces of your personal life when you speak about it with Katara and Toph. Turns out being the Avatar and being WITH the Avatar comes with some...unforseen seasonal side effects.

This will have slight spoilers for the Aang movie but not much. Mostly just the beginning temple attack.

cw: oral, p in v, sensory play, outdoor sex, discussions of sex, some groping but nothing out of taste cause it's Aang ffs. Also first time writing smut guys give me some grace lol.

“I think you’re just describing Aang,” was not the answer you had wanted to hear. When you made your trip to the Fire Nation palace to give your ambassador reports to Zuko, you had decided to stop and ask Katara regarding Aang’s shifting traits with each season. You definitely weren’t going crazy-something was up with the Avatar and you were determined to get to the bottom of it.

You groan, rolling your head back to look at the ceiling. It’s suddenly very interesting. “Noo. Nonono.” you sigh. “Okay so just recently…” 

You had heard the door to your shared home open while you were in the kitchen making your afternoon tea. It was a bit of a habit you started on your days off from council meetings. You turn around and can’t help but raise your eyebrows when you see it’s Aang-home earlier than expected. Not that you’re gonna complain-he’d been gone for nearly a week and a half. 

“Aang!” you smile at him as he crosses the threshold to you, smiling in return. “Surprise Firelily!” Before you can get another greeting in, he picks you up by the waist, and kisses you. You can’t help the squeak of surprise but smile into the kiss when he chuckles in response. He walks you both backward until you sit on the countertop. 

“Well,” you gasp when you break apart for air, only for Aang to bury his face in your neck, peppering kisses along the length. “This is certainly a surprise,” you say as you brace your hands on the counter behind you. “Not that I’m complaining but what’s with the early arrival? Your last messenger hawk said you were expected to deal with the territorial issue between the coastal cities for the rest of the week,” 

“I can’t come home early to see my favorite girl?” he teased as he nipped your ear. You let out a high pitched laugh at the action and he grinned. 

“Well I,” you attempt to say as he kisses you. “Missed,” he kissed you again and you could feel his smile against your lips. “You,” he nuzzled you. “Too.” you laugh when he nips your jaw. “But can I at least get the tea off the stove?” 

Aang pretends to think. Then, surprising you with his boldness, he hoists you up and you have no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist and grip his shoulders for purchase. He walks backwards towards the stove. In one smooth movement, he put the teapot on a cool part of the stove, used his airbending to put out the flames and started to make his way to your bedroom. 

His mouth never once leaves your skin; he kisses you, the corner of your mouth, nips the crook of your neck.You were sure to have some marks you’d be unable to hide later. Not that you’d really mind. And when he lays you on the soft sheets, his normally silvery eyes have transformed to those of storm clouds. 

“Never would’ve pegged Twinkletoes to be a biter,” Toph snarks and you throw a pillow at her. She sticks her tongue out but you laugh when she does so at empty air. 

Katara looks thoughtful. “He wasn't...aggressive was he? He didn’t hurt you or anything?” she asked, sounding genuinely concerned. 

“No, no.” you shake your head emphatically. “Even in the Avatar State he never-” your eyes went wide as you realized what you let slip. 

Toph’s blind green gaze feels like they’re staring into your very soul. “Ohhhh DO tell Firecracker. What EXACTLY is Twinkletoes like in bed when the Avatar State activates?” 

“No, no no.” You fire back, laughing. “Absolutely not, and that’s NOT what I’m asking here! Can we please stay on topic?” 

Toph snorts. “You brought it up, but sure. Hate to break it to you toots, but it sounds like this is just Firebender stuff.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m a Firebender Toph, and I’m not nearly like that during the summer. I feel more energetic and I get up early but that’s almost every day. Firebenders rise with the sun, everyone knows that.” 

Katara hums. “If he isn’t being aggressive I’m not sure what the issue is.” 

You hum in thought. “Okay okay he isn’t aggressive but…” “Spirits, Aang I-Oh!” your hips nearly buck, but his hold on your thighs is like a vice grip as his tongue once again swipes through your folds. You’re panting now, close to a high only Aang could ever bring you to. “You’ve been at this for…all night now, I can’t…”

Aang hums, nuzzling your clit gently. “Yes you can. You always doubt yourself, but you always prove yourself wrong. Because you’re incredible and wonderful. You can give me one more.” 

You really had no idea how you had ended up flat on your back with Aang between your thighs, drinking you in like a man dying of thirst. You had both been sparring; you always wanted to try and incorporate his Airbending katas and movements to your Firebending. Aang, being the master Airbender, had pinned you. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but he had this look in his eyes, almost like molten mercury and before you knew it he was kissing you. Gently, but firmly. 

Things escalated. 

And now he was kissing you elsewhere. And he wasn’t stopping, despite the fact that he’d already made you come twice now. You grip the top of his bald head for some type of purchase and his moan reverberates through you. You let your head fall back and throw your other forearm over your eyes. 

“Don’t do that,” his voice distracts you and you can’t help but look down at him. You gasp when you realize his eyes are open. Staring directly into yours. And absolutely smoldering.

“Were…were you looking at me the entire time you’ve. Well.” You were a bit speechless at the idea, blinking like an owl cat.

Aang’s eyes reminded you now of thick dark clouds before a storm unleashed. Soft, yet intense. “Why wouldn’t I?” he rested the side of his face on your inner thigh, sighing. “You’re beautiful like this,” 

Spirits his voice… “Like..,” you gulp. “Like what?” He grins, kissing your clit. “Mm…You just look beautiful is all,” and with that he takes another slow flat tongued lick of your folds, before plunging his tongue in as deep as it could go.

“Aang!” you cry out, your back arching.

He slowly pulls-no, drags-his tongue out, flicking your clit gently. “If you really can’t handle it, you’d have tapped my arrow three times five minutes ago,” was all he said in response to your cries. He then gently blows cool air right on your clit. He chuckles when you scrabble at the training mat. 

“Oh come on-Ah!” your back arches to the point you half wonder how your spine didn't snap as he continues his relentless assault on your cunt.

Katara blinks. “Was he really that direct? Or is insistent the better word?” 

You nod, blushing. “I mean, I kinda just figured that might have been his Earthbender side coming out but,” Toph cackles. “About time he finally learned what head on means-” 

Katara waterbends a splash of water at her and she sputters. “Oh real funny Sugar Queen,” 

“Is Zuko like that at all during the summer?” you question Katara. She looks thoughtful. 

“Well, with Zuko during the summer he just gets a lot more…intense. We haven't exactly done it in a place anyone could walk in. Zuko's...” Katara murmurs. 

"Possessive?" you tease. She flicks water at you just as she did to Toph and you cough shaking your head.

"Private." she corrects.

You lounge back on the couch and think. “If it were just Firebender stuff then wouldn’t I be just the same way? I’m not jumping him every chance I get though I would really love to.”

Katara shrugs. “Maybe summer affects every Firebender differently. Aang is also playful too, so it might just amp up that side of him?” 

Toph snorted, rolling onto her stomach. “Playful? That sounded like Twinkletoes outright told you “here’s what’s happening and you’re gonna like it but I’m gonna be real sweet about it so you can’t argue with me.” Got any other juicy tidbits? You gotta have more examples than THAT.”  

“Well, there was one time we were visiting the Southern Air Temple…” you mused. 

“Have you ever thought about having sex outdoors?” Aang asks abruptly one night while you stargaze resting against Appa. It had been a long day organizing relics Aang had found and you were both taking a well deserved rest. 

You choke on your tea. “I’m. Oof. I’m-huh?” 

Aang shrugs. “It can’t be any different from when we have sex in bed right? Or sitting down? Which is my favorite position by the way, I love being able to just hold you but….” he looks up at the stars. “I think there’d be something really special about being that close under the skies.” 

You turn slightly to look at him with an eyebrow raised. “Are you suggesting anything in particular while we’re here? “Hey Firelily let’s have sex in ancient ruins,”? I dunno if that would go over well with Air Nomad spirits and whatnot,” 

Aang throws his head back and laughs. “No, no no not in the temple! Well. Maybe once it’s fully restored, but…” he glances at you sideways. “I…know a spot…” 

Both Katara and Toph are staring at you with eyes wide as saucers. “No way,” Toph was the first to speak. 

From your spot lounging half off the couch, you press the back of your hand on your forehead. “I swear to you I’m not lying,” you say keeping your eyes on the ceiling.

“He never struck me as the super adventurous type to be honest...” Katara continues to stare at you in disbelief.

"Tell me about it." you mutter. "During fall specifically he figures out some new position to try every single time we get together. But it's never anything too far out there either so I can't put a pin on what's going on." 

“Sooo….did you end up doing it outside or what?” Toph’s blind eyes would be shining with demented glee if they could. You’re thankful they can’t. It’s bad enough Katara can see you’re as red as Zuko’s dragon.

“I’m not answering that,” you grouse. 

Toph’s grin is downright maniacal. “So you did,” 

“Shut. Up,” you put emphasis on the ‘P’.

She cackles. “You just told us he ate you out like a man on a mission and you can’t tell us the rest of THAT story? Come on, don't be so lame!” 

You sigh. Well you had already dug yourself the hole. If you can’t climb out, you might as well dig to hell. Besides, Aang will never know about this. You’d make sure of it. “Okay, okay…” 

Settled with your back against Aang, you can’t help but marvel at the waters around you. Even as they slowly roll with every thrust, they perfectly mirror the sky above you. It’s like you’re both swimming in stars. You sink further into Aang, lightly playing with the surface of the starry water.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Aang’s soft gentle tenor whispers in your ear. He kisses the shell of it gently. 

Unable to speak when another deep thrust renders you speechless, you nod. Aang hums, nudging the side of his head against yours. “Can I try something?” he whispers. 

“What…what did you have in mind?” you manage to gasp out as he palms your breast with a just lightly heated hand. His calloused fingers add a distinct contrast to the warm waters around you. 

“Close your eyes,” he tells you. You do so, your curiosity piqued. His hand leaves your breast and cups your chin. You can’t help but relax in his hold as you feel him tilt your head back so it rests gently against his collarbone. “Good,” he sounds pleased. “Can you still find my arrows?” he asks. You have to slide your hand up his arm that gently cups your chin. But once your hand reaches his you tap the back of his it three times. He lets out a soft gasp. “Funny. I used to think of my arrows as nothing but sacred; a sign of my mastery in Air and that’s that. And they still are sacred but…in a bit of a different way now. Because of you,” there’s something like awe in his voice as he kisses you gently. 

You can’t help the small giggle that escapes you when you break apart. “Well I had to think of something the first time my mouth was full of you; can’t exactly ta-ALK!” the last word morphs into a squeal as you feel him reach down over your shoulder to your folds. The water where his fingers meet your clit, rubbing in slow circles feels suddenly chilly.  

His next words leave you wishing you had never accidentally let slip that you had discovered you were attracted to the sound of his voice. “Tell me what you feel,” the words are like rolling thunder. The water below the surface remains cool against your skin, but the mirrored water around you grows steadily warmer. And the hand cupping your face moves to your neck. Not applying any pressure, rather simply resting there. Your hand follows and grips his wrist for some sort of purchase. 

“I feel…warm.” you manage. Aang nods, humming and even that hum echoes with power. “I feel you.” “How so?” You can hear a smile in that layered voice. 

“You’re….oh spirits it’s like you’re everywhere.” you whisper.

You suddenly wish you hadn’t agreed so readily to closing your eyes-you want to get lost in liquid starlight. Your eyes nearly fly open when he rolls his hips up, all the while thumbing your clit in time to his movements. 

“I also feel like I’m about to lose my mind if you keep going at this pace!” you cry out. 

You feel him nuzzle you as he replies, “Patience is a virtue,” in a sing-song voice. Not once picking up the speed. “We have all night,”

The room was so silent you were sure you’d be able to hear even Aang’s quiet footfalls from across the hallway. “Katara I will light your favorite dress on fire if you don’t stop staring at me like that,” you grumble. 

She blinks and recovers herself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She's trying so hard not to laugh. You have to give her an A for effort. “It’s just…Aang? This is the same Aang who couldn’t even ask you out without a literal shove from Sokka during the spirit festival a few years ago?” 

“Right?” You get up and start pacing. “I mean it’s not like I’m complaining, everyone needs to have some variety it’s just that…” you groan sitting down again. “I feel like I’m missing something super obvious and it’s driving me nuts. Cause it isn’t even just the sex that’s suddenly different…” 

“You sound mad,” Aang observed from his spot where he was meditating in the pavilion. 

You let out an annoyed huff. “I’m not mad.” 

Aang peeks an eye open. “Yeah, and I’m not the Avatar,” he slowly starts to get up to his full height. “What’s wrong? Council members giving you a hard time? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staying up later looking over paperwork regarding the temple reconstruction project,” 

You start to back up towards the doorframe. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m fiiiine!” 

He narrows his gray eyes at you. “I think you need a hug.” 

Your eyes go wide. “Noo, nononono.” you insist. “Nah, I’m, I’m so good.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Well now you’re just lying to get out of the hug. Now I’m obligated to give you one.” 

You bolt before he can make another move, taking the stairs two at a time. “Oh, making me work for it?” he calls down to you as you hear his footfalls follow yours. “Not everything has to be the hard way you know,” 

You make it to the living room and stay poised ready to make a run for it as he comes up to the other side of the couch, grinning roguishly at you. “It’ll make you feel better!” he laughs as he attempts to get to you only for you to run around to the other side of the couch. 

“I don’t wanna feel better!” you snap back, determined to stay in your irritable mood though you’d forgotten what had pissed you off in the first place. 

“You know it’s only a matter of time before I catch you!” he makes another attempt but you’re quick enough to get around the couch again. 

You stick your tongue out and manage to duck around him to the courtyard where Appa rests. But before you can run around the bison to create some distance, you feel a force tackle you from behind. 

“Gotcha!” Aang cries as he twists his body so he collides with Appa’s side. The sky bison lets out a low rumble at having his nap disturbed by the clingy Air Nomad. No matter how much you squirm you can’t get out of his hold. 

“Aang, let me go.” you complain. Aang burrows his face into your neck as he settles into Appa’s plush fur. 

“You feel better?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned. You huff. 

“No,”

“Then it hasn’t kicked in yet.” and not only does he wrap around you somehow tighter than before, but Appa, the traitor that he is, curls up around you both, still asleep and not moving any time soon. “See? Even Appa knows you need a hug.” 

“You’re both the worst,” you mutter, but there’s no real malice in your words. 

Aang nuzzles your hair, grinning. “You love us anyways,” 

“Well see, that doesn’t help us at all,” Toph rolls her eyes. “This just goes right back to the main issue-it all just sounds like Aang, he’s always touchy.” 

Katara shakes her head. “No, there’s a pattern here for sure,” she glances at you. “Would you mind sharing other…intimate moments with him? That helps paint the picture a bit more.” 

Toph snorts, “Paints something alright,” 

You roll onto your side to reach into the jar containing lychee nuts and toss a nut at her head. “You just wanna hear about my sex life with Aang,” 

Toph grins. “Yes, yes we do. Spill it Sparkles. What else is he like?” You grab a pillow and groan into it. “You’re both awful friends…” 

Something is wrong the moment you hear his footfalls get closer to you. They sound heavy, nothing at all like the light airy ones you’re used to. You turn to look at him and can’t help but gasp. 

“Aang, honey, what-” you rush up to him, placing your hands on his chest. He lets out a ragged breath and practically collapses into your hold. Staggering backward from his weight, you quickly lower both of you to the ground. You don’t even make it to the bed. He gathers you into his arms so you’re sitting in his lap as he sits cross legged. You have to wrap your legs around his waist to get better situated. 

His mouth is instantly on your neck, placing slow open mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. “Aang, talk to me.” you whisper. You feel like you can’t speak loudly for fear that you might spook your clearly rattled Nomad.

He nuzzles your neck before answering. “I know I have to leave tomorrow but…” he shakes his head, looking frustrated with himself. With a groan he buries his face in your chest and you place a hand atop his scalp. Your thumb traces the curved line of his arrow and he shudders. 

“Talk to me Aang. I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong,” you repeat, getting more than a little worried. 

His eyes are like smoldering charcoal as they bore into your own amber ones. You understand at once what he needs. “You know…you don’t have to leave tomorrow.” you murmur, cupping his face, smiling gently at him. He leans into your hold, pressing a kiss to your palm. 

“I have to,” he groans into your hand. “The reports keep coming in that there’s some rogue spirit up north. I’m the Avatar; I’m the only one who can check it out.” 

“You haven’t even packed yet,” you reasoned, looking around the bedroom. 

He lets out another ragged moan. “I know, I know,” he looks at you, really looks at you. “But every time I start I think about being away from you and I…I can’t,” his eyes start to shimmer. “I don’t know why but I just can’t bring myself to leave. What kind of Avatar does that make me?” he buries his face in your chest again. His thumb gently traces along the underside of your breast. Nothing insistent, but instead it’s like he just soothe something within himself. Besides, you aren’t about to complain. It’s not like it feels bad.

“How many times do I need to tell you that you aren’t just the Avatar, but Aang?” you whisper, tracing the pad of your thumb under his eyes. “I’m sure the world can spare you for at least one extra day. Whatever you need from me tonight, tell me. I’ll be more than happy to oblige." 

Aang shakes his head. “I can’t just…order you around like that. Wouldn’t feel right,” 

You roll your eyes, giving your monk a fond look. “You wouldn’t be ordering me around. Like I’d take orders from you anyways.” he lets out a watery chuckle. “Think of it more like…” you try and think but it’s hard when his calloused thumb occasionally brushes your nipple. But his continued tracing gives you an idea. 

“Get on the bed,” you say firmly but gently. Aang looks at you startled. “Go on,” 

“Can’t leave you,” he whines. “I don’t know why but I just. Can’t,” You hum sympathetically. Whatever was going on with Aang tonight you could handle it. He’d just have to work with you. 

“You’re a strong guy Aang, I’ve seen you crack boulders the size of Appa with your staff. You can’t pick me up and carry me to our bed?” you tease. His eyes get flinty at the challenge and before you know it you’re desperately clinging to your very tall boyfriend as he walks backwards to the bed. 

You let out a yelp as he unceremoniously flops back onto it, looking up at you expectantly. “Now what?” he asks simply. You can’t help but laugh as you lean down to kiss him. You shiver as his large hands splay across your back. 

“Now,” you say against his lips when you pull back for air, “You. Stay. There.” you emphasize the words by taking his hands from your back and placing them on your hips. Almost upon instinct, his thumbs trace circles into your skin as you take your night shirt off, tossing it somewhere else in the room. “The world will have its share of the Avatar when you leave,” you say softly as you grind down on him and he lets out a choked gasp, bucking up into you instinctively. “Tonight I’m gonna remind you it’s okay for you to be Aang every once in a while. That it’s okay for you to be taken care of.” you cup his face and he blinks up at you, looking at you like you’d just plucked Yue herself from the sky. “You always tell me I’m wonderful and deserve to be loved. So do you.” you lean down and kiss him, feeling his tongue trace your bottom lip in response. 

Katara and Toph groan. “You can’t just stop there!” Toph complains as you laugh. It’s good to get them back every once in a while. 

“Oh come on, I think you can get the picture of what he was like without me getting into ALL the details. You really don’t need to know what that entire night was like anyways, trust me.” You grin cheekily at your friends. “You’d never look at him the same again.”

Katara’s shaking her head, smiling. “So, you’ve gone over summer, fall, winter…what’s he like during the spring?” 

You look at her. The pieces are starting to come together now that you’ve been telling your friends your stories. “You don’t think this is….?” you ask. 

“What? “This is what?”” Toph demands-she was never one to bother with Aang’s spirituality aspect of being the Avatar, and to be honest you had not really given it much thought before now. It was just a part of who he was so you didn’t have much reason to stop and think about his spirituality. That was until you’d gotten together with him. And then you got to learn about him. You got to understand sides of him only you’d see. But surely stuff like that was only for romance novels right? 

“Well…it’s hard to deny the pattern you’ve laid out in front of us.” Katara reasons. “In the summer, he’s more energetic, he’s more confident, though you could also argue he’s just gained that as he ages.”

You nod. “In the fall he’s a lot more….uhhh. Experimental? Is that the word? You wouldn’t believe some of the positions he’s willing to try then.” 

“Not to mention you just told us he’s so clingy in the winter he’d give a koala otter a run for its money.” Toph states bluntly. 

“Which leaves spring. What’s he like then?” Katara pesters good naturedly. 

You toss a lychee nut up and down in your hand. “Mmm…. it's hard to describe. But it's like we're just solid...” 

You can’t help but smile as you take a look around the circular room filled with Air Nomad artefacts. It didn’t take a lot of convincing for Zuko to let you go on this expedition with Aang. As the Fire Nation Ambassador it was part of your responsibilities to see that the restoration of the Air Temples went smoothly after all. But Zuko didn’t bother hiding his grin when he noticed Aang’s fingers interlacing yours as you both left the Fire Nation palace for this trip. 

“Not a bad haul,” Aang muttered half to himself, grinning. He starts to whistle as he starts to unpack his bag.

“Not bad at all,” you smile as you recognize the little tune, looking at the statues. “It’s crazy how different they all are.” you observe. 

Aang nods. “They’re all different Air Nomad Avatars from the past.” He hands another statue to you and you look at it closely. “Avatar Sonam?” you read aloud. “Who’s that? Have you spoken with them?” Aang shook his head.

“No idea. Must be really ancient if I can’t reach them.” he places a large vase down on the shelf and stiffens suddenly. You perk up, immediately on the alert when Aang of all people goes still. You suddenly get the feeling you’re being watched. Still standing close to you, Aang whistles quietly. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye when Momo flies off. 

Oh. Well, if Momo needs to go then you aren’t just gonna stand around doing nothing until Aang gives the say so, You think to yourself as you quickly propel yourself up to one of the lower rafters with a triple staccato whistle, ignoring when Aang whisper-yells your name. 

“Every time. Every. Time. She does this.” Aang hisses to himself as he watches you land on the upper rafter. He wastes no time following you using his own airbending to keep up. 

“Okay, whoever you are, come on out!” you call out as you balance on the beams. “Sneaking up on an Airbender and Firebender in an AIR TEMPLE? How fucked up is that? Don’t you know the history of this place?” you keep your fire daggers at the ready and your center of gravity low, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. 

Aang snorts. “What my partner meeeans is we just wanna talk. No need for this sneaking around stuff.” Aang matches your stride on a parallel wooden beam just above you. 

You hop up to another beam, balancing precariously when you land on the thick wood suspended by rope to the ceiling of the temple. “Naah nah nah. What I mean is what I said. Gotta be super fucked up to try-and keyword really is TRY-an ambush at a place where a genocide happened.” you quickly glance at Aang to gauge his reaction-there were some days where it was just best not to mention his massive loss so casually. 

“If you wanted to explore you could just ask,” turns out this is a good day for him then. 

“Fuck asking the AVATAR for PERMISSION!” a male voice suddenly snarls from behind Aang. Just as he whips around to face the accuser, you launch yourself at the male before he can fire off an arrow point blank at Aang’s face. You collide bodily with him and plummet down towards the ground, hearing Aang shriek your name in horror. 

You twist your body, trying to grab one of the beams. You’re plummeting too fast to grab hold of one properly. When Aang sees you flailing, with a blast of air he shoots up to the topmost mobile beam and kicks his feet out sharply with a grunt of effort. The entire structure begins to move and rotate with certain beams moving clockwise and others counterclockwise. The different movements give you the opening you’ve been looking for and you grab onto a rope holding a beam towards the bottom and then the hand of the man who had nearly killed your boyfriend. 

“I know asking for permission sucks but wanna tell me what the hell that was about?” you gripe as he struggles against your grip. 

“Fuck you!” he spits. “All you benders are alike. Thinking you are the ones who run everything. We’re gonna change that.” there’s a glint to his eyes you don’t like. You hear a soft whistle and look up just in time to see Aang lightly land on the beam you hold onto, crouching with a hand reaching out to you to pull you up. You’re glad to see that Aang is just as confused as you are when he says, “What are you talking about? I’m best friends with a nonbender-I hold a lot of respect-” you gasp as the man torques his body yanking you with him towards the ground. It’s closer, but it would still have a hard landing. Aang torpedoes after you, quickly using his airbending to create a cushion for you to soften your landing, before softening his own landing. It isn’t exactly graceful as you all crash land in a heap, but you’d take it over having broken ribs.

You quickly kick out with your foot, fire arching between you and your would be captor. He scrambles backwards and Aang hurries to his feet and to your side. He stands at his full height, shoulder to shoulder with you. Or, well. Shoulder to head given you only reach to his chest. His normally gentle eyes are sharp as steel.“I suggest you leave. Now.” 

“Oh now you’ve got him piiiissed.” You stick your tongue out at your pursuer. He sneers at you, baring his teeth.

“Not till we get what we came for Avatar,” another voice, female this time sneers and fires off another arrow from shadows nearby. Aang quickly raises a section of the floor with his Earthbending to block the attack. You jump up on the pillar for a better vantage point and gasp when you see two more figures slink out of the dark. You turn around-three more appear next to the man who had first attacked. You look up. Three more figures loom on the beams you had just plummeted from. 

You look down at Aang and give two short whistles. 

He raises an eyebrow at you, grinning. With a grunt he leaps up from a standstill, launching himself at your attackers lurking above, kicking his feet out to make the giant mobile move again. While the attackers scramble for purchase as the beams swing, he perches like a gargoyle, eyes always tracking the assassins. The minute Aang went high, you jumped down from the pillar. When you land, you land on the balls of your feet, and trace the floor in a perfect arch, honey colored fire licking the floor and flowing outwards towards anyone close by. 

“Whoa whoa whoa is that why Aang had broken ribs?!” Katara yelled. You nodded, wincing. 

“He saved one of these The Denied people from an exploding arrow close to the top of the temple. The entire thing came down before I could get to him.” You explained. “Aang had to hold up the entire pillar with the Avatar State to keep it from crushing us.”

“Is that why Aang wanted all of us to be here?” Toph asked. “He’s not the paranoid type.” 

“I think Aang is just being cautious and wants to have some sort of plan of action. They seemed particularly hostile towards me which he really didn’t like.” you answered. "Plus I had my reports to give so it made sense to send out the notes for a group meeting really."

Katara hummed. “Well, let’s look over what you told us. In the summer he’s more confident.”

“Fall he’s more experimental.” you add. 

“Winter he’s clingy as fuck.” Toph states. 

“Spring he seemed entirely zeroed in on my movements, but he wasn't overbearing, more like we were in total sync….ohhhh spirits.” you groan. Katara laughs. 

“Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring. Fire, Air, Water, Earth. IT IS Avatar bullshit I’m dealing with! I fuckin’ KNEW it!” you yell. Toph rolls over onto her back laughing. 

“Wh-what like he goes into different CYCLES during the SEASONS oh for the love of Omashu that’s too good!” she cackles holding her sides.”You are absolutely fucked when the Vernal Equinox happens.” 

You give the Earthbender a pointed look. “Don’t say it like that!” 

Toph grins, looking right at you as if she really could see you. “You need to tell us if he starts going on about having a bunch of kids the next time you have sex. And don’t forget, I’ll KNOW if you’re lyiiiing.” 

“I’m not-why would you need to know that?!” you peek out from your hiding spot. You see Katara really trying her best to hold in her laughter. Traitor. 

“We all have bets about which one of you asks for a kid first. From what you’ve just told us, it sounds like it’s gonna be Twinkletoes begging and PLEADING to start a wittle family." The last two words Toph says are in a baby-like voice just to grind your gears. “Oh I can hear him now. “Please Firelily? I can’t imagine anything better than to have a baby who looks just like YOOOU.” Oh if you think he’s clingy now during winter, good luck once you’re pregnant.” she roars with laughter. “We’ll know in a couple days who’s right!” she nearly falls off the couch laughing.

You blush. “Even with the Vernal Equinox coming up kids probably won’t happen for a while, don’t be stupid.” 

“What won’t happen for a while?” 

You bolt up from where you’d been laying on the couch to see Aang leaning casually on the doorframe. “Hi Aang! You all done with the meeting with Zuko?” you ask trotting up to him. Aang nods, hugging you close, and groaning quietly when he does. “Ribs still hurt?” you whisper. 

He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine thanks to Katara. What were you talking about?” You turn pink. “Nothing, nothi-” 

“We were just discussing when the best time to have kids would be.” Katara smoothly interrupts drinking her tea. 

Aang absolutely beams down at you. “Really?” his eyes are shining. “Could you excuse us for a bit guys? I wanna talk with my Firelily in private.” 

You groan when you hear Toph bust out laughing. “I hate both of you.” you yell as Aang, grin and all gently pulls you down the hallway to your private room in the Fire Nation palace. 

You were going to have to have a long talk with your Nomad. Turns out dating a monk so closely linked to four elements comes with some side effects. You nearly halt your footsteps as another thought comes to you. 

What if it was just…instinctual and not spiritual? Maybe Toph was right. 

Maybe you’d find out in a few days. Or maybe, there really wasn’t much difference when it came to Aang.

🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂🍃🍂

14 pages. This was 14 pages in my google docs. I couldn't stop lol.

[luvqi]

tomorrow’s promise ༄

→ aang x non!bender reader

༄ synopsis: aang breaks his promise to you, but spends an entire night doing everything in his power to make it up to you.

༄ tags/warnings: contains explicit smut mdni 18+, you and aang are newlyweds, heavy angst, a yearnful aang (ultimate weakness), soft!dom aang, unprotected!sex (aang: “pull out? why? don’t you love me?”), mock sympathy, some nasty passionate missionary, praise (mostly male!receiving), body worship, manhandling, oral!sex/female receiving (ugh just love an eater that eats for his pleasure), good ol’ fashioned grinding, aang becomes a glow stick yay!, headboard!breaking, improper use of air and fire bending, basically you two get in a fight kiss make up and start repopulating the air nomads, pregnancy!mention, fluff at the end, brief mentions of zutara & sukka!pairing (pls don’t bring any ship wars over here i just want aang for myself), contains elements from the legend of aang movie (so beware of spoilers if you haven’t seen it!)

༄ author’s note: crazy how a bald pretty boi can make me come out of retirement after a 5 yr hiatus… this must say some things about me. (but i mean, aren’t we all still stuck on him going “i’m the last airbender” ? like we can start repopulating right now–) ahem. uhhh anyway! tbh, i haven’t written nor posted a thing for some yrs now so i’m extremely rusty. not to mention this is my FIRST atla fic ever (pls go easy on me. im an og fan, just never written anything for the fandom heh…) eng is also not my first language sooo if you see any mistakes or if anyone’s a bit ooc, just pretend you don’t see it and enjoyy xxx

w.c: 28.1k no beta. we die like my social life.

“you don't have to promise me the moon or the stars, just promise me you will stand under them with me.” – danielle p.

“It’s just one month. I’ll be back sooner than you think! No. Hmm…that’s not right... How about, sooner than you can blink!”

“Aang…”

“Trust me, you’ll see.”

“Promise?”

“As the Avatar and as your husband, I promise to come back to you. Don’t worry.”

At least, that was what Aang had told you.

But that was two months ago without a word from him since.

Republic City was many things. Boring was not one of them.

The capital was full of life. It had its usual hustle and bustle from lively merchants advertising their businesses, mischievous children darting through the streets, and the abundance of song and dance that carried through the city as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Daylight was quickly giving way to twilight, and it was thanks to the lanterns that littered the streets that helped you follow the path further into downtown.

Republic City held undeniable beauty during the day. It was a city of life and wonder where all things were made possible, but it was towards nightfall when it was truly able to shine through.

The people of the city twirled to the ratta tap beat of the music, clearly enjoying the presence of one another. They were free to love who they wanted, benders and non-benders alike, and could live however they so chose. In hindsight, it wasn't much but it was reason enough for them to express their happiness and gratitude through singing and dancing.

You were merely thankful that Katara had agreed to stay back and live within the capital instead of with her father and brother at the newly established Southern Water Tribe. She was a part of the city council, like you were, and was your closest friend. If she wasn’t here, you weren’t sure what you would have done without her.

In fact, that was where you were headed now.

Her home was only a couple of blocks away from yours and your husband’s, which you were very thankful for. Even though Republic City was, more or less, safe within its own measures, there was still crime here and there. People that stole from the market square and ransacked shop owners. Not to mention the fact that the Denied remained a pressing issue. It was why Aang never liked when you would leave after dark by yourself. It was dangerous. Even though he could be a bit overprotective at times, he meant well and was right.

Truthfully, that was what made having Katara live so close by such a relief.

Subconsciously, your arms stiffened around the warm basket of food that you cradled against your chest as you moved quickly through the dimming streets.

When you turned another corner, your eyes gleamed, looking up at the towering building in front of you. Katara’s home was three stories high, and had several lanterns strung up. It was a lot of space for just one person, but she tended to have company over so it was actually quite convenient.

You could smell the fresh scent of jasmine and the warmth from the hearth inside. You didn’t waste another second and stepped up to the door, giving it a clean knock in three’s.

A few seconds went by before the door swung open. When her familiar face peeked from behind the door, a smile quickly found its way to yours.

“Hey! Took you long enough. Get caught up in all of the usual festivities?” Katara teased, giving you a fond smile back before she pulled you into a hug.

Not giving you a moment to respond, she ushered you in and closed the door behind her.

“Sorry about the mess. I’ve been moving some things around. Sokka said he’s bringing some things from home and begged me to make room so–” She spread her arms out to show her progress with a sheepish smile. “I made room.”

Katara had a unique style about her that was unlike anyone you had ever met. She was creative and stylish, yet had this comforting homey feeling about the way she decorated her home—something that never failed to fill you with dread when it was time to part ways.

There were several pieces and such that were previously made sprawled around the large space. They were all from her home, things that meant something to her. Things that were given to her by the children in the villages, and trinkets that Sokka made for her. He liked to tell her that they would become useful someday. Usually, they didn't but she appreciated his little farewell gifts either way.

You could tell that some of it was put up, but it would seem that she’d managed to keep the more meaningful ones out in view. A beautiful pot of jasmines sat comfortably in the window that was near her balcony. They had been a birthday gift from you. Something for her to look after and care for while she remained apart from what was soon going to be her new future.

You were enlightened to know that the flowers were flourishing.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, catching her gaze. “A lot of room, I see.”

Katara shrugged, some of her long dark hair falling over her shoulder. “Well, you know. Sokka asks, I deliver.”

You hummed and nodded with a knowing smile on your lips as you followed the familiar path to the cooking area of her home.

“Oh, yeah. Of course. I mean, you making all of this space has absolutely nothing to do with your betrothed. The same one that is on his way here from the fire nation as we speak. No, no. Surely not,” you jested, settling the still-warm basket of baked goods down on a nearby surface.

You didn’t need to look over your shoulder to know that she had followed you with her lip fit between her teeth and that flustered glint in her eyes. She was easy to read whenever it came to her and Zuko’s relationship.

Speaking of which, it was never made clear when Katara and Zuko became a thing.

Toph once mentioned that it had happened a year or so after the hundred-year war ended. Sokka had taken a more…romantic approach. He preferred to remember it as love at first sight. Or, more knowingly when Zuko first arrived at the Southern Water Tribe, looking for the Avatar. Katara never bothered to correct nor deny either of them. When asked, she simply said,

“Zuko and I… Let’s just say that there was a mutual understanding between us, even as friends. Time is a funny thing. You really start getting to know someone when the world is ending. Or…beginning, I should say.”

At the time, you didn’t know him all that well but Zuko on the other hand…

“Katara is the moon, a light and beacon when the world around me got too dark to see. She has anchored me and I only wish to remain by her side, for as long as she will have me.”

Aang, on the other hand, was the most surprising one.

His support of their relationship had always confused you. Of course, you’d joined the group well after the war and the building of Republic City, but you became close enough to understand their dynamics and history together. His feelings for Katara was made out to be quite strong. Strong enough to see a future together. You could never understand what had happened between them and why they were not still together, but it meant little to you when you'd realized how happier they were apart.

Not to mention that, within a few months, Katara was going to be fire lady of the fire nation. Added that she would also continue to act as one of the council members for Republic City as well as back at the Southern Water Tribe.

It was clear, for both her and Aang, that there were no romantic feelings between them. They died the day they realized they wanted different things but, in place, something else was born.

A friendship that they knew would last several lifetimes over.

It was never like you needed the reassurance of knowing that they no longer had feelings for each other. It was never about that. You loved Aang, but always wanted the best for Katara. So it warmed your heart to know that she was happy.

She deserved it.

“Spirits, enough about me. We have to talk about you.”

Your expression fell a bit, feeling the color drain from your face. The last thing you wanted to do nowadays was talk about you. In fact, keeping all subjects away from you was what, somehow, helped make the days bearable.

Except, Katara had this way about her that wasn't exactly intrusive because she cared about you and could feel when things were off with you. However, she tended to meddle more than you wanted. Especially when she knew that something was wrong, even if you promised her differently.

And well, she was never exactly wrong. It wasn't as if things had been all that great since...

“If this is about Aang, then–”

“Yes. It is.”

You paused.

"Katara.”

“Come on–”

“I honestly would prefer not to really talk about it.”

There was a sharp finality to your tone that made Katara give you a puppyish look. You let out a heavy breath, feeling exhaustion seep into your bones like it'd belonged there. Then again, did it not?

At least it made you feel something other than hurt or angry.

“Aang does this all the time," Katara tried to reassure you. "He’s the Avatar. He’s a busy guy. A lot of people are counting on him to help keep the balance of the world. Without that and peace, I’m not sure where things would be right now. There’s also a lot of people that need him–”

“And I don’t?”

Your interruption made her stop and blink.

You should've stopped it then and there, but there was an impulse inside of you. It felt like it was trying to claw its way from your throat, and you weren't able to catch it in time.

"I know the Denied are an issue and I knew that there were going to be people that would need his help along the way but it’s been two months, Katara. No letters, no word. I don't even know if he's okay or not. I don't know anything, and that’s what hurts me the most."

The silence between you and her managed to smother the sounds of the crackling hearth from the other room. The longer that you stood in silence, the easier it was for a wave of regret to burrow itself down deep into your chest.

There was nothing that you loved more than being by Aang’s side and supporting him through all of his endeavors. This was his purpose, his reason for existing. You knew this, and yet—

You knew how that had sounded. It was…selfish, on a grand scale of things. Aang was the Avatar. He was who the people of the world depended on the most, even for the most minute of reasons. If they called, he answered, always. But, for some reason, the importance of who he was—

It was taking a toll on you.

“Sorry. That was completely unnecessary.” You turned and pressed your back against the edge of the counter, your eyes glued to the floor. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No,” Katara shook her head, and walked over to place a gentle hand on your arm. She sighed. “You don’t need to apologize. You have every right to feel the way that you do.”

When you looked up, you were met with soft cerulean eyes that gave you more reassurance than you felt you deserved.

“You love him and miss him, a lot. I know the feeling. So don’t invalidate yours by apologizing for something that you can’t necessarily control.”

“I do,” you agreed, fighting the inner turmoil within you. “I do love him, but that still shouldn’t excuse how I’ve been feeling. He’s out there, alone. Sure he can handle himself but he’s...”

A sting to your eyes, a burn to your nose and suddenly your vision started to blur. It only frustrated you more because there was nothing worse than feeling sorry for yourself than crying when you felt you were wrong.

“To me, he’s not the Avatar, Katara.”

You looked at her, ignoring the way your unshed tears made you see the look on her face.

“He’s my husband, and I want him home. I don’t care about the Denied or any other group of criminals. I just want Aang home.”

Katara felt her heart tug down to the shallows of her stomach.

“Hey…”

She pulled you into a hug, feeling your tears dampen her shirt.

“I know,” she nodded. “I know.”

Because if anyone could understand where you were coming from, it was always going to be Katara.

For the past two months, Aang had been on a long and arduous mission somewhere in the Earth Kingdom trying to find out more information on the exact location of the Denied.

Within the last year, there had been several reports that began to surface across entire villages within the Earth Kingdom that were quietly siding with the Denied. Murmurs of a mutual understanding and rebellion against the benders of the world. There were also reports of supply routes disappearing and the Earth Kingdom officials who were being threatened or worse, vanishing completely. No one knew who was leading them, only that they were growing bolder and larger.

Aang was analytical. He knew that they never tended to stay in one place for long so he figured that if he could find their hidden headquarters, he would have access to their current whereabouts or, at the very least, know their next move.

That was what his last letter said to you before they had stopped coming altogether.

Perhaps that was what aided the storm that had been brewing inside of you. The same one that had been creating a monsoon of thoughts and emotions that you would have normally swallowed down in favor of giving Aang your continued patience and support. Even from a distance now forced between the two of you.

And the thing was, you did understand. The Denied were becoming a very serious threat and you knew that he was truly the only one that could sort this without violence and penance.

Your husband was the Avatar, the most important man on the planet. How much more selfish could you be?

“Thank you Katara,” you said and managed to give her a tender smile as you pulled back from her embrace, silently hoping that it was convincing enough to ease her worries.

“Now,” you sniffled, taking a breath. “I believe that we have a lot to talk about with this wedding of yours coming up. Wanna make the tea and I’ll plate some of the homemade sweet buns I brought?”

For a split second, Katara’s brows twitched inward. As if it had been the trick of the room's gentle glow, she smiled warmly and gave you a nod.

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

When you turned to do just that, her face fell.

She knew that look all too well. You were doing it again. You were letting that vulnerable part of yourself decide to crawl back into the cold shadows of your mind where you felt it was safest. It always hurt when you did it with her. She wanted you to feel safe enough to tell her how you felt and rely on her to help alleviate the pain you carried of constantly wondering if you were still a wife or now a widow. It was not easy, of course she knew that. But, still...

She watched you pull two serving dishes from the cabinet and place a few of the sweet buns onto them. When you turned to check on her, she made herself busy by snagging the tea kettle from a lower compartment and filled it with water. You sent her a smile from over your shoulder, and she noticed that it barely met your eyes.

Katara smiled back and turned around, sighing quietly to herself.

Aang, she spoke from the confines of her mind, shutting her eyes. Please come home.

After a rather long talk about wedding plans, council member work and bellies full of a few sweet buns and tea, the sky completed its final cycle and descent into nightfall.

It was time to head back home and just like every night since you were left alone, you dreaded it.

Without Aang, home no longer felt like home. It lacked the warmth and luminance that your lively husband tended to bring with him. Where it felt as though the sun encompassed the space, once he was gone, he left behind a cold and dark cloud that seemed to engulf everything within reach. Like a black hole that only knew how to consume until there was nothing left.

The thought of having to return back to that only made your stomach turn. He should be here. He should be home, with you.

But he wasn’t.

When you made it to the foyer of her home, you were pulled into another hug but tighter this time. Katara squeezed you as if she, too, knew what you were you going back to.

“Promise me that you’ll come back over the day after tomorrow,” She said, just above a whisper next to your ear. “Sokka’s going to want to see you and Zuko too. Honestly, not seeing you for a day will kill me but I have that council meeting about the trades from back home tomorrow…”

Slowly but firmly, you circled your arms around her form, giving her a promising nod.

“Don’t worry. I will.”

When you separated and walked out, you could feel pieces of her home trying to pull you back in. It also knew.

Katara sent you a small wave, and watched you disappear back into the streets of the city, headed down the familiar darkened path to what you still managed to call home.

As if the universe was aware of your desolate mood, it began to rain.

You couldn't help but stop where you were, craning your neck up to the sky. It started with a few drops along your cheeks until the rain fell in sheets, soaking you from head to toe. However, you didn't move. Not even when those that were leisurely walking the streets, likely going back home as well, gasped and jogged the rest of the way, seeking warmth and shelter.

It was the middle of fall, and it was raining. Usually the city would see a few snow-scares before winter finally came around but rain at this time of the year was rare.

A brief sigh left your lips as you closed your eyes, and continued to stand in the middle of the street, ignoring the feeling of your clothes sticking to you like a second skin. Then, you smiled.

Memories of the last time you were caught in the rain resurfaced and helped you remember one of the last moments that you'd had with Aang.

༄ ... flashback ... ༄

"What about this?"

Aang took a brief glance at you from over his shoulder before he released an airy breath.

"Not everything's going to be something worth taking back home, my love." He smiled and turned back to what he was doing.

You raised a brow, and studied the artifact for a moment.

Under the warm glow of a nearby lantern, you held up long, thin pieces of metal that were suspended at uneven lengths and had fading, almost smooth-looking air nomad glyphs carved onto them. There were some parts of it that had green weathering areas from decades of mountain snow and rain exposure while others had small dents along the edges. The metal parts were divided by tiny beads that were carved from pale wood and chimed quietly together when the wind stirred well enough. They produced a soft hollow sound. It was almost…haunting.

That was when you heard Aang shift to look at you again but this time, his face paled.

He sucked in a breath and held it as he turned to face you. His eyes were wide and on the chimes that you were still holding.

"Is that..."

You watched the way his fingers twitched at his side, almost as if he wanted to reach out to touch it but was afraid to.

"That's... Those are prayer chimes."

He moved closer to you, and finally raised a hand to gently brush along the dusty beads. His eyes were glossy, even under such poor lighting.

"The monks used to use these for mediation and mourning. I haven't heard the sound of these since before the war. Since I was a child."

His voice was barely above a whisper and if you weren't paying such close attention, you would've missed it.

When his eyes shifted onto you, your heart sunk.

"Oh, Aang..."

He brought a hand up to his temples and rubbed them before turning back around. Memories of his old mentor and best friend, Gyatso, surfaced.

Times where Aang would mediate with him and hear those same chimes from the archway of the room. How, on nights where it was difficult for Aang to sleep, the old monk would let him rest in his room while the soft ringing of the chimes lulled him to sleep, finally ridding his mind of the nightmares that ailed him.

Flashes of the past began to filter through his mind, glimpses of his old friend, of the children that he played with, of the joy and the laughter. All of it came rushing back, the dreams of his memories that had been haunting him every night were colliding with his waking mind. It was so surreal, he could hardly tell what was real anymore.

It was like they were there, all of them; he could hear them as if he was there again, back at the Southern Air Temple, enjoying his youth with his friends and the one monk that never saw him as the Avatar. Just Aang, a boy that met a worldly responsibility at an age where all that should have mattered to him was being a kid. In the face of what truly came to matter, he got scared and ran away.

If he hadn’t run away, if he had chosen to stay and fight what was inevitably coming, would his people have survived or would he have just died trying?

Aang knew that it was pointless to still dwell on. It was far too late now.

And it was because of this that he would always see himself as a coward, the coward that ran away yet still called himself the Avatar.

How foolish, and undeserving he was.

Without another thought, you gently placed the chimes back on the surface where you found them and slid your arms around his waist, holding him. You pressed your cheek against the warmth of his back, and closed your eyes.

"We'll take them with us. We'll take as much as Appa can carry, okay?"

You opened your eyes and tried to peek around Aang's broad form to see his face. You knew that he was crying. You saw it in his eyes before he looked away, and you could see it now. He was still covering his face, but you could see the traces of tears that started to fall. You could also feel him trembling, and not from the draft curling through the room.

It pained him to be here. It pained him to be in any of the air temples but more so with having you riding along with him. He never liked to show you the weakest parts of him, but being in these places... In the places that held the memory of his people that were long gone and only here through his own memories—it was a kind of pain that couldn't be put into words.

"I'm sorry," you heard him say, watching him shake his head. "This was meant to be a bonding trip for us. I didn't mean to ruin it by getting all sad and emotional."

Your heart nearly stopped. You pulled back just to turn him back around so that you could see him clearly. You reached up and pried his hands away, finding his teary eyes and red-splotched cheeks utterly heart-breaking.

You took his face in your hands, and rubbed away the falling tears.

"Never apologize for having emotions ever again, Aang, do you hear me? I can't bear it. You are allowed to feel exactly how you feel. No matter what emotion that is, it's okay."

He looked at you with such softness and vulnerability, it almost broke you into a million pieces.

"My love, we are two halves of a whole. I share your pain while you share mine. I know that you wanted to come here and show me pieces of your past, but please don't apologize when the memories get too much to bear. As your wife, I am meant to carry that weight with you. Never forget that."

A distant rumble of thunder shuddered and rattled around the old temple, causing some of the ancient wood to creak and groan. It coincided with the storm that simmered at the edges of Aang's mind. Yet, looking at you while placed into the delicate palms of your hands grounding him—he felt it all wash away. The darkness that filled him began to descend and retreat back into the shadows of his mind until all he could see and hear was you.

Aang lifted a hand to cover one of yours, giving you a warm and familiar smile.

"What would I do without you?"

"Mmm," you smiled back. "I don't know. Miss me?"

"You're right." He let out a low chuckle before he pulled you in closer, one hand on your waist while the other covered the back of your hand that was still against his face. His big grey eyes were back to their usual playfulness and you knew exactly what was on his mind.

"Aang, its going to storm soon."

"Mhm."

"Sooo."

He smirked, his eyes moving down to your lips.

"Sooo?"

You tried to hold back a roll of your eyes, but ultimately failed. He laughed as you sighed.

"You're such a handful, you know that?"

Aang lowered his head until his lips were just a breath away from yours. You could practically feel the smile on his lips as he said,

"Yeah, and you wouldn't have it any other way."

The moment that you took a breath, he wasted no time and pressed his lips against yours, swallowing it whole. You gave in and melted against him, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. You closed your eyes, and imagined a world where it was just you and him living endlessly, eternally bound to one another until the end of time and the life thereafter.

You knew that you did not hold the power to rewind time and bring all of his people back. But, what you did have was hope. You would help him build back what he had lost the best way you knew how and that was by focusing on what was still here rather than mourn what was now lost.

It started with you, him, and a lot of dusty old airbender relics…which had to be put on pause the moment that you felt his lips trail from the curve of your jaw to your neck.

"Aang," you whined.

"Shhh."

He switched places so that your back was in line of an old rickety table, and placed his hands at your waist to lift you up onto it. When it wobbled and creaked, both of you shared a wide eyed look before giggling together.

"If this comes down with me on it, me and appa will leave you here."

Aang chuckled lowly as he mapped his wide hands along your thighs, moving between them, close to the warmest part of you. His lips ghosted yours again as a mild distraction and without you noticing, he bended the air, parting your legs to slot himself right in the middle of them.

Your breath hitched when you felt him grip your thighs to pull you right up against him, feeling a desperate ache below your navel stir awake.

He hummed.

"Then I'll make sure I'm real gentle. Don't worry," and claimed your lips again, groaning at the muffled whine at the back of your throat with terrible plans of wrecking you and that feeble ol' table.

When both of you were finally dressed again and Aang told you that it was time to head back home, it began to pour with rain.

Before you and Aang had set out in search of ancient airbender relics at the old northern air temple, the sky was clear of clouds and any other indication of rain. Now, there wasn't a hint of blue left. There were just dark grey clouds and buckets of cold rain cascading down.

Once all of the old relics that the two of you could fit in your satchels were full, Aang whistled for Appa. The large bison roared in the distance and came barreling through the sky, landing a few feet in front of you.

"Come on, let's get back home before it gets worse!"

He took your wrist and tried to pull you along but was met with a bit of resistance. Worried and confused, he looked back at you with furrowed brows.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

There was nothing about you that alarmed him other than the way you were looking around. Well, then there was the apprehension in your voice too.

"I don't know, Aang. You know what they say about flying in storms like this. Plus, we're going to be soaking wet. I think I'll pass on that."

All of the tension that quickly coiled under his skin fell away. He smirked, quirking a brow.

"What? Scared of a little water? The same woman that managed to hold her own against a fire bender and a few lightning attacks? Who are you and what did you do to my wife?"

Without looking down, he felt your hand tighten around his. There was a new air of determination about you that made him fight back a smile. He always knew how to get to you. He just had to press the right buttons, and so he did.

"Let's go," you muttered and with a faint yelp from him, you tugged him out to Appa and saddled up. When you grabbed the reins and looked down at him wearing an impatient expression on your face, he finally smiled to himself.

"Yes ma'am," and used the air around him to push off on the balls of his feet up onto Appa as well, sitting right behind you. Even though both of you were soaked through, he still wrapped his arms around your waist, suctioning the front of his body against the back of yours. He felt you stiffen, and watched the way your hands gripped at the reins. He smirked again, and looked ahead. "Appa, yip yip!"

And then you were off, headed back home.

༄ ... end of flashback ... ༄

When the memory faded and you opened your eyes, you felt the wind begin to pick up, ruffling your clothes and the shutters on the houses around you.

It was definitely time to head back home.

Once you'd made it through the entrance, you made a face, finally feeling the heaviness of your clothes. Eagerly, you peeled off each article and hung them up in the entryway to dry. With each pad of your feet towards your shared bedroom, you left behind a trail of wet footprints that you made a mental note to clean up when you were all washed and dried.

As you stood underneath the copper rainfall-style pipe and let the warm water roll off of your body in steady trails, you could feel your mind begin to wander.

Weeks of waiting to hear back from Aang, and nothing. No letters from his wind-swallow messenger nor any word from any of your connections in the Earth Kingdom. Not even from the one person that would’ve sent you an update the moment she caught wind of his name. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to dig for information from Toph. She just didn’t have anything worth noting to give you.

It was nerve wracking having to wait. To worry and spend almost every single night curled up in a ball in a bed that no longer even smelled like him anymore. It felt like each day came to erase him, piece by piece, until time left you with nothing but what he was. Not as the Aang you'd come to know, but as the Avatar instead.

You had half a mind to set out to his last known location to search for him, but Katara stopped you before you could do it. She’d told you that she understood why you wanted to go, but that it wouldn’t help the situation. Especially if, when he did come back, he came back to an empty home and to the news that you were dead, thousands of miles where no one would ever find you.

You understood that it was not because you were weak or unable to handle your own out there. It was simply because there was not a single person alive that didn’t know who you were, unless they lived under a rock. Everyone knew you were the Avatar’s wife, which made you worth as much as Aang. It made you into a target.

Katara was truly your voice of reason; why you decided to stay put and wait instead. You couldn’t bear hurting Aang that way or ever at all. Plus, you were brave but you were not stupid either.

As painful as it was to sit and be patient, it was your only option.

When the water began to shift temperatures, you decided that it was best to finish washing up and finally get dry.

Once you stepped out of the stone-clad bathroom and into the main bedroom, it was hard to ignore the emptiness around you.

During Aang’s absence, you’d made several attempts at keeping the space well-kept and full of the same vibrance that he was so naturally gifted with. From leaving a few ancient nomad scrolls in one corner of the room to keeping an incense lit in the other. It was always the same scent. Cedarwood and Juniper. He’d once told you that it would help him quiet his thoughts. To rest his mind so that he could meditate in peace.

Your brows furrowed, staring at the meditation corner. Try as you might, but it would seem that dust was drawn to the places where he lingered the most. Maybe it was meant to haunt you worse than the memories and the nightmares. You see, dust was something that you could see. What your mind often conjured were things that you could blink away or distract yourself from.

Something physical, on the other hand…

It only served as a cruel reminder that you were alone and had been for a while.

Your feet crossed the room without much sound, flitting about the room like you were just remnants of a person; a ghost in your own home. Once your skin was dry and lathered in its usual oils, you spotted something from the corner of your eye. On the dresser rested a folded heap of orange and yellow fabric. Your heart clung to the cage in your chest as you took in a slow breath, and shuffled over. As delicately as you were capable, you pulled it down and watched it unravel before you.

It was one of Aang’s robes. It was one that he wore when he was at home and could shuck off his everyday wear to replace it with something that didn’t remind him of his duties as the Avatar. You’d made it for him one day, and he had worn it ever since.

When you rose it up to the tip of your nose, you could still smell bits of him.

“I just want to know that you’re safe. That’s all.”

Maybe Aang was safe, he just couldn’t send his messenger, but you selfishly wished that he would just so you could know something.

With a sigh, you placed it back in the same neat fashion the robe was previously in before dressing in your night gown. It wasn’t completely see-through but just enough to keep your skin cool from the hot temperatures of your shower and the mugginess luring in from the outside rain.

After you cleaned up the wet footprints from the entryway, you decided that another hot cup of tea would help you rest for the night. Or, at the very least, settle your cloudy mind.

Luckily, you still had some jujube-ginger tea left over from earlier in the morning and heated the kettle up atop the warming flame. It was going to be a few minutes so you crossed back into the common room for a moment, and opened a few windows along with the balcony doors. For a brief second, you stood there and watched the rain fall.

Aang always did prefer some of the windows opened, especially when it was nice outside and the wind was blowing. He loved the home more when there was fresh airflow coming through but with the rain, it felt cold; much like how everything else around you did.

With a sigh, you turned and chose to take a seat near the lowered table on a fluffed cushion. The silence was welcoming, but the emptiness was not. You brought your legs up so that you could rest your chin on your knees, and stared out at the balcony doors.

During the first week after Aang left for his mission, you started looking for him to come dropping back in on the balcony. The two of you had a wrap-around balcony but he preferred to come in where you could see him. So you would wait up, every night, until you began to realize that he wasn’t going to be coming back home anytime soon.

You’d told yourself that every week but when it got to be a month and a half, you stopped looking for him completely. You went about your days as if he was already gone and in a way, that was what it felt like. It felt like a loss, even though the better part of you knew that he was still out there.

Or, at least, you'd hoped so.

Hope was a funny thing sometimes but it kept you from doing something stupid like going out and finding him yourself, despite what Katara said. Who knows if you would like what you found anyway...

Still waiting for the whistle of the kettle, you shifted and was about to reach for a book you’d started recently reading when your eyes caught a few scattered pieces of half-rolled up paper on the table. Your brows furrowed, and reached for them instead.

When you unraveled one of them, you felt a wave of sadness crash into you. It was all of Aang’s letters to you. Well, the ones that he'd sent before they stopped coming.

You sifted through them until you came upon the first one he’d sent and sniffled, pulling a spare blanket over your legs as you started to read through them all over again.

༄ hey baby, it’s me! well…guess you already know that by the bird huh? by the time you read this, i’ll already be pretty close to the border of the earth kingdom. i wish i could give you more than that but you know how easily these letters can fall into the wrong hands. anyway, i miss you… so much. these past few nights have been so lonely without you… momo and appa would bite my head off if they could read this but it’s not the same without you

but i hope the necklace i gave you makes up for my absence, just until i get back yeah?

wait for me. i will be home, soon

– A

As you read through it, you'd subconsciously reached up and fiddled with the necklace that hung around your neck. It was the only piece of jewelry that you never took off, not even when you bathed. It was the only thing that you had left of him, other than his robe.

You didn’t realize that you were crying until you noticed a dark wet spot on the parchment. You cleared the tears away, and shuffled the papers so that you could read the next few.

༄ my love, my sweet love, how are you?

i got your letter, don’t worry, i just haven’t had time to get back to you because guess what? i found a clue on where they are! well, actually, sorry i forgot to mention that i’m here in the earth kingdom now and actually met up with toph. enjoyed seeing her again but sadly she didn’t have any info on you know who sooo, i went out and did my own digging and actually found something!

it was details about another hideout but it really feels like i’m getting closer which means i should be home soon! exciting right? to see your face again, to hold you and kiss you… it’s all i dream about. well, when i get to sleep that is. sleeping hasn’t been all that easy lately…

sorry that this letter is longer than the last. i’ll work on that. just got too excited to talk to you but i know we will talk again and next time, i hope to have better news. until then…

– A

Thankfully, the hearth in the common room you were in had still been on when you’d left earlier to go see Katara. It kept you warm as you sat there, on the floor, reading through old letters and reopening old wounds.

With another quiet sniffle, you moved on to the next and final one that almost made you break down while reading it.

༄ hi love.

i don't want to scare you but...momo isn’t doing well. i’m not sure when he started to feel sick or how or from what and i was close to turning back but he’s in toph’s care right now and i’m closer than ever on the group's whereabouts. appa is doing ok, don’t worry. me on the other hand…

it’s been storming a lot here. you know i’m not a big fan of storms but even without you here to keep me calm, i’ve been managing.

i want to come back home. i really do. it’s all i think about now but i know i cant. i have to make sure this group is no longer a threat to our home, to you. you understand that…right?

pls don’t give up on me. i WILL be home soon. i made you that promise didn’t i? do you still believe in it? pls say that you do.

i do…

i can’t say when i will be able to write to you again but hopefully you’ll see me in person so we won’t have to rely on these little pieces of paper.

i love you. so much. you are my heart and my everything. i know i have already asked so much of you but pls continue to wait for my return.

talk soon,

– A

Before you knew it, you were sobbing.

Horribly.

The letters were scattered around you when you tugged the blanket up to your face, crying into it. It felt like your heart was breaking into two all over again. Every part of you felt hollow and in so much pain, you could hardly move. Your body shook and trembled, curling into yourself until you felt like the smallest thing in the room.

The battle of knowing that Aang held the world on his shoulders as the Avatar but doubled as your husband and was only trying to do what was right, weighed heavily on you. It felt silly to be so upset just because you missed him but you also knew that it was not only that. It was how worried you were for him. He was never someone that would not communicate, even if it was just a two-sentence letter. What if something really did happen to him? What if you’d spent all this time crying and being angry at him when there was a real possibility that he might have been…

You shook your head and dug your fingers into your legs, pushing your face further into your knees. No, you told yourself. Aang was fine. He was strong and more than capable of taking care of himself. He’d fought many to make Republic City into what it was. He’d even fought a spirit just to fight for his claim over the land itself. Even through the times that he lost, he got back up and kept fighting until he won.

That was your Aang. That was the man that you fell in love with and trusted more than anything. He told you to wait. He promised that he would return to you. You knew this and believed in it, in him.

So why were you doubting him now?

Was it the absence? The unknowing of where he was and if he was really okay? The cut of communication and no information from Toph? The same person that Aang said he'd seen in his letter to you before he had just...disappeared?

You tried to rationalize some of your thoughts before they got too dark. Toph, more than likely, didn't give you any deep information on his whereabouts because it came in a correspondence and was not a conversation that was done in person. You remembered that letters were intercepted all of the time. It did no one any favors for outsiders to know that the Avatar was gone and had left his defenseless wife, at home, all by herself.

Toph was looking out for you and her friend, Aang. It was the only thing that made sense.

You gave yourself a few more moments before you decided to light one of the incenses that Aang used, if not to breathe and bring you momentary peace. Once that was done, the tea kettle squealed hot on its open flame, grabbing your attention. When you gathered the letters and placed them back on the table, you went to check on the tea.

As you poured yourself a cup, the aroma whirled around the space and blended with the scent of the incense, calming your mind and your body in one. For a moment, you allowed yourself the opportunity to think of nothing. To stand in place, and just breathe.

The one thing you’d forgotten to do in your husband’s absence was meditate. Frankly, it was something that you did together. You knew it was often best to do it alone, but you loved being near him in a pocket of silence to sit, breathe, and feel the things around you. He once told you that meditating was not always a way to connect with his past lives. He mostly did it for himself. To ground himself when he needed it most.

Aang was far from perfect. He had just as many flaws as the next person and knew, through meditating, he could find himself again. Especially during his hardest moments.

You wondered if he ever found the chance to meditate while being away. If there was time for him to just be alone with his thoughts and connect back with the air around him. To try and reach out to you the way you’d tried with him in your dreams.

The thought pulled a smile from you. You pictured him sitting in a cross-legged fashion, fists together with a particularly concentrated expression on his face before it turned into a cute pout. Maybe the demands around him kept him from truly being able to focus. Upon people seeing him, there was no telling what kind of side quests he was put on. It was like him to get sidetracked in favor of helping those that needed it along the way.

You took the opportunity to splash a bit of cool water onto your face to subdue any puffiness that might come from your earlier moment of crying and took your tea back into the common room, crossing out to the balcony.

The rain had lightened to a soft pitter-pat with a few rumbles of thunder in the distance. It would seem that the worst of it was well over and left behind a soft soothing ambience to close out the night.

You were appreciative. The rain never bothered you. In fact, you enjoyed storms. It provided enough noise to shut out the bad thoughts, and it tended to fill the home in a way that made you feel less alone.

As soon as you were about halfway through your cup of tea, you set it down and glanced at a few pots of flowers next to you. Your eyes softened. Wind lilies. On one of your first trips out to the Southern Air Temple, there were only a few left that were healthy enough to take back with you and since then, they’d been thriving wonderfully. It was only due to your frequent tending that they had managed to survive for so long. Still, most flowers, especially brought from one region to live in another, would struggle to acclimate to a different climate. These, on the other hand…

“Thank you for sticking it out with me,” you bent to meet the lilies eye to eye, smiling. “My little troopers.”

Moments of Aang struggling to remember to water them half of the time almost made you giggle. He had many talents, but tending to flowers was definitely not one of them. Funny, considering he was the master of patience. However,

“C’mon,” Aang whined, half of his lumbering body hanging across the balcony railing. “You know I’m not good at that stuff. Flowers require too much work.” You smiled, rolled your eyes and continued watering them. He then grinned and made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around you. “Not that it matters when they’ve got such a good mama to do it though, huh?”

“Aang, you’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, lips against your neck. “I know.”

A sigh left your lips as you studied the flowers a bit closer. There were a few dead leaves that needed trimming and you decided that since you were having some trouble sleeping and was waiting for the tea to kick in anyway, why not cut them now? So, you grabbed a pair of brass trimming shears that were near the flower pots and got to work.

The tranquility of the soft rain, the surrounding city lanterns and the smell of the wind lilies filled your chest with a warmth that you hadn’t felt in a while. You were not often rewarded with nights like this. The ones where you weren’t constantly being haunted and tormented with dreams that would urge you awake, night after night. No, this was one of those nights where you'd almost felt at peace with yourself. Where being at home didn’t feel as though it was draining you. Things almost felt…right.

So, you allowed yourself this momentary feeling of freedom from it all and started to hum as you trimmed, remembering a tune from your childhood. In the stillness of your mind, you'd missed the way the air shifted around you. A breeze that was not there moments ago was now brushing at the ends of your hair like a familiar touch that you’d become unfamiliar with.

Gentle as a breeze, and unbeknownst to you, Aang landed on the other side of the western curve of the balcony that was near the bedroom. He closed his glider, set it to the side, and stepped inside while being as careful and as silent as he could. In truth, it was never very difficult for him. He tended to walk as if his feet hardly ever touched the ground, but he could feel the exhaustion creeping up on him.

It had been a long and grueling journey back home.

Momo finally started to feel well enough to travel so once Aang was able to settle things back at the Earth Kingdom, he knew that it was time to head back. For the first few hours, he had been overly excited. He was coming back home, coming back to you, his sweet little wife, but with the lack of sleep and all of the stress that he had underwent—it was no wonder his footsteps landed on spots in the wood flooring that they normally would not have. They creaked underneath him but he figured that you were probably deep in sleep and wouldn't notice.

When he finally rounded into the bedroom, he discarded all of his damp clothing and slid on a pair of warm loose sleeping pants that he let hang low on his hips. He was fully prepared to slip into bed and cozy up next to you when he noticed that the bed was made as if you hadn't slept yet. It was strangely untouched, almost as if you'd never even acknowledged it at all. Were you not home?

Sporting a small pout, Aang peeked his head into the washroom but was met with the same silence and darkness he'd walked into when he came in.

Softly, he called your name as he moved towards the kitchen area and...nothing. He frowned, but wasn't at the stage of concerned yet. Especially since there was clearly a warm kettle of tea that was left on the warmer. He brushed the back of his hand against it. He was right. You couldn't have made the tea that long ago, so you were close by. He was sure of it.

He was always good at finding you. That was never a problem.

It just helped when he could...cheat a little.

When he stepped into the common area, he circled his fingers through the air, bending the flow of the current to his will so that he could feel for your presence. Since the windows and the balcony doors were open, it was easy for air to travel through the home and wind throughout, being able to cover the entire upper floor before he took his next breath. Suddenly, the torrent of air stopped. His eyes widened, and a warm smile curved at his lips.

There you were.

Before he could walk out to the balcony to you, he heard the sound of paper shuffling to the floor. Curious, he turned and saw what was there. He bent at the knees and with a crease to his forehead, his eyes swept over the pages.

Letters. His letters to you.

Even though he remembered what he had wrote to you, he read over them, ignoring the way his chest flooded with a sinking feeling. They were hard to read, being back home now. He'd missed you, a lot, but didn't want to even imagine how his long and silent absence affected you.

He sighed and dropped his hand, still holding the letters. His eyes traveled over to the hearth that was still aflame, and felt a chill along his naked spine. Maybe he should have rushed the mission. He knew he needed more information on the Denied but was all of it worth it in the end? If you were still up at this late hour and was drinking jujube-ginger tea while rereading all of his letters...

He had been wrong.

He'd told himself that you understood what he needed to do, who he was to the people of the world. You knew he was the Avatar. He had a duty to protect the people and the balance of all nations but more importantly, you.

So did you not understand? Did you pretend to when he first told you that he loved you and wanted to be with you for the rest of his life?

All he wanted was to make sure that the world stayed safe enough for you to live in. It was never like you asked him to take on that responsibility, but he couldn't sleep at night knowing that you were constantly surrounded by danger when he knew that he could do something about it. You deserved what he had to fight for, and that was peace.

But could it really be at the cost of causing you so much pain and unrest?

Suddenly, he was afraid to face you. It felt like judgement day.

Still, no matter what, Aang had to see you. He'd let you cry, scream and hit him if it made you feel better. He just wanted to lay eyes on you. Maybe hold you, if you'd let him. Spirits, he hoped so...

With a firm resolve set in his jaw, he gently placed the letters back on the lowered table and quietly made his way out onto the balcony where you were still chipping away at dead leaves.

Even though you had no bending abilities, you were still able to feel when something...was off. It was like a shift in the air, a turn; a difference. It brushed against your skin like a breath waiting to exhale.

As noticeable as it was, it still didn’t prepare you for what came next.

"You're still awake."

It was as if the world had gone quiet. The rain, the wind chimes, the distant hum of the city below—it all faded into nothing. Even the air in your lungs had abandoned you.

It couldn’t be…

It wasn’t—

But you didn’t turn to look. You didn’t even blink.

Instead, you held your breath and counted down the seconds, hoping that you weren’t having another waking nightmare. Your mind could be terribly cruel that way. It’s enjoyed making you suffer the long and lonely days and nights with your husband gone, tormenting you with memories and phantom touches of his fingers across your skin. It had this peculiar way of creating illusions that it knew you yearned for, if not to silence the thought of losing him.

Aang.

It was him, you knew it. Like the flowers in your palms, this was real; this, you knew. Except, the greater part of you couldn't bring itself to face him.

It was the months of waiting, of spiraling between anger and worry. It took from you until you had nothing left to give.

So, you said nothing.

You resumed snipping at the leaves, and ignored the sharp breath from behind you. By now, he must have realized. How could he not? You'd left things as they were; the bed, the tea, the letters... Oh, the letters. They were the worst. Surely he'd put the pieces together by now. Every fractured part of you was right there in front of him, painfully bare.

Aang had failed to realize the impact of his absence, but he could see it now.

Things were worse than he could've imagined.

After a moment of silence, he took a brave step forward, testing the waters. He let his footsteps create enough sound for you to hear him, but you did not react.

He stepped forward again, and was now close enough to feel your body heat against his own. His eyes assessed what he could see of you. They went from your tensed shoulders to each shallow breath that you took, and down to the rigid way that you were trimming the leaves. His face pulled into a slight frown. He wanted to reach out and touch you, but he wasn't sure how to go about it. You were upset, he could tell, so he wanted to tread as carefully as possible.

But moments like these were handled as they always were.

Aang grinned to himself.

He knew just how to fix this.

He started off by brushing his fingers against your arm, trailing up until they poked against your cheek. Of course, nothing, but he expected as much. He then placed his chin on your shoulder and continued to watch you before sliding his long arms around your waist, holding you against him. Curiosity stirred in his eyes and deep in his chest as he leaned into you, trying to catch your eyes. You were focused, and agonizingly silent.

Aang pouted.

He'd thought that he could fix this the ol' fashioned way.

Guess not.

"Baby... I'm home. I'm here now. C'mon," he closed his eyes for a brief moment, and grazed his lips against your neck. "Talk to me. Please."

He didn't move away, and neither did you. Your mind spiraled as you tried to ignore him. The part of you that was excited to have him back home, safe and sound, had been drowned out by what had lingered after he'd left you in a period of burning silence. You allowed yourself to feel angry, to feel hurt and abandoned because these feelings were coming from a place in your heart where only he occupied.

You didn't love easily. Falling for Aang happened over time. It’d started purely as adoration that eventually turned into something that you knew would ruin you.

It took work to get to where you were with him. He'd spent years pining and yearning after you, courting you with flowers and big gestures that ultimately ended with him proposing to you. You remembered it like it was yesterday. It was beautiful because he had done it privately, just the two of you. That was what made it special.

That was the moment that you'd truly fallen in love with him.

Aang had always been someone that provided you with love, affection, honesty and communication and, maybe, that had turned into your greatest weakness somewhere along the way. You'd fallen so deeply in love with him that a garden of selfishness began to grow. You'd accepted him as the pillar of peace and balance, but that acceptance slowly festered and turned into a nasty thought that wouldn't go away. It wasn't like he could stop being the Avatar. You knew this, but...

You were so selfish. You loved him. You loved a man that was now your husband but still had to give half of himself to a world that would always need him even when you felt you needed him more.

This confliction within you confused you. He needed someone that was willing to be by his side, accept his duties and still love him all the same. You just didn't know how to do that without wanting him all to yourself.

This love for him... It weakened you, and it exposed him. If he decided to choose you over the world one day, what would happen then? Would there even be a world for him to love you in? Would it not go back to the days of chaos and madness? The founding and building of Republic City would be for naught and would fall without his constant influence and protection.

Was it not better this way? To swallow your deepest and darkest feelings lest they come to light and destroy all that you and Aang had built for one another?

A pain twisted in the maze of your heart, settling like a rock in the ocean. Maybe the answer was simple. Maybe it was an answer you knew you wouldn't like.

You paused what you were doing, staring down at the shears clutched in your hand.

When you spoke, you felt his fingers twitch against your stomach.

"Welcome home."

Aang knew he should have been happy. You were talking to him again. However, it was not in the same way that he had become so greedily accustomed to. Your tone was flat, your body was stiff and you still weren't looking at him. His stomach felt twisted in knots. He must've really fucked this up.

The last time you were this upset with him was when he had told you that he was going to the fire nation for a briefing with Zuko and the fire nation council members. There was a border issue that needed addressing and the group behind the incident demanded to speak with the Avatar only. He'd promised you that it was not going to be long before he came back home, and that he would be careful. Except when he did come back home, he was in worst shape than when he'd left. It'd scared you and you told him how the thought of losing him made you feel.

That was the first time, since marrying you, that he'd come to truly realize how deeply and utterly in love he was with you. How it, too, would kill him if anything were to happen to you. It was one of the bigger reasons why he didn't mind being the Avatar. If it meant keeping you safe, then he would choose this path in each and every single lifetime.

Even if it meant having you angry and upset with him more often than not. Much like now, except this...this felt different. He wasn't sure how yet, but it did.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered near your ear, looking at the side of your face like a kicked puppy would. "I mean it. I know I made you worry, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Those words...

It won't happen again.

But, it would, wouldn't it? And you knew why.

When he felt you untangle yourself from his arms and step back from him, he felt his body wash over with sand, pulling him down until it nearly suffocated him from the inside. Rejection sat heavy within him, too heavy for comfort. Then the frown on your face, the hurt in your eyes and the way you looked at him.

Spirits, he truly hated that look.

It made him inhale, feeling his head swell with an emotion that he couldn't quite place.

"Sorry?" You closed your arms around yourself, and shook your head. "No, Aang... You have nothing to apologize for. It's your duty, as the Avatar, to put the people first. The Denied needed to be taken care of. I...understand this now. It's fine. We're fine." Your eyes fell to the city beyond you, watching the rain scatter across shutters and the rocky pathways of the streets. "Just fine."

You could tell that he didn't believe you. Spirits, you didn't believe you. It almost made you cringe, but you tried to school your features to remain as neutral as you were able to.

"I don't believe you."

Your eyebrows twitched.

Aang stepped towards you, fully expecting you to step back again. When you didn't, he released a breath. Relief acted like a sedative to the rejection from a moment ago. Better, he thought.

"If you were fine, if we are fine, then you wouldn't still have that look on your face."

"What are you talking about?" You asked, your eyes finding his again.

The way he was staring at you now, it made you feel so exposed. You never could hide parts of yourself from him. He was very good at seeking them out and making you lay them all out where he could see them, plainly; openly. It unnerved you when you knew he was right to.

When he said your name, it was under his breath and there was a rhythmic tic in his jaw. He looked as if he was trying to keep his composure, but the shiver that ran down your spine could not be ignored. You swallowed, and pushed your teeth into your lip.

"Don't do that."

His tone dropped quietly, familiar in a way that unsettled you more than if he'd raised his voice. It sounded practiced, like something that was said to you during moments where he felt you slipping away from him emotionally, and instinctively reached out to pull you back.

Your breath stumbled over the next.

"Do what?"

His lips pulled into a half smile, his eyes darkening.

"Act like you don't know what I'm talking about. How long have we been doing this now? How many years have we danced this dance?" He took another step forward and you'd only realized, just now, that there was nowhere else to go. The closer he got, the more you had to bend your neck back to look at him. Was he always this broad and imposing?

"I know you," he continued, peering down at you, only a few inches from you now. "I know your ins and your outs. I know what you sound like when you're happy or when you're all sad and angry at me. Or..." He looked over you, finding the gown that you had haphazardly thrown on earlier to be quite...transparent. His smile turned into a smirk. He didn’t need to say it. You knew.

A breeze whirled between the overwhelming heat of your bodies, caressing the front of your gown, prompting your nipples to peak against the thin fabric. It was him; he was always the wind. An unnatural current of air that moved around you, against you. It shouldn't have been possible, but nothing was impossible for him. He knew you knew this. He tended to use that to his advantage, and sometimes it worked.

Another inhale, and you could feel a bit lightheadedness coming over you. Breathing should have made this easier. It did not.

Without knowing it, he was unraveling you, seam by seam. You could feel it.

There was no more fighting it.

"You always do this," you tell him, shaking your head. "You think you can say a few words to turn me on. Touch me a certain way and smile at me, and suddenly things are back to being okay between us. That's not going to work this time, Aang. I'm sorry but its not and maybe, that's how things should be for us."

You moved past him to go inside when you felt his hand close around your wrist, pulling you back. With a stumble, the front of your body collided into his. He searched your eyes for a moment, letting you stand in a pocket of silence before he spoke again.

"And what if I don't want things to be like this between us? I mean, I know I was gone for a while but I'm here, aren't I?"

He thought that he understood you. He thought that he knew you better than you knew yourself but again, he was wrong. How could he not see this part of you? A part of you that had been there, all along. Did he not know you the way that he thought?

“You don’t get it,” you let out a humorless sigh, struggling to process what you were hearing. “I was so worried about you, Aang. Do you know what it’s like to be so far apart from you and to not know whether you’re okay or not? I know you can always take care of yourself but I also know you’re not invincible. You like to make these rash decisions that put you in the most dangerous situations. So, not hearing from you for months and for you to just show up, out of the blue, thinking a bit of humor and soft touches just…fixes things?”

Aang’s hold on you tightened rather than loosening to let you go. It wasn’t like you were fighting him but you grounded him, even when you looked at him like he’d said or done something completely unforgivable.

Well…maybe he did.

In fact, the time that he’d spent not writing to you was time that he took to focus on his mission. He figured that the less time he spent on constantly writing to you and worrying you with every single detail that was going on, the more time that he would have to get what he needed on the Denied. The sooner he could return back home to you. Except…it would seem that no matter what decision he’d made at the time, it would’ve still been the wrong one.

Why couldn’t you see that? Why couldn't you understand that what he'd done, he'd done for you?

“So you’re saying that this is my fault?"

Your eyes widened in the reflection of his whirling grey ones, feeling your skin prickle as gooseflesh settled over it. The air around you whistled through the tension between you and him as if it was preparing for its final curtain call.

The ridiculousness of his question froze you.

Even the way that he was looking at you. Gone was the boyish gleam in his eyes and the soft touch of his arms around you. In its place were hardened eyes and rigidness in the palms of his hands. He did not release you nor did you look away.

“You say that like it’s a question.”

“Yeah, because it is.”

Your eyebrows furrowed with the hitch in your chest.

Breathing had never felt so agonizing.

“I don’t understand–”

“Yeah. I know. Me neither."

Finally, his arms dropped back to his sides and when he pulled away from you, it should’ve brought you a sense of relief. It did not. It only made you feel colder than you already were.

Calling him the Avatar…

You’d never done that before. In fact, he held nothing but memories of you seeing him as just your husband. He found that he didn’t like it. Not when it came from you, someone he loved more than anyone in the entire world and was comforted by knowing that when he came home, he could just be himself. Just Aang, without the weight of the world sitting heavy on his shoulders as the Avatar.

Aang sighed, and turned to face the railing of the balcony, eyes hard-set on the night covered city. His hands rested on the wood, gripping it until the whites of his knuckles pressed taut against his skin.

“Out there, I am suffocated by the world and its expectations for me. I know I’m not like other people. I have a duty, a responsibility to all of the nations to be this symbol of peace and be a protector of it but sometimes… Sometimes I regret ever being found in that iceberg.”

Despite the frantic thoughts that consumed you and screamed at you to say something, you forced it all back and chose to remain silent.

The lantern light stretched across his back, illuminating the tension coiled through his shoulders. The smooth but ripped skin moved against tendon as he let his head drop, and closed his eyes to let his body expel some of the tension that hid between the grooves of his shoulders and spine.

“I am tired, my love. So very tired and I have not even fulfilled half of what is expected of me.”

Finally you felt the pull to willingly move towards him, but your feet stayed planted where they were. He looked as worn down as he'd sounded. His slouched form, the bags underneath his eyes and the weight of responsibility that still sat on his shoulders. It almost made you feel bad for how you were acting. Almost.

“Aang,” his head turned to your direction but he did not look at you. It was enough. “I know the duty, as the bridge of both worlds, comes with a lot of weight." He winced, knowing what you really wanted to say. "I know that most days, you just want to spend them looking for more airbender relics at the air temples, but you have to think about the people. The world. They need you–”

“Why do you sound like Katara?”

You stopped, and blinked.

“What?”

Aang let out a heavier sigh this time, then fully turned back around to you, his dark brows knitted together.

“You sound just like her. I mean, what’s next? You’re going to tell me that I’m the Avatar? You don’t think I know that by now?” He asked you, gesturing a hand across the length of his body to point out the obvious. There was a new fire stirring in his eyes now, something you didn’t often see. He looked like he, too, was unraveling. “And what’s up with you calling me that anyway? Avatar. You never see me as just that so what’s changed? Is my absence the reason?”

He was talking too fast, saying too much. You couldn’t keep up.

He clenched a hand around the railing behind him, if only to steady himself. There was a storm brewing in those grey eyes of his. Fires that looked like it would take more power than you had to put out.

Maybe it had something to do with the way he was getting all defensive that made you finally snap back.

“Don’t pull that shit with me, Aang.”

Your chest heaved with each passing word, feeling the sting behind your nose and eyes. You didn’t want to get all emotional, but fuck it.

“You’re a hypocrite. You’re a fucking hypocrite and I’m sick of it. I know the things that you think but won’t say. At least, not to my face. How selfish I am with you. How I don’t care enough about the people, the cause. How I’m not supportive enough of you. Now I give you just that and what? Suddenly I’m a different person? That's bullshit, and you know it.”

For a moment, Aang allowed you to fill up the space with your anger instead of his. He practiced great strength in his patience and a certain level of understanding when it came to you. Usually, it was why things stayed good between the two of you. Naturally, there were differences. That came with the territory of being different people from different backgrounds.

Even so, he hated when things got like this between you and him.

“Don’t talk like that with me,” his tone was stern and curt, but still had that brush of calm that you tended to love about him. Except, this time, it was like the flood gates had opened. You couldn’t stop, even if you truly wanted to.

“I’ll talk to you however I want. You don’t own me, Aang.”

When you stepped closer to him, it was like you could physically see the way he was trying to hold himself back from reacting. His knuckles went white again and the dip in his brows deepened.

“This entire marriage with you has been so confusing. It’s been full of emotions that I never knew I had to prepare myself for. Had I known…” Your eyes fell away from his. “Maybe I would’ve… maybe I wouldn’t have…”

Before you could even think about how to finish that sentence, Aang was on you. One hand flew to your jaw, curling a few fingers under your chin to pull your gaze back onto his while the other hand tugged at your hip, pulling you against him.

Once again, you were suffocating in the aroma of everything that made Aang who he was to you. The scents were comforting, but it did nothing to thaw the ice corroding your heart now that you were forced to look at him.

Aang towered over you with ease, his back slightly curved and his wide yet still darkened eyes never left yours. He should’ve backed down. He should’ve let you speak, but knowing what you were about to say… It would’ve broken him into a million pieces. He would have much rather died than hear anything like that come from you. Easily.

“What is this, this fight in you? Where is this coming from? You’ve never been this angry with me. Have I really been gone that long?”

Your face twisted like there was something foul on your tongue.

“Why do you still not understand? This isn’t about the stupid mission–”

“Okay, then tell me.”

He searched your eyes again, frantically, hoping that he would find his answer there. No matter what, it was as if you'd closed him off. Not even through your eyes could he see what you were thinking. Another pang in his chest.

Your vision of him began to blur. When did you start crying?

“I think…I think I lo…” It felt like a rock was lodged in your throat. You swallowed what you could down, and breathed. "I think I love you too much, Aang, and that’s the problem. Katara was trying to tell me–”

“I knew it.” His face fell into a hard line, if that was even possible.

You sighed, shaking your head in his hold. “No, she was trying to help me–”

“Help ruin this marriage? Yeah, I’m sure she was just trying to help.”

With that, he started to pull away. This time, you were the one to pull him back.

“When did you start villainizing her?”

Aang glanced at you before dropping his eyes to the floor. The flex in his jaw was fluctuating now, as if it was trying to weigh what was morally right and what was wrong. Usually, he could keep a handle on his thoughts before speaking. It was easier that way because it kept him from saying something he knew he would regret.

If only he'd done that now.

“Since she started meddling in our marriage.” He peeked back at you from the corner of his eyes, frowning again. “Filling your little head up with crazy ideas and these…” He shook his head. “All of these misconceptions.” He looked away again, finding a new outlet for his anger and confusion. “I knew she wasn’t over it. I just had a feeling.”

At the mention of old wounds, you gripped at his arm, not realizing how your nails dug into his skin. He was too deep in his own thoughts to even notice.

“Are you serious?” At that, he met your eyes again and saw how he had made things worse for himself. “She’s your friend. How could you say that about her? And she’s engaged, for spirits’ sake!” His eyes flinched at your tone, feeling his heart drop. “Or did you forget that too?”

Aang knew he always had this way about him. How he tended to stuff his foot in his mouth, and didn’t realize it was there until it was too late to take it out. He’d messed up. Being gone without reaching back out to you in those few months was now the very least of his worries.

You let him go and ran a hand over your face, trying to reel your emotions back in before you also said something that you knew you would regret.

“Maybe we should head inside, and get to bed. It’s late. You just got home. I don’t want to fight any more than we already have.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Forget it,” you waved it off, letting out another sigh before you turned your back to him. “I’m tired. I just want to sleep.”

Aang’s shoulders deflated. All of the anger that he’d felt moments ago had dissipated into thin air. His body felt numb with too many emotions to place but the one that he couldn’t ignore was knowing that he had hurt you more than he ever had.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He was meant to surprise you, pull you into his arms and kiss you until sleep took over. He never wanted to fight with you, but this was worse than a fight wasn’t it?

Was the marriage itself on its last and final thread? How could he fix things from here or was it too late?

He should’ve let you walk through those doors. He should’ve let you retire for the night. He’d caused you enough hurt, it was understandable, but Aang started to realize another thing about himself.

He found it hard to watch you walk away from him.

As soon as you started to walk away, you heard a low thump. Worried that Aang had jetted off for the night, possibly off to sleep somewhere that wasn’t right next to you, your body swiveled around with your lips prepared to call out for him when you saw it. Saw him.

Your eyes lowered.

His knees were pressed into the floor, his head hung low and his hands were loosely balled into fists on his thighs. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. He looked defeated, like there was nothing else he could say to fix this between you and him.

So, he figured that the next best thing was to beg.

“Baby… Forgive me… I was out of line. Way out of line.”

His voice was so low, it was almost hard to hear him. You stood standing where you were, your arms by your side. You felt your heart melt in the worst way. He’d never done this before. Well, not in this sort of situation, at least. A man as powerful as him had decided that it was best to meet you on his knees rather than let his bruised ego get in the way.

All you could see was the dark blue arrow that led to his forehead. From his raspy tone, being on his knees and knowing that he was silently giving you back your power—it stirred something inappropriate between your thighs.

Inappropriate because was this really the time for this?

“I’m an asshole. I know that, and I haven’t been all that fair to you. I know that, too. As my wife, you understand what it means to stand by my side through the toughest of times and I love you for that but I have not really seen it through your eyes. I know it’s hard being the Avatar’s wife.”

He sighed to himself.

“Not to mention the fact that I kept telling myself that if I stayed focused on the mission, I’d get home faster. I'll admit, it was the wrong call and I realize that now. I stayed gone for months, and you got nothing. I…I understand how you felt.”

You sucked in a slow breath, and held it as you let him continue to speak.

“You want to be selfish but because you’re so kind, you feel guilty for it. Maybe…maybe Katara was right,” you watched the way his hands tightened back into fists. “You don’t know this but she’d once told me that I was holding you back. That you would be freer if I stopped being so selfish by keeping you here. She thought of you as a caged bird and I’ll be honest,” he let out a humorless laugh. “That broke me.”

And it broke something within you.

Katara never acted nor spoke as if she saw your marriage in such a way. She was the most honest person that you knew. Why would she say something like that?

“Aang,” you interrupted, unable to keep yourself from asking. “When was this?”

His eyes looked off to the side, the moonlight catching them in its cool light, bringing out a gleam similar to that of a moonstone.

“After our last fight.”

Ah. So that was it. The fight after he had returned from that mission at the border in the fire nation. Sure, the argument was bad but you never thought it was that bad.

“So you went to her.”

It wasn’t a question. It was just an observation.

Aang’s head shot up to look at you. He looked ready to get back on his feet and crowd you again, but held himself back. His breath hitched.

“Yes. I did, but only because she’s your closest friend here. I wanted to know if I was truly in the wrong and if so, how to fix it.”

The abrupt silence carried with the wind, allowing you the opportunity to think. It wasn’t worth getting upset over, especially when it was a thing of the past. Plus, Katara was close to everyone. She was Aang’s confidant before you. It made sense that they stayed close enough to still confide in one another so that wasn’t the issue. Well, if there was one to harbor on.

Katara was also nothing but supportive of you and Aang. She was there when you two met, when you started to gain feelings for each other, when you started courting and finally, at your marriage ceremony. It sounded like she had been trying to look out for you and your wellbeing. Though, it wasn't exactly necessary considering you were more than happy with Aang and all of his shenanigans.

Maybe a conversation with her was in order...

Be that as it may, you didn’t care about any of that. You only cared about you and him. That was it. Nothing else mattered.

Slowly, you made your way over to him. When you bent down, you grabbed one of his hands and pulled him back up. When he towered over you again with that softened yet hopeful look in his big grey eyes, you took the chance to pinch one of his big ears.

“Ow!” He instantly pouted, and held a hand to his injured ear. “What was that for?”

There it was. That expression on his face that always did make him look several years younger. He grumbled under his breath, trying to massage away the temporary pain while you let out a snort that easily turned into a laugh. He stopped, and looked at you.

Your laugh was like several bells to his ears. Or, ear. The other one was still throbbing so not much was going through that one but it made his heart jump all the same.

When you’d noticed the familiar light back in his eyes, you felt your own sting with tears again.

“I’m not a caged bird, Aang, and you’re not holding me back. At all. I’m here and with you in this marriage because I want to be. I saw a lifetime with you, and I still do. Yes, it hurts when you have to leave for long periods of time. It hurts when you don’t write for months and leave me waiting and thinking the worst. And yet, I’m still here.”

You raised a hand to his face, sliding a gentle thumb across the apple of his cheek, melting at the realization that you could survive this. That the only reason you’d fought with him was because you never allowed yourself to feel how you felt. It wasn’t going anywhere. You still wanted him to yourself but, at the same time, you were capable of sharing him with the world. You’d realized that there was room within you to do both and in a very healthy way.

He didn’t say anything. He let you continue.

A smile made its way to your lips.

“Maybe I can…travel with you? I know you’ve always said it’s too dangerous and that you don’t want to risk anything happening to me but you know I can fight. I can hold my own. I won’t get in the way. That way I can be right next to you and not a thousand miles away. I want adventure with you, Aang. I want to be with you and never be apart unless–”

For the first time in months, when his lips descended onto yours, you could feel yourself breathe. It was as if he’d given you life and built a new way to inhale, knowing that he was there and always would be. It was what your body had been craving. So, you let yourself finally let go of all the hurt and the pain that came with missing your husband and melted into his touch.

There was nothing more that needed to be said between you and him. Aang understood you completely now. You loved him and with that came the longing of wanting to be by his side more than be in a home that would never be able to replace him.

He could do that. He could take you with him wherever he went because no matter what, he would keep you safe. That had been his only fear and reason why he never wanted to take you with him. But, you were not some helpless damsel that constantly needed protecting. He’d forgotten how well you could take care of yourself too.

For a brief second, he pulled back and looked into your eyes, finding nothing but pure love and devotion staring back at him.

He hummed, and pressed his forehead to yours.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I will never leave you alone again. You go where I go and if I have to leave you back here at home, I promise to write to you every single day. If I slip up, I give you full permission to yell and scream at me as much as you want, yeah?”

A giggle bubbled up as you shook your head, “you are going to be the death of me, you know that?”

Aang released a drawn out whine, and traveled his hands down your sides to your hips. He gripped your waist, giving you a look that said more than what he’d said next,

“In more ways than one.”

He reclaimed your lips, pushing his tongue past the softness of yours the moment you tried to say his name. It fell into a whisper and the wind took it, secretly manipulated by him bending the air around you, pulling you closer until it felt like you were molding into one. This is what he would spend his long nights dreaming of. Being able to hold you, to feel you, to kiss you. To hear your sighs, to feel your smile against his lips and to know that with you, he was whole again. To know that he was not alone, and could be no one but himself.

“Aang…not here,” you mumbled, feeling him spread kisses from the corner of your mouth to your cheek.

You felt a rumble in his chest, finding a faint smirk on his face.

“You sure? I think anyone would feel honoured to watch how the Avatar fucks his pretty little wife. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Your body shivered at the feeling of his fingers drawing your gown up from your thighs, moving around enough so that he'd grazed the lower end of your spine. His lips were on your neck now, suckling and kissing, knowing how easily you bruised. He’d leave as many as possible, just enough to make them hard to fully cover.

Perhaps he had a point. The thought of letting him take you here, on the balcony where anyone might come out on their own in the middle of the night and see the two of you, caused a bigger ache between your thighs than you wanted. Or maybe not having his hands on you for the past few months just made you too desperate to say no to any of his outlandish ideas.

Except, he knew that you knew that was not true.

When you felt him playfully bite at your shoulder, you squealed and pushed at his chest with widened eyes.

“Did you just…bite me?”

Aang said nothing at first. He merely grinned like some rebellious teenager, raising an eyebrow.

“What? Didn’t like it? Where’s all that fight from earlier, huh?”

He reached out and curled a finger around a strand of your hair. He licked his lips, observing the way your breath quickened. It would seem that you were just as needy and as desperate as him. And spirits, if that didn’t turn him on in the worst way.

His hand dropped to your collarbone, sliding his fingers down until they met the edge of your gown that dipped in the front. Slowly, he tugged until he could see more of your cleavage and almost groaned. You made him feel so depraved. Like a rabid, starving man eager to devour. Only you could make him this way. Turn and corrupt him into wanting you more than he’d ever wanted anything else in his life. Nothing could come close to being with you. Simply being near you, in your presence, made him want to be on his knees, serving you in every way imaginable.

You didn’t have to look. You could feel his knuckles skim the side of your breast, your body reacting almost instantly. His throat dried at the sight of your nipple peaking, almost like it was reaching out to him, begging him to touch.

“Aang…”

Your voice was like honey to his ears, so deliciously sinful. It nearly took the power of his past lives to get him to look at you without ripping your flimsy little gown off and taking you against the railing.

“Where?” he asked you, his voice low and broken, barely trusting himself to say much. Else, he feared he would growl at his weakening restraint. “You said not here, so where?”

Aang prayed to whoever was listening that you wouldn’t say the bedroom. He knew himself. He could feel it. The savage within him wouldn’t let him let you make it that far. It had to be somewhere close but comfortable for you because if it was left up to him, he would have you up against the nearest wall and fuck you that way. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger, just let him do all of the work.

His cock stirred.

Restraint.

Before he let his hand drop back down, you grabbed it and smiled.

“Come.”

And he almost did...until he realized that you’d meant for him to follow you instead.

Yeah, well. He could do that too.

Watching you turn and slowly pull him back inside, his eyes glued to the dip in your hips and the arch of your back, made him fully aware of just how much he could actually see through your gown. How it clung to you like a second skin, and moved with the gentle cadence of your steps. Especially when you passed through the warm glow of a few lit candles on the way in. Had those been lit before?

Truthfully, as much as he loved your body, it was how you'd reached for him as if you didn't need to think twice. As if it was your way of telling him that he had nothing left to fear. That you were silently choosing him all over again. It gave him the confirmation that he needed. That he hadn't failed you or this marriage.

That thought brought a certain warmth and haziness to his eyes. It was all he wanted. He hated fighting with you, but he’d misunderstood your feelings. You were only trying to convey that you'd missed him. He just didn't realize how much.

The moment you were about to cross the hearth, he grabbed you by the waist and captured your lips, groaning right into your opened mouth. He didn’t want to think about any of that right now. If anything, he used the long wait of seeing you as his pillar and reason.

He had to have you. There was no waiting to get to the bedroom. He'd waited long enough.

It felt like he was everywhere. The way his tongue brushed against yours, the feel of his hands digging into your waist and how you had to stand on your toes just to stay connected. Your hands moved over the strong ridges of his abdomen and up to his chest, sighing against his lips.

The love that you felt for him went beyond the limitations of the heart. Everything in you, even down to your spirit, knew that Aang was always going to be the one. The only one that could make you laugh, cry and love, all in the same breath.

He was simply and utterly perfection personified.

The kiss deepened, and you could feel it. You could feel the desperation, the longing that had taken place in your absence. How, not being near you, affected him just as much as you. He moved against you like wind brushing over water. Fluidly, purposefully, tracing his fingers up and down your spine to the base where they could spread over the round of your ass.

"Fuck,” he swore under his breath. His rough, raspy voice against your lips almost made you collapse.

He kissed from the corner of your lips to your jaw, down to your neck where he resumed leaving behind a few marks. He didn't want to hurt you but the thought of leaving darkened spots across your pretty skin spoke to him in a way that it shouldn't have. He imagined you failing to fully cover them and someone noticing. Would they be horrified? Concerned?

He smiled to himself.

He couldn’t wait.

Oh, and the noises, the sounds that you were making...

Truth be told, you were going to be the one to kill him in the end. And if this was to be his fate, then he gladly welcomed it with open arms.

"Aang, please," you pleaded, almost pushing him over the edge.

Still, he always did like how pretty you begged.

"Please what?" he asked you, still nipping and sucking at your neck, one of his hands moving to the front of your gown. His knuckles brushed just above the heat between your thighs, sending a chill through your body.

You gasped, and buried your face into his chest, hearing how steady his heartbeat was. He seemed calm, despite how he was making you feel. You just had no idea how close to breaking he actually was.

Months of being without him made your body miss him in ways you didn’t think were possible. It was sensitive to every touch and every breath, keening at the attention it craved for. It made you want to let go and completely fall apart in his arms.

“Touch me,” you breathed and as pathetic as it may have sounded, it didn’t stop you. “Need you touch me.”

“I am touching you, sweet girl,” he said into your skin, smiling softly, eyes closed. “What, you want more?” He felt you nod, and hummed to himself. “My greedy, greedy wife.”

When his lips found yours again, everything around you faded and blurred away into the background. It was easy to get lost in him, in all that he was. With you, in this moment, he was no longer the Avatar. He wasn’t the dependable friend nor was he the savior of Republic City; of the entire world. With you, he had no responsibilities. No one and nothing. He was just your husband, your Aang.

He didn’t rush. He took his time with you, reaching to cup your face and mold himself to you. He felt you quiver, whine and hold him like you would’ve fallen to pieces if not. He kissed you until you felt your head spin. Until he made you feel like you were somewhere else and not in a world where you had to share him. Until you felt your knees touch the soft rug in front of the hearth, and Aang hovering on top of you, his tattooed hands next to your head. Even the sound of the rain waned until there was nothing but the sound of his breath chasing after yours.

With you flat on your back now, Aang could really get a good look at you. Your cheeks were warm, and your lips were kiss-swollen. Part of your gown had slipped down, revealing your skin shimmering with a glow that made his heart squeeze. The mark on your neck was blooming steadily. You wore it beautifully, the gleam in your eyes telling him that you were proud of it even. His chest ached with so much love and warmth, he could hardly contain it.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.”

It was true. He’d met plenty of women, but none held a candle to you. They weren’t worthy comparisons in the slightest. Sure, they held their own unique beauty but you were above that. Everywhere you went, you had a luminescent light about you that made you look so angelic. You also loved with the entirety of your heart, giving away bits of you without caring about what was left. You loved and cared openly, without regard. That made you different, special.

He felt like the luckiest man in the entire fucking world.

As he looked you over, his eyes landed on the jewelry around your neck. He traced a finger along the necklace at your throat. He’d made it for you a while ago; smooth mountain bone carved with an Air Nomad wind swirl, reclaimed glider wood fitted beneath it and tiny bronze pieces. It was meant to mimic the prayer chimes you’d found in the air temple long ago.

Simple, invaluable and perfect, like you. It was also meant to remind you that he would always be with you, even if he couldn’t physically be there. He knew it was not to replace him. Only to keep you company when you felt at your lowest and missed him.

As he stared down at it, he pictured you holding it at random points of the day and crying into it at night. He wondered if you ever took it off even though you’d sworn to him that you never would.

You couldn’t help but catch the distant look in his eyes as he fiddled with the necklace.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked in a soft tone, a hand of yours coming up to brush over the corded bracelet you’d made for him that was wrapped around his wrist.

Pieces of both of you given to each other during the wedding ceremony so many moons ago. While his gift felt like it’d held much more meaning, yours was done through several long and frustrating days. You’d weaved and corded it yourself, despite Katara’s several attempts to help. As much as you could’ve used it, you wanted your gift to be handmade. It felt more special that way but there was nothing truly significant about it.

It was plain cord in a tightly woven fashion. At the time, it felt right because Aang was very simplistic and held no interest over materialistic things. As an air nomad, he was taught not to place value on wealth, extravagance and certain possessions. Thankfully, he didn’t reject your gift but looking at it in the same light that he was looking at his…

“Have you taken this off since I’ve been gone?”

Your eyes widened a bit. “No. Why?”

Aang swallowed, and licked his dry lips.

“Not even once? Not even when I failed to write or you thought that I was never coming back?”

The only reason you’d noticed that his eyes were back on you was because you were already staring at him.

You held eye contact and said, “No. Not even then. Not even when I cursed your name and cried some nights. I held onto it knowing that you would return because you always do.”

The level of faith and adoration that you had in him did something to him that he wouldn’t dare voice out loud. He knew this love for you would be his ruin. It was becoming unhealthy and maddening.

If you loved him, he loved you more. If you put him on some sort of pedestal, then you were the center of his universe and reason for existing. He’d went from believing that his purpose was to the people, to the world as their Avatar. That is, until he met you.

Since then, each breath that he took was for you.

Without you, he was nothing. A ghost walking the earth in service of others, but not living. No, not how he lives for you.

You are the deity in his eyes. The goddess that he prays to on nights that he can spend on his knees, worshipping you from between your thighs. You are his greatest gift, and the greatest weapon to his own destruction. And yet, he did this. He created this. He’d given you all of the power needed to end him because what was a greater tragedy than dying at the hands of someone he loved more than life itself?

“Aang…” your voice brought him back, feeling your hand against his cheek. Subconsciously, he leaned into your warmth and closed his eyes.

You’d always known what his love for you meant and where it came from. Despite the fact that it had happened over a decade ago, Aang was clearly not healed from the tragedy of losing his people. He’d spent years trying to accept it and move on, but you knew the worst of it. It showed through the restless nights full of nightmares, how protective he was of you and how he loved you.

It didn’t concern you the way it did Katara because you understood and accepted that it would always be a part of him. Granted, you didn’t want him to fall into darker places. Yet, instead, you did your best to gently guide him back. If not to remind him that you were not his only reason to live. You reminded him that he needed to come first before you, always.

“You love me so much, I know you do, but don’t let it blind you from what truly matters which is you. I ground you, yes, but you are the epitome of balance within yourself. When you fight, fight for you the way you fight for me. And when you love, love you the way you love me.”

Aang listened because you were right. It was so easy to fall into that place that he held special, just for you. If he let himself think too deeply about where this attachment to you started, he could almost feel the edges of his mind begin to close in on itself. Except, that was where you came in. You quieted the loud thoughts and the burning feeling in his chest that echoed all that he’d lost.

You kept him sane, but he needed to remember that he existed not just for you and the people but for himself too. That he could love you and love himself just as much, at the same time.

“I’ll be better, I promise.”

He turned his head, and placed a kiss to your palm. Another, then another until he held your hand in his, spreading kisses to your wrist before you found him hovering back over you. The way the fire from the hearth danced within the moonstones of his eyes, making them darker than they normally were, it made your stomach curl in want.

“Better,” you breathed and wet your lips, ignoring the way his gaze followed the tip of your tongue. “The way you say that, it’s almost as if—”

“It’s for me, but if I don’t live at least half of my life for you then I don’t know if I could at all.”

Aang parted your thighs with his knee, dropping his eyes down to your chest. He watched as it moved with each passing breath, feeling his mouth water at the sight.

“Earlier…” he started as he leaned down to mouth at your collarbone. “–you told me to touch you. Tell me where.”

He slotted his lengthy body right between your legs, holding himself up to not crush you under his weight but just enough to keep you from feeling how hard he’d been for the past several minutes. Not like he could hide it but the semi dark atmosphere was working a bit in his favor.

His lips moved to your sternum, and ghosted over a nipple. It reacted like he’d hoped it would, reaching out for him again.

Not hearing anything, he glanced up at you and purred against the softness of your breast.

“Can’t touch you if I don’t know where to start, pretty.”

“Aang,” you almost reprimanded, frowning down at him. He figured that you were meant to look a bit more menacing than you did, and it almost made him laugh. You were so cute.

He used the tip of his tongue to swipe up against your nipple. It was warm, warmer than normal and you knew exactly why. It caused you to gasp sharply and wail out his name again, but in a higher pitch. He chuckled.

“You’re not saying anything so I’m going to assume that you’re ready to turn it in for the nigh—”

“Oh, don’t you dare.”

The look you gave him now could’ve stoked the flames next to him. That is, if you were a fire bender. Still, you were a woman of many talents. Talents that he was eager to exploit.

“Then…?” he asked, moving down until his chest met the lower half of your stomach, chin placed perfectly between your breasts. His eyes glimmered with a sudden innocence, nothing like how they were before, and his lips were poked out into a pout.

Your eye almost twitched.

What a little performer.

“I’ve waited months for this, Aang. Just touch me. I don’t care how. Or I’ll just do it without you. Maybe I'll even have you watch this time.”

If nothing else, that got his attention.

Aang’s face paled and fell into a hard line. Before you could protest, your gown was torn into jagged lines, right down the front. It laid in tatters around you, torn apart and utterly unsalvageable. He didn’t meet your widened eyes or the shocked look on your face at all.

Instead, he cupped his hand around one of your breast and closed his mouth over the eager nipple. You let out a long moan, letting your head fall back against the rug underneath you. As if everything about him wasn’t big enough, his tongue covered all that it needed to, not missing a spot.

His throaty sounds of approval made your head spin, yet again, feeling your legs twitch with the urge to close. Except, he was positioned perfectly in between them, keeping them wide open.

When he’d switched to the second bud and used his fingers to tweak and pull at the other, you could’ve cried. Your body didn’t know how to react. It’d been so long, way too long since it felt the touch of another that wasn’t yours. It knew him. It knew his touch like a familiar feeling embedded inside, coded by his hand. Pitifully sensitive and so reactive.

And Aang loved it.

Making you feel good felt like it was a part of his dna. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

Once he’d heard the mutterings of you telling him that you wanted more, he moved further south until he was met with your bare cunt.

He placed a palm just above it and used his thumb to raise as much of you as he could, staring directly at your clit now. It looked terribly swollen and shiny with your own arousal. He felt himself twitch in his pants.

Spirits, if you weren’t going to send him straight to the spirit world early.

He heard you mewl and saw your hips move up, using your body to beg for more this time. He smirked to himself before looking up at you. Like he figured, you refused to look back. Instead, you covered your face with your hands, mumbling about how he should stop staring and get on with it.

“Tell me, have you touched yourself since I’ve been gone?”

When you peeked back down at him, his eyes were back at your clit, massaging around it. He was still refusing to fully touch you, and it started to annoy you.

“Why does that matter? You’re here now. You can touch me—”

“Yeah, but…” Aang stopped what he was doing completely, and maneuvered his arms under your thighs to place your legs on his shoulders. Then, he kissed at the insides of your thighs, smiling into your skin. “Humor me. I wanna know.”

Looking down and watching him give attention to all but where you needed it most made you inwardly sigh. Humor him, he’d said. Fine.

“I did.”

He glanced up at you, clearly amused.

“When.”

“…that night. The same day that you left for the mission.”

A pause. A very long pause, in fact.

“Spirits,” he groaned out your name into your skin, grounding himself with a deep breath. “You’re going to kill me.”

Your clit throbbed.

“Why?”

He took a few seconds to respond, and it was not what you were expecting him to say.

“Because I did too.”

He could practically feel your eyes burning a hole through him, silently wanting him to further explain.

He trailed his lips down your inner thigh until you felt his warm breath just above your weeping cunt.

“After traveling for hours, I stopped at a point and made camp. Leaving you was hard,” he closed his eyes for a moment, reliving the memory. “It’s always the hardest thing I do so, of course, I started to miss you. I didn’t want to trust my dreams to give me what I wanted so I took it instead.”

The way he said that made your legs twitch, and your throat dry.

“When Appa and Momo finally fell asleep, I took a walk. Just to clear my head, you know? Walks usually help me sleep better. Though…” he sighed. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Thoughts of missing you turned into missing your voice, what you were doing, what you were wearing…or not wearing.”

Your breath quickened, knowing exactly where this was going. The mental image that your mind began to paint nearly lit your body on fire.

“I stopped at a tree and just…” he opened his eyes, and saw how hazy yours was. The greys of his darkened considerably. “Well. I’m sure you can imagine what happened next.”

The thought of him getting desperate enough to just…do that in the middle of wherever he was while thinking about you around the same time that you were touching yourself thinking about him…

You couldn’t bare another moment of talking about the past. He was here, seconds away from eating you out. You refused to use that time talking about what was when it could be what is.

“Aang, please stop talking. Touch me or I’m actually going to lose my mind.”

He stopped giving you thigh kisses, his eyes finding yours again, letting his lips curve up into another smirk.

“Yes ma’am,” and focused all of his attention exactly where you needed him the moment he’d laid you down and got into position.

As soon as he covered your clit with his mouth, your back arched and you let out a moan that made him groan right against you. He’d thought about this more times than he could count. Shameless thoughts of him pleasuring you, just like this, and pulling the prettiest sounds from you. Night after night, he laid awake, watching it play over and over. As the days turned into weeks, it only got worse. You made it hard to focus on anything else.

Much like now.

Your fingers plunged into the rug, holding it like it was anchoring you. It was overstimulating. The feel of a hot, slick pressure between your thighs, pressing along your clit, lazily dipping between your sticky folds, parting them for better access. Euphoria, pure bliss rushed through you, coaxing a broken moan that barely made it past your lips when you felt his tongue snake along the slit of your cunt.

"Ah, Aang!"

And the sounds, the slurping and the groaning... He was definitely doing it on purpose. What a little shit.

His name falling from your lips made him grin to himself as he suctioned his lips back around your throbbing clit. He knew that you could come from just this, but he wanted to take it a step further.

Aang let one of your thighs rest completely on his shoulder and traveled his fingers down to your slippery, twitching hole. He teased them up and down, hearing you beg and plead, before pushing a digit inside. His middle finger curled, earning a gasp from you. He hummed into the mess of you, instinctively aware of how to navigate through the warm tightness of your cunt. He'd done this several times, but it always felt like the first. Always felt like a starved-man, unable to get enough of you.

And fuck, if you didn’t taste like the sweetest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of eating.

You wailed and cried out for him, wanting more but not sure what more you could want when it felt like he was giving you too much.

He lapped at you with his tongue and sucked, alternating, as he added another finger. Except, this time he made sure both were warm where you would feel it, just like you'd felt the unnatural heat of his tongue moments ago.

Your body was well on the edge, feeling his pace quicken. He didn't stop, not even when you started to beg all pretty. Once he found that spongey spot inside of you, he aimed for it with each thrust of his fingers and fed on your swollen clit until he could hear your breath hitch and your moans get higher in pitch.

He nodded against you, groaning, "Like that, baby. Doin' so good for me."

"Aang!" you cried out again. "I can't!" he continued as he guided you through it.

"You can, love. You're so close," He said in a husky tone, brows furrowed, and still nose deep in you. "Let me feel it. Let me hear it. Please."

And that was all that it took.

He heard your breath stutter, and felt your walls tighten and flutter around his fingers before the squelching sounds turned into a steady drip of arousal. You'd practically coated his entire hand in it, leaving behind a wet, creamy mess. Your hips jerked, thighs quivering, nearly trapping his head there until you inhaled and exhaled.

For a moment, you didn't move and neither did he. As he cleaned you up with his tongue, you twitched but didn't say a word. You just stared up at the ceiling, your skin clad with sweat and warm with heat from the hearth. The thought of doing this and more here in front of the crackling flame no longer felt like a good idea. It felt like your body was on fire as it came down from its high. There was no way you were going to be able to focus if you didn't move elsewhere.

"Aang..." You called out for him, trying to use your fingers to get his attention. They brushed over his cheekbone then to his jaw. When you looked down, he was just coming up. A smile broke out across your face, your own cheeks warming and not from the heat of the fire. "You are so messy."

He chuckled, and rose to half of his height, settling himself properly between your legs again. He smoothed his hands down your thighs and held your gaze.

"So are you."

And well, he wasn’t wrong. You could feel a warm breeze glide between you and him, making you groan and rest your head back on the rug. From the stickiness, the heat and the way Aang continued to stroke and grip at your legs only made you want more. You’d already admitted to him how selfish you were. Why not raise the bar a bit more?

“Let’s move to the bed. I’m hot and this rug isn’t as comfortable as I was hoping it would be,” you mumbled, letting him tug you up until you were nearly face to face. He was so tall, even on his knees he was still looking down at you. Infuriating, but a turn on nonetheless.

Aang stood up first, and reached out for you to take his hands. You did but you looked down and back up at him.

“Carry me?”

He smiled, and tilted his head.

“Why? Can’t stand on your own?”

Normally, he would’ve just done what you asked but he couldn’t help but tease you. You made it too easy.

Your face fell into a scowl, playfully rolling your eyes.

“Fine. I’ll walk then.”

He hummed. “Poor thing. C’mere.” He bent down and like he would with a child, picked you up from under your arms and held you against him, feeling your arms secure themselves around his neck. Once he’d made sure your legs were also secured around his waist, he kissed your cheek and started walking towards the bedroom. “Such a baby.”

You half-smiled to yourself, looking elsewhere.

“Yeah, your baby.”

“Mhm.”

With Aang’s long legs, it didn’t take him but a few long strides to reach the room. Instead of putting you down, he turned and sat on the edge of the bed, still keeping your legs locked around his waist. Straddling him now, he dropped his arms from your hips and leaned back on his hands, eyeing you down. The intensity in his eyes made your arms loosen but not drop completely. Just lax, staring at him back.

“What?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just continued to look at you. Now that he’d had you fully naked and could see every part of you clearly, there was nothing keeping him from ogling you. Beautiful from head to toe. He just didn’t deserve you. He truly didn’t. And yet, you were made for him. You fit perfectly, in every way of the word.

He was just so happy that you’d chosen him to spend the rest of your life with. It wasn’t because he was the Avatar. No, you’d fallen in love with him as Aang, and that made his heart melt. Even to this day. He just couldn’t imagine what his life would’ve been like without you in it.

Just so completely over the moon in love with you.

You brought him back by trailing your fingers across his face, lightly pinching at his cheek.

“You spend way too much time in here,” you tapped at his temple, making him smile again. “What are you thinking about? Hopefully me.”

Cheeky, he thought before he inhaled and suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning up. His nose brushed yours, earning a giggle from you. But not wrong.

“Yes, you, beautiful girl.” He glanced at your lips, pecking them once then twice. He thumbed at your spine, “always you.”

You fought back a smile, biting at your lip.

“I’ve missed you. A lot.”

“And I’ve missed you so much more.”

The moment felt so perfect, it made you wonder if you were dreaming again. You couldn't help but remember what it had been like for you with him gone. Mentally, it was torture. So, to think that this too was nothing but a dream... Was it really that far-fetched?

But maybe it was the way Aang breathed, the feel of his chest against yours and that familiar glimmer in his eyes that promised you this was no dream. That he was truly here, right in front of you. Kissing you, touching you, and the whisperings of how much he'd missed you. It wasn't in your head. Not his voice, not his scent. Not even the way he filled up the space with his radiance, as faded from exhaustion as it was. It was still him. Your Aang.

"Now you're doing the thinking," you heard him say, feeling him press his forehead against yours.

Your lips split into a small grin, briefly closing your eyes.

"Sorry. Remind me to never think about you again."

Aang snorted. "Hah hah."

You snorted also and broke out into a chuckle, your eyes deep into his. "Seriously though. I know you're tired, but I really wanna...you know..."

"Mm," he took in a breath, ghosting his lips over yours and sliding his hands up and down your sides. "I may be the master of all four elements but I don't think I have the ability to read minds. Especially yours."

You stared at him back, and made a face. He grinned, and kissed you. You didn't hesitate to reciprocate it. A hand of yours nearly made its way to the nape of his neck to pull him closer when you broke apart, still giving him a look.

"Don't distract me."

"Awh, and it almost worked."

"What do you mean especially mine? Are you saying that you wouldn’t be able to read mine? Saying I have a big head or something?"

Aang deeply chuckled at that as he moved his lips to your forehead, laying a gentle kiss there, "No, but since we're on the subject–”

"Goodnight."

"Nooo, I'm joking," he whined, tightening his hold on you the moment that he felt you trying to pull away. You rolled your eyes, trying to keep back a smile. "Stayy."

“Why? So you can bully me some more?”

A bit distracted now, Aang kissed at the corner of your mouth before running the tip of his tongue along the seam of lips, not asking but taking. You let him nudge his tongue in and move against yours. He wasn’t even kissing you and you were already aching and wet again.

You let out a weak moan that was practically a whine, trying to lean in for more. When he’d slapped an ass cheek, you gasped and pulled back in shock.

Aang smirked, “don’t give me that look. You’re being bratty now. It’s not very nice so why should I be?”

Your lips formed a pout.

“Well…I’m sorry. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

He shrugged. “Good.”

“Enough?”

“No.”

“Ugh,” you pulled away from his lap and stood, sighing to yourself.

He leaned back on his hands and watched you again. The burning feel of his eyes on you made your body react as if he’d still had his hands on you. It was maddening. He was maddening.

“Baby,” he called for you in that sweet tone of his that he knew always worked on you. “Come back. You were saying something earlier. Was it about continuing what we were doing in the other room?”

You started to pull on another gown as you answered him over your shoulder.

“Earlier? That was like 30 seconds ago, grandpa.”

Aang groaned, “So mean to me,” and fell the rest of the way, now flat on the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

He didn’t say anything at first so you continued to dress, silently wishing the heat from the hearth could reach all the way to the bedroom. Then again, the upper floor of your home had more space than the others. Which meant it took longer for it to get cool and warm at times.

Once your new gown was lazily tied at the hip, you turned and just…stared. Aang’s eyes were closed. You knew that he wasn’t sleeping just yet, but the lax of his face… It made him look like he was. From the dark fullness of his brows, to the slope of his nose and finally to the soft of his lips that were parted. His chest sunk and rose steadily, his body still as if he was at peace in the silence.

As your eyes drifted lower, you couldn’t help but notice how well defined he was. Years and years of evasive combat training, honing his endurance in stamina and breath control as well as conditioning his mobility to perfect aerial techniques. It came from immense focus and strength that was learned, not necessarily taught.

Aang understood that better than anyone. Despite the fact that he was the Avatar, he learned early on that life was never meant to be handed to him. So he earned it, and perfected himself by doing it all on his own. Once he’d become comfortable with using all four elements, he trained in three until they became as familiar as air bending.

Toned, disciplined and strengthened by all of his hard work truly did pay off, just not in the way he had intended it to.

Honestly, it was completely unfair.

The quiet rise and fall of his chest drew your attention lower, expanding and tracing over defined muscle that was softened only slightly by exhaustion. Even after months of being away, his body still carried that same dangerous balance of gentleness and strength that always managed to unravel you far too easily.

There was not a single part of him built for stillness; not truly. Even laid across the bed in silence, he looked capable of movement at any given moment, like the wind itself rested beneath his skin.

And it did because spirits.

Maybe it was the lanternlight. Maybe it was the relief of having him home and alive where you could finally touch him again, but looking at him now made warmth pool low in your stomach in a way that almost annoyed you.

Because this was Aang.

Your Aang.

The same man that had frustrated you to tears only an hour ago now had you standing there in nothing but a thin gown while your thoughts betrayed you in the most depraved of ways.

You looked at him with a hunger that felt insatiable. Like the moment on the rug moments ago had only lit the fire within you, not put it out.

Slowly and quietly, you crept back up to the bed. You were trying to be stealthy, much like a shirshu. They were patient hunters, and earned their prey by tracking silently while being unsettlingly precise. However, the moment your knee dipped into the mattress, hands found your waist and within half of a breath, you were on your back with a real predator hovering over you.

Did he just airbend—?

Aang’s eyes roamed over your fluttering chest, moving them up to your lips and finally to the surprised gleam in your eyes.

A giggle bubbled from your throat, “You could’ve let me think I had that one.”

“Sorry pretty,” he leaned down and skimmed his nose along the column of your neck. “Maybe next time.”

Giving you a single kiss right at the center, Aang pulled back and was on his feet now. He peered down at you, noticing the new gown that you were wearing. He frowned before pouting, but he didn’t comment. Instead, his tattooed hands glided down your calves until his fingers closed around your ankles. Both of you shared a knowing look before he pulled you right up against his pelvis, helping you lock your legs at his waist.

“Aang—”

“Do you still want more?”

His question caught you off guard, but went right to your aching cunt nonetheless. His arousal felt hard and prominent against you, throbbing with the promise of ruining you. You didn’t dare look down. You knew what you would see. You could feel it.

“Yes.”

His deft fingers languidly pulled at the strings that kept your gown closed, and watched it fall apart to reveal your body to him once again. He caught the groan before it left his throat, opting to clench his jaw instead. The want to be inside of you ruled over his body’s need to sleep away the exhaustion of his long journey back home, back to you. He’d tasted you. Now, he wanted to feel you.

“So beautiful….” He bent down and twisted a bit to the side to spread kisses along your navel and up to valley of your breasts. “So mine…”

Aang reached a hand up to gently twist and tug at a nipple, earning a blissful sigh from you that sounded heavenly through the fog of his mind. He didn’t stop to let you breathe. He shifted his hips so that he could grind his erection directly against the bareness of your cunt, fully aware that it would sully the pants he had on. All for the better, really. The more transparent the fabric became, the closer he felt to you. He could bet all of the moon peaches in the world that you were just as warm and as wet as his mind conjured during the nights he’d spent alone.

He’d felt it earlier when he had his fingers inside you but he was smart enough to know that there was a difference between using his fingers and using something far more sensitive and connecting.

“Ahh, Aang,” you whined near his ear as his lips traveled back up to your neck.

He felt the tip of his arousal snag at your clit, causing him to push his face into your skin, hissing and gripping at your breast. He knew he could end the torturing of all this but there was just something so pathetic and primal about rutting against you like this. Perhaps it was also a result of his hazy mind and exhaustion creeping back in. Or maybe it had something to do with how you sounded whenever his length passed through the soaked folds of your pretty cunt.

Yeah. It was probably that, actually.

Though, as much as he enjoyed the thought of turning your brain into mush from a mere grinding session, he wanted something far more rewarding.

“Hold on,” he told you before pulling himself back. Quicker than he was trying to, he’d shucked off his pants and kicked them somewhere in the dark to be dealt with later.

During the brief intermission, you’d decided to move further up in bed, closer to the wooden headboard. The bed was big enough to comfortably fit several people in it so it was a bit funny when you thought back to the reason it was made this size.

Aang hadn’t always been so tall so his growth spurt shocked everyone. Somewhere along the way, a twin sized bed no longer seemed appropriate. He would always complain about his aching back or the way his legs would practically hang off of the ends. By that point, it was time to upsize.

You didn’t remove your gown completely. You just pulled it up your thighs to rest openly at your waist so that when Aang finally resettled in the valley of them, there was finally nothing that stood between you and him.

Except, when he did join you in bed, he’d noticed that you were a bit too far up and as he rested further down, he tilted his head. You recognized the look in his eyes, and felt your stomach jolt.

“Aang—ah!”

He bended the wind between his palms and your ankles, letting the current pull you down exactly where he needed you. His smirk met your flushed pout.

“Perfect.”

You rolled your eyes, wanting to look away. “Show off.”

The heavy weight of his cock settled painfully present against your cunt, oozing strings of precum that made you hyper aware of how badly he wanted you. Well, that wasn’t the only sign. From his chest up to his face, his skin was flushed. Even through the dark cover of the room, you could see the neediness in his eyes. A swirling grey that quietly confessed how much he’d truly longed for this moment. By the looks of him, you couldn’t even imagine how he was able to survive all of that time away from you.

“Better?” You asked him, feeling him twitch against you.

He simply nodded, lips parted, before wrapping a hand around himself. His eyes dropped down to look at how wet you were while you watched him. Slow, leisure strokes that made the muscles in his arm flex and the veins atop his hand push against his skin. Your mouth salivated, noticing the crease in his brows as he used his other hand to spread your folds apart. Sticky and shiny, and so fucking pretty.

He groaned and tightened his hand at the base of his length, letting out a slow deep breath. When he peeked back up at you, his heart almost stopped.

The way you were still watching him, a hand at your breast gripping and pulling at the sensitive bud with your bottom lip stuck between your teeth—

He must’ve died long before he came back home. This was it, his own little oasis in the spirit world.

Nothing in the entire world could compare to this moment.

And he meant nothing.

“Aang…”

He felt you before he heard you, the softness of your hand brushing his cheek. When his vision reorientated back on you, he saw the gentle smile on your face.

“I’m right here,” you said to him in the same soft way you touched him, grounding him again. “I’m real and here.”

Aang felt you pull at his wrist, tugging him down until the tip of his nose pressed against yours. His hands found themselves caging you, being careful to hold most of his weight. You tilted your head and ghosted your lips over his.

“My perfect husband,” you whispered, his back rippling with shivers that he tried to hide but couldn't. As your hands moved over his shoulders and along his back, you’d felt it. “So good to me…so perfect for me…”

When the tips of your fingers trickled down the line of his spine, he let out a whine that made you clench around nothing. It didn't sound like anything you'd heard from him before and maybe that was due to the time that the two of you had to spend apart. Two months had been the longest, and definitely the hardest. You'd felt the strain of it on your end but realizing what it must have been like for Aang, a man that loved beyond the limitations of the air nomadic ways; it was surely just as painful as a loss.

You'd cried many nights for the spirits to bring your husband back home safe and had the support of Katara during it all, but Aang had dealt with the torment alone.

There was still that lingering tension underneath his skin that he'd made sure to hide well from you but you could feel it; could feel him unraveling. You could tell that he was no longer able to keep it buried inside and away from you.

"Please," he begged you, leaving a trail of kisses from your collarbone to your ear. "Need to be inside you. Please."

And who were you to deny him when you needed him just as badly?

"I think you've kept me waiting long enough," you told him as you reached down the small space between your bodies. Once your fingers wrapped around him, his breath trembled as if he was going to fall to pieces before making it the rest of the way.

He gripped at the pillows underneath you, grinding his teeth together. He was fighting to hold it together. He'd wanted this moment to last, but could feel himself unthreading.

The moment you lined the head of his cock up to your twitching cunt, your hands moved to the curve of his ass and started to push him into you. He gasped into your neck, and groaned when the tip of his cock popped past the first ring of muscle. He shook his head in pure disbelief. You'd felt better than he'd remembered. It almost made him delirious.

Aang swore under his breath, feeling you push him in further. Clenching onto him the minute he split you apart, it almost sent him over the edge.

"If you knew what you felt like being wrapped around me like this," he breathed near your ear, "you'd lose your mind too."

"I know baby, I know," you kissed his cheek and jaw, feeling him fill you up until the fullness of him was all that you could feel. “And you’re doing such a good job…”

There was no escaping him now. No where for you to run or hide. He had you fully pressed into the mattress, arms blocking you in and his cock sunk so deep, it made you move your hands back up to the broadness of his back to help anchor you.

"Mmm, aang, you feel so good inside me," you wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning at how snug he felt. It felt so right, so perfect, you almost didn't want him to move but knew that if he didn't, he wasn't going to last long at all.

Once every inch of him was inside, he took in a breath while you exhaled. You allowed him the time he needed to ground himself before watching him lean up. Your eyes had gotten used to the dark and could see the concentrated look on his face as he moved his hands to your hips. His eyes dropped down to where the both of you were connected, and finally breathed out.

Everything about you drove him insane. Even when you’d finally given yourself to him, every single part of you, he still couldn’t get enough. He needed more of you. He wanted to push his body into yours until he was able to combine your souls into one. Claim your entire essence and being as his, marked forever as the one that saved him from himself.

You were his beaming light amongst the black ocean of his heart.

Where he was once drowning under the weight of all of his responsibilities, you saw him and pulled him out of it. How else could he thank you? Being your perfect-imperfect husband didn’t seem like enough. He wished to pull the stars down from the night sky and hand them all to you because you deserve something no one on earth could give you. Something only he was capable of giving you.

What was that? What was the very thing he could give? Something he hadn’t already given you?

It had to be none other than a promise, a proper promise that he would have to keep for as long as he lived.

He just didn’t realize that he’d known it all along. Known it since he’d made his vow to you the day of the wedding.

You could tell that something was on his mind but you didn’t pressure to ask. Instead, you waited.

Then, his eyes finally found yours again and held your gaze as he said,

“I want to make you a promise. A real one.”

You blinked, and slowly nodded.

“Yeah, okay. What promise?”

Aang’s brows furrowed as he mulled over what he wanted to say, and how he wanted to say it.

It took what felt like minutes before he said anything else, and it was not like anything you had expected him to say.

“I may not be able to promise that the world won’t need me again because it will. It always does, but I can promise that you’ll never have to wait in silence like that again.”

His thumbs rubbed across the skin of your waist, his eyes hard set on yours.

“And no matter where I go, I’ll always find my way back to you.”

Aang knew that he didn’t need to make you that promise, especially considering the conversation from earlier where there was finally a mutual understanding of how both of you felt. Even so, he could recognize how much he has truly hurt you. It wasn’t this one instance but for all of the others in the past. He wanted to make up for it all in a single promise that he vowed to never break.

You were rendered speechless. His wedding vows had been a bit different, vowing that he would always be by your side and would always put you first before any and everything, but not like this.

At the time, Aang did not foresee his duties as the Avatar and founder of Republic City getting in the way of his marriage, but he saw it now and only wanted to reassure you that you would be his true priority; that it was possible to love you and hold the world on his shoulders by doing it together.

He could see it, the tears that started to well up in your eyes and quickly shushed you, leaning down to press his lips against your forehead while holding your face. Your eyes fluttered closed, as his lips moved over each of your eyelids and to your nose.

“Don’t cry, not for this,” he whispered, kissing your cheeks now. “Because this promise to you cannot and will not be broken. Even when I’m long gone, I'll keep it. I promise…”

Your heart sunk hearing him talk like that. Just the thought of it…

“Please, Aang, don’t say that…” You sniffled, holding him back into your arms. This time, with no intention of letting him go. “You’re not allowed to go anywhere, do you hear me? Nowhere but here with me.”

“I know,” he breathed against your lips, staring back at you while using a thumb to wipe at the falling tears. “I just love you so much.”

You could see it in his eyes, the love and the utter devotion that he held for you that was unlike anything you had ever felt from someone. He looked at you like you were all that he could see.

And that was all that you could ever ask for.

“I love you so much more,” your lips pressed against his lips gently, sighing into it, feeling him return it eagerly.

He instinctively began to move his hips, rolling into you without rush but with purpose. The slow drag of his thick cock made you whimper into his opened mouth, your fingers dipping into his back.

He grunted, trailing his lips to your cheek, breathing heavily as he fucked into you deeper. Every inch, every part of you felt like pure bliss, a maze that he wanted to willingly get lost in. He didn’t care about anything else but this, you, being inside you and hearing your pretty moans. The way his name rolled off of your tongue, gasping and holding onto him like you were close to falling apart.

You were going to ruin him.

He bit down into his lip, frowning, as he reached up to hold the headboard above you. Something, anything that could keep him from losing his mind early on because he was close, dangerously close.

He kept his hand locked onto the wooden board, bracing his hulking frame as he began drilling into you with a rhythmic, punishing vigor. Every thrust was deep, deliberate and fueled by the weeks of loneliness and longing he had carried in his soul. He wasn't just fucking you. He was trying to merge with you, to bridge the gap that the distance had created between your bodies.

Aang groaned when he felt your cunt tighten around him and your hips move to match his pace.

“Fuck,” he moaned as his cock drove into you harder and faster, chasing more of you.

You choked out a sob, crying into his shoulder, your body jostling with every deliberate pound into your poor cunt he made.

“O-h, Aang! You’re so good, feel so fucking good inside of me!”

More of your begging, your nails sinking into his back, your cries and the feeling of you sucking him in with each thrust.

Call him a greedy bastard, but he wanted it all.

His movements were reckless, the bed creaking violently against the floor with every heavy impact of his hips against yours. His breath came in ragged, uneven hitches and his sweat slicked skin slid against yours, creating a feverish heat.

“Aang!” You sobbed hearing the sloppy squelch of your cunt with each unforgiving snap of his hips, feeling him directly hit that spongey spot inside of you like he was drawn to it.

He bent and kissed down until his lips found one of your perked nipples, sucking and rolling his tongue around the hard bud until he felt you shake and spill out the most prettiest moans he’d ever heard from you.

Aang was losing himself in you, and didn’t notice when his tattoos began to glow a bright blue hue. For you, it was all that you could see.

With his head lowered, you could see the arrow along his skin flickering until it was stable and illuminating, growing brighter with each ragged breath and slam of his hips against yours. His eyes were closed but you knew that those beautiful greys of his had been taken over by the same blue light.

He was terrifying to most in his avatar state but to you, he’d never looked more beautiful.

The headboard creaked under the sheer weight of his hold as he fucked you, the poor wood wailing and threatening to break under the pressure. He let out a broken groan around your skin before raising his head, his voice sounding a bit off. It sounded overlapped with more than one voice but it was still him. Desperate and filled with an overwhelming need to come as deep inside of you as humanely possible.

Your hands moved from his back to his face, holding him with care to get his attention. When he finally opened his eyes again, all you could see was an endless pool of blue. His brows were furrowed, and his forehead was beaded with sweat.

“Are you close?” All he was able to do was nod, nearly collapsing into your hands, his hips stuttering to signal that he was getting incredibly close. “Good, because I’m going to need you to cum and not pull out. Can you do that for me?”

Even through the haze of pleasure, Aang still made an expression of confusion.

“Don’t...pull out. So you want me to…?”

He left it there, knowing that you understood what he didn’t say.

You smiled, and nodded.

“Yes. Can you?”

Aang didn’t quite understand. Every time that the two of you had sex, you always made it clear he had to pull out. Pouting, he agreed but was never shy about telling you that he didn’t like it. If a baby happened, then wasn’t it meant to be? There was no better way to prevent a pregnancy, other than a certain type of tea, so pulling out was next best. Either way, Aang was not a fan but respected your boundaries nevertheless. Now, you were wanting him to…

"Wanna give you a little airbender, Aang. Would you like that?" You breathlessly asked him, feeling his hips falter at the sound of that. You smiled, stroking a thumb across his warm face. "Would be such a good mommy. Could give you everything you could ever want. Let me do it for you, Aang, please."

And that fucking did it.

Your voice, the feeling of your heated walls clamping down onto him, and you giving him permission to fill you up knowing what might happen; all of it sent him right over the edge.

He groaned out, applying more pressure to the headboard than he had intended and felt it split down the middle. The bed collapsed underneath you, surprising you but you weren't given time to assess what happened when Aang leaned down to bury his face into your neck. You felt his cock twitch and pulsate before filling you up until the mix of his thick cum and your arousal oozed out between you. His hands clutched into fists around the sheets as he tried to control his breathing.

You thought that he was done but his hips hadn't stopped. They just slowed to a steady roll, deep and intentional.

"Aang..." You whined under your breath, your arms wrapped loosely around his neck. Your body was nearly exhausted, but you weren't there yet. Could that be his reason?

He didn't say anything. He just kept moving inside of you, kissing at your neck. He shivered, feeling the way your cunt fluttered around him as your calves slid back into place, ankles firmly locked. He hummed, one of his hands sliding down your side until they reached your thighs to grip at them.

“Want you to cum around me,” he muttered low into the warmth of your neck, lazily smiling. “Can you do that for me?”

When he looked at you, you’d noticed that his greys were back and the arrows along his forehead and his back had dimmed back to their normal blue. It made your face warm.

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he praised, and used his arm to hold himself up while his other hand continued its trek down to your neglected clit. “And don’t think I forgot about her.”

As soon as his middle finger started to draw lazy circles before gradually moving a bit faster while letting his hips roll into you at the same pace, you squealed. You hand instantly reached down to hold onto his wrist as he abused the sensitive little nub, crying out.

“Ah, please!”

Aang was embarrassed to admit but aiming for your pleasure instead of his and watching your face twist up knowing that he was the reason, it made him ten times harder. There was nothing better than servicing you and making you feel good. It was just the simple fact that he had already came.

But who said he couldn’t do it again?

No matter how many times he did this with you, it would always feel like the first. There was just something about being with you in such an intimate way and connecting beyond a conversation or doing anything else together. He was very spiritual and believed that sex was a very sacred act. It was something he would never do with anyone else. Doing this with you, with his wife, felt like the highest form of his love for you.

When he felt your nails dig into the skin of his wrist and your cunt tighten around his cock again, he let out a ragged breath that was mixed with a laugh.

“You’re so tight, it feels like you’re going to cut off the circulation down there.”

You whined out his name, breathless, trying not to laugh at his untimely joke.

“Stop.”

“I’m being serious,” he said, letting another chuckle before groaning out and looking down at you. “Gonna cum, my love?”

You nodded with teary eyes, moving your hand up to his bicep, feeling it flex under your fingers.

“Mhm.”

“Yeah?”

“Aang—”

“Let me feel it.”

He leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours, eyebrows knitted together, fighting to concentrate.

“Please, let me feel it…”

You moaned out his name again and again, your head spinning, being unable to feel anything but his cock fucking into you and his fingers moving against your clit like it was his last day on earth. His whisperings of telling you how pretty you sounded and how much he loved you was all too much. You couldn’t handle it.

With one more sharp inhale and slam into your hips, your back arched and felt a wave of ecstasy crash into you, leaving you trembling and mumbling a string of nonsense that made Aang follow right behind you. You were too warm, too tight, his release spilled into you again, plugged and just as filled as the first.

Both of you stayed just like that, foreheads together and panting into each other as the comfortable silence of the night finally took over.

After a few moments of him trying to catch his breath, he smiled softly and kissed your nose.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

You were relieved when he moved off of the bed and walked towards the washroom because your entire body refused to move even an inch. In fact, you were very close to falling asleep if not for the warm, damp feeling of a cloth against your inner thighs and over your mound. He knew your legs were going to instinctively twitch closed so he used his hands to keep them pried apart until he finally finished up.

After properly discarding the small towel, he scooped you into his arms so that he could work on the bed.

At first, it took him a moment. Now that he was able to actually see the bed from a different angle, the headboard lowered the bed quite unevenly. The damage wasn’t bad at all, it would just take a few minutes to brainstorm how to fix it. It was definitely going to be a temporary fix, but he knew it would hold long enough for a good night’s sleep.

Still, the idea of him as the avatar, master of all four elements, being humbled by a broken headboard after wrecking it with his wife—it definitely felt like a very comical irony.

But, someone had to do it so, he got to work.

Aang knew that the only way to go about this was to use air to reposition the splintered pieces back into place, or as close as he could, and then smooth some of the rough cracks. Luckily, it wasn’t completely split down the middle so it was fixable. He just knew that come morning, he would need to fully replace the bed.

Once that was done, he moved onto what was next.

As he held you with one arm and replaced the bedding with his other, you couldn’t help but stare up at him. You knew that he knew you were looking at him, judging by the small grin on his face, but he didn’t say anything and neither did you. You just watched him impressively use one arm to do things that would normally take two to do.

Once the bed was replaced with clean linen and warm blankets, Aang gently placed you back down, joining you now. He shifted onto his back and pulled you into him by your waist. You hummed, curving a leg up and over his thighs, your hand across his chest.

The silence continued and just when you were about to fall asleep, you heard the softness of his voice.

“Three days from now, I’ll be leaving again.”

Because it was engrained in your body, your first reaction was your stomach dropping. Still, you calmed your breathing and chose not to say anything. You remembered what he’d said to you earlier. His words on the balcony, his promise to you now, they all meant something. He wouldn’t do that only to lie to you, so you breathed.

Aang could tell that it had shaken you, telling by the stiffness of your body against his. He smiled a bit to himself before his eyes fell down to the crown of your head.

“And I want you to come with me.”

Your head shot up, meeting the playful glint in his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Do you really?”

His hand, that rested at your hip, stroked along your skin, his gaze holding yours.

“I made a promise to you, right?”

He placed a warm kiss to your forehead, making your face split into a smile also.

“I know…but hey! Don’t say that like you have to tag me along!” You pouted.

“I’m not, I swear!” He exclaimed with a brighter smile and laugh that shook his shoulders. “I want you to come with me. I want to travel the skies with you, scour and gather more airbender relics and maybe stop at different places just for the fun of it. Maybe help people along the way, but I want to do all of those things with you by my side this time.”

“Even if it gets dangerous?”

Aang paused for a moment and just looked at you. There was a tiny worry that he was taking the silence to rethink his decision to bring you along when he spoke again.

“You can handle yourself. I know that and when you can’t, I’ll be there to protect you. No matter what we face, we’ll face it together.”

It felt like your heart had crawled out of its hiding hole somewhere in your stomach and had soared right through your chest. It was all that you’d wanted to hear from him. To be able to still love him as deeply as you did and to be able to accept him for who he was to the people of the nations—it was the perfect middle ground. There was never a need to ‘fix’ you or him.

Instead, balance was all you ever needed and you knew you would always find that with him.

Your eyes fell to his lips and back up to the shining grey of his eyes.

“I love you.”

His hand moved from your hip to the nape of your neck, gently pulling you closer.

“And I love you.”

When your lips met, it was softer this time; slower. The kind of kiss that carried understanding within it rather than desperation.

You and Aang knew that there would still be difficult days ahead. That there would be arguments, distance and that familiar sense of fear that came with being the wife of the Avatar. Loving Aang would never come without sacrifice and being loved by you would always leave parts of him frighteningly exposed.

But this—this felt like balance.

Like finally meeting one another in the middle after spending so much time pulling at opposite ends.

And somehow, within the quiet warmth of his mouth against yours and the steady hand cradling the back of your neck, tomorrow no longer felt so frightening.

It felt like a promise for a new beginning.

༄ ... mini bonus scene ! ... ༄ 

The next day was spent making up for lost time.

Which basically means you and Aang barely left the bedroom to eat or even drink water.

Still, despite the time that you'd spent with him, you made sure not to forget about your visit with Katara the next day after that.

When you and Aang arrived, Sokka had answered the door and was happy to see you but as soon as he saw Aang, he'd nearly tackled his taller friend to the ground.

"You're back?! I had no idea you were back!" Sokka exclaimed with a wide smile that instantly turned into a frown, playfully hitting Aang's shoulder.

"Ow?" Aang rose a brow, rubbing his arm with a smile back.

"Don't 'ow' me! You could've let your best friend know you were back all this time, sheesh," Sokka shook his head, scratching his neck. "Some friend you are."

Katara came up next to her brother, and pinched at his ear like they were teens all over again.

"Leave Aang alone. He came back like, two days ago. What are you on about?"

"Sokka," You heard Suki whine in the background. "Give the poor guy a break. He did just come back."

Sokka sweatdropped, looking at the four of you before his eyes stopped on you. He smirked, and fully leaned against the door frame.

"Oh, did he now," He nodded, looking as if he knew something no one else did. "Yep, bet he did come."

Aang's eyes widened and so did yours. That was all Sokka could get out before Katara took him and his ear further into the house, giving him a real good talking to. He'd looked to Suki to help him, claiming that just because they were married, she had to protect him. She only smiled, and continued helping Zuko.

Both of you laughed and stepped inside, seeing Zuko setting up the last part of a banner that said, 'Welcome home, Aang.'

"Aw, guys," Aang pouted at the banner and his friends. "You shouldn't have!"

"Yeah, well, we almost didn't, twinkletoes," Toph grumbled rather loudly to herself, digging her pinky deep off into her ear. "I told them its a complete waste of time. You'll only end up knocking it to the-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Aang used his airbending to bring the gaang all together for a group hug, causing the banner to fly right off of the wooden beam it was expertly attached to. Toph, squeezed right between Sokka and Zuko huffed.

"-ground."

She sighed.

You couldn't help but smile as they all started to laugh, even Toph, catching her shake her head. Suki had her face squished into Sokka's, Katara had her arm around you and Zuko while Aang's long arms nearly wrapped around everyone.

As you melted into the group hug, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the world but with your husband and the best group of friends anyone could ever ask for.

༄ author’s end note: tysm for reading! don't forget to tell me your thoughts in the comments and leave a like/reblog! i would lovee to know what you guys think as this may not be my one and only piece of work in this fandom (wink, wink). time will tell... ~

→ taglist: @gyalcapone @llovekats @ladypickles @leefsfandombooknook @carlandoxlestappen @Lucamorax @ilovemollyweasley

© all content belongs to luvqi 2026. do not modify, translate or repost without permission.

[k8fics]

OBSESSION

Modern!Obsessive!Valarr Targaryen x Reader

summary: (Y/n) has spent years trapped in a messy, emotionally charged situationship with Valarr Targaryen. But after a drunken birthday wish, Valarr’s feelings suddenly become impossible to ignore. (Inspired by Obsession 2026).

rating: E - Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, dark fiction, obsessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, manufactured love, emotional dependency, loss of autonomy, psychological horror, mutual toxicity, reader is pathetic!!

NAVIGATION | CHAPTER ONE

You laugh softly under your breath.

“Valarr...” You start quietly, testing the sound of it. “We’ve known each other for a while now and I just need to tell you...” You swallow.

Outside, rain taps softly against the windshield.

“I-I really like you, and I hope you like me like that too. I think I lo-"

KNOCK KNOCK

You yelp, whipping your head toward the driver’s side window to find Duncan grinning at you through the glass, curls damp from the rain.

“You practicing your Oscar speech in here or what?” He shouts through the window.

You roll your eyes, taking the keys out the ignition as he opens the door for you. “Fuck off.”

Duncan slips his head into the car, his wet hair dripping onto your lap, you can smell the cologne and cigarette smoke emitting off of him.

“You’ve been sitting here for like ten minutes.” He glances at the look on your face, his grin widening. “You finally gonna tell him?”

“Tell who?”

“Oh, brother.” Duncan says dramatically, leaning on the interior driver side door, you scoff as you exit the car.

“I’m serious,” he continues, closing the door behind you. “You’ve been doing this weird little dance with Valarr for years now.”

You leaned against the car after locking it, “It’s not a dance.”

“Right.” Duncan deadpans, standing right in front you, shielding you from the rain with his upper half. “Just friends that casually fuck each other, stare at each other like dying Victorian lovers, spend every Thursday night attached to the hip at all times-”

Your face warms, “We’re not attached at the hip.”

Duncan looks at you with a straight face that says, 'Are you fucking kidding me?'

You sigh heavily, pushing yourself off the car. “Can we please just go inside?”

The bar is loud by the time you enter, crowded with people yelling over one another while some shitty 2000s song plays overhead. A familiar warmth wraps around you immediately.

Your eyes immediately caught Valarr’s. That happened every time. Every trivia night.

His expression softens instantly, sharp features easing as he stands from the booth.

“There you are,” he says with a soft smile. Something in your chest tightens.

Lyonel waves his arms dramatically from beside him. “Finally! We were two seconds away from replacing you with some dude named Steve.”

“Does Steve know 2000s pop culture like me?” You ask, sliding into the booth.

“No,” he admits. “But he had spirit.”

Valarr moves before you can fully sit down, one hand instinctively settling against your waist to guide you into the booth beside him.

Duncan notices. Duncan always noticed.

You ignore the look he gave you.

“You’re late.” Valarr whispers in your eye, warmth radiating off him.

“You survived.”

“Barely.” His knee presses against yours beneath the table.

The night blurred pleasantly after that.

Lyonel cheated shamelessly.

Duncan argued with a table across the room over a sports trivia question.

Valarr stays close enough that his arm brushes against yours every few minutes.

At one point, he absentmindedly fixes the necklace tangled beneath your shirt collar while you argue with Lyonel about movie directors.

Small things, tiny things.

Things that meant nothing.

Things that meant everything.

“Can you two just get together already?” Lyonel asks suddenly near the end of the night.

Silence drops over the booth.

Duncan looks down at his drink.

You froze.

Valarr laughs softly, shaking his head.

“There it is,” he muttered. “Was wondering how long it’d take tonight.”

Your chest tightens painfully.

Lyonel points between the two of you, “I’m serious. The tension is actually becoming concerning, mentally.”

“We’re fine,” Valarr says easily.

Fine.

The word digs beneath your ribs.

Not together, not interested, not in love.

Fine.

Valarr glances toward you, expression softening slightly when he notices your silence.

His hand squeezes your knee once beneath the table.

Like that fixed it.

Like that makes everything fine.

-

By the end of the night, you’re drunk enough that the city lights blurred together outside the car’s windows.

“You’re staring,” Valarr says from the driver’s seat.

“I’m thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

The inside of his car smells like cedarwood and the cologne he always wears. The familiarity alone is enough to make your chest ache.

“You know,” you say quietly. “You never answered Lyonel’s question.”

Valarr’s grip tightens slightly on the steering wheel, “You were drunk five minutes ago. Now suddenly you’re interrogating me?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

He pulls up outside your house. Neither of you moved.

Your heartbeat thuds painfully against your ribs.

“Come inside,” you whisper.

Valarr looks over at you immediately.

You swallow, “We can-“ your voice catches slightly. “We can hang out a little longer.”

The look in his eyes darkens briefly.

Want. Affection.

Something deeper you can never fully name.

Then it disappears just as quickly.

“You’re drunk,” he says softly.

“I’m not that drunk.”

“You are.”

“We could just go to bed together. “ You laugh weakly, “All you ever want to do is to fuck, why not now?”

Valarr’s expression shifts instantly. Something almost wounded.

“You think that’s all I want from you?”

Your breath catches.

“Valarr-“

“You know I can’t do be in a relationship right now.”

Your throat tightens, “Why not?”

He looks away first. “You know I’m bad at this stuff.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Valarr sighs quietly, “Why ruin what we already have?”

The words hurt more than you expected. Because he sounds so sincere.

That’s the worst part.

You nod slowly, staring at your hands. “Right.”

You reach for the door handle before you could embarrass yourself further.

Valarr grabs your wrist gently, you look back at him.

For one horrible second, you thought maybe he was going to stop you.

Instead, he leans forward and presses a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Get inside safe, baby.”

You hated that word. 

Because, even after the heartbreak, your stomach still flips when he says it.

You step into the rain without another word.

Inside the car, Valarr watches until your front door closes behind you.

-

The smell of vanilla frosting and alcohol lingers heavily throughout your house.

Half-empty bottles littered the kitchen counter beside paper plates smeared with icing and discarded candles.

Valarr sits beside you, one arm stretched lazily along the back of the couch behind your head.

Your birthday party had started hours ago, but nobody seemed particularly interested in leaving yet.

Not that you mind.

Not when Valarr keeps looking at you like that.

Like you’re something precious.

Duncan set your birthday cake down on the coffee table with a sigh.

“Okay.” He says, clapping his hands together once. “Presents. Open my gift first, it’s objectively the best.”

“I love your confidence," you mutter.

You open Duncan’s gift first, a crystal necklace.

Thoughtful enough to make your chest ache a little.

“Oh,” you say softly. “Duncan..”

“What?” He asks quickly, already defensive. “Don’t make it weird.”

Lyonel gags loudly, “Oh my God, he gets so sentimental.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You laugh, leaning to your right to hug Duncan tightly.

Valarr watches the interaction quietly beside you.

His fingers run against your back before moving his arm back toward the couch.

“Mine next.” Lyonel announces dramatically, tossing a poorly wrapped box into your lap.

You rip the wrapping paper off eagerly. Inside sat a long triangular box covered in red text and graphics.

You blink up at him, “What is it?”

Lyonel grins, “A One Wish Willow!”

Duncan groaned immediately, “Jesus Christ.”

You turned the box over, revealing the large text shown on the back, ‘Spark the middle and break in half.’

“You’re joking.”

“Mostly.” Lyonel admits, shrugging.

Valarr leans slightly closer beside you, gaze flickering over the text. “What is it supposed to do?” He asks.

“It grants one wish, duh.” Lyonel grins.

You laugh, “Where did you find this? Etsy?”

“Found it in one of those gem stores, I went with Dunc.” He says, nudging Duncan.

Duncan took another sip of his drink, “My cousin had a bunch of those in college.”

Your head snaps toward him immediately, “And?”

“I dunno he liked to collect them or some shit; he was pretty weird.” He says quickly.

Lyonel points at you dramatically, “You only get one wish, so make it count!”

“Right,” you deadpan. “I’ll use it responsibly.”

Valarr stretches before sitting up. “How about another shot?” He suggests, already walking toward the kitchen for the tequila he brought over. 

Lyonel watches Valarr leave the room before leaning in. “Maybe you can wish for him to finally commit to you,” he says with a smirk.

Duncan scoffs beside you.

“Shut up,” you mutter quickly.

Later, after too many drinks and several more rounds of terrible horror movies, the night finally began to wind down.

Duncan hugs you first. “Text me tomorrow,” he said quietly.

“I always do," You say with a smile.

Lyonel shoves him to the side, wrapping you in an aggressively dramatic hug.

“Don’t forget about your wish,” he whispers jokingly into your ear.

You roll your eyes, “Goodnight, psycho.”

Valarr was the last to leave.

You follow him to the front door, the alcohol still buzzing pleasantly through your body.

“You sure you don’t wanna stay?” You ask.

Valarr pauses while slipping on his jacket.

“I’ve got brunch with my father tomorrow, he said it's pretty important.”

You sigh dramatically, “Boo. Lame.”

“I know.” He says. “But,” he steps closer, “I can come over tomorrow night.”

Your heartbeat stutters slightly. “Yeah?”

Valarr hums, fixing your shirt collar. “We can celebrate properly.”

The look he gave you made your stomach flip.

Then, before you could say anything else, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against your cheek.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

Hours later, your house had finally gone quiet.

You sit alone on the couch wearing one of Valarr’s hoodies, a half-finished glass of wine dangling lazily from your hand while some animal documentary plays in the background.

Your eyes drift absently toward the pile of gifts still sitting on the coffee table. Then toward the triangular packaging.

You stare at it for a long moment, then reach for it.

“This is so fucking stupid,” you mutter to yourself.

Still, you turn it over carefully, examining the back of the packaging once more:

‘Usage: Open the package to a magical jingle and a fun pop surprise! Hold the One Wish Willow gently, break it in half, and state your wish clearly. Wait up to 24 hours for your wish to come true. Disposal: After granting your wish, the One Wish Willow loses its magical properties.’

You snort softly.

Your phone buzzes suddenly beside you.

Valarr

hey

idk if i can come over tmr

something came up :(

Your chest tightens painfully.

You look down at the box again.

Then back at the text thread.

Then back at the willow.

“Fuck it.”

You pull open the packaging.

A strange tune immediately emits from the packaging.

The melody sounds distorted.

For one brief moment, nausea rolls through your stomach.

You laugh nervously to yourself.

“This is insane.”

You look at the branch in your hand.

And think about Valarr.

Your throat tightens.

“I wish Valarr was obsessed with me.”

SNAP

The sound echoes through the quiet house.

You stare at the broken branch for another few seconds before laughing again.

“Jesus Christ.”

You toss it carelessly onto the coffee table, sinking deeper into the couch cushions.

-

BANG BANG BANG

Your eyes snap open.

The television still plays quietly somewhere in the background, the blue glow flickering across the dark living room. Your neck aches from sleeping awkwardly against the couch cushions.

BANG BANG BANG

You jolt upright, “What the fuck-“

Several more frantic knocks rattle the front door hard enough to make you jump. Your head pounds.

Still half asleep, you blindly reach for your phone buried between the couch cushions.

3:07AM

97 missed calls.

122 messages.

All from Valarr.

Your stomach drops.

“What the fuck…”

Another bang shakes the door.

You stare at the screen in disbelief.

Valarr

please answer 

where are you

baby please

please i need to see you

please please please answer me

im outside

Your heart pounds violently against your ribs.

You rush toward the front door.

“Valarr?” You call out shakily.

No response.

Only more knocking.

You look through the peephole. Your stomach twists.

Valarr stands on your porch soaking wet from the rain, breathing heavily while peering through the small glass window beside the door.

His hair is damp; his clothes are the same ones he wore earlier.

His expression looks wrong.

Wild. Panicked.

You unlock the door carefully.

The second it opens, Valarr’s head snaps toward you.

The relief that floods his face is so intense it almost scares you.

“(Y/n).”

Before you can react, he pulls you into a crushing hug.

“I needed to see you,” he says frantically against your hair. “I really needed to see you.”

“Valarr, what the fuck?” You say groggily. “What’s going on?”

“I thought something happened to you.”

Your eyebrows pull together, pulling away from him. “What?”

He grabs your face. “When you stopped answering,” he says, breathing unevenly. “I called and called and called and-“

He cuts himself off abruptly, dragging a hand through your hair. “I thought maybe you were hurt.” Your stomach twists uneasily.

“Valarr, I fell asleep.”

“I know that now.” The way he says it feels wrong somehow.

Too relieved.

Too intense.

“Did you drive here?” You ask carefully.

“Yes.”

“At three in the morning?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” His grip tightens around your face.

Not painful, just desperate.

His pupils are blown wide.

His breathing uneven.

“I’m ready,” Valarr blurts suddenly.

Your eyebrows knit together, “What?”

“We have to be together.” Your stomach drops, “What?”

“I love you.” His voice cracks slightly. “I love you so much, I can’t-I can’t do this anymore.”

Your brain struggles to catch up.

This is what you wanted. Isn’t it?

So why does it feel so wrong?

“Valarr…” You say slowly. “Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“You’re acting crazy right now.”

“I know.” He says it so sincerely it scares you more.

Valarr grips your face tighter, trembling slightly.

“We’re meant to be together,” he whispers desperately. “Please tell me you feel it too. Please.”

His eyes shine with tears.

Your chest tightens painfully.

Because part of you, some horrible part of you, still feels wanted. Still feels relieved.

“Valarr…” Your voice shakes. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do.” Then suddenly he kisses you.

Messy. Desperate. Needy enough to make your stomach twist.

You push against his chest quickly.

“Okay-okay, stop.”

Valarr immediately pulls back.

Not angry, terrified.

Instantly terrified.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I’m sorry, I just-I missed you.”

You stare at him.

“You saw me four hours ago.”

“I know.”

Valarr smiles faintly. “But it felt longer.”

Something cold settles uneasily in your stomach.

Rain pours softly behind him while silence stretches painfully between you.

Then Valarr smiles again. 

Bright. Love-sick. Beautiful.

Wrong.

“Can I come inside?”

Every instinct in your body tells you something is off.

But it’s Valarr.

The man you’ve loved for years.

The man who finally said it back.

You step aside slowly.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Come inside.”

Valarr visibly relaxes. “Okay.”

He grabs your wrist gently while walking into the house. You close the door carefully behind him.

“I think you should sleep for a little bit,” you say cautiously. “You’re clearly overwhelmed or something.”

Valarr turns toward you immediately. “We’re sleeping together.”

You stomach tightens. “I just meant maybe you could take the bed I could-“

“No.”

The word comes too fast. Too sharp.

Valarr immediately softens again when he sees your expression.

“You’re really gonna make me sleep alone after I drove all the way here?” He asks quietly.

His fingers tighten around your wrist slightly.

“I just thought maybe you needed some space.”

“I don’t want space.” His voice almost sounds offended by the idea.

You swallow hard. “Okay.”

Valarr smiles immediately again. “There you are.”

Like you’ve just stopped misbehaving. The thought sends a chill down your spine.

As he leads you toward your bedroom, your eyes flick briefly toward the living room table.

Toward the opened One Wish Willow packaging still sitting there.

Your stomach twists violently

There’s no way.

Right?

-

The room is dark except for faint moonlight spilling through the curtains.

Valarr lies behind you in bed, pressed tightly against your back.

One arm wraps securely around your waist. His face buries itself against your neck.

You stare forward silently. Wide awake.

Valarr presses slow kisses against your throat. Then your shoulder. Then lower.

“Valarr..” You whisper carefully. “Maybe we should just go to sleep.” “I am sleeping,” he murmurs against your skin.

His hand slides slowly across your stomach possessively.

Your pulse jumps nervously. “Don’t you have brunch with your father tomorrow?”

Valarr hums lazily. “I let him know I couldn’t make it.”

Your eyebrows pull together, “What? You said it was important.”

“You’re more important.”

The words should make your chest flutter.

Instead, they make something cold settle heavily in your stomach.

Valarr gently turns you onto your back so you're facing him.

The expression on his face nearly steals the air from your lungs.

Pure devotion. Complete adoration.

It’s too much. Too intense. Too sudden.

He leans down, kissing you softly.

“I love you,” he whispers against your mouth.

Then again.

And again.

Like he needs to keep saying it or he’ll stop breathing.

You kiss him back despite yourself.

Because this is wrong.

You know it’s wrong.

But somewhere deep down, beneath the fear and confusion and nausea-

you still love him too.

Chapter 2 coming soon!!!!

[art-story-by-deroko]

[sakunai]

puerto rican [nuyorican] jason ! as your boyfie. pairing ! jason todd x fem!reader wc ! 1.8k warnings ! fluff to smut. sub!jason. handjob. slight orgasm denial. cum eating. based on these requests and ii. 📓 i really yapped alot on this one y’all my apologies 🙏🏾

art creds : @/realstickii

now playing ! bellacoso — residente & bad bunny 🎧

newyorican! bf jason who grew up around noise. his childhood was loud, sometimes a little messy, dodging cops in Crime Alley but always making it back to his block just in time for somebody’s abuela to call out to him from a window with a jace, come! pastelillos! it’s one of the few fond memories he has, that he was never hungry for long and he never ate alone.

newyorican! bf jason who by extension is naturally a good cook. most of his memories are of tightly packed kitchens at somebody’s house where by the sweat of his brow and a million whacks with a wooden spoon in the hands of somebody’s tía that’s now his tía, he learned.

newyorican! bf jason whose love language is food. he’s an absolute monster in the kitchen, makes the best pernil in gotham and will brag about it because that shit falls off the bone, tendernism! if you’re sick, he’s cooking. you’re sad? he’s cooking. sigh a little bit too loud and he’s already grabbing the pots. he doesn’t play about sunday dinners. he will do meal prep the night before if he needs to. he’s usually the one with random cravings in the middle of the night, so you will be woken up and offered food.

newyorican! bf jason whose texts you can expect like clockwork when he’s out on patrol.

Today, 9:54 PM

jacey 💋 :

mamisota

did you eat yet?

love you ❤️

Today, 9:55 PM

you :

yeah, i got something earlier dw

stay safe, love you too ❤️

Today, 9:57 PM

jacey 💋 :

⤷ replied to you : ‘yeah, i got something earlier dw’

real food?

you :

… i mean, it was takeout so, i think?

jacey 💋 :

put some coffee on and wait for me, i’ll come make u something after

newyorican! bf jason whose love for food — the patience when it comes to preparation, the pride when you compliment him or go for seconds — transfers to his relationship with you. he’s attentive, noticing your every need like when he’s frying plantains and has to make sure they don’t burn. he’s devoted, you’re his only one, his girl, the one that feels like home, so he brings you café con leche in the mornings from his favorite spot with a spoon of condensed milk and a splash of vanilla just like he used to do for his mom. he feeds your body, and your soul.

newyorican! bf jason who understands way more spanish than he speaks. his grammar is bad and he forgets words — he’ll switch to spanish halfway in a sentence only when a word clicks or nod along to someone’s fast paced spanish and respond completely in english. he murmurs diablo, puñeta, me jodí, me mamé at every minor inconvenience though. you learn quickly the difference between cabrón and cabrón.

newyorican! bf jason whose spanglish really does kick in when he’s stressed, tired or worse, turned on. he calls you everything from the classic mi amor and mami to mi vida, mi diosa, and bebesota with that low, needy voice. your name is not even uttered after the first few weeks.

newyorican! bf jason who teaches you slang thinking it’ll be a cute little inside joke but you end up unironically using it against him. suddenly you’re calling him a lambe bicho in his own house.

newyorican! bf jason who is sooo easy to ragebait. call him a no sabo kid please. say something exaggerated and pronounced incorrectly i beg you.

“holaaa,” you drawl, sidestepping him where jason stood in the kitchen, back hunched over the stove and tongue peeking out in concentration — that task at hand being : watch the plantains fry in the pot. “bueños días.”

“stop,” he grumbles, side eyeing you then looking back to the pan. “it’s nine in the morning, please.”

“que paso, handsome?” your arms slip around his middle as you curl up into his side. “i’m gonna burn the plantains again, shoo,” jason complained, bumping you with his hip and you whined.

“my pretty boy’s so mean to me....” you sigh dramatically, then press a kiss to the side of his jaw with a mischievous hum. “but so handsome... muy guapo.” the uptick of his mouth into a little smile gives him away before he turns to you and meets your lips in a sweet kiss, melting immediately at the praise.

the smell of the plantains breaks the moment. “puñeta— the fucking things are burning—!”

newyorican! bf jason who hates silence. he grew up around noise, loud laughter, even louder conversations where everybody talks at once, kids screaming so loud you could hear them from the other end of the block. and music, so much music. he’s playing music while he cleans his guns, mouthing along to the lyrics, while he cooks.

newyorican! bf jason who sings. sings in the shower, randomly bursts out into a song for no reason, makes up random lyrics on the spot, serenades you (badly) and who thinks singing is the solution to get your attention, especially when you’re mad at him. you’re giving him the silent treatment after he pissed you off and the moment you come out of the bathroom he’s on his knees singing, “pleaaaseeee, ohh-ohhh, won’t do it agaaiiin, pleaaaaseeee— give me one more chaaance—”

newyorican! bf jason who swears he doesn’t dance, but once there’s any sort of rhythm, he’s twirling you in his arms and pulling you into his chest for a slow dance, murmuring praises in your ear, oh his beautiful girl...

newyorican! bf jason who falls apart under your touch everytime, and you can’t help but love how scatterbrained he gets when it comes to you.

“Thaaat’s it, look at me in my eyes while I fuck you, baby.”

Jason’s head fell back against the couch at your words, his chest heaving. The moonlight made the walls of his apartment glow crimson, lighting the sheen of sweat on his tan skin, dark curls sticking to his forehead.

His thighs were spread wide, shirt unbuttoned at the front where the heatweave hit him the most during tonight’s blackout, and his jeans shoved down just enough for your hand to work him properly.

“Fuck… baby, just like that,” he groaned, voice rough as your fist twisted around the head of his swollen cock on the upstroke, slick with his own spit and precum, stroking him just how you knew he liked it. “God, you feel so good… shit, it’s so fuckin’ sensitive.”

“Mhm?” You grinned wolfishly, your fingertips smearing the stringy mess of arousal all over the tip of him, and he twitched in your hand as you picked up the pace again. “I said look at me,” you demanded, your other hand grasping his jaw and a whimper left his throat.

“Christ— okay, I’m looking—” his eyes, all glazed over and watery, his eyelashes fluttering, threatening to fall closed with ecstasy stared up at where you straddled his lap with ease. “Just keep doing that, baby, please…”

You squeezed his throbbing cock in your fist once, then twice, and started stroking him faster, the slick, wet sounds of flesh on flesh echoing in the room. “You’re so good when you want it this bad,” you giggled.

Jason’s abs flexed hard, his thighs trembling.

“Ah—ay, fuck!” he hissed, eyes squeezing shut, his hips bucking up without meaning to. “Así, así, así… fuuuck—just like that, ma.” Jason’s hand shot down to grip your wrist, his mind dizzy from the stimulation as his hips fucked up into your fist desperately, chasing it. “Jesus— fuck, you have me talkin’ Spanish—”

“Didn’t I tell you to do something?” You leaned in, your lips brushing the side of his jaw. He let out a broken moan as his eyes opened again, and this time you leaned down to kiss him, his shoulders trembling with each moan released against your lips.

“You’re driving me crazy—” His voice cracked, his other hand moving to grip the back of your neck to steady himself, as if he was on the verge of passing out. “Oh fuck— shit, wait, that’s too much—”

“Shh, take it,” You twisted your wrist slower, up then down, then right over the head again, thumb pressing against that sensitive spot underneath that made him see stars, and he let out a wrecked sound that went straight between your legs.

“Don’t do this to me— please, please, I’m so fuckin’ close—”

“Oh, my big man,” you cooed, a glint of amusement in your eyes. “Say it properly.”

“Me estás matando…” Jason laughed breathlessly, the sound turning into a broken moan as you squeezed him tighter. “Do you wanna kill me? Is that it—”

You kissed him soft and sweet, and he melted against your lips, up until you stroked him faster again, and he shivered from the sudden stimulation just before you withdrew your hand completely, his cock slapping against his stomach with neglect.

“Mamisota…” he whined.

You hissed your teeth at him. “Beg, properly.”

“I’ll be good, I’ll be so fuckin’ good, I swear,” he whimpered, the words slipping out shaky and desperate. His hips twitched, trying to fuck up against your palm, but you only barely grazed his leaky cock with your fingertips. “No me hagas esto… I’m so close already. Please, please, I’m begging you. I need to cum so bad—”

You sighed long and low, feigning annoyance as you granted him mercy. “You’re lucky you sound so pretty…” you grumbled, taking him in your fist again, your palm hot and soft around his aching cock and the feel of you made his eyes water.

“Coño… fuck—” He forced his eyes to stay open and locked on you, as he stroked the short hairs at the nape of your neck. “I’m— yeah, like that— I’m right there— let me cum, please…”

“Cum for me…” you whispered against his ear. “You can do it, it’s okay. I want you to, baby.”

Jason’s head snapped back again, eyes squeezing shut momentarily before his eyes went wide followed by a string of guttural groans. “Oh my God— fuck, mami, I’m gonna cum!” He held you tight against his chest as hips stuttered hard, thighs shaking and cock pulsing violently in your hand as he reached his peak.

Thick ropes of cum spilled over your fist, coating your fingers, dripping down the length of his shaft and he buried his face in your hair, cursing under his breath as his body jerked with every pulse until he was completely spent.

When he finally sagged against the couch, chest still rising and falling fast, he looked at you with a lazy, fucked-out grin, seizing your messy hand by the wrist and bringing it to his mouth.

“Yo voy pa’ encimotaaa,” he sang, voice hoarse and you burst out laughing, watching as he took your fingers into his mouth, licking each of them clean. Then he tugged you in for a messy kiss, singing against your lips once more, “Baby, estás buenotaaa—”

“Enough, oh my gosh…” you guffawed, hiding your face in his neck.

Jason huffed a laugh. “Give me three minutes, I’ll deal with you.”

newyorican! bf jason who is utterly whipped for you.

🗒️ tagging : @unicvnthlle who requested . browser & scroll dividers by @/honeyluvsw, chain divider by @/chrisssiren, art by @/realstickii on x

[asterair]

countdown trio!!

[jadeittic]

The Logan Arrangement

summary: the rules are strict—you must date for two months, you must act convincingly in public, and whoever catches feelings first automatically loses.

pairing: john logan (off campus) x fem!reader

warnings/tags: 18+ content (read responsibly!) fake dating trope, enemies to lovers if you squint, mild swearing, emotional constipation, sexual tension/suggestive banter, basically the deal but make it john logan with a few changes (requested by anon who asked for a fake dating trope)

The bass vibrating through the floorboards of the hockey house felt less like a party and more like a localized seismic event.

Standing in the corner of the living room, a red plastic cup of lukeward beer held loosely in your hand, you observed the chaos with the detached scrutiny you usually reserved for your political science seminars.

It was only eleven on a Friday night, but the house was already operating at maximum capacity. Bodies pressed together in the dim ligthing, moving to a track that threated to shatter the windows.

"You're doing the thing again," Hannah said, appearing at your shoulder. She smelled like expensive vanilla and whatever fruity drink Garrett had given her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you replied.

"That glare," Hannah clarified, bumping her shoulder against yours. "The one where you look at this party like it's something worth writing a thesis on. Relax, babe. It's Friday. Your debate briefs are done, just have fun."

"I am having fun," you said midly. "I just watched a guy try to open a beer bottle with his teeth and fail."

Hannah sighed, shaking her head, though a fond smile played on her lips. At the age of twenty, Hannah Wells was one of the few people at Briar you genuinely liked.

She was grounded, observant, and possessed the patience of a saint—which she needed, considering she was dating Garrett Graham, a man who took up entire too much oxygen in any given room.

Speaking of, your eyes tracked Garrett as he navigated through the sea of drunk undergraduates, making a beeline straight for Hannah.

"Hey, beautiful," Garrett said, sliding an arm around Hannah's waist and pressing a kiss to her temple that was too domestic for a frat party.

He looked over her head at you. "Thrilled as always to see you radiating sunshine."

"I try to keep the moral high, Graham," you replied dryly.

"Where's the rest of your circus?" Hannah asked, leaning comfortably against Garrett's chest.

"Dean is currently trying to convince two freshmen that he's investigating the economics of the campus weed supply for school purposes," Garrett said, sounding entirely unbothered.

"Tucker's in the kitchen making a charcuterie board out of Ritz crackers. And Logan's somewhere. Probably flirting his way into a girl's pants."

Logan.

That name alone felt like a minor inconvenience. He was perpetually restless, hiding an objective sharp mind beneath layers of obnoxious frat-boy humor.

He was the kind of guy who couldn't stop moving—tapping cups, spinning cups, drumming his fingers against tables. His main flaw, as far as you could tell, was his absolute refusal to be genuine for more than three seconds.

"Don't tell me he's right behind me," you said, detecting a sudden shift in the air behind your back.

"He's right behind you," a voice drawled near your ear.

The heat radiating off his chest was immediate, creeping through the thin fabric of your top. You turn slowly, tilting your head back to meet Logan's eyes.

He was tall, his broad shoulders practically blocking the strobe lights from the makeshift dance floor.

"Sweetheart," Logan said, a lazy, infuriating smirk curving his mouth. "You're at my house. Drinking my cheap beer. Looking aggressively judgmental. It's like my birthday came early."

"If it were your birthday, I would've brought a gift," you shot back. "Like a dictionary. Or perhaps a book on basic social etiquette."

Garrett snorted loudly, burrying his face in Hannah's neck to muffle his laughter.

Logan didn't flinch. Instead, he took half a step closer. He did this all the time—invaded personal space, trying to rattle people with his presence. He smelled like beer and an underlying male musk that was very distracting.

"A dictionary?" Logan feigned hurt, placing a hand over his heart. "I passed my comms paper last week. Got a B-plus. Care to issue an apology for implying I'm illiterate?"

"A B-plus?" You arched an eyebrow. "Let me guess. The prompt was a three-page analysis of team dynamics, and you just described the plot of The Mighty Ducks."

Logan's eyes darkened, a flash of genuine amusement sparking in the dim light. "First of all, it was Miracle. Have some respect for the classics. Second of all, my work was flawless. You're just mad because you actually study for that class and I can bullshit my way into the same bracket."

"You don't bullshit, Logan, you distract," you corrected, your voice dropping an octave as you leaned in just a fraction. Two could play this game.

"Your arguments have zero structural integrity. You win debates by being loud and charming, forcing the opposition to give up out of sheer exhaustion. It's a cheap tactic."

"If it works, it's not cheap," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your mouth for a split second before returning to your eyes. "It's effective. You'd know that if you didn't argue like a politician who hates people."

"I don't hate people," you replied smoothly. "I just set high standards."

"Oh, snap!" A new voice interjected cheerfully.

You glanced sideways to see Dean materializing out of nowhere, dragging a very tired-looking Tucker behind him.

"Look who it is," Dean grinned, tossing an arm around Logan's shoulders and gesturing wildly at you with a solo cup. "Briar's premier academic terror."

"Hello, Dean. Did you solve the economic crisis of the campus weed supply?"

Dean blinked, genuinely taken aback, before pointing a finger at Garrett. "You told her? That was supposed to be a covert op, Graham!"

"You were shouting it at two freshmen in the kitchen!" Tucker sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He looked at you apologetically. "Good to see you. Sorry about... all of this."

Logan let out a low huff of laughter, stepping closer again. His arms brushed yours, sending an unbidden, sharp thrill of heat straight up your spine.

"So what are we aggressively debating tonight?" Dean asked eagerly, looking back and forth between Logan and you like you were a tennis match.

"Last week it was the geopolitical implications of Batman. Which for the record, you won. Logan sounded like an idiot."

"I was making a valid point about vigilante infrastructure," Logan protested loudly. "And I'm not doing this again. I was just pointing out that she hates fun. She thinks sports superstitions are dumb."

"I didn't say they were dumb," you corrected, turning your body fully toward Logan. "I said they were pathetic. Tapping a hockey stick against the post does not appease the 'hockey gods.' It's just you, a grown man, relying on magic because you can't shoulder the burden of a random outcome."

The entire circle went dead silent.

Even the thumping bass of the track seemed to fade into the background as Garrett, Dean, and Tucker all stared at you in horror. Superstitions in a hockey house were effectively a religion.

You had basically just walked into the Vatican and insulted the Pope.

Hannah covered her face with her hands. "Oh, God."

Logan didn't look mad. If anything, the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth grew sharper.

"Say that again," he dared you, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that sent a flush of heat creeping up your neck.

"I don't repeat myself for the stubbornly ignorant," you whispered back, holding his gaze fiercely.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Logan was overwhelming up close, the scent of his cologne curling into your lungs. He was staring at you like you were a puzzle he firmly intended to break apart.

The physical awareness between you was suddenly deafening. The rise and fall of his chest, the slight flex of his jaw, the way his thumb rubbed absently against the seam of his jeans.

It was heavy, heated, and entirely inappropriate considering you were fundamentally incompatible.

"You guys flirt like divorced parents," Dean announced loudly, shattering the tension.

You stepped back instantly. "I'd rather die, Di Laurentis."

"Seriously," Garrett chimed in, leaning against the wall with a delighted grin. "The sexual tension is ruining my high. Just make out already so Logan stops acting like a rabid dog every time you walk into a room."

"I do not act like a rabid dog," Logan snapped. He glanced at Garrett before shooting a defensive look at you. "And for the record, I don't flirt with her. Having a civil conversation with her is like trying to pet a cactus."

"A cactus?" You crossed your arms. "Your metaphors are weak as shit."

Logan stepped into your space again. "My metaphors are elite. You couldn't handle dating me anyway. I'm exhausting."

"Please," you scoffed. "I'd win."

Logan blinked, momentarily thrown off-balance. "You'd... win dating me? That doesn't even make sense."

"It means," you said, stepping right up into his space. "That if we dated, I would be completely unbothered. You, on the other hand, would crack in a week. You need vaildation too much. The moment I didn't laugh at your stupid jokes, your ego would implode."

"Is that right?" he asked, his voice dropping into a dangerously smooth register.

"That's a hypothesis," you whispered, holding his stare. "Backed by evidence."

"Alright, that's it," Garrett shouted, clapping his hands together like a referee ending a play. "Bet."

You tore your eyes away from Logan to look at Garrett. "What?"

"I'm calling the bluff," Garrett announced, stepping into the center of the circle. "Two months."

"Garrett, no," Hannah warned, grabbing his arm. "This is such a bad idea. They'll kill each other."

"No, let him speak," Logan interrupted, his eyes never leaving your face. There was a reckless, arrogant light in his gaze now. "What are you proposing, G?"

"A fake relationship," Garrett declared grandly. "Two months. Exclusive. Here are the terms: You two have to publicly pretended to be wildly, obnoxiously in love. You go to parties together. You sit in the cafeteria. You do all the gross couple shit."

"Absolutely not. You're the one to talk about fake relationships, Graham," you said immediately.

"Let him finish," Dean rubbed his hands together like a villain. "This is getting good."

"If you quit early, you lose," Garrett continued, counting on his fingers. "If you make it obvious to anyone outside this circle that it's fake, you lose. And the most important rule: whoever catches feelings first, loses."

Logan let out a bark of laughter. "Catch feelings? For her? I'd rather drink bleach."

"The feeling is mutual," you shot back smoothly.

"Excellent," Tucker said mildly, folding his arms. "Then this should be effortless for the both of you."

"If you both survive two months without losing," Dean added hastily, clearly inventing the stakes on the spot, "the three of us will cover Logan's share of the rent for the semester. And for the lady... we'll pay for your prep courses for the LSAT."

You froze. LSAT prep courses were expensive. You had been working extra shifts at the campus library just to save up for the basic packages.

Your secret, the one you closely guarded beneath your tailored clothes and sharp remarks, was that you constantly, exhaustingly stressed about money. Your parents weren't footing your tuition like the rest of the kids in this house.

You glanced at Logan.

He looked entirely unbothered, practically vibrating with the arrogant certainty that he could beat you. He probably thought it would be easy money. He probably thought he could charm his way through two months of fake dates, annoy you into quitting, and walk away victorious.

"Two months," you verified. "Exclusive public dating. Must appear convincing. Catching feelings results to an automatic forfeit."

"Those are the terms," Garrett confirmed, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Babe," Hannah whispered, leaning into your ear. "Do not do this. Logan is an idiot, but he's a very aggressively charming idiot. You're voluntarily putting yourself in the line of fire."

"Hannah," you murmured back, eyes fixed on Logan. "I'm going to ruin his life."

You stepped forward, extending your hand toward Logan.

"Deal."

Logan looked at your outstretched hand for a moment. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Then, slowly, he reached out and wrapped his calloused hand around yours. His palm was warm, rough from years of handling a hockey stick, and the sheer size of his grip swallowed your hand completely.

The moment your skin made contact, a violent, unexpected jolt of heat shot straight up your arm, setting low and heavy in your stomach. Logan's eyes snapped up to yours, widening just a fraction as if he had felt the same shock.

"Two months," Logan murmured, his voice suddenly sounding lower, rougher than it had a moment ago. "Try not to fall in love with me."

"Don't worry, Logan," you said, stepping back, desperately ignoring the tingling warmth still radiating across your skin. "I prefer men with actual reading comprehension skills."

As you turned away, dragging Hannah toward the kitchen to refill your beer, your mind was racing. You had a 3.9 GPA. You had destroyed professors in debates. You were composed, rational, and immune to college boy bullshit.

What are you doing with your life?

What happens after you agree to a fake-dating bet with John Logan is not a smooth, cinematic transition into romance. It is a controlled massacre of your entire existence.

By Monday morning, Briar University had done what Briar always did with total campus chaos: it weaponized it into gossip.

The exact moment you knew your carefully, ordered, highly academic life had collapsed was when you walked into your first class. Three people you had never seen before in your life turned in perfect, horrifying unision said, "Hey, Logan's girlfriend."

You didn't correct them. Not because it was true, but because correcting them would imply that you cared enough to use your vocal cords. And you absolutely refused to give the entire hockey house the satisfaction of knowing they've got you riled up.

Logan was waiting outside the lecture hall. As soon as he saw you, he pushed the wall with a lazy smirk. "Morning, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that in daylight. I feel like I'm being slaughtered."

"That's the whole point," he replied easily, not missing a beat.

Before you could step past him, he moved directly into your personal space. Logan didn't understand the concept of a normal human boundary.

Or, more accurately, he understood it perfectly and just liked seeing you try to calculate the physics of how much trouble you'd get into for shoving him into the nearest trash can.

He held out a coffee cup. You paused. "...Is that for me?"

"No, it's an experiment. I'm conducting a study on what happens when your cold, robotic, cynical heart accepts a basic act of human kindess. Do you melt? Do you hiss? I need to know."

You snatched it from his hand with a glare. You took a sip, fully prepared to criticize his taste, but stopped mid-swallow. It was exactly how you liked it.

You hated that he knew that. You hated that he had apparently paid attention to your order exactly once three weeks ago and cataloged it away.

By noon, your little arrangement has entered phase two.

When you sat down in the crowded dining hall with your laptop open, ready to get some actual work done, Logan didn't take the empty seat across from you.

He slid right onto the bench next to you. His thigh pressed casually against yours, the heat of his body radiating through his jacket. He acted like it was completely accidental, totally ignoring the fact that your entire nervous system was actively trying to exit your body through your ears.

Dean slid into the seat across from you a second later, immediately grinning like a hyena. "Oh, this absolute disgusting. Look at you two. You're doing the couple lean already. My stomach is turning, I love it."

"We're not leaning," you said, stiffening your posture until you were straight as an ironing board.

Logan immediately leaned his entire upper body weight into your shoulder, resting his chin almost directly on your collarbone to look at your laptop screen.

"What are we studying, baby?"

You shifted away, your face burning.

He followed.

You shifted back toward the edge of the bench.

He followed again, nudging his shoulder against yours with a quiet chuckle that vibrated right against your side.

"If you don't move three inches to the left," you whispered to Logan, "I'm going to stick this fork in your knee."

"Threatening me with bodily harm?" Logan beamed, completely unbothered. "Write that down, G. It's out one-week anniversary."

By the second week, the cracks in your defense strategy started small. Annoyingly, frustratingly small.

The real issue was Logan remembering things. Not grand, cinematic, romantic things. That would've been easy to ignore. It was worse. It was the mundane, everyday things.

On Tuesday, a freak afternoon thunderstorm hit right as your statistics seminar let out. You stood in the lobby of the building, staring gloomily at the pouring rain, fully prepared to ruin your favorite shoes and your mood.

Then the heavy glass doors swung open, bringing in a gust of cold air, and there was Logan. He was soaking wet, his hair blasted blasted by the wind, holding out a massive umbrella.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. "Don't you have practice?"

"Canceled," he lied smoothly, though you knew for a fact hockey practice was never canceled unless the arena literally froze over from the outside.

"C'mon, I'm not letting your stuff get damaged. I'd never hear the end of it."

On Thursday, after you spent six straight hours in the computer lab and forgot that human beings require food to stay alive, he casually walked past your desk.

Without saying a word, he dropped a bag of chips, a sandwich, and a protein bar right on top of your keyboard. He didn't even linger for a thank you; he just flashed you a smile and kept walking.

Then he started walking you home from the campus library. Every single night.

"You don't have to do this, you know," you told him one chilly night. "I'm perfectly capable of walking without security."

"I know," he replied simply, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

That was it. No cocky comeback. No punchline to ease the tension. Just complete, unbothered certainty. And that was the exact problem. John Logan didn't do anything without intent.

Later that weekend, the hockey house threw a massive party that you were forced to attend to 'keep up the act.' You were standing with Logan by the crowded kitchen island when Dean loudly announced to a group of girls.

"Just so you all know, Logan hasn't even looked at anyone's way ever since she came. The man is practically a monk."

The girls laughed, looking at Logan expectantly, waiting for him to play along or make a joke.

Logan didn't deny it. He didn't even laugh. He just took a slow sip of his cup and said, "No time. I've been busy."

And he looked directly, intensely at you when he said it.

The heat in his gaze made your face feel like it was on fire. You came very, very close to throwing your cup of beer straight at his beautiful, stupid forehead. Almost.

By week three, the rest of the house began to notice that something was seriously off with the atmosphere.

It wasn't that you were acting like a couple in public (That was the literal objective of the bet). The actual problem was much worse: it was starting to look real when absolutely no one was watching.

Hannah cornered you in the kitchen on a Sunday afternoon while you were trying to make tea.

"You're aware you're softening, right?" she asked, leaning her hip against the counter and eyeing you.

"I am not softening," you said keeping your voice entirely flat and monotone.

Hannah gave you a long, knowing look that made you want to crawl under the floor. "You're not losing the bet," she said quietly, her tone softening. "But something's happening."

She patted your shoulder in a way that felt entirely too sympathetic and walked away before you could come up with a brilliant counterargument to save face.

The following week was the week everything completely shifted, because Logan stopped performing.

The flirting didn't disappear, but it changed into something unrecognizable. There was less showmanship, less playing to the crowd. He stopped making the rest of the campus his audience.

Instead, he started making you his sole focus.

One chilly Friday night, he walked you back to your dorm after a grueling study session that had left you wishing for a quick death.

"You don't have to come up to the door," you said. "I have my keys anyway."

"I know."

But he didn't move. He just stood there, his breath turning to white mist in the cold night air. His dark hair was slightly messy from the wind, and he looked incredibly human.

The silence stretched between you, growing longer and heavier by the second. Usually, this was the part where he'd make a sarcastic comment, flash his signature grin, or try to steal a fake kiss to get a reaction out of you so he could tease you about it.

But he just looked at you.

Then quieter than you'd ever heard him speak, Logan said, "You ever think about what happens after this?"

You frowned, "We win. Obviously. You and I get the satisfaction of annoying the boys and not pay for anything. Life continues exactly as it did before we started this."

"That's not what I meant."

You studied his face. The streetlights threw sharp shadows across his jawline. He wasn't smirking, or teasing, he looked incredibly still. It made your stomach tighten in a way that you really, really did not appreciate.

"I don't think about the after," you said carefully, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan nodded once. Like that was a completely acceptable answer. Like it was for now.

"Goodnight," he said softly, turning to walk down the path toward his car.

Naturally, the first real breakdown happened during a completely stupid, unromantic moment.

It was a Thursday night in the absolute deepest basement of the campus library. It was past 2:00 AM. Your notes looked like ancient hieroglyphics, your brain felt like wet cement, and your very last remaining nerve was hanging on by a single, fraying thread of caffeine.

Out of nowhere, a familiar shadow fell over your messy desk. Logan slid into the wooden chair directly across from you. He looked entirely too awake for two in the morning.

“You look like you’re about to commit a felony,” he said, eye-level with your massive stack of textbooks.

“I am studying.”

“That’s worse.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a massive headache blooming behind your eyes. “Why are you even here, Logan? Don't you sleep?”

He reached out and lightly tapped the edge of your open laptop. “Because Hannah told me you haven’t eaten anything since lunch. And because you’re stubborn.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“I’m just highly focused. It’s an adrenaline rush.”

“You’re going to pass out on a public desk and some freshman is going to steal your notes.”

“I said I’m—”

The words caught in your throat. Logan reached across the table, his large hand wrapping around the top edge of your laptop, and gently but firmly closed it shut.

“Come on,” he said.

It wasn't a command. He wasn't teasing your or trying to be funny. His voice was just filled with a quiet, undeniable certainty that completely disarmed me.

You stared at him, your stubbornness trying to flare up one last time. “I’m not done.”

“You are for tonight,” he said. He paused, looking at you with an expression that was so soft, so genuinely sweet, it scared me more than any test ever could. Quieter, he added, “I’m not asking.”

And for some horrific reason, that was what broke you. It wasn't him trying to control the situation; it was the fact that he was disguising genuine, protective care as control. My throat felt tight.

Once you got outside into the cool, crisp night air, he pulled a warm, wrapped breakfast sandwich out of his jacket pocket—he must have gone to the 24-hour diner down the street—and handed it to you.

“You’re really not supposed to be good at this,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly.

“At what?”

“Whatever this is. Being nice. Taking care of me. It’s messing with everything”

Logan leaned his back against the brick wall of the library, looking down at you with a soft, steady expression. “I’m not trying.”

And that, right there, was the ultimate problem. He wasn't trying to act like a good boyfriend for the bet. He just was.

By week six, Garrett called an emergency house meeting. In the hockey house, a formal house meeting meant disaster was not just imminent—it had already arrived, unpacked its bags, and moved into the guest room.

“You guys are failing,” Garrett announced, pointing a finger at you and Logan from across the living room coffee table like a disappointed coach.

“We are literally not failing,” you shot back instantly, crossing your arms defensively. “Everyone on campus thinks we’ve been dating for a month and a half. The dean literally asked me how Logan was doing yesterday.”

“You’re not winning, though,” Dean corrected, leaning over the back of the couch with a piece of leftover pizza in his hand.

Tucker nodded from the armchair, not looking up from his phone. “There is a distinct difference between surviving and winning.”

Logan leaned back in his seat, looking completely unbothered as he stretched his long legs out across the rug. “We’re fine. The bet is intact. No one doubts us.”

Hannah didn’t speak at all. She just sat in the corner armchair, watching the two of you with a look that made you incredibly nervous.

Garrett stood up and started pacing, pointing between the two of you. “You’re supposed to be acting. That was the deal. Fake dating. But right now, Logan looks like he’s thinking way too much about what he's doing, and she looks like she’s actively trying not to look at him. It’s weird. The vibe is off.”

“I don’t think,” Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s against my brand.”

Without thinking, your brain completely bypassing your filters, you blurted out, “He absolutely thinks. He thinks more than all of you combined. He’s incredibly observant, and just because he doesn't shout his thoughts doesn't mean he's empty-headed.”

The entire room went dead silent. Garrett stopped mid-pace. Dean froze with the pizza halfway to his mouth.

They all stared at you. Then you realized what you had just done: you had just fiercely, reflexively, passionately defended Logan John’s honor in front of his best friends.

That was entirely new. That was not in the script. You hated myself a little bit in that moment, your cheeks burning a bright, undeniable crimson.

It was exactly eleven forty-five on a Friday night, which meant there were fifteen minutes left on the clock.

Fifteen minutes until the wager expired. Sixty days of holding hands in public corridors, sixty days of leaning close enough to share breath but never a kiss, and sixty days of you telling yourself you were fundamentally immune to John Logan.

The bass of the off-campus house party rattled through the worn wooden floorboards, vibrating against the soles of your boots. Red and purple strobe lights sliced through the humid, crowded room, illuminating the exact moment Logan broke through the throng of sweaty bodies.

He moved with that infuriating, effortless grace he always possessed—broad shoulders easily parting the crowd, his dark leather jacket slipping past red plastic cups and uninhibited dancers.

His eyes were locked on you from across the room. There was no trademark smirk tonight. No lazy, arrogant tilt to his jaw. He looked deadly serious.

Your heart did a violent, terrifying stutter against your ribs. Don't lose your nerve. 

The bet had been simple: fake date for two months to get your respective meddling friends off your backs, and whoever caught feelings—whoever tapped out first—lost. It was an exercise in ego. A test of pure, stubborn willpower.

He knew exactly where to touch your lower back to make your breath hitch. You knew exactly how to angle your neck when he whispered in your ear so that he would lose his train of thought. It was mutually assured destruction disguised as a joke.

But as he stopped right in front of you, the joke was violently dead.

He took your hand, wrapping his large, warm fingers around your wrist, and pulled you out of the kitchen. You followed blindly, letting him navigate you down a narrow, shadowed hallway away from the crush of the party. The noise muffled slightly, swallowed by the heavy coats piled on a nearby bench.

Logan turned to face you. The shadows carved sharp angles into his cheekbones. His chest was rising and falling a little too fast, his dark eyes entirely devoid of their usual playful challenge. He took a single step into your space, trapping the air between you.

"Time's almost up," he murmured, his voice a low, rough scrape against the thrumming music from the other room.

"I know," you breathed. Your throat felt incredibly dry. You fought the urge to step back, but the wall was already pressing against my shoulder blades. "You ready to concede?"

"No," he said flatly. Then, his gaze dragged down to your mouth, heavy and dark and starving. "I'm ready to change the rules."

Your logical brain told you that you should find a flaw in this plan. Your old survival instinct told you to run away before you got hurt.

But instead, you looked up into his eyes and said, “This is probably going to ruin our entire reputation for being sensible.”

Logan smiled, that beautiful, real smile that didn't have a hint of a smirk in it, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “Probably.”

He squeezed your hand tightly, pulling you just an inch closer until your chest was pressed against his jacket. “Worth it?”

You looked at him. Really, truly looked at him—the boy who brought you umbrellas in the rain and remembered how you took your coffee.

You ignored the loud music behind him, the crazy bet behind you, and all the overthinking in your own head. For the first time in two solid months of calculating every move, you didn’t care about the outcome.

“…Yeah,” you whispered, reaching your free hand up to grip the lapel of his jacket. “Definitely worth it.”

Logan exhaled a massive breath, like he’d been holding it underwater for weeks, a look of pure relief washing over his face. “Good,” he said.

And this time, when he stepped closer and leaned his head down, you didn’t move away at all—you reached up to meet him halfway.

The second your lips touched, a violent, desperate shockwave tore through you. It wasn’t a soft, exploratory first kiss. It was an absolute collision.

Logan groaned, a deep, helpless sound in the back of his throat, and immediately dropped his hands to your hips, hauling you flush against his hard body.

He kissed you like he was starving. Like the last two months had been a physical torture he was finally allowed to end. His tongue swept into your mouth, possessive and hot, tasting every corner while his hands gripped your waist tight enough to bruise.

"Baby," he breathed raggedly against your lips, peppering hot, frantic kisses down the corner of your mouth to your jaw. "Christ, I've wanted to do this since week one."

"Then why didn't you?" you gasped, letting your head fall back against the wall as his lips dragged down your neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against your sensitive skin.

"Because you're stubborn as hell," he growled, biting lightly at your collarbone. "And I needed you to be sure. Let's get out of here. Now."

There was no conversation. No goodbye to your friends. You practically sprinted out the back door, stumbling into the sharp chill of the autumn night. His hand was locked in yours, pulling you toward his car parked down the block.

The entire drive to your apartment was a blur of thick, agonizing tension. Logan kept one hand on the steering wheel, his knuckles white, while his right hand rested heavily on your thigh.

His thumb dragged slow, torturous circles against the denim of your jeans, sending jolts of heat pooling directly between your legs.

By the time you shoved your way through your front door, the final remnants of restraint shattered.

The heavy wooden door hadn't even clicked shut before Logan pinned you against it. His mouth crashed down on yours again, deeper and dirtier this time.

He tasted like desperation. Your hands scrambled at the zipper of his jacket, shoving the cool leather off his broad shoulders so it dropped uselessly to the floor.

"Fuck, baby," he mumbled roughly, his hands already sliding up under the hem of your sweater. His large, warm palms met the bare skin of your stomach, and you threw your head back with a sharp gasp. "Tell me to stop if this is just the adrenaline."

"Logan," you said, your voice shaking with pure need. "If you stop right now, I'll never forgive you."

He let out a low, feral sound that sent a shiver straight down your spine. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the hem of your sweater and pulled it over your head, tossing it aside.

You stood before him in a bra, chest heaving, entirely exposed to the searing heat of his gaze. Every muscle in his jaw feathered as his eyes took you in.

"You have no idea," he whispered, his voice thick, his hands trailing down your sides. "You have no fucking idea what it's been like. Pretending I wasn't obsessing over you. Holding your hand and having to let it go."

"Show me, then," you challenged softly, your fingers reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

He didn't need to be told twice. He stripped off his shirt with brutal efficiency, revealing a broad chest and a torso cut with hard lines of muscle.

You barely had a second to appreciate the view before he was backing you down the short hallway into yout bedroom. The mattress hit the backs of your knees, and you tumbled down into the comforter, Logan following you down instantly.

His weight settled over you, caging you in, heavily masculine and exquisitely overwhelming. He kissed you again, his thigh parting your legs as his hips pressed flush against you.

Even through the layers of denim between you, you could feel exactly how hard and thick he was for.

A desperate, wet heat flooded your panties. You arched blindly against him, seeking friction, and he groaned into your mouth.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he rasped, his warm breath fanning over your collarbone.

His hands moved with practiced, urgent purpose. He unclasped your bra in a single deft motion, sweeping the lace aside to expose you.

The cool air hit your flushed skin for only a second before Logan lowered his head. His mouth closed over one hard peak, hot and wet, his tongue laving the sensitive center while his teeth scraped lightly.

A loud, embarrassing whimper tore out of your throat. Your hands dove into his hair, gripping tightly as a heavy, twisting coil of pleasure tightened deep in your belly.

He suckled you unapologetically, drawing hard enough to make stars burst behind your eyes, while his hand moved lower, fumbling with the button of your jeans.

You tore at each other’s remaining clothes. It wasn't graceful; it was chaotic, driven by two solid months of pent-up starvation.

"You're perfect," he breathed, tracing a path down your stomach with one long finger. He followed the trail with a string of open-mouthed kisses, lower and lower, until he reached the juncture of your thighs.

Before you could brace yourself, he settled between your legs, hooking your knees over his shoulders.

"Logan—" you gasped, reaching for him, but he just smirked—a dark, wicked version of his usual smile.

"I have two months of making up to do," he murmured against you. "Keep your hands in the sheets, baby.”

And then his mouth was on you. He found my clit instantly, his tongue sweeping over the sensitive bundle of nerves in a long, relentless drag.

Your back arched completely off the mattress. You screamed his name, your fingers twisting violently into the heavy fabric of the sheets as he devoured you.

He knew exactly what he was doing. He was thorough, patient, and ruinously skilled. He alternated between deep, rhythmic laps and tight, focused flicks of his tongue, teasing you right to the edge and then backing off just enough to make you beg.

"Please," you sobbed out, thrashing helplessly against his mouth. "Logan, please baby, I need—"

"I know," he soothed, sliding two thick fingers deep inside you while his mouth continued its assault.

you were completely dripping for him, embarrassingly slick, but he only seemed emboldened by how wrecked you were.

The orgasm hit you like a freight train. It ripped through your body in violent, shivering waves. You cried out, legs clamped tightly over his shoulders as you broke apart under his mouth.

You were still gasping for breath, chest heaving, when Logan rose over you. His face was flushed, his jaw tight, his dark eyes dilated with pure, predatory need.

He settled his weight back between your thighs, propping himself up on his forearms. He nudged the blunt, hot head of his length against your heat, stopping right on the verge.

He looked down at you, his expression softening into an aching vulnerability that made your heart hammer in your throat.

"I need you to know," he said, his voice entirely wrecked in the quiet room. "Before I do this. You have to know it wasn't a game to me. Not for a single goddamn second."

Tears stung the corners of your eyes at the raw sincerity in his tone. "I know. It wasn't a game to me either."

He let out a broken breath, leaning down to press a deep, bruising kiss to your mouth. As your lips locked, he drove his hips forward, burying himself fully inside you.

You both cried out. He was massive, thick and blazingly hot, stretching you open and filling every empty ache you hadn't let yourself acknowledge.

"Okay?" he whispered, his hips instinctively trembling against yours.

"Don't wait," you begged him, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist to lock his hips to you. “Don't hold back anymore."

That was the only permission he needed. Logan began to move, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in to the hilt with a heavy, wet slap of skin on skin.

He established a deep, punishing rhythm. Every thrust was accompanied by a harsh grunt, his hips snapping forward to hit the deepest, sweetest spot inside you over and over.

Your nails dug half-moons into his back, your hips rising off the mattress to meet him halfway, desperate for deeper friction.

"Fuck," he ground out, the pace accelerating. The bed frame let out a heavy rhythmic squeak, echoing the wet sounds of your bodies colliding. "You feel—god, you feel better than I imagined."

"John… baby…” you whimpered, the syllables falling from your lips entirely broken.

He shifted his grip, sliding one hand under your hips to angle you perfectly against him, while his other hand reached between your bodies. His thick thumb found your swollen clit, pressing down right as he drove deep inside.

The pleasure was too dense, too sudden. You let out a sharp cry, your head thrashing on the pillows as the second orgasm rushed up your spine.

"That's it," he praised hoarsely, his grip tightening violently on your hips. "Come for me. Let go."

You shattered around him, your walls clenching tightly over his cock. The sensation tipped him right over his own edge.

Logan let out a deep, guttural shout, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he drove completely to the hilt. His entire body went rigid, cording with strain as he pulsed deep inside you.

For a long time, the only sound in the room was the ragged tear of your breathing. Your heart was pounding so hard you could feel the vibration echoing in his chest, pressed completely flush against yours.

Slowly, the adrenaline ebbed, leaving a sprawling warmth in its wake. Logan pressed a soft, damp kiss to the side of your neck before gently rolling to the side, pulling me flush against his side.

He wrapped a thick arm around your waist, tucking your head securely under his chin. His hand smoothed down the messy tangle of your hair, his thumb beginning a slow, possessive stroke along your spine.

"So," he murmured, his voice rumbling pleasantly beneath your ear. The tension was gone from his shoulders, replaced by a profound, immovable contentment. "I tap out. You win."

You tilted your head up, resting your chin on his bare chest to look at him. His dark hair was a ruined mess, his lips were swollen, and his eyes were soft and incredibly bright in the dim light of the bedroom.

The smug arrogance of his fake dating persona was completely burned away, leaving only the real boy underneath. The one you were hopelessly, irrevocably in love with.

"I don't think either of us actually lost, Logan," you said softly, tracing the line of his jaw.

A lazy, brilliant smile finally spread across his face, lighting up the corners of his eyes. "Yeah," he whispered, pressing his lips firmly against your forehead. "I think you're right."

You lay there in the quiet aftermath of the storm, the neon digits on his nightstand clock finally flipping past midnight.

Day sixty was officially over. The wager was dead and buried. And as his fingers gently laced with yours in the dark, tying your hand to his, you realized the terrifying truth.

The fake romance was easy. Now you had to wake up tomorrow, walk out into the real world, and start playing for keeps.

taglist: @mnkeycveringisemoji @aeyoshinyships @itzzgillianj27 @pearcorey @3mbarrass3d @mariaemiliasblog @l33nlikeacholo @pinkpantheris @apookalypse @virgoalert123 @cloeisclaudie @choppedpartymuffinwinner @jissellegw @m3lodyxo @mads-writes-vibes @nihoshi17

[seafoammm]

plowed down!

*⁀➷john logan x fem!reader

➷ summary: you’re the captain of the briar girl’s volleyball team, leading your team through the ncaa volleyball semifinals in the hopes of reaching the championship. and you do achieve that, but not after experiencing the most insane introduction with john logan, a man you hadn’t known to exist until now

➷ word count: 5464

➷ warnings: cursing, sexual references kind of (no smut), probably inaccurate volleyball because i literally have never played and don’t know anything about it (i was researching as i wrote this, so i'm genuinely so sorry if it’s completely wrong. also, for the sake of plot making sense, we’re gonna say the ncaa volleyball tournaments take place in march because i want hannah and garrett, and allie and dean to be together)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It was nearing the end of the 5th set, and yet, still, both Briar U and Harvard’s girl’s volleyball teams were tied. Fucking 24 points each, both having two winning sets beneath their belts. Meaning, whoever got the last two points– the points that both teams desperately needed– would get a ticket straight to the NCAA Championship.

And you, the libero on the team, the captain, were fucking livid.

Your team, as well as yourself, had been playing sloppy– or at least, it felt like you had– and you really had no clue why. You guys had been perfect during practice, together as one team. Hell, the first two sets had been great, too. Wipeouts. 

But then, of course, because it was fucking Harvard, they won the third set. And then the fourth.

And now you were on the fifth and final set of the NCAA Semifinals, tied 24 points each.

It had to be the most intense game you had ever played in your 15 years of volleyball. 

It didn’t help that Harvard was absolutely, 100%, targeting your ass. You guess it made sense– since your freshman year, you’d been talked about. A prospect that sports sites couldn’t stop talking about. Your name had been in their mouths since your first game at Briar U, and it hadn’t left since.

And that’s because you– to be totally, completely humble– were a really fucking amazing libero. 

Your defensive moves and tactics were the highlights of many games, the Briar U volleyball account literally reposting edits that fans have made of your best saves. You didn’t let it get to your head, of course. You couldn’t, even if you had tried. You weren’t like that– you could never be like that, because in all honesty, you knew the only reason you had gotten as good as you had was because of past coaches and teammates. As well as current ones.

So yeah, you were good, maybe even great as some of the sports sites put it, but it was all through the effort of others.

And, to be honest, right now, you didn’t feel great.

Or good.

You felt completely, utterly, horrible, because during this set– despite it being in the beginning– you had failed to save two hits, the spikes from the opposing team smacking the center of your side of the net. This meant that Harvard had earned two points because you couldn’t get your shit together, and it was driving you fucking nuts.

You felt like you had the pressure of this win on your shoulders, and it really didn’t help that the stands were filled to the brim with students. Harvard students, yes, but mostly Briar students, since it was ‘Briar Blackout’ tonight, a term coined for any sports event when they were wanting to fill the stands, especially now, since it was semifinals, which were held in an arena very close to campus. And boy, were they filled. Which made this all that much worse. God, did it feel like you were letting them down right now. It was embarrassing. Every time Harvard got a point, the disappointed groans of your supporters met your ears, and the usual smile that you wore on your face as you played had been completely wiped from your features during the third set. Because genuinely what the fuck?

This game had been disappointing on so many levels to the point that you were now actively listening to the chants from fellow students and supporters, something you never did. You always tried to block them out, to focus on yourself, but right now, you needed the support.

And it helped a bit, hearing the chants of your name, as well as the other names of girls on your team, shouting how you guys totally ‘got this’.

The people sitting in the courtside seats were the loudest.

In the chairs to your right sat people who had actually bought tickets, while the courtside seats to your left was the Briar boys volleyball team. And, in the courtside seats directly behind you sat the Briar U boys hockey team. Which was new.

You’re pretty sure it was because they had won nationals, so they were here to support the girls volleyball team as they fought for their place. Which you were dreading may be coming to a dead-end tonight.

But you couldn’t be thinking about the hockey boys right now– you couldn’t be thinking about any of this, not when you watched as Luisa Elliot, your best friend, your outside hitter, stumbled as her hands tapped the ball, sending it in the completely wrong direction. Instead of it going back over the net like it was meant to, it had been hit completely off course.

It flew over your head, and was heading straight for the stands directly behind. 

That was no good.

You sprint with not an ounce of hesitation towards the ball, following its movement with your eyes and legs, and you knew there was no way in hell you were going to make it– not when you were coming horribly close to the hockey boys. And, if you ran into them before you sent that ball back where it was meant to go, then you might not get the point, or, worse, Harvard could get the point.

And, fuck, you really couldn’t have that.

So you did what you always did– you leaped, quite literally throwing yourself forward in a dive, right arm pointed straight out, desperate to hit that ball back to your teammates. And you felt it, the ball smacking against the fleshy part of your hand below the knuckle of your thumb. 

You figured it went as planned, your eyes watching as the ball went back over your head– and, when a loud, collective, deafening cheer sounded from your side of the stands, you were positive that your play had gone perfectly, the ball going exactly where it was supposed to be.

However, you were not where you were supposed to be.

No, you were currently dangling over one of the Briar hockey boys.

In the save that may have kept Briar in the game, you had sacrificed your dignity, because here you were, body pressed against and over a man you had never once spoken to– hell, you didn’t even know which hockey player was beneath you. All you knew was that you could feel his face pressed into the fabric that covered your stomach, the rest of your upper body draped over the top of his head. The only reason why you hadn’t flipped completely over the man was because his right arm had instinctively secured itself around the back of your thighs, keeping you in place.

To your left, you heard the loud cackle from one of the boys, and to your right, you heard another one of the guys react with a shocked, “Oh, shit!”

You tried to move quickly, hearing the game continuing behind you as the ball was passed between the Harvard girls. Your hands, which had previously been held out in front of you, trying to balance yourself, now were being grabbed by the two other hockey players beside you, who helped tug you to an upright position as quickly as they could.

As they do this, you feel the arm of the guy that you are currently straddling slide away from your thighs, and he holds his hands back, palms facing you as if he was surrendering to something.

You only get a quick glance of the guy’s baffled– but heavily amused– eyes before your left hand quite literally presses against his face, using it as leverage to push yourself off him, where you start at a sprint back towards the game that had your entire focus. And, it’s lucky you did that, because just as you were about to make it back to the court, the middle hitter of the Harvard team had spiked the ball straight to the floor on your side of the court. 

Again, you dove to the ball, slamming your hand down on the polished wood floor just in time. Instead of the volleyball making contact with the planks of wood, it ricochets off the back of your right hand, moving upward where another one of your teammates– Liliana Amato– bumps it up and over to Louisa.

Louisa, the fucking amazing hitter that she is, spikes the ball with the palm of her hand, sending it straight to the back corner of Harvard’s side of the net. 

Their libero isn’t fast enough. 

No one on their team is fast enough, because the ball hits the wood with a loud smack, resulting in the entire room to vibrate with the loud cheers and screams of Briar students and fans.

You jump up quickly when you hear the whistle from the referee, and you swear you could cry from pure glee when the ref announces that, yes, the point did count, despite the Harvard team trying to claim that your pancake move hadn’t actually saved the ball. 

This causes another wave of loud cheers to erupt in the room, and you move to Louisa and Liliana, a giant grin on your face as you three high five, but not before each of you took a running headstart, jumping as you met in the middle, your shoulders colliding in a celebration of glee. It was something you always did, the three of you, because, as fate had it, you three were the ‘big three’. You guys moved with an efficiency like no other, and as it turned out, sports websites loved it.

All you needed now was one point.

One point, and you would be two points ahead, and then you’d win.

If you guys got this point, you’d make it to the NCAA Championship, something that Briar girls volleyball hasn’t been to in over ten years.

The arena gets quiet again as the two teams get ready, and from the corner of your eye you watch as Macey Cameron, your team's setter, tosses the ball up into the air, using her palm to serve it to Harvard.

And, like that, another intense battle ensues. You swear to God you’ve lost at least twenty pounds through this game because the Harvard girls really were putting you to work– the ball had gone over the net and back three times in the last thirty seconds, and each time, you’ve had to dive to save the ball from one of the girls' vicious spikes.

Like now.

You had just gotten to your feet again when Harvard’s middle hitter sent a completely fucking lethal spike your way. It was going down and over your head with a speed you didn’t even know was possible, and you tossed yourself backwards, right hand out to save the ball from hitting the floor. As it flies up, your body rolls on top of itself, and you’re pretty sure you’ve done some sort of fucking backward sumersault, because one second you’re on your back, and the next you’re on your knees, panting as you rise back to your feet, watching as Liliana sends the ball back over the net.

You watch as the ball flies near the back of the court, hitting the polished wood planks before any of the girls can get it.

But the room stays deathly silent because was that out?

It couldn’t be out.

There was no way you guys just did all that shit for the fucking ball to go out.

Everyone’s eyes are on the ref, who’s talking to the other referees. They’re huddled in a group, and after thirty seconds, they step apart. You watch, and you feel like it’s in slow motion as the man points to your team, nodding.

It had gone in.

The ball had gone in, meaning that Briar had just won the second point needed.

Meaning you were going to the fucking NCAA Championship.

In an instant, the room erupted in cheers so loud that it vibrated through the ground, reaching your feet as you and your team jumped up and down, your coaches– who have yelled at you more times than you could count this game– joining in. You’re so ecstatic that you don’t even think to apologize to the hockey boy that you had run down just minutes prior.

The hockey boy that is now watching you as he cheers, a soft, intrigued smile on his face.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Typically after volleyball games, you went straight home, where you would take a shower and then slump into bed, passing out before you could even question if you were comfortable. It was a ritual at this point; you play a game, you go home and sleep immediately after.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, you and your team had made it to the fucking NCAA Volleyball Championship, which Briar hadn’t done since you were still in elementary school. So, yes, you would fight through your exhaustion for one night, and head to Malone’s for a late night meal with three of your teammates– your best friends– and you would have a great time despite desperately wanting to get comfy in your bedsheets.

Which is how you found yourself now, at 10:30 p.m., entering Malone’s with Louisa, Lililiana, and another girl on the team, Jade, at your side, the four of you walking through the doors of the popular diner. 

You were chatting with Louisa who walked directly next to you, and you laughed at something she said, the soft sound carrying through the diner over the group you had yet to notice. The group you had yet to ever meet.

“Holy shit, it’s her!” Dean hissed, leaning across the table to nudge Logan in the shoulder from where he sat beside Garrett. “She’s literally right there–”

“Yeah, I have fucking eyes and ears, man,” Logan responded back quickly, voice terse as his eyes sideglanced you and your group, watching as the four of you walked past the table that currently held six people, including himself, without any knowledge that you were being watched. He looked back to Dean, eyes narrowed, “Can you be quiet?”

“Why?” Dean asked with a smirk, leaning back against the booth chair, his arm still hung comfortably around Allie, who was grinning with Hannah. “You’ve been aware of this girl for four hours now, and it’s obvious you already have a massive crush on her.”

“I don’t–”

“You’ve been stalking her Instagram since the game ended,” Garrett interrupted with a snort. “I’m pretty sure you’ve scrolled down to her sophomore year of high school.”

Hannah laughs into her drink at that, sharing a look with Tucker who had been snacking on the basket of fries that sat in the middle of the friend group. 

Logan feels his face heat up at that, and he promptly shuts off his phone, pressing it face down onto the table. Then, he picks up his drink, taking a large sip as he shrugs, speaking into the glass, “She’s interesting.”

“Yeah, interesting because she practically gave you a lap dance mid-game,” Tucker snickered, which, as a result, caused Hannah and Allie to erupt into fits of laughter. 

Logan glared harshly at Tucker, “That’s not why I find her interesting.”

“Sure,” Dean drawls out.

“Dude, I’m serious,” Logan huffs, taking a fry and chucking it at the blonde’s head. Then, he leans back against his seat, crossing his arms over himself, “She’s good at her sport. It's fun to watch."

“I think he’s so intrigued because she has no idea who he is,” Hannah butts in with a grin, laughing as Garrett nods along, his arm resting firmly around her, his fingers rubbing against the fabric of her cardigan. “And that’s new for any Briar hockey boy.”

“Oh, definitely,” Garrett agrees.

Logan only stays quiet with a sharp roll of his eyes. But he doesn’t deny it. He can’t deny it, because it’s true. 

Just hours ago, after your amazing win, you had been asked for a post-game interview by Briar’s sports media team. And you had said yes, because why would you not? It was better than having to deal with the glares and snarky comments from exiting Harvard fans.

Now, one thing about you was, you didn’t do hockey. Like, at all. You’ve never been to a game before. You didn’t understand how the stupid little ice game worked. Which, very fucking embarrassing for you, was discovered by the entire internet just hours prior.

It was discovered by John Logan hours prior.

The questions had been basic; they always were. Just repeats of the same things, such as certain plays, how you felt winning, yada, yada, yada. However, tonight, the last question had been different, directly tied to the man you had plowed down hours ago. The man who you didn’t know a fucking thing about, because you seriously didn’t do hockey.

“Alright,” the reporter, Sammy, had said, moving onto the next question. “Now, kinda venturing off… we actually wanted to talk about a specific save tonight.”

You smiled your practiced smile, the type that was sweet and polite and all the right ways, “Oh yeah?”

“John Logan. How are you feeling about that?” The reporter stated the question like you were supposed to know who the fuck that was. And maybe it was because your brain was practically mush from the brutal game, paired with the fact that you were running on pure adrenaline post game, but you couldn’t for the life of you connect that the guy you had run down was John Logan. Again, whoever the hell he was.

“Sorry, who?”

Yeah, you couldn’t have picked a worse fucking response.

But, in John Logan’s eyes, that was the perfect fucking response. When he watched the interview on the way to Malone’s after the game– because he was intrigued with volleyball, that was the only reason– he couldn’t help the amused but giddy smile that laced his face.

The reporter’s smile faltered, and she looked back to the camera that was videotaping the entire thing for the school’s media, before her gaze returned back to you like you guys were in an episode of The Office, “Uh… John Logan?”

“Yeah, um... I’m really sorry, I have no clue who that is.”

“The guy you ran into. When saving one of the passes.”

“Oh,” you respond. And because for some fucking reason you can’t help but embarrass yourself tonight, the situation finally clicks in your head, and you say the worst thing humanly possible: you smile, and say, “Hockey boy.”

Like a fucking idiot.

Or, in John Logan’s eyes, like a fucking angel.

“...Right. He plays right wing for Briar men’s hockey,” she explains. And then, she looks back at the camera as she asks, “You didn’t know the hockey team was behind you, watching tonight?”

And, of course, because for some reason your brain’s goal is to get you to make a complete fool out of yourself, you answer an even worse answer.

But, no, you weren’t a fool in Logan’s eyes. Not even close. You were the complete opposite and it had his heart going like a freight train was headed straight for him.

“I knew they were here. I just don’t have a clue who they are.”

“You don’t know Garrett Graham?”

“Uh… nope? I don’t think so.”

“Dean Di Laurentis?”

“Not ringing a bell, sorry.”

“John Tucker?”

“The guy I ran into?”

Logan had laughed at that, making up a quick excuse to Tucker, who had been sitting next to him in the car back when Logan had first seen the video.

“What? No– no, that was John Logan.”

“Right.” You shake your head and you laugh, “Too many John’s, am I right?”

The reporter was watching you like you had grown another head; she did not laugh. You felt a swell of embarrassment creep up in your chest, but you pushed it away, trying to finish the interview as quickly as possible. And you had.

Jesus Christ, Logan practically ate the thing up. He’d played it back, telling himself it was for educational volleyball purposes, when really it was to watch as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion when asked who he was.

And not caring when finding out who he was.

Which is how he ended up searching your name on Instagram, scrolling through your feed, post by post like some weird stalker, according to his friends. Who, presently, were watching him, because he had turned on his phone yet again, eyes flickering down to the screen, watching an old volleyball practice video you had posted.

“Just go talk to her, dude,” Garrett finally said after another thirty seconds of watching Logan silently yearn at your Instagram profile. “She’s two tables down.”

Logan followed Garrett’s gesture, his head turning a fraction, his eyes catching your form as you hovered over a laminated menu, talking pleasantly with the girl who sat beside you. You pointed at something on the menu, wiggled your eyebrows at the girl across from you, and then snorted at what you had said while your three friends gave you bored expressions.

God, he hadn’t even spoken to you and he was positive he was in love.

“No,” he finally says, twisting his head back to his friends.

“Okay, this is painful,” Dean finally said, throwing his hands up. “Give me that–”

Dean had reached forward, plucking Logan’s phone from his loose grip.

“What– dude, stop– give it back–” 

But Dean had stood in the booth, holding Logan’s phone out of reach, and he scrolled all the way back up to the top of your Instagram. He wasted no time, clicking the follow button with a sigh of content before shutting off the device and tossing it back to Logan.

And, oh, if looks could kill.

“Are you fucking–”

“Shhhh, thank me later.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“No way.”

“What?” Louisa had said, smiling at the waitress as she brought out the four Cokes that you guys had ordered. She took a long sip, staring at you from over the rim, “What’s up?”

You silently turn your phone, showing your three best friends your most recent notification.

John Logan has requested to follow you.

“Holy fuck,” Jade gapes. Then, she snatches your phone from your grip, and you reach forward, trying to snatch it back. However, she’s already leaning far away from you, “Oh, we are accepting this right now–”

“No! No, we are not,” you respond, voice stern as you stand to try and reach for your phone again. “He literally just followed me. If I accept now, he’ll think me plowing into him was intentional or something, so give–”

“And, accepted! Alrightly, follow back… and look at that, he already approved it!”

“I hate you,” you groan.

“Bro,” Liliana said, gesturing to your phone, “he was the one who followed you first. Which means that after you ran him down, he looked you up on Instagram. Which means he has been debating following you for four hours now. Which means he has the hots for you.”

“You guys are all delusional,” you respond, but not before quickly thanking your waitress, who brings over the four burgers and fries you guys had ordered just a bit ago. The food had come quickly, and you know it’s because Malone’s is relatively empty tonight. Only three tables are taken, including the one that you and your friends occupy.

“I don’t think you’re grasping the severity of this situation.”

“‘The severity of the situation’?” You repeat Jade’s words. “The hell does that mean?’

“That you have one of the hottest guys at Briar, a hockey player, following you almost immediately after you straddled him–”

You feel your face burn, “I did not straddle him.”

“Babe,” Louisa interjects, “you absolutely straddled him. Wanna see a video?”

You groan, “They already posted it?”

“Girl, they posted it three minutes after it happened,” Liliana said. She grabbed her phone, typing quickly, and then slid her phone across the table. You steadied it in front of you, leaning over to watch. And, yeah, you definitely straddled the guy. But not after you fucking launched yourself at him like a rabid squirrel, nearly flinging over his shoulder– you only hadn’t because he had held you against him. 

“Oh,” Louisa says from beside you, pointing to the phone. “So that’s Garrett Graham,” she points to the guy who was on your right, the one who had vocalized his surprise when it had happened, “and that’s Dean Di Laurentis,” and then she points to the guy who had cackled. You watch as her finger points to the man next to Dean, “That’s John Tucker. The other John. They all live together. They throw the best parties, too, out of all the hockey boys.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Literally everyone does except you, apparently.”

“Okay, whatever.”

Jade groans loudly, “Can we return to the issue at hand here? John Logan thinks you’re hot.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Girl, look at his smile after you push your hand against his face.”

Jade leans over, using two fingers to zoom the video on the guy’s face, and sure enough, after you push off against his face, sprinting to save the volleyball once more, he watches you with what looks to be a dazed grin, his bottom lip tucked beneath his teeth.

Fuck, it was kinda hot.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you choose to say instead.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Jade groans. “Look, whatever. Do you at least find him attractive?”

You shrug, lying, “I dunno. Didn’t get a good look at him.”

“Alright, Liliana, pull up the edit.”

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘the edit’?” You question, absolutely baffled. “This guy has edits made for him?”

“He’s a college hockey player, and he’s fucking amazing. And really fucking hot. So, yeah, he’s got edits– but this one is like, top tier. Really gets you going, if you know what I mean–”

“You guys are disgusting.”

“Here,” Liliana says, clicking a video in her liked posts. She shifts her phone towards you, turning up the volume with the pad of her thumb, and you watch as the song “Do I Wanna Know?” by Arctic Monkeys sounds through her phone, an extremely well crafted edit of John Logan both on the ice and in interviews playing before you.

“Okay,” you say once the edit finishes, “he’s hot. I get it.”

“See!” Jade grins, “He’s hot, and he’s definitely interested in you after tonight, which means that–”

But you all pause. All four of you freeze, because two tables down, you hear the sound of your voice on full blast, coming from someone’s phone. It’s you answering a question after a relatively successful game, followed by a song. Meaning that somewhere in this fucking diner, someone was watching edits of you.

“Shit! Dean, turn it down–”

It was too late, though.

You and your friends’ heads snapped in the direction of the noise, only to be met with the eyes of six others– five who seemed absolutely thrilled that you had noticed, while the sixth definitely looked like a deer in headlights.

The sixth being John Logan.

You can’t even react accordingly, because Louisa is grinning like a madman, shaking your shoulder and pointing very obviously at the group that’s only two tables away, “Holy shit, he’s right there, oh my God–”

“I can see that, Louisa,” you hiss, pushing her hands off you. Then, you turn back to John Logan, watching as he whispers heated words to his friends before standing. And holy fuck, he’s making his way over to you. Before he even reaches the table, Liliana, Louisa, and Jade are standing, gathering their things and food, and your eyes widen with an alarmed expression, and you hurriedly whisper, “Where the fuck are you guys going?”

“To a different table so we don’t block his cock.”

“Oh my–”

You can’t even finish your words, because your friends are gone. And John Logan is standing right in front of you, a small, gentle smile on his face as he watches your friends scurry over to the table he had just come from. They shove themselves into the booth next to Logan’s friends, acting as if they knew the people they now sat with, which they did not.

Logan’s friends didn’t seem to care, though. They looked just as eager, making room so your three obnoxious teammates could sit comfortably.

You fight the urge to audibly sigh, looking back at the man in front of you. You match his smile, and you really don’t know what’s with your fucking head today, but the first words that leave your mouth aren’t something sweet. They aren't cute. They make you look like a dipshit.

“My victim.”

You immediately want to get up and leave, because genuinely what the fuck were you on today?

But you don’t leave, not when John’s smile widens, and you can see his pretty teeth. He looks thoroughly amused, excited even, and he nods along with your words as he responds, “My attacker.”

“I wouldn’t call it an attack–”

“What would you call it?” He asks with his gentle grin, and he pulls out the chair where Jade had just been, sitting directly across from you.

“A collision on the playing field,” you offer with a hint of playfulness, which he catches onto instantly. “I’m sure you’re used to those. With hockey and everything.”

“So you know who I am now?” He asks, his eyes sparkling with something exciting.

“Hard not to when our video is already making its way through social media. Have you seen it?”

“Absolutely,” he says with a nod, and his tone is serious in a joking way. He’s got his arms now on the table, leaning forward as he speaks to you. He’s still grinning, and you conclude now that this guy is insanely good at keeping eye contact. It's really hot. “You tackling me, me catching you–”

“Straight out of a sports romcom,” you conclude. Then, you shake your solemnly, “What a waste, am I right? If we had some good dialogue, we would’ve gotten a ticket straight to the Oscars!”

“Oh, I know,” he says, and he throws his hands up dramatically. “We’ve been snubbed.”

Fuck, he was fun to banter with.

All the nerves you felt when you first realized he was walking over had vanished into thin air, because you guys got along good. You clicked instantaneously, falling into an easy back and forth that had you leaning forward as you spoke to him, words playful as he nodded along, eyes wide in a way that showed he was having just as much fun as you were.

You guys had been so invested in your many conversations about literally whatever the fuck came up that you didn’t even realize when your friends left. Or when his friends left. Or when you two were the only people left in Malone’s, except for the staff.

And, through the long, witty, playful conversations you were having with John, you two somehow ended up staying at Malone’s until close. It was late out, just past 2 a.m., and John offered to walk you home, which you refused at first, worried about keeping him out too late. But the man pouts dramatically, a playful expression as he told you there's nothing else he'd rather do, and you can’t help but agree.

Which is where you found yourself now.

Pushed up against the front door of your apartment, lips pressed against his, hands threaded through his hair while his fingers held your waist, thumbs rubbing over your hipbones with the type of gentleness that made your heart ache. 

He presses more kisses to your lips. They’re firmer, eager, and it’s now that you know you have to break the news to him.

“Wanna know another thing about me, John?” You grin, tilting your head back as he presses kisses down your neck.

He hums against your skin, sucking gently at your pulse point before smoothing it over with his tongue, pressing once final kiss to the skin. He moves his way back up your neck and jaw with soft kisses, pressing one final kiss to the softness of your lips, “What?”

“I don’t do hook-ups. Or casual.”

You expect him to falter, to pull back with a face of disappointment. You figured that’s what would happen, but you didn’t necessarily care. Sure, it was going to suck, having to end this short-lived thing with the hottest guy you ever met, but you weren’t going to change your rules for a guy you had just met. 

But, no, Logan doesn’t react how you were expecting at all.

No frown, no hint of irritation. He does something else, something that catches you off guard in the best way possible.

He grins. 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷