#end of year stuff is so tedious | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jeanbie · 1 year ago

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FANTASIZE ★ masterlist.

pairing: jake x reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, fem!human!reader, semi-public sex, piv sex, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, breeding kink, cumming inside, glowy cum | wc: 16k | ♬

note: i've been promoted to: avatar writer. my first time writing for it (def not my last!) lemme know what u think ;-) also his smirk in the header....GET INSIDE ME

★ ⏤ fantasize | all the time (if you were mine)

⏤ It's official - Jake is sick and tired of Norm giving him shit. While he can't claim to know as much about Pandora as Norm does, there's still a few things Jake can afford to do to piss him off even more for the fun of it, and it just so happens that Norm's sister works as a scientist in the lab - which to Jake spells perfect revenge in its simplest form.

It’s official — Jake has had enough of Norm’s bitching and whining.

For the last two months, Jake has endured a lot, more than he ever asked for or wanted; whether it was Neytiri on his ass about becoming an Omatikaya and never missing a single beat of training for it, Grace nagging him about video logs, or even Norm giving him so much shit over every single thing he didn’t spend three years learning in simulations and classrooms — he’s sat and listened to all of it without complaint.

Jake has never once fought back, never once raised his own grievances about how tedious and time-consuming everything actually is on one man’s shoulders, and yet it all keeps coming.

The worst thing is that he can understand all of it to an extent. There’s a necessary need for attentiveness when learning the ways of the Omatikaya, and the longer it takes, the worse his chances get with the rest of the clan. The video logs? They’re not that important, Jake thinks, but it keeps Grace off his back for the small kernel of time he actually spends in the real world and not inside of his avatar.

But with Norm, Jake can’t seem to understand what is actually bothering him enough to be so goddamn bitter about every little thing.

Of course, he’ll never fit into Tom’s shoes, not in the way everybody expects him to. He didn’t spend three years of his life learning how to control an avatar or how to function on Pandora — every day is quite literally a learning experience, a practical education that neither a lab nor a stuck up prick like Norm can teach.

And, while he’s on the subject, Jake actually thought Norm would be a decent ally, at least until he almost died and got saved — with reluctance — by the daughter of the Olo’eyktan and somehow ended up being thrust into learning their way of life.

Nobody seems to remember the giant part of the story concerning how he almost got devoured by an oversized dog in the process.

Instead, Norm wants to bitch about how Jake knows nothing, and treats him like a genuine idiot. Jake might be a few years short of being educated on the Na’vi, but he’s not stupid. He can still do stuff, stuff that Norm can’t; but reasoning with the man is like trying to convince the Na’vi that the Sky People are actually friends and not foes, and it’s pretty obvious that that’s never going to happen.

When Norm begins his daily ritual of berating Jake on his lack-of knowledge regarding the Hallelujah Mountains that surround their shitty little containment, Jake’s willing to sit through it and take it like a champion.

Norm starts weaving his conspiracies to the cluster of scientists about how Jake is a terrible candidate for joining the Omatikaya clan and that all he cares about is sucking up to the Chief’s daughter — not true, by the way, for Neytiri can only stomach being near Jake because she has to and on rare occasions, he can do something absurdly dumb to make her laugh — and Jake begins to mentally tap out of the debate, rolling his eyes to the side and sighing as he watches you duck your head through a low archway with a bowl of slop in your hands.

Jake watches you for around three seconds before the lightbulb flickers alight above his head.

And then he grins.

It’s hard to believe that you and Norm are related — Jake can’t find any similarities between the two of you. You’re incredibly compassionate and communicative, never letting Jake suffer in his silent struggle of stupidity, and not to mention you’re incredibly beautiful; whereas Norm is just… Norm. A bitter, angry, red-faced man who does a piss poor job at hiding his insatiable jealousy of how wasting your life in a classroom or behind a book actually means very little in the grand scheme of achieving your goals.

Example A: Jake of the Jarhead clan, ex-military, future Omatikaya. Cross-reference to Norm: sad loser. Jake signs his name on the mental essay he’s compiling as Norm drones on about culture and ignorance and narrows his gaze on you as you close in on the group.

Jake’s actually always liked you. You’re a no nonsense kind of woman who loves science and the Na’vi, and, unlike your brother, you actually treat him like an equal. Even now, as you slip next to him and lean back against the low metal work-surface, you meet Jake’s gaze with an eye-roll and smile, and his grin only widens from it.

Oh, how he loves that you like him. Although you spend so much time engrossed in your work and documenting on paper whatever Jake recites from his daily activities within the clan, Jake happens to know that you like him, and in hindsight, it’s never been a secret. For the first time, Jake lets himself consider the possibility of that being just another reason for Norm to suddenly despise him, but the idea warms his stomach rather than churns it.

“I can totally see Jake ruining all of our chances at building bridges by just burning them all together,” Norm huffs, folding his arms and wrangling a dirty glare in his direction. Jake welcomes it with the same smile that’s been blooming over his face for the past two minutes, which worsens Norm’s mood.

“I don’t see you building any bridges, either,” you say to Norm. “Jake’s been more valuable to this program than you have as of late.”

Norm bristles. “One of us has actually been doing research while the other is trying to seduce an Olo’eyktan’s daughter—”

“Jake’s doing field research, Norm,” Grace says, her eyes still glued to her microscope. “And he knows better than to seduce anybody when we haven’t properly studied the relations between Na’vi and avatars yet. And there are bigger issues at stake right now.”

“I can get results on that if you want me to,” Jake offers.

“No, Jake.”

Jake shrugs. While Norm continues his tirade against Jake’s rather noble endeavours with the Omatikaya, he turns his gaze back towards you and lets his mental clogs turn.

At this point, Jake thinks that even if you agreed with some of Norm’s points, it wouldn’t make any difference. There is absolutely nothing he can do to please Norm, and so maybe he should just stop trying. Then again… There’s something hideously funny in how worked up Norm gets when somebody jumps to his defence, particularly you.

And considering most of Norm’s insecurities come from seeds he planted all by himself without any concrete evidence to support most of the points, Jake knows that anything he does from here on out will drive Norm into a slow burning insanity.

“Is it because I’m in a wheelchair?” Jake asks suddenly.

Norm huffs. “Of course not. It’s because you don’t take any of this seriously. Everything is a game to you. All of us here have spent years building up to this assignment while you read a manual and called it a day.”

“What? I’m serious. I’m one of the best avatar drivers here,” Jake says smugly. Grace finally looks over with an irate look — something tells him he wasn’t supposed to tell everyone that she had told him that.

Norm’s face turns a whole new shade of pink.

“I’m also a quick learner. The Omatikaya are trusting me more and more each day, so while I go out there and find out valuable field research for this program—” Jake looks at you with a deliberately sweet look and you laugh quietly, “—you can stay here and look at plants and mud and cells.”

“You probably don’t even know what a cell is.”

“Sure I do. Where they lock up all the bad guys.”

Norm opens his mouth to say something more, probably missing the joke like he does every time, but this time Grace swirls in her chair and sighs loudly, looking between the two of them like they were children.

“Alright, ladies, you’ve measured your dicks at equal length. You’re both doing good work around here, so Norm, why don’t you just let Jake go back to doing his work with the Omatikaya and you can just get some rest. Jesus, you’re both making everyone miserable, it’s affecting my work ethic…”

“Yeah, sweet dreams, Norm,” Jake calls, and Norm gives him a filthy scowl before snatching his things up off the desk, holding them secretively to his chest as he stomps towards the back room lined with their bunks.

Jake feels the dark and evil energy follow him out the room and then he finally looks around the lab in disbelief.

“Jake, go, you’ll be late, don’t keep Neytiri waiting,” Grace reminds him, switching off the bulb to the microscope and stretching her arms as Trudy claps her hands and silently announces her retirement to the bunks after Norm. “Don’t forget to make a log when you get back. Don’t let him forget, will you, Spellman?”

Grace looks at you with a look that suggests no room for negotiation. It was an order. She collects her things, claps Jake on the shoulder and grabs a cigarette from the net by the archway and takes it with her towards her separated bedroom.

When the door to her little cubicle rattles shut, Jake shakes his head with a quiet laugh and rolls himself forward, giving you room to assemble your own work station where he had just been.

“Staying up late tonight?” he asks you, taking a swig of water before pushing one of the buttons to the link unit, waiting as it whirs to life.

You settle your stuff down and walk towards him. “Yep. I actually do have some work on cells to finish up.”

Jake’s lips quirk. “Not your usual ballpark, is it?”

“No, but there’s not really a surplus of Na’vi around here to communicate with,” you say in reply, rummaging with the unit to help Jake into the gel pack mattress. Usually he dismisses the help, but when it’s you helping him get comfy, then he’ll stomach his pride and accept your kindness. He’s surprisingly light, as normal, and you frown.

“Don’t forget about the real world, Jake, you gotta take care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I got this,” he assures you. “You need anything while I’m out?”

Another thing that will shave a few years off Norm’s life — Jake bringing you things, extraordinary and otherwise unattainable when stranded in the mountains things for you to study and report. You hum thoughtfully at the offer, pushing his head down softly when he wriggles restlessly, a little too eager to get to whatever he’s doing in the forest tonight.

“If you happen to cross paths with a tsawksyul, a simple cutting would be appreciated,” you tell him, opting for something a little more simple than normal, considering Jake’s busy these days training. “If you don’t forget while you’re busy seducing daughters, of course.”

Jake’s grin returns, if not out of genuine amusement then just to see you smile in return and do the little head-tilt thing that Jake’s discovered he adores.

“Not my thing. More into scientists,” he tells you, watching in the final moments before you shut him in the pod at how you shake your head and turn yourself away from him.

There was no rejection. No refusal. Just a smile.

A smile that sets his plan into motion.

No wonder Norm is always in a terrible mood. You find that his notes on the cells found in the mossy undergrowth of the forest is as chaotic as it can possibly be, which has left you using Grace’s Bible on Pandora botany as a guide and squinting to find the connections between his barely legible notes.

It’s basic knowledge that when cells die and a genetic material begins to unfold, a charge of energy is released; this concept has been the fundamental structural point to Norm’s notes on the moss and how each step at night causes a ricochet of expanding light, but there has to be something more than everybody is missing. Even in Grace’s book, there’s not enough information regarding how it works; if it’s connected to Eywa, if it is a response to another organism, whether it breathes and lives as its own entity.

Alongside Norm’s notes, you very sparingly begin to make an analysis of the communicative features of Pandora plant life, and begin jotting a vocabulary to use in a later research assignment, when a sudden knock against the glass above your head makes you jump quite literally up and out of your seat.

The Hallelujah Mountains are so isolated from the rest of the human population on Pandora and used rarely by the Na’vi during the night, but you distinctly make out Jake’s looming form standing outside with a smile on his face and relax. His skin is a bioluminescent explosion of colour, and for a moment you’re struck dumb staring at him until he waves his hand as if beckoning you outside.

You throw a cautious look over your shoulder, but the lab is silent and still. With that in mind, you reach for one of the exo-packs and shrug on your cardigan hanging on the back of the chair you were just on and hesitantly begin to make your way outside.

Very sparingly have you been outside of Site 26 to explore, and never once on your own. Grace has drilled into you the strict importance of respecting the laboratory rules and curfew, and if you’re going to wander outside after hours in the name of research, then please, wake her up too.

But you won’t be alone out there, not when Jake is waiting for you outside.

Jake drops to a squat in anticipation when the airlock doors to the lab force open with a wheezy breath, and he sees you cautiously step out and secure a button on your cardigan in place. The gesture almost makes him croon. He rarely sees you at night since he’s learned the value of getting rest in between his adventures in his avatar, but now he can’t believe what he’s been missing out on seeing past his bedtime.

You look tired, your hair out of place and messy, but he recognises your attempt to look more alert when you step towards him with a slight bounce.

“Hey, tìyawn,” he calls to you, as you stare up at him even whilst drawing near. Thanks to the crouch, you’re about eye-to-eye, and he watches your expression widen with wonder as you map out the illustrations of light across his nose and cheeks, before sweeping to his forehead, then his neck, and then his bare chest.

“Hey, yourself,” you laugh, finding his eyes again as they glow in the low light. The Pandora skies are littered with stars and balls of unimaginable white light, but even the surrounding forest gathering around the lab to protect it from the harsh dropping winds of the mountains are pulsing with purple light, every single shrub and leaf and plant glowing with life.

Jake stares at you for a moment before producing a gift from behind his leg. You take it from him with a wide and gasping smile.

“No way!”

“Way,” Jake says, watching you handle the flower with so much care that one might assume it would break with your touch. With the way Jake was swinging it around on his way up here, he’s actually shocked that it’s still in one piece, but something in the way you respond to everything Jake does or brings tells him that even if he’d brought a portion of it, you’d be just as pleased.

“Thanks,” you say, turning slightly as you tell him you’re going to put the tsawksyul in the lab for safe-keeping. But Jake reaches his arm out to trap you from leaving, cocking his head to the side with a soft smirk when you round back on him curiously.

“It’s not gonna die if you leave it out here, it’s a flower,” Jake tells you, jerking his head in another direction. “Wanna look around with me?”

You pause, and he can tell you’re genuinely conflicted. Grace said not to leave the vicinity under any circumstances out of respect for the Na’vi and the lab rules. But she also said not to go outside without her, and here you are.

“Grace will be mad if she finds out I’m gone,” you tell him slowly.

“Probably.”

“And Norm.”

Jake feels a rush of something at the mere mention of your brother, and his tail swishes against the rocks behind him.

Jake leans closer to you. “Well, him I don’t care about.”

Mindful of the plant in your hand, you gently push Jake’s chest back until he rolls on his heels, unable to fight the smile on your own face.

“…Where will we be going? I can’t go far just in case Grace wakes up and comes looking for me.”

Jake tilts his head up to the sky and to the top of the mountain peak that houses the lab. From his own experience scouting up there, Jake knows there’s a small incubation of trees that offers a compelling view of the entire mountain range, as well as offering a minor collection of plants he thinks you’ll die over once you see.

But that just wouldn’t be as evil as what he originally had planned. He then rolls his head towards the small section of trees that border the back of the lab, close to where the bunks are, and he then looks back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“We’ll stay close,” Jake promises.

You hesitate once again and guiltily look at the lab. It’s not like it’s going anywhere…

“Alright,” you sigh, looking back at Jake and watching his smile widen as if he’s just obtained a great victory. There’s no room in your stomach for suspicion to grow — it’s overrun with butterflies when Jake points his head in the direction of the snug tree line and holds out his finger for you.

You stifle a laugh and reach to hold it, setting the tsawksyul on the ground tucked under the same window he just scared you from and join him on the slow walk to wherever he means to take you.

Being with Jake has always felt easy, but being with Jake’s avatar is practically uncharted territory. It’s a struggle to remember that it is actually the same man you like so badly back in the lab, the same guy who deliberately rams your ankles with his wheelchair just to watch the way you catch yourself as you fall, the same guy who you think uses you as a factor to piss off your brother but in a way that you find strangely attractive.

Now, he’s an almost ten foot Na’vi leading you in the whimsical dark towards a cluster of trees, and you don’t know how to begin separating the feelings you have for Jake from the feeling of nerves you feel around his alter ego.

You can barely make out Jake’s face all the way above your head, not until he feels your stare and looks down at you beside him. There’s a similarity in his human expressions with his Na’vi ones, which is fortunate considering there was a time where you thought the avatar looked more like Tom than it did Jake. Now that they’re one in the same, and now that Jake is in front of you in his avatar form and the feelings you have for him are still lingering, you’re beginning to accept the likeness between the two of them.

“What did you do today?” you ask him, referring to his ritualistic training with Neytiri.

Jake hums thoughtfully. “Nothing compared to Norm, I’m sure.”

At that, you laugh. “I’m seriously asking, Jake.”

“Alright… Neytiri has me reading the signals of the forest whenever we go hunting,” he explains sparingly, seeming not in the mood to talk training now that you’ve reached the lay of forest near the back of the lab. He surveys the setting and the space between the lab and the fringe of leaves and bushes and nods, as if satisfied but then pulls you deeper into the thrush of leaves.

“She says everything’s connected,” he continues. “She also says I’m a terrible shooter.”

“You’re missing your shots?” you tease. Jake turns back to you with a grin that you honestly walked into when you asked.

“Not all of ‘em.”

After the short walk, Jake is finally satisfied with the burrow of bushes and rocks that outline the small selection of forest behind the lab, and he looks up to once again gauge the distance and is pleased when the lab doesn’t look too far away. Jake hears you rustle and sit on one of the low rocks with your knees to your chest, and then drops to his usual squat in front of you, arms rested on his knees, gently fiddling with his fingers.

“How’re your cells?” he asks, but you’re so busy gazing at the forest around you and the stars above your heads that he fears you’re not even listening. Jake instead settles for watching you.

He knows he’s in over in his head when even his avatar likes you. Jake’s had nowhere near as much experience navigating his way around how to use this body than the other drivers, let alone time to understand the signals his body sends him or the feelings different things have to him, but he can tell the difference between being you friendly and not, even when he’s not totally familiar with how it all works. And on top of that, there are so many random variables to being Na’vi to get his head around that he never even thought of until Neytiri or Grace filled him in on what the hell was going on with his body at certain times of the month.

He’s stupid sometimes, true, but not totally naive. Jake recognises the tug in his chest as he looks at you — he feels the same thing when he’s in his human body. He’s no expert on Na’vi, never claimed to be, but he feels there must be something instinctive in the way he feels for you and the way his avatar senses it. And with Norm’s fresh-faced hatred in full flush whenever Jake makes that fact known, he’s not at all surprised that those feelings have suddenly become so full frontal now that he’s had enough of Norm’s bullshit.

“It’s amazing out here,” you say, to Jake but also to the wind as you completely crane your head up to look through the cracks in the branches and leaves. “Don’t you ever wish Earth had looked like this?”

“I haven’t really thought about Earth since I left,” he confesses, shuffling closer to you while you’re occupied with mapping out the stars in the sky.

“Not once?” You look down at him. If you’re taken aback by the sudden closeness between you, you hide it well.

Jake shrugs. “Nothing I need is there.”

Fair enough. You stare at him for a moment and think about that before agreeing.

“Me too.”

The branches above your heads sway in a gentle breeze and Jake watches you hug your cardigan around yourself before asking, “So, why’re we here? Did you wanna show me something?”

“What, the stars not enough for you?” Jake looks up to the sky.

You laugh quietly. “I’ll never get enough of them, actually. Beats the lab ceiling by a long shot. Looking at the stars through the window’s not the same… I wish I didn’t have to use this mask—” You throw him a playfully exasperated look, “—I wish I had an avatar.”

“Why don’t you?” Jake’s never asked, never thought to ask. But you’re the only scientist in his close collective of scientist ‘friends’ who doesn’t actually drive an avatar, and is instead limited to just studying everyone else's.

“It was never really my thing,” you explain, settling comfortably atop the rock and throwing the glances to the sky away to focus on him. Like the lab, they’re not going anywhere, and the ones tattooing Jake’s skin are far more interesting. “Okay, that’s a lie. I think the avatars are fascinating, just like the Na’vi, but sometimes you take what you’re given when you’re given it. Norm has always had to be better than I am, always one step ahead. Plus, our inheritance only stretched as far as to cover the contract costs of one avatar driver.” You laugh, “And Norm’s older.”

“Damn, so we just got stuck with Norm,” Jake comments, only to make you laugh again, which thankfully works. “I’d have a better time out here if it were you and not him.”

“He’s actually very insecure about that,” you tell him, watching his amusement grow without knowing the exact reasons for why. “He always goes on about how your avatar is much more built. I guess Tom was just more athletic and the avatar reflects it, I don’t think Norm’s used so much as an elliptical since high school… Anyway, he’s very vocal on how unfair the avatar program is in that regard.”

“You agree with him?”

Jake’s fingers ghost across your ankle.

“One: he’s my brother, and I’m not going to answer that question honestly. And two: let’s not forget who the avatar is modelled off. Tom was very handsome.”

“Growing up, I was always the pretty twin.”

You hum. “I couldn’t tell.”

Jake’s never ever considered the fact of you knowing his brother well before he died. He’s never had to think about it before, not until now, but he pushes the thought away and falls back into the thoughts of what he came here to do in the first place.

“You don’t think I’m handsome?”

He watches your grin widen. “I didn’t say that, did I?”

Jake creeps forward slightly, and this time you notice, moving your toes back further towards your bum on the rock while Jake continues his close creeping.

“I think you’re a very pretty woman,” Jake murmurs. “Beautiful, even.”

“Norm’s not here to get mad at you for saying that,” you remind him.

“‘m not saying it for Norm to hear.”

You feel Jake’s hand sliding to wrap around your ankle and you shudder when he smooths his way up to your calf. You’ve never interacted with any Na’vi like this before, never felt their skin pushing against your own. With a glance down at his hand, you frown and work your way back up to his face, his eyes lit up in the dark.

“It’s not fair that you’re using your avatar against me right now,” you mutter, making him laugh through his nose and bring his body closer to the round edge of the rock. He considers it progress when you remain rooted in place once his hands run up the length of your legs to your waist.

You watch his nostrils flare slightly as he observes you, which only makes you feel more nervous and trapped here.

“All I’m doing is talking,” says Jake.

You scoff at him. “Does all your talking involve hands on the waist, Sully?”

He shrugs. “Only with really pretty people.”

Jake’s ears prick when you sigh and look back up at the stars. He doesn’t move his hands, but he senses your body tensing beneath his touch, smells the change in your body as he speaks. He’d love that part of being Na’vi a lot more if he knew what those changes meant exactly, and he can’t figure it out even as he stares at you intently.

His thumbs smooth from left to right, feeling the nub of your ribcage with every stroke over your tank top and tries to level his face into one of absolute neutrality when you look back down at him.

“What are you doing, Jake?”

Not what he was expecting you to say, if he’s being honest.

“Nothing,” he says.

“You’re being weird,” you reply, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. It has the opposite effect, and you watch him struggle not to smile. His hairline raises when his brows do, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes when you figure him out, “Did you actually bring me out here just to flirt with me?”

He does nothing except look at you, as if the answer is painfully obvious and you’re stupid for not realising it sooner.

You sigh loudly. “Jake, I’m sorry that you didn’t get the memo like everybody else, but you didn’t need to lure me out the lab in your avatar if you wanted to get my attention.”

His thumb continues to move and his eyes drop slightly.

“I wouldn’t say I lured you out here,” Jake replies. You watch his eyes zero back in on yours and you fight your body against the urge to wrap up and hide from him.

“You can’t be that stupid, I refuse to believe it,” you laugh disbelievingly, which makes him raise his brows questioningly. Even with a layer of plastic obstructing your face from his, Jake can’t get over how pretty you look. “You have to know that I like you even when you’re not a big blue alien.”

Jake’s grin widens, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “I know. You’re really bad at hiding it.”

“Okay,” you say, feeling under your cardigan for his hands and attempting to wrestle them away, but he doesn’t budge. You laugh again, as if the whole thing is genuinely funny for you, “then you can always make your thoughts about that known when I see you in the lab. In person.”

“I’m not doing anything I wouldn’t in there if I had the chance,” Jake tells you, moving his hands but only to sandwich them between your tank and your skin. The feeling of his palms flat against your stomach makes you jump slightly and reach for his wrist.

“Please. I see you every single day.”

“Yeah, and your brother, and Grace, and Trudy,” Jake points out. “I can’t get a second alone with you. What would you have me do, make a move with your brother breathing down my neck about it?”

“You could just be upfront. Save me from looking like an idiot.”

“Come on, baby, let’s be real.”

The smile he has on his face is unmoving, and you search every corner of it to find signs of his sincerity falling and find nothing. But something feels wrong.

You’ve spent close to two months in the long shadow drawn by everything else in Jake’s life, and considering Jake’s newfound role of future Omatikaya warrior, you feel that the time he spends in your company has become less and less. So now that Jake has decided to pick up on whatever signals you were sending him and respond to them, you assume it’s all in the name of good fun to piss off Norm.

Feeling Jake’s hands creeping up your body in the middle of the Hallelujah Mountains and with no older brother here to glare at either of you, you’re rethinking everything you thought you had figured out.

“I don’t get it,” you say finally.

Jake just laughs quietly. “You thought I just rammed my wheelchair into your feet for fun?”

“You mean to tell me that was your way of showing interest?” you ask unconvincingly.

“…Nah. I liked watching you fall, though,” he grins. Jake picks himself up from his squat and looms over you like a shadow, watching you fall back onto your forearms as you stare up at him. He sets one knee between your legs and leans down slightly, breathing in deeply in a way that has you thinking he’s actually sniffing the air around you.

“Honey, I’m all kinds of obsessed with you.”

You blink. “You certainly gave nothing away.”

“I bring you shit all the time.”

“I’m a scientist, I didn’t know you did that because you liked me. I thought it was just because I wanted better samples than Norm.”

“I mean, that definitely helped motivate me to find everything.”

“You never even told me you liked me.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

“Okay, well, tell me tomorrow when you’re awake and not all…big,” you frown.

Jake chuckles. “You don’t like me now, or something?”

“I definitely never said that. I just want to hear human Jake Sully tell me how he feels without using his avatar to try and win me over.”

Jake’s tail swishes behind him. “You prefer the dummy in the wheelchair?”

“I like your wheelchair,” you tell him quietly, running your hand up his arm as he pins you flat against the boulder with a hand on your stomach.

“I don’t,” he murmurs. “I like being like this. I like being bigger than you. I like smelling how much you like me.”

All of a sudden, your legs swing shut around him and you look at him in disbelief.

“Freak.”

All he does is smile.

“Come on, Jake, I actually don’t have time for this,” you say around a groan, trying to move against him but failing miserably. An exasperated smile falls on your face. “Really? What are you even trying to achieve? You’re seducing me with your avatar?”

His ears twitch and he angles his head to the side. “Yes?”

“Why am I getting the impression that all of this has something to do with Norm somehow?” you sigh in reply, but Jake notices the way you fall relaxed underneath him, and he has the feeling you’re in no real hurry to get anywhere else tonight.

“Well, it might have something to do with it,” Jake confesses, his voice lower than it was before as he draws his nose close to you and takes a deep inhale. The feeling of his braid flicking down from his back and brushing against your thighs makes you shudder, not to mention the feeling of his snout against your collarbones. “Really, I just want to spend some time with my girl while I got the chance to.”

Whatever you want to say or have planned to say dies away when you feel Jake’s lips wander and press against your sternum.

Sighing, you shift your hands to his arms that have you pinned down and carefully squeeze. “Good luck with that, Sully.”

He runs his tongue flat against your skin and hears you exhale through your nose, a noise of satisfaction muffled by your closed mouth, and all at once, Jake’s decision is final.

He is going to fuck Norm’s sister.

And he’s going to rub salt on Norm’s wounds by doing it in the way that will piss him off the most.

Jake kisses his way down the length of your body, his hands moving around your figure like a sculptor until his hands find their way to your thighs. Though oversized and covering most of them, Jake’s hands circle around the width of your thighs and he strokes his thumbs across the inside skin of them, all while laughter bubbles in your chest.

All of this is just so absurd. If someone had told you this morning that Jake so much as liked you back, it would have taken some convincing, but if they had gone as far as to suggest he’s be attempting to seduce you in his avatar in a little chunk of forest behind the lab you pretty much live in, you would have laughed at the delusion of the thought. But now, there’s no denying the very tangible view of Jake’s Na’vi hands pressing down on your thighs, his eyes staring up over the slope of your body as you pick your head up to look down at him.

“This is crazy,” you gasp.

Jake’s teeth reveal themselves against the stretch of skin he was just pressing kisses onto, his smile widening as he speaks. “You don’t want to, baby?”

You weigh your options. It’s either leave and go back to the lab and hope that Jake follows through on his apparent feelings for you in the morning… Or you can relax and enjoy.

“Jake…” You pause for a moment. You want to enjoy it, and you feel the pool of desire deepen inside of you and know it’s a sensation Jake can most likely smell.

He’s still your Jake, still the same guy you dote over when he remembers he has a life outside of being Na’vi. The only difference now is that he’s blue, and mobile, and double your size in every definition of the word. And suspiciously attractive, but you don’t know for certain if you think that because it’s Jake or because it’s actually true as a fact. But you just can’t help but wonder if Jake’s climaxing feud with Norm is the only reason he’s pinning you to a boulder in the forest and kissing your stomach.

“You’re not just doing this to piss off Norm, are you?” you ask, feeling serious all of a sudden. The only way you know Jake notices is from the way his ears flatten against his head and his eyes grow round with concern.

In the light, his tail flicks from side to side in the way you recognise most Na’vi do when they’re nervous, and you fight the urge to look away from him when he stays quiet for a second, thinking of what to say in a loud silence.

Of course he’s doing this because he knows it will piss Norm off if and when he finds out. As soon as Norm catches a stinking whiff of Jake on your body when he’s in his own avatar surveying the mountains, there will be nowhere for Jake to run or roll off to and avoid Norm’s volcanic rage. But he knows as well that this is a long time coming — that he’s been chasing circles around your feet for the fun of it, and now the chance has come for him to bring what he’s buried to the surface and shape it into something more.

Jake very carefully thinks of what to say. “Knowing that if I fuck you right now it will piss off your insanely annoying brother makes me want to do it more. But if the only reason I was fucking you was to piss him off, then I’d be doing it in front of him.”

Your brows raise.

“Okay, that came out wrong,” Jake says quickly. “My point is… I go crazy thinking about you. And everything I think about doing to you can be made possible when I’m, as you said, all big.”

“But… Norm—”

Jake groans, all smiles. “Oh my god, can we please stop bringing up your brother for a sec? It’s a huge turn off.”

“It doesn’t make me feel any sexier, either,” you point out, “but I’m just thinking—”

“Don’t think,” Jake tells you. “This is the one time you don’t have to think about anything at all except for how you’d like me to take care of you.”

Jake returns his face to your stomach as you blink furiously, a flustered feeling creeping up over your body at the bluntness of his words. If you thought he was playing around, you’re officially convinced when his hands tighten around your thighs and he spreads them apart, pinning them down against the boulder he’s made your bed for the night. You inhale a deep breath when Jake’s thumbs dip underneath your shorts, bunched around your inner thighs.

“I suppose it would be like killing two birds with one stone…”

Jake laughs against your skin. “Jesus Christ, Spellman, quit talking so much. Who knew you were such a yapper?”

“Am not,” you protest.

You shudder when he plants another kiss on your abdomen, pings the fabric of your shorts back against your skin with a sharp sting and he grunts with a nod.

“Okay,” Jake agrees, his ears high and tail swishing playfully. “Now take off your cardigan.”

Still watching Jake on your forearms as he hooks his fingers around the waistline of your shorts in an effort to pull them down, you wrangle a sigh of protest and lift your lower body up for him, all whilst reaching for the buttons on the front of your cardigan.

You breathe heavily as you mumble, “Do you really need to take off all my clothes, Sully?”

“One of us is halfway there, honey, and it’s not you,” replies Jake. His golden eyes watch with intent as he pulls the shorts down the expanse of your legs with your underwear in tow. As you shudder with the breeze fanning between your legs, Jake takes a big inhale and stares.

He barely moves an inch once the shorts and panties are in a bunch around your feet, but you busy yourself by sweeping a look at Jake’s own attire, or striking lack of. Between his legs hangs his tewng, a simple and sparsely intricate item of clothing that leaves little to imagination when it comes to what is growing between his thighs.

It’s standard attire for the Omatikaya, but you’ve never seen it up close, and never on Jake himself. It hits you then that he’s still in his entire hunting gear, as if he finished up with Neytiri and brought himself here right away.

Jake’s thighs clench as he finally moves, readjusting his footing in his dropped squat; to him, this position has become as natural as breathing, but you stare at his thighs bulging and wonder how he’s not in agony from it alone.

Jake looks up at you after his allocated time spent analysing the spot growing wet between your legs and you gulp, feeling almost nervous.

“Well, you’re gonna be an Omatikaya soon. One of the consequences is wearing your little g-string everywhere.”

His head leans to the side as his amusement grows. “It’s called a tewng, genius.”

That makes you laugh, and say in a melodic and sweet tone, “I know.”

But Jake bites back with the same sweet tone as you and says, “Then shut up,” and you comply. It’s the least you can do for him when he smooths his big hands back between your legs and up close to your cunt.

Pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee, Jake inches his hands further, relishing in a deep breath as he returns to staring at the spot just inches from his fingers. From his perspective, you are hideously tiny; given the obvious lack of research on Na’vi and human sexual relations, Jake isn’t totally sure you’ll be able to withstand what he wants to give you.

Worth a try, though.

Jake’s chest rises and falls as he stares in wonder at your pussy, the scent divinely pronounced, and he runs one of his fingers between your folds and up, collecting the juices on his finger as he rounds your clit in a rather observational manner.

You bristle, your legs instinctively trying to close — all the good it does, as Jake pushes them back open. His eyes flicker back up to yours, as if assessing his next steps, before he lowers his mouth to your cunt and without doing you the kind service of looking away, stares at you as he spreads his tongue flat between your folds.

His actions earn him a strangled moan of pleasure, and his ears twitch in satisfaction. The feeling of his tongue against you is strangely addicting, rough and soft at the same time, warm and wet and enough for your hips to lift.

“Jake…” You gasp, feeling your eyes close, half with the pleasure of it all and also sheer embarrassment.

Like a predator watching its prey, Jake never looks away from your face and the way it twists, your jaw hanging open as he licks your cunt. With the size of his head alone, his tongue virtually covers every corner of your pussy with no difficulty, leaving you with no untouched itch, no ignored stretch of wet skin.

You can’t even bear to look down at him again, and you toss your gaze up to the stars as they twinkle above, blinking, conspirators to your escapade. Biting down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning too loud, your hips slowly roll up and down as Jake sucks around your clit, his big hands working overtime to keep you from wriggling away entirely off the rock and to the ground.

“Oh, god…”

Between your legs is a flurry of warmth, a tingling feeling rippling down to your toes. After five dry years, it comes as no real shock that even someone’s tongue could be ripping this kind of response from you.

“You good?” Jake murmurs.

“Mmh. Hot,” you rasp. It doesn’t help that there’s an exo-pack warming your face with every deep breath you take. Jake moves his mouth from your cunt momentarily as if trying to hear you, watching with curious eyes when you bite back another noise which stirs as he slides his finger towards your entrance.

“This mask is really ruining my vibe right now,” you groan, your voice so throaty and strangled that Jake has to fight a smirk. He fails miserably.

“Take it off and hold your breath,” Jake replies; a laugh rumbles from his chest when you lift your head to scowl at him.

“It would frighten people if they knew how much of a genius you were.”

Jake hums, his eyes glistening as he cocks his head, “I’m incredibly humble.” Then he wastes no more time talking and sinks his finger into you.

He sinks in with plenty of ease, your wetness guiding his finger all the way in to the knuckle and you choke back a strangled sound; one of Jake’s fingers feels like two of your own, the stretch unfamiliar but not unwelcome after your dry spell of five cryo-stolen years.

Jake grins widely and inches his tongue back between your legs, swiping it over your clit and forcing the moans out from hiding in your throat.

You turn your head to the side, sparing a glance at the distant laboratory. You can only hope you’re not loud enough to startle your sleeping colleagues and brother.

“Eyes down here, Spellman,” Jake mumbles, his voice vibrating across your pussy and pulling your eyes back towards him. Tears spring to your eyes as he looks up at you, working his fingers in and out of you slowly while matching his licks to the tempo.

His tongue is slightly rough and textured, each lick leaving you feeling almost ticklish. A rush of warmth pulls from your cunt up to your neck, and your thighs tremble around his head with a flushed squeeze, but Jake doesn’t seem to mind; he pulls your one leg further apart with his other hand and slips in a second finger, the stretch of your hole making your back arch with a half pained, half pleasured moan.

“Jake!” you gasp, your hips bucking up against his mouth, his fangs brushing across you. He has the nerve to laugh all of a sudden, pulling his mouth away after pressing a sloppy kiss to your clit. “Jesus, fuck, Jake—”

“Goddamn, you are a yapper,” Jake comments, and you glare at the almost human look of pure smugness on his face, his chin coated with saliva and juice.

“Fuck you,” you huff, feeling the absence of his tongue immensely, despite his continuously moving fingers. Jake’s fingers are thicker than they looked from afar — it feels like you’re full already, but you’re not willing to confess that to him. He already looks far too proud with what he’s doing.

You suppose, now that you’re thinking about it, Jake’s had years to become familiar with a pussy; he seems to be back between your legs with a certain hunger for you, the taste of your juices sweeter than he initially expected.

His fingers are coated in juice, slipping into you with no resistance and curling his fingers up to make your hips lift once more. He almost wants to make a comment to fluster you, to tell you how insanely good it feels for your cunt to be quivering around his fingers, welcoming him up there as if you’d prepared for them beforehand. Jake parts his fingers inside of you, stretching you out, his mouth comfortably attached to you.

His ears twitch when you let out a wobbly cry — actually, he’s not sure if you’re crying for real or not. His eyes follow your hand as it creeps down to the hood of your pussy, just above his nose, and he pulls his mouth away for a split second.

“No, no, go back,” you pant, and like a dog given a command, Jake pulls his soggy fingers out of your cunt and pushes his head back between your thighs, satisfied by your own pleasured sounds when he does.

Jake hooks his arm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the sloping boulder while he uses his other hand to keep your legs wide apart. You forget all about modesty and self-control and open them as wide as you can for him to help, your hand stroking the top of Jake’s hair as he burrows his way back between the wet spot he was devouring.

You suck in a tight and high-pitched breath when Jake’s tongue shifts from left to right over your clit, the feeling of his tongue strange and almost like a vibration. Your hips lift from the boulder again and shift up and down — Jake’s barely even trying, barely broken a sweat, but when he glances up at you he’s both amused and surprised by how twisted in pleasure you look. All he can see is the underneath of your jaw tilted to the sky, and one of your hands curling up around your tit under your tank top.

Jake guides his arm from trapping your abdomen up to push the bottom of your tank up above your wrist. There’s no way he’ll let you gatekeep the sight of your tits when he’s the one making you touch yourself in the first place. His eyes are wide with excitement when you fist the fabric of your tank and yank it up above your boobs, the curve of them bouncing with the quick movement of your hand.

Jake groans into you, his tail curling up high. Jake’s tasted a lot of pussy in his life, but he doesn’t know what exactly you’ve done to taste so good to him. He momentarily convinces himself that it feels different because he’s in a whole other body — it must just be because he’s big and strange and he’s been fucking you in his mind for a while now that you somehow feel ten times better than anyone else he’s ever been with.

The pool of warm juice between your legs leaves you incredibly soft and squishy, like a tìhawnuwll that he has to remind himself he can’t just sink his teeth into.

It could be because you’re Norm’s sister. Could be because you usually appear so big when he’s resorted to sitting down all day, but now you’re helplessly tiny underneath him, trapped by his arms and head. Or it could just be because he’s an idiot who quashes his feelings rather than gives in to them.

He blinks. Your hips are so high off the boulder that Jake has to bring his arm back down to hold you in place. The less you squirm, the more drawn out he can make it, but he’s acutely aware of the tremor in your legs, the impatient rutting against his lips, the painful hardness under his tewng.

“Sweet,” he grumbles. The word leaves you flustered, and the heat brewing like a bomb against his open mouth begins to rise through your body again. You forget to be quiet as you let out a high-pitched moan, feeling your toes curl in your boots and you desperately finger at your nipple, rolling and tugging on the hardened nub of flesh as Jake pins you tighter against the boulder. He laves his tongue down your cunt towards your entrance, the warm tip of it pushing to the tightened hole that Jake wants more than anything to squeeze himself inside.

“Mf — Jake, come on,” you whimper.

One of his thin brows raises. “You seduced yet?”

“Fuck off. Yes.”

You feel the rumble of his laughter against your pussy. Jake presses a kiss against it and then moves his mouth to the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“I never let a woman go without making her cum,” Jake says, his voice muffled against your leg. He feels you quiver beneath him, and his grin widens. “You wanna at least cum first, right?”

“Please, Jake—”

A startled cry of pain rips from your throat when Jake gently sinks his teeth into your leg — Jake knows his own strength and pulls back before he can draw blood, glancing at the red outline of his teeth imprinted into your leg, a ridged ring of saliva in his wake. Your head is lifted entirely to gape at him, and he looks at you with a coy expression.

“Did you just bite me?”

He smirks. “Accident. Sorry.”

“Yeah right.” Your legs shift slightly around him, but Jake can smell the twisting agony of pleasure leaking out of you — he’s never been more thankful for his Na’vi body and its strange sense of smell than he is now, to be able to pick up on the need you try to hide from him, a scent he actually understands. Normally he can admire your determination, but right now, he’s more concerned with finding out how to break down your walls and unravel you the way he knows you’ve been wanting him to for the last two months.

He smooches the bite one more time, his ears pricking when you whimper out a sort of desperately small sound and say, “Come on, Jake. You got me out here, don’t torture me about it.”

“Me eating your pussy not enough for you?” he asks smugly. He knows it would be more than enough — call him conceited, but he’s sort of an expert on it by now.

You don’t say much, nothing worth noting, at least. Jake’s ears are tall as he lifts his head slightly, but his thumb continues to rub up and down your slit, carefully smoothing over your swollen clit almost sympathetically.

“Please,” you beg in such a small and desperate voice that Jake smiles at the sound. You see his eyes flutter, half-lidded, as he cocks his head to the side until his temple is against your knee.

“Hm? You just wanna say please and get it over and done with?” Jake mutters. “You can’t take any more of my fingers?”

“Don’t be a prick,” you whimper. “You want it, too.”

You feel that unkind heat simmer over you again, but not for the reason you expect. Jake blinks at you lazily, like an unimpressed cat, and then you watch as his eyes curve into crescent moons, the slint of gold virtually glowing in the Pandoran night. Then, the fucker smiles again, looking so smug that you feel embarrassed somehow, caught under his gaze.

“Yeah, I do,” agrees Jake. “I’ve been wanting you a long time.”

“Then, come on,” you urge. Something excited claws at you, and you feel your heartbeat race when he lifts himself slightly. “Come on, big guy. You got me out here, you win.”

He swells with pride, pleased by what is leaving your mouth in a flustered flurry.

“You think you can take me all by yourself?” he asks, his hands coming to rest on your knees as he turns his gaze back to the clenching hole between your legs. Jake looks almost thoughtful as he stares at you, as if analysing. “You could only just take two fingers.”

For such an intelligent woman, Jake finds himself amazed when you look anxious about that statement. What, do you really think he’ll just give up and go? Jake doesn’t care if it takes all night to get himself up your snatch, because no matter what, he’ll get himself in there.

He sniggers when your mouth flounders like a little fish, your tank sliding with the angle of your body back down over your tits, but then he tuts and reaches back to pull it up. In fact, he decides it’s better off, and he uses one finger to pull the whole thing up to your chin, and lets you suffer in an anxious string of actions — you tug the tank up over your head, eyes wide, lip pouting.

“Wanna try?” Jake asks, if not to speed along the increasing agony of his hard cock tenting under his tewng then just to put you out of your misery. “Or should I go back for seconds?”

“Jake…” Your chest rises and falls as you gape at him. He went through all the trouble to get you here, and although you never expected to look at Jake’s avatar and feel a throb between your legs, you can’t even look at him without feeling overcome with the terrible, pressing desire to squeeze whatever weapon he has under his loincloth into your cunt. Jake watches your eyes look down at the darkness between his legs, to the pretty band of string tied around his middle, and then looks back at you with a sickeningly sweet expression.

“Aw, honey. You want me to fuck you?”

It takes an incredible amount of effort not to scowl at him. Jake is lucky he looks so attractive with your arousal around his lips, otherwise you’d be up off the boulder and marching back to the labs for being so unbelievably full of himself.

But even though he’s double your size and consumed by a cocky smugness from being able bodied and towering over you, you can’t think of enough reasons to warrant your leave. The only things on your mind are how much it’ll hurt to get him inside you, and how good it’ll feel once he is.

“That’s why you brought me here, after all, isn’t it?” you murmur, your lips curved slightly when he bows his body over you, his hands flat against the boulder on either side of your waist. “You’ve been thinking of me, right? Oeyä sayrìp tsamsiyu — you must have thought about this every time you went and found me a flower, right?”

Jake’s smile turns wolfish. “Yap, yap, yap.”

You all but whine underneath him. It is so unbecoming of you to be so desperate for something that you resort to writhing like a brat, but with Jake just straddling over you without doing anything, you feel the eager feeling of want coiling in your lower stomach. Your hole clenches around the air, as if trying to feel for Jake’s fingers again, and you lift your hips up off the boulder as if to entice him.

He barely even looks down at you, which only infuriates you more.

For a moment, you wonder if the only reason he lured you out here was to satiate a desire of his own; maybe he just wanted to prove that he still had what it took to make a woman beg for him — though he needn’t have tried so hard, considering you’d have writhed and whined for him just as much, if not more, had he just made it known that he knew about and returned your feelings sooner.

But having you touch him in an impossible silence in the shared bunks pales in comparison to now, to having you look so small and soft and inviting; for you to beg for him, to let yourself be ravaged by him in all of his strength. Why would he prefer to have you while he feels useless when he can make the most of the strong, brawny and big body his brother passed down to him?

Jake breathes deeply through his nose and chews on the inner skin under his lips. You watch in the dark as his tail coils, his ears flat, until he lowers his body down like he’s doing a press up and pushes his nose against your sternum.

“You smell so pretty, baby girl,” Jake mutters, pressing a kiss against the skin sloping between your tits. Biting your lip does little to suppress the moan that spills out when Jake cups one of his hands around your breast, and you hold the back of his hand as he gently squeezes.

The hanging cloth of his tewng brushes past your pussy and you jolt in surprise, just in time for Jake to bring his mouth down over your other boob. The sheer size of Jake dwarfs every feature of yours, but something about your tiny size only excites him more.

With his lips wrapped around your tit, you try your hardest to muffle another moan at the feeling of his tongue toying around your nipple, desperately trying to find something to focus on that isn’t the absurdly good feeling of Jake’s mouth or the tewng brushing past your pussy every time Jake rocks his hips backwards and forwards.

You clench your hand over his, feeling your legs squirm around him as his sharp teeth scrape against the squishy curve of your breast. Fear should rip through you when you feel his teeth tighten around the top of your tit, but it doesn’t; instead, a rush of warm excitement burns you from the inside out when Jake’s cheeks hollow, sucking a purple blot into your skin.

“Hey—” you say cautiously, but the damage is already done. It’s as if Jake’s determined to make you the same shade as him; the mark he leaves is blooming and bright, and he looks all too proud of himself when he looks up in acknowledgement of your voice. His tail thrashes excitedly.

“Leaving that so everyone can see what you were doing when they wake up,” Jake explains, licking a strip from the swelling bruise to your neck for good measure. “My dirty scientist.”

That is if you ever make it back to the lab in one piece.

Feeling the pleasure spreading across your body, you’re half contemplating staying here on this rock forever, hoping that Norm or Grace never come back here looking for samples only to find your corpse. You’re overcome with a conflicting contrast of emotions — you suddenly feel so exposed, so unraveled, half guilty for encouraging Jake to shove his big blue fingers up your crotch, and even guiltier about the fact that you want more from him.

“Enough. Come on,” you huff, and Jake dips his attention back to the rutting of your hips, the glossy shine of your arousal. “While I’m wet.”

“You really think I’m gonna let you dry up before I can get inside you?” Jake asks, as if the idea is beneath you both. “Have some confidence in me, Spellman.”

“I do. Full confidence. So, come on, gimme.”

Jake grins; he leans his weight up on one knee and in the light, you can just about see the protruding point of his tewng and feel your desire pooling. It’s only when Jake undoes the string around his waist and frees what hides beneath that you start to feel your body tense unexpectedly; it is beyond you how Jake has managed to keep the spear he calls his cock hidden for so long, and even more unthinkable as to how it will fit inside of you.

You stare at it with wide eyes. Meanwhile, Jake holds the base of it with his hand and assesses the space between your legs again. When he guides the tip to your folds and strokes himself up and down, you feel your heartbeat quicken and your legs turn like jelly.

“You like it?” he asks, ever so sweetly, as if it’s a new gift brought back for you to enjoy. In a way, it is a gift, something for you to sample. Jake’s body seems to vibrate with nothing short of delight at the speechless state his dick has left you in — and he hasn’t even put it in yet.

“Big, right?” he continues to ask, a smirk on his face.

All you can say is, “how do you walk around with that thing?”

He barks out a laugh, his head tilted to the stars as his smirk widens. Jake then pushes the tip against you again with his thumb, choking down his amused sniggers as he drags himself up and down your cunt, and more than anything, he wishes he could see your face better in the moonlight. Luckily, Jake’s spent hours staring at you in his wheelchair to be able to piece together the smudges of your features he can see in the reflection of light hanging over the front of your mask. And what he can’t see, he’ll hear, and what he’s not satisfied with not seeing he’ll seek from you again later.

“It’ll be a tight fit,” Jake thinks out loud, prodding the tip of his cock against your entrance and looking up at you once you whimper, “but I know you can take it.”

“I dunno… Looks kind of big—”

“You can fit it in,” he tells you confidently.

But now you’ve seen it, you’re slightly nervous. “What if I can’t—?”

“You were just begging me for it,” Jake says pointedly. “While I’m wet, you said.” Then, he leans forward so that the wide slope of his nose is pushed against the front of your mask. “I don’t care if it takes all night trying. I’ll help you fit it all in, okay?”

You breathe in sharply, feeling your hips grinding up against him. Jake tries to find sympathy for you; he supposes that if he were you and some ten foot Na’vi was trying to burrow his cock between his legs, he’d be apprehensive too.

“Just…” you rasp, watching him desperately, and he waits kindly, though his tip is on the verge of being swallowed by your cunt. Your legs tremble when he smiles at you, one hand on his cock, the other flat against the boulder. “Just go slow, okay?”

The way he looks at you is as if you��ve just said something stupidly endearing. “Sure thing, Spellman.”

Jake does his best to keep up his presented facade of coolness, but you feel so warm and wet, his arm begins to shake as he supports his weight on the boulder, grunting when he aligns his cockhead with your hole and very slightly pushes in. Even though he only just had his fingers up there, he can feel your pussy resisting, and it’s only the tip.

Your mouth hangs open with a pained whine, the stretch uncomfortable but in spite of it, you arch your back as if trying to feel more of him inside of you.

“Easy,” he chuckles, very slowly pushing more of himself into your pussy. The noises from your mouth grow louder, and something proud purrs in his chest. His tongue pushes against the inside of his lower lip as he smirks, teeth showing, as he makes an almost amused groan. You’re insanely tight, and unbelievably squishy and wet — and hey, it’s been five years for him, too.

“Yeah,” Jake groans, pushing his hips further and pulling out, each stroke gentle and tentative. He wants more than anything to go rough, to make you mewl and cry and curl up against him, but the tearful look on your face makes him reconsider. Each time he sinks in a little bit deeper, softening the resistance of your walls as they make room for him.

It takes an incredible amount of self restraint to stop himself from shoving all of it in at once; you’re so tight, the tightest pussy he’s ever felt closing around his cock, and easily the best. Jake closes his eyes for a second, honing in on the squeezing clench around his cock and the unnerving, uncharacteristic silence leaving your gaping mouth.

“Talk to me, Spellman,” Jake groans, inching deeper inside. His ears perk again when you cry as he sinks in deeper. “Say something.”

“You told me I talked too much,” you manage out, admirably trying your hardest to remain quiet despite the pushing twelve inches of Na’vi cock up your cunt. Jake’s barely even inside of you; more of his dick is out than it is stuffed inside.

“I love hearing you talk,” replies Jake, even though he had just poked fun at your ability to talk someone’s ear off. Had he known it would swear you into silence now, he’d have never said anything. What Jake wants now most of all is to hear your voice again, hear your pleasure, your instructions, your pleas.

Hearing you slip out a high pitched moan when he pushes more of his cock inside of you feels like a reward almost.

“Could listen to you yap away all damn day,” he murmurs quietly, his eyes finding yours behind the glaze of the exo-pack. “I know you’ve always got something to say, so why’re you so quiet all of a sudden?” Jake’s grin brightens when you manage to suck in more of his length, “Talk to me, baby, tell me what you want, hm?”

“Just… Put it in,” you whimper, and his eyes widen excitedly.

“You said to go slow.”

“I know what I said, but I need more.” Your eyes are so blown open he’d laugh if it didn’t look so goddamn sexy. “Please, Jake.”

“You sure?” he croons.

“Mm. Please — come on, please—!”

Jake snaps his hips forward so quickly that more than half of dick disappears inside of you, and the primal noise that leaves your mouth takes Jake completely by surprise.

“Fucking shit, mama,” Jake groans, his voice rasped as he bows his chest over yours, dropping to his forearm on the boulder as he adjusts to the warmth enveloping him. “Holy shit.”

You swallow a deep breath, your hands gripping tightly to Jake’s shoulders which forces his eyes to your face. He can make out the distinct shimmer of tears under your eyes, and he brushes his fingers across the side of your neck, tapping you to bring your eyes open and searching for him in the dark.

“You with me?” he asks, chuckling slightly. “You good?”

“Oh my god,” you squeal, cunt clenching. “Wait—”

“Breathe,” Jake says quietly, pressing a kiss to the swollen bruise he sucked into your skin earlier. “You can do it, pretty girl.”

“Keep moving, it hurts when you just stay still.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, his hips falling back into a slow rhythm to keep you adjusted to his twitching cock. It’s almost disturbing how easily you’re taking him now he’s forced more of his length inside, how wet and responsive you seem to be as he sinks deeper into you.

At first, Jake goes slow, familiarising himself with every noise you give him, every twitch and shift in your body, every clench around him. You feel the smooth ridges of his cock kissing your insides, the sensation unfamiliar and strange but so fucking good. He snakes one hand under your back when you lift up off the boulder; his large palm is flat against the arch of your spine, his fingers curled around your hip.

You look like a toy underneath him, something he could easily just hold with one hand and fuck himself up into.

His hips snap again, faster than he intended, and more of his dick disappears inside of you. You could easily take all of him if he took his time getting you to that point, but the warmth wrapping around him like a glove is so sinful that he can’t think of anything less appealing than going slow. He sucks in a deep breath through his teeth and squeezes your waist with his hand; one desperate little cry from your mouth later, and Jake forgives himself for having waited so long to get you in this position, to fuck you stupid.

It’s been so long since Jake’s been able to fuck a woman like this, and for his first time since his accident to be with you, of all people — well, Jake could think of no greater victory, no better reward for all the shit he’s endured so far.

He stares down at the gap between your legs, watching as his dick vanishes and reappears with every rock of his hips. You’re taking it so well, like a champion. Pride blooms in his chest — he’d expect nothing less from his woman.

Pulling your hips down slightly to meet him as he thrusts up, Jake shoulders the control and moans in a low tone, pushing until he feels your body seize underneath him. Then, he pulls back, falls back in, and gets himself comfortable.

The stretch no longer burns the way it did, but you feel as though you can barely breathe as Jake ruts his hips up. He’s so big in every definition of the word. He doesn’t seem to notice nor care about the deep indent of your fingernails in his shoulder; he seems entirely devoted to gaining momentum, creating his own pace with his ears flat against his bowed head.

“God… Jake,” you moan, feeling the slight point of the boulder against your shoulder blades and his hand squeezing your middle as you finally speak, after what feels like eons of silence to Jake.

He latches his gaze to the rise and fall of your breasts as he fucks you, his breathing heavy. “Oh, you like that?”

Ever so slightly, he hastens his pacing, eliciting a tearful sob from your mouth. “Mmf—”

“Is it everything you hoped for?”

His stomach churns when you laugh, albeit with a strangled kind of tone, and clench around his cock again.

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“So’re you,” he points out, lifting his chest slightly to glance down at your stomach. It should be criminal how turned on he feels by the sight of his own dick outlined in your lower tummy — it should be criminal how insanely good it feels knowing he’s fucking a part of you nobody else has before. You’ve lost all self control as you decide to let yourself be noisy, which Jake is all too pleased to hear.

Peering down at your hips, you marvel at the sight of Jake’s frightening length pushing up against your stomach. It looks just as weird as it feels. Jake hisses and runs a hand across the spot his dick is hitting.

“Feel that?” he asks. He knows you do. It’s a stupidly dumb question, but you whine at it all the same. “I told you it would fit. Look at you, taking it all, no problem.”

“Mhm. Feels good; so, so, so good, Jake…” Your body feels limp and tingly, and you let your head fall back so your gaze is pointed up at the sky. Even as you blink dazed up at them, they have the striking appearance of Jake’s skin, the dark blue wash of sky with littered balls of bright white light. The image of him is printed on your mind, and no matter where you look to avoid his gaze, you find him again.

Jake shifts. Keeping his dick sliding in and out of you with more of an upbeat rhythm than before, he bows his chest back over yours and brings his ears close to your ear.

“A perfect fit for my perfect girl,” he mutters. He becomes so reliant on his one hand on the boulder when he uses the other to hold your leg up around his waist, bringing forth an entirely new burn from the stretch of it. His breath is warm on your ear, making you shudder. “How long you been waiting for me, baby?”

You scoff disbelievingly, trying to think of something to say despite your mind being both full and empty at the same time. All you can think about is the building pressure in your tummy.

“Long,” you offer, snaking a hand up his neck to the back of his head.

Jake licks his tongue across the arch of skin connecting your neck to your collar. “Thinking of me with your fingers up your cunt at night, huh?” His hand squeezes around your middle when you begin to shift with his thrusts further up the boulder. Even with your loud cries in his ear, Jake can hear the squelching wetness around his cock, the tightening spasms around his length bringing him closer to giving in to the dull ache in his own stomach. “Bet you wheelchair Jake Sully couldn’t make you feel like this. Next time you get off to the thought of him, I want you to think of what we’re doing right now, about who’s got you feeling this way.”

“How…how do you even know about that?” you gasp, half pleasured by his thrusting and half horrified by the revelation that Jake might have been privy to the fact you masturbated with him in mind when everyone went to bed at night.

Actually, he didn’t know. But he sniggers smugly that his teasing jeer turned out to be true.

Jake presses a kiss to your collar and peppers a line of them up until he is thwarted by the mask covering your face. Peering down at your face hidden behind it, Jake gives you a sad pout and says, “I wanna go fast.”

“I…” you start, his hips already moving and you feel the heat simmering below again. Anymore from him, and you’ll be finished, cumming all over him. “I don’t think… I’ll — I’m gonna—”

“Then let’s get it done,” he says with as much finality and refine as he can muster before he picks himself back up, finding the energy he had before to pin you down against the boulder. You keep your leg wrapped around his waist as he sets one hand down over your tummy, the other on your shoulder, and then the real fun begins for him.

Jake isn’t ignorant to the twisting ache inside of him — like you, he knows he probably doesn’t have that much longer until he’s completely tuckered out and ready to fill you up. What can he say? It’s been a long time, and he doesn’t have the same kind of stamina as he used to. You’re tightening up around him in anticipation; it’s like being gripped in a vice.

He pulls his hips back and then pistons himself back in with so much speed that you almost fly up off the boulder in surprise. Too fast, he thinks, so he gets accustomed to a regular fast pace and sticks to it loyally. In return, he’s rewarded with a litany of pretty sounds, your hands curling around his arms, desperately trying to hold on.

“Yeah, oh yeah,” Jake groans, feeling your cunt fluttering around him as he fucks in and out, slipping in and out of your wetness as if he owns it. The hand that’s pressing your shoulder slips to your throat, and while he doesn’t squeeze, you claw your fingers around his and feel his grip tighten ever so slightly.

“Fuck!” you squeal, clamping your eyes closed suddenly. “Shit—Jake, baby—”

He moans at that, really moans. A ringing rises in volume in his ears as his thrusts grow more rapid, relentlessly smacking his hips up until he slides all of his dick inside of you.

God, you’re fucking perfect — he can’t name many women, if any at all, who could take a dick this size with as much ease as you are now. But the increasing pressure in your tummy is so overwhelming that you’re not even too aware of the size of what’s getting comfortable inside of you. All you know and understand is that in the next three seconds, you’ll be seeing white.

Jake’s name falls like a mantra from your lips, and he looks at you in surprise to see that you’ve very bravely opened your eyes to stare at him, although the tears lining your waterline and smeared down your cheeks make your stare look ten times more attractive to him. He almost wishes he hadn’t looked — his hips stagger slightly and he growls, the noise earning him another whiney moan from the undone woman beneath him, the woman he’s committed to filling with his cum and making his.

“I—!” You say nothing — you don’t even have to. Jake feels your cunt strangling his length like a goddamn fist, and by the buffering look of pure ecstasy on your face, he’s fairly certain all of those things mean you’re about to cum.

“Yeah, mama, cum for me,” Jake coaxes. “Lemme feel you.”

The warmth around him clenches, and all of a sudden, your body seizes with a jolt, your back arched so high off the boulder that it leaves him hitting entirely new angles inside of you, pushing your orgasm to a new level.

For you, it feels like you’ve been blown up. Your entire body is consumed by a blazing heat, your legs going immediately limp as you cum around him. Jake’s eyes instantly shift to your quivering hips, to your cunt still swallowing him up, the white dribbles of cum leaking down the length of his cock. He watches the small cluster of glowing freckles decorating his dick disappear behind a rolling drop of your cum and his jaw goes slack.

“My girl,” he crows, his head bowing as he eagerly fucks into you a few more times, muttering the same thing as he does: “Oh, my girl, my pretty girl—”

The hand around your throat rips itself away only to squeeze into your hips, as though Jake intends to leave fingerprints there once he’s done. He grips you tightly and with a monumental and low, throaty moan, he snaps his hips one final time and feels a tug in his tummy.

You probably feel him cum before he does. Jake seems caught up in his thrusts while you register the unmissable burst of warmth inside of you, ropes of cum spilling out as if his sole intention were to breed you, stuff you full of his seed.

In actual fact, Jake just wanted to fuck you silly, fill you with boat loads of cum, and bask in the evil satisfaction of watching Norm smell Jake all over you, claiming you as his.

“Mm—fuck, Jake!” you rasp, squeezing your little hands around his wrists. The feeling is enough to bring him up to the surface he was drowning under, the ringing in his ears dulling as he catches his breath and opens his eyes, staring down at the embarrassingly wet mixture of cum and juice between your legs.

He stays inside of you for a moment, his dick still hard and even more pronounced up your cunt than it was before, and it’s as if his eyes are unfocused in absolute awe as he observes the sight of you stretched open, locking him in place greedily.

It sinks in that you managed to fit all of him in, that he just used his avatar to fuck you in the forest behind the lab. You. Norm’s sister. The object of his desire. The woman of his literal dreams.

Jake lets out a loud and heavy breath, a sigh of relief, and rubs his palms up and down your stomach gently. Despite having had him fucking you just seconds before, you feel a heat flush over your face when he looks up at your face, sweaty and tear-stained under the exo-pack, and he grins wolfishly.

“You’re incredible,” he laughs, which makes the act of looking at him feel ten times more rewarding. Your body warms with the praise: all you’ve wanted was for Jake to like you back, and now, to be full of his cum and knowing he thinks you’re incredible… You laugh with him.

A few disbelieving laughs later, and Jake finally moves his hands under your thighs and slowly pulls himself out of you. The bump of each ridge along his length knocks past you, and Jake stifles a howl of laughter at the whiney, high-pitched moan you make as his cock pulls out of you with a slick, wet pop. He cranes his head slightly to watch his cum pool out of you and you pick yourself up on your forearms, looking for his dick between his legs to have a final peek, a good look at him covered in your cum and his…

Your eyes widen. “Your cum glows.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “What? Scientist of Pandora didn’t know Na’vi cum glowed?”

“I haven’t exactly had a selection of Na’vi men or women to tell me that it did!” you reason, your eyes still marvelling curiously at the shiny soft blue stain over the hanging fruit between his legs.

He hums, poking a finger against your folds and smirking when you flinch. “Hm. Put that in your research notes. Wanna take samples?”

“Fuck off,” you laugh, keeping your legs wide as you struggle to sit upright. The discomfort between your legs is suddenly making itself known, and already the cum around your pussy and thighs is drying, sticky and thick. “Jesus, Sully. Look at me.”

“I know,” grins Jake, his eyes soaking up the image of you. “You’re fucking sexy.”

You roll your eyes with a twisting smile. While Jake seems incredibly fascinated with the marks he has either left accidentally or on purpose over your body, you groan and roll your shoulders. Frankly, you wish Jake had just thrown you down on the grass and fucked you there — in hindsight, the boulder had been a bad idea and you know it will come to haunt you in the morning.

Lazily, and yet with a rush of shame and exhilaration, you glance back at the lab, sitting in the curve of moonlight and caged by bioluminescent flowers and shrubs, each glowing vibrant spectrums of cyan and purple and lime.

“You’re the luckiest woman alive if nobody heard you yapping,” Jake says playfully, rising upright to stretch the agonised muscles of his legs. “You’re so noisy, honey.”

“I apologise for not thinking too much about the volume of my voice,” you drawl sarcastically, your eyes still glued to the glazed thick glass windows looking into the back of the lab. Anxiously, you glance at him, “Was I that loud?”

He gives you a tight, sympathetic smile. You frown.

“You weren’t quiet yourself, you know,” you grumble, feeling the pinch in your back ease slightly.

“Yep.” And he seems smug about that fact, for reasons beyond you, although you wager a guess as to why he seems proud all of a sudden.

As you shuffle awkwardly off the boulder, you wince as you lean for your shorts and panties, dropping a little look at the sliding dollop of cum slipping out of you.

“You gotta keep it in there,” Jake says.

“Jake, as soon as I stand up and walk around, it’s all gonna come pouring out anyway.”

His lip curls with disappointment as he watches his cum drip out of you onto the edge of the boulder, splatting on the wisps of grass around your ankles. It’s a good thing he’s full of copious reserves of cum to give back to you another time.

“Can’t wait for Norm to get a whiff of me,” Jake tells you, and you fight the urge to sigh and roll your eyes, because of course — of course that had been a motive for the gallon of glowing blue sperm Jake just squoze into you. “The look on his face when he figures out I’ve been breedin’ his little sister—”

“I have never been more thankful of the fact that Na’vi and humans can’t reproduce together. Hand on my heart, I mean that.”

You slide your shorts and panties back up your legs and reach for your thrown tank top. The inconspicuous smudges of green from the boulder across the back of it fill you with a puny drop of dread — you’ll just pray really hard to both God and Eywa that nobody pays it any mind.

That and the bulbous bruise on your tit, the bite on your leg, the finger indents on your hips.

“I was doing that thing you were doing. Killing two birds with one stone,” Jake says as he searches the ground for his tewng. “Fucking you ‘cause I wanted to and fucking you because I know wanting you is gonna piss off your annoying big brother.”

You had said that, hadn’t you? And even though the entire scheme of Jake wanting to scorn your brother so badly that he has to use you as a human fuck-toy seems ludicrous, you can’t deny the very minuscule jolt of thrill it gives you. It would be fun to piss Norm off a little bit. He has been a total arse lately.

“Norm’s all you think about,” you tease. “You sure you don’t like him instead?”

“Shut up.”

Jake hands you your cardigan with an amused smile, his tail whipping to and fro happily.

“Your coat, ma’am.”

“Love how you only have one thing to slip back into,” you point out as you take the cardigan from him, and he reaches for the tewng and chuckles. “You could’ve just lifted it up.”

“Could’ve, would’ve, didn’t,” he replies.

There’s an uncharacteristic silence between you both as you climb back into your clothes, and while Jake fiddles with his tewng with his tongue between his lips, you look back at the lab and sigh.

Somewhere in that lab is the man you’ve been thinking of for two months — Jake in his human form, lying in a link unit as he takes control through another body. You wonder what he might think when he wakes up: will he come searching for you in the dark? Come kiss you, tell you how he feels?

Jake creeps up to you with an alarming light foot, and the feeling of his hand on top of your head makes you look up suddenly.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks.

“You,” you sigh, looking back at the lab. “Are you going to follow through with tonight when you’re back as yourself, or is this an avatar Jake exclusive?”

“Come on. You still want that loser in there?” Jake feels his heart tug — he doesn’t know if to feel offended that you’re still thinking of someone else, or flattered because that someone else is technically him, the real him, the version of him that Jake hates the most.

“You’re so mean to him,” you grumble. Then pause, and add, “To you. That’s literally still you in there. If anything, doesn’t that make me look a little bit obsessed?” Jake gently pushes your head as you fall into a slow walk in the direction of the remote lab. “Wow. Actually, I just realised that’s true.”

“Finding out that you liked me was the only reason I started spending more than five minutes at a time in the lab,” Jake tells you.

“Who told you?”

You both accept a short silence as you stride past the wall that most of the bunks are built against, and you feel an anxious knot forming in your stomach when the clearing at the front of the lab expands into view.

“I meant it when I said you were horrible at hiding your crush on me,” Jake reminds you.

Right.

The tsawksyul Jake found you is thankfully still where you left it, and you slip out of Jake’s touch to fetch it from under the window, but when you turn to him, his eyes are pulled back across the miles of suspended mountains.

“You have somewhere else to be?” you call.

His top lip curls into a half pout as he says, “Not now. But tomorrow I’ve got to do some hunting. If I make a clean kill, I start my iknimaya.”

“Impressive,” you comment, twirling the tsawksyul between your fingers. “You… Will you be gone long?”

Jake hesitates for a moment. Is he reading into it, or are you looking a little bit more crestfallen now you know he’ll be gone for a little while longer?

“Why, you wanna go again?” he asks with a laugh.

“Respectfully, I think my vagina is broken and I need to lie down,” you quip, making him laugh even more. “I was just…curious. If you’re gone too long, I’ll be asleep before you get back.”

Jake creeps towards you and drops to a painful crouch. He’s definitely going to feel the cry and protest in his legs in the morning from being haunched for so long. Still, he frames your face with his hands and takes a long look at your face.

“I’ll roll past your bed extra quietly,” he promises.

You snort and push yourself away from him. “Safe travels, big guy. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Peering up at him, you breathe in the sight of him one last time as he nods once and rises to stand. The long shadow drawn by his lithe figure falls over you.

“Affirmative,” he states. You look up at him for a second and smile. Did it take having his cock in your stomach for you to realise how pretty he is like this, or have you known all along?

“Go,” you tell him, nodding towards the edge of the cliff before turning to the door. Over your shoulder, Jake scoffs a laugh and turns on his heels, his eyes scanning the mountain range as he approaches the edge.

The bravery you had before died long ago and you quickly twist the air-lock to the door and force it open, your heart in your throat. You don’t look back at him, even when he looks back at you with an endearing smile on his face.

The lab is deathly silent when you slide back inside. You were half expecting someone to stir at the sound of the door sealing shut, but if anyone’s awake, they make no effort to show it. Tip-toeing to the small bathroom, you very hurriedly go about your business and wipe away the eternal flood of cum from between your legs. With the amount Jake just put inside you, you’re fairly confident that even a human with an average sense of smell could sniff him all over you.

The long stalk back to your bunk is made silently and carefully. Norm is fast asleep on the top bunk he unhappily shares with Jake, the aforementioned’s bunk empty and cold, the link unit whirring quietly. Just the sight and sound of it makes you unnaturally nervous, and you turn to speed towards your bottom bunk and peer at Trudy. She’s out like a light.

The thin blanket is pulled to your chin once you settle in the sheets, and you refuse to accept that it’s cowardice you feel when the sound of the link unit slowly begins to fade and Jake hauls himself out with a pained groan. You remain very still as he fumbles for his chair, though you fight the urge to get up, help him and while you’re at it, kiss him until he can’t breathe.

You hope your acting has improved since your terrible attempts of hiding your crush and try to make it look as though you’re asleep, but the distinct sound of rolling wheels makes its way towards where you sleep; you steady your breaths so it looks like you’re out of it, and perhaps Jake will fall for it this time.

Your stomach tightens when the wheels stop next to your bed, and you’re uncomfortably aware of the set of eyes staring at you curled up and facing the wall.

Jake’s hand brushes the back of your head gently, and you’re not sure if that means you’ve been caught, but then you feel Jake’s fingers brush a section of hair away from your neck and nearly sigh at the feeling of his mouth pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. It is so sweet, so fond and gentle, and annoyingly quick. He pulls away and the sound of wheels roll towards his own bunk.

Every sound he makes feels like it’s right in your ear.

You almost wish you’d rolled over and took his face into your hands. But Jake’s smooch against your nape feels like a stolen secret, something shared between only you two, something special.

No matter, you think as you wriggle to get comfortable. He’ll be there in the morning. And it’ll be the man you’ve wanted the entire time who wants you back who receives all your stirring desires.

#jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully x human reader #avatar (2009)#avatar x reader #na'vi x human #avatar the way of water #avatar driver jake sully #human jake sully #norm spellman #jake sully smut #avatar smut #smut #ittojean #jeanbie

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helluvapoison · 1 year ago

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Hey can you write headcanons for alastor, angel dust(both platonic) and sir pentious (romantic) with a gen z/millennial reader? Just general stuff and interactions (like maybe talking about how things are for the lgbt community with angel and talking to alastor about gramophones and how they're coming back in style) and just some shenanigans

I know you don't have these characters listed in your writing list, and it's completely fine if you cant write for them but i love your writing style and characterization so I wanted to know how you'd imagine things would go

Alastor, Angel Dust (platonic) and Sir Pentious (romantic) x Reader

˚✧₊⁎ Alastor ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• “Hey Al! Loving the drip, it’s giving strawberry cow meets dark academia core.”

• Now he knows what others feel like when speaking to Zestial. He doesn’t understand half of what you say

• You taught him “tea”. Originally he thought you were providing real tea, something useful, not tedious gossip about— Oh. Oh. That could come in handy, actually. Alastor begins to pencil you into his afternoon tea. Sometimes you bring him useful information, others he has to sit through petty issues that make his eye twitch

• Alastor outright bans you from using your phone around him. He has no interest in this “meme” that reminds you of him (Don’t bring it out again, next time he’ll break it)

You groan, “It’s not as funny if I have to explain it!”

“It must not be very humorous in the first place.” He retorts

• He thinks you’re complimenting his taste in decor when you call it vintage

• You’ve proven yourself a useful acquaintance. Like Nifty, he’s grown accustomed to your presence and learned it may be better not to understand the inner workings of your mind

• “Got any aces?” someone asks while you play Go Fish with Husk, Angel and Sir Pina Colada. You never fail to jab a thumb in Alastor’s direction, cackling and kicking your feet

• They give you a peculiar look in reply

“Fuck you guys, I ate.”

• Yeah, they don’t get that one either

˚✧₊⁎ Angel Dust ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• It feels like every day Angel’s mid-insult and snapping his fingers at you, beckoning for you to conjure up a fresh comeback

• “Ooh! You just got cancelled, take the L, you fucking poser!”

He cackles, “Yeah! What they said!”

• Started calling himself an e-girl because you said it once about Charlie and never elaborated. He thinks it means cute… He’s not wrong? You don’t correct him, it’s funnier this way

• Playful arguments 24/7

“RIP, Angel, you would have loved Mean Girls— Wait, if a movie dies would it come to Hell? Never mind, don’t answer that, it would obviously go to Heaven.”

“I’ve met some real weirdos down here, sweetheart, and you outrank almost all of ‘em.”

• Something Angel noticed he could only appreciate from you is how different you react to his relationship with Val. He already knows it’s not healthy and he knows he gets defensive when people bring it up. Like the others, you listen, you comfort, you get furious on his behalf. You also offer him insight and labels he never thought would be helpful

• You hold up two fingers like you’re conducting an orchestra as you speak, “Say it with me; boundaries, bitch.”

“Boundaries..? S’at like bondage–?”

”NO!”

• Angel’s the only one that makes HellToks with you. The dances he learns faster and performs them better than you, often adding his own choreography to them. The “pass the phone” challenges never end well– especially when he tries to rope Nifty or Alastor in on them (RIP your old phone)

• Honestly, you’re pretty surprised you get along with Angel as well as you do. Y’know, considering he died a thousand years before you—

“I ain’t that old!”

“Your death certificate says otherwise, fam!”

˚✧₊⁎ Sir Pentious ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• He’s not sure how to handle how touchy you are first. You go around high-fiving everyone, freely holding hands with whoever lets you, offering hugs and– thump. Your head hits his lap, staring straight right at him with a goofy grin. And that.

• “Say slay,”

“Sssslay?”

• Oh. He quite likes the laugh that gets out of you

• Starts saying the word as much as possible, puffing his chest out proudly when you double over laughing. You don’t have the heart to tell him he’s using it wrong 99.9% of the time

• When you began consistently picking him for a chair instead of the others, he was stuck between throwing you across the room and making a break for it or pointing and laughing in the faces of everyone else. You chose him! HA!

• Bless his soul, the way he asked you out was so sweet

“I’ve done extensive research and found the equivalent of going sssteady in your language! I would like for us to move forward with the relationship ssstatus.”

“Huh? Oh. You want to go out with me? Yeah!”

“Fuck yesss!“

• Pentious gives ride or die a new definition. Everything you say or you do, he will back you up. His eyes sparkle from the praise you give him

• That, and making him blush takes little effort on your part. Complimenting him like you always do (at least he thinks you are, sometimes he’s not certain) has his cheeks glowing in seconds

• After following you around for an hour, because Pentious wanted to make sure you could get along with the Egg Boiz without him, they adopt bits of your personality and bizarre phrases. “Now we have two parents!” “No cap!” “Yes cap, you’re wearing a hat!”

• You’ve single handedly make the Egg Boiz worse in the eyes of everyone but Pen. He’s ecstatic over the results, he doesn’t know what he would do if he had to choose between you and his eggs

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ this was so silly and fun, i hope you enjoy anon!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor headcanons #alastor x reader #angel dust headcanon #angel dust x reader #sir pentious imagine #sir pentious x reader #hazbin sir pentious #platonic or romantic

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gguk-n · 10 months ago

Text

Max Unravelled

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Max accidentally made an account on google plus in 2013. He came across a poetry page and enjoyed reading them. He ends up friends with the poet. He loved the normalcy she brought to his life. He didn't realise when the comfort he felt for her turned into love.

{Max's POV}

2013

I was searching for something on my gmail account when a pop up for google plus came through; without much thought I clicked on it. Some how, I'm yet to figure that out, I ended up with a google plus account. One of the few accounts I got recommended was a poetry and story account. They wrote very eloquently; I could feel the emotions in every word. I started reading all their posts in my spare time and even commenting on the ones I liked. I found my self constantly checking back to their page to see if they posted something. Their poetry was relatable and understandable. I hope they always have a good day since their words always pick me up when I'm down.

The poet I had been enjoying so much is a girl, and her name is Y/N. She's around my age; I guess that's why I related to her work so much. We spoke for the first time ever on her birthday. She made a post about it being her birthday so I wished her. She was sad about not being able to enjoy her birthday, I felt bad for her so we talked for a while until dad called me to practise. That was the start of our friendship. We ended up talking on google plus a lot. We shared the same sense of humour and best of all, she didn't know about racing. It was like a breath of fresh air to not talk about racing. She doesn't even seem interested in it; so I can live as Max for a while now.

My birthday was shit but talking to her made everything better. I can't believe I got excited about talking to someone and that someone made me feel good even on one of my shittiest days. She's one of the nicest people I've had the pleasure of talking to. I really do wanna talk to her on phone, typing everything I want to say out feels tedious.

2014

I've gotten busier since this year with Formula 3. We barely get to talk anymore. She did send me her number and we chat on Whatsapp whenever we can. But obviously it is not the same. I've suggested talking on call a few time and she finally agreed; I just need to find the perfect time to get away from everything to talk to her. I felt so nervous to talk to her for some reason, what if she thought I was weird and didn't enjoy talking to me? What if she heard me and decided I wasn't fun? What if we had nothing to talk about? I called her while sitting in my driver's room, she picked up quite quickly after 2 rings to be exact.

Max- Hi, Y/N! Y/N- Hey, Max!! How are you? Max- I'm good, what about you? Y/N- Yeah, I'm good too. haha!! This is so weird talking to you. Max- yeah, you sound pretty. Why would I say that? That sounds so fucking creepy, I face palmed myself so hard. Y/N- You sound nice too. I mean....you have a nice voice. Max- haha, thanks, this is the first time some one has said that. She thinks I have a nice voice, do I? Y/N- soooo, what have you been up too?? You've been so busy lately. I could hear people outside the driver's room. I quickly locked the door before answering her question. Max- yeah, I've been busy with stuff. I'll be done soon for a while now. Y/N- That's great I need my best friend back! Did she just call me her best friend? I've never had a best friend before.

We ended up talking on calls a lot more. I would have her contact ringer saved with a separate ringtone so that I would know to answer it. She usually called at reasonable times, where ever I travelled as if she knew my schedule.

2015

I got signed with RedBull Racing's junior team, making me the youngest driver. It was such a surreal feeling. But this also meant I couldn't talk to Y/N as much as I wished I could. Training and the races kept me very busy. But she was very understanding and would always welcome me back, no matter how long I was gone for.

2021

The first time I'm regretting not telling what I do to Y/N was today when I won my first World Championship. I was surrounded by my team, my girlfriend and my family as I got out of the car after I finished P1 at Abu Dhabi but it felt strange; like I was missing someone. I wish I could share this win, the biggest in my life yet, with the person who makes me feel so special yet so myself.

When I asked her about Formula One, she didn't know about, she didn't even know the prominent figures. So, I wasn't as worried about her finding out but I did worry now; since my win was controversial according to the media. However, she never asked. Was she really unaware or playing dumb? I wasn't sure if I should be grateful I get to be just Max or sad that I can't share a huge part of my life with my best friend.

2023

Y/N and I have been friends for the past 10 years. Time really flies. I've gotten a lot better at balancing my personal and work life. Y/N is my well kept secret; like I'm the only one who knows her. She moved out for college and we've only video called since. She is still funny and still writes. I think it's so cool of her to stay passionate about what she loves and keeping at it. She loves my cats more than I love them sometimes, she get's so excited when I send pictures of them. She says they cheer her up and that Jimmy and Sassy are her virtual pets. They loved her too honestly, they would always recognise when she was on call and jump into my lap or the phone to see or hear her. She still doesn't know what I did for a living; we've kept that a 'secret' you could say. But really I just didn't know how to tell her I was a Formula One driver and a 2 time World Champion.

Today was like any other day, I hadn't spoken to Y/N at all. Whenever I called her, I would usually close/lock the door depending on who was at home. My girlfriend didn't know about Y/N. I didn't even know how to bring it up, honestly. I sat down on my SimRacing chair after I switched the livestream off. Her phone rang for a few times and then stopped ringing but she didn't answer the call. I tried again thinking maybe she was busy or didn't hear it. I called a couple times before texting her; no reply. I was freaking out. This was the first time in 10 years that she hasn't answered my calls. She won't even reply to my messages. I found myself pacing around the house. The door to the room opened to my girlfriend's daughter standing in front of me, "Maxie, why are you walking in circles?" She asked after observing me for sometime. "It's nothing" I said, trying to calm myself down more than give a reply to her question. All these horrible thoughts swirled through my mind; what if she was in an accident and no one knows? What if she got robbed? What if she hurt herself and can't get help? What was I supposed to do? I didn't even know where she lived. I just couldn't think straight. My hair was a mess with how much I was running my fingers through it, a few stands coming along when I almost pulled them out of frustration.

After 7 hours, she replied to my text. I had almost given up hope, but she said that she was fine and that her phone was about to die. I felt relieved knowing that she was ok. But the text was so out of character for her. I texted her everyday after that in hope of talking to her. We always spoke everyday and it had been years since we didn't speak for so long. Almost every text was left on delivered. I had a race this weekend which I won and went out to celebrate with everyone because they wanted me to tag along. I didn't see the text Y/N sent me a while after the race since I was at the club. I only saw it when I got home. As soon as I saw it, I called her. She answered after a few rings.

Max- Schat, how have you been? Haven't heard a word from you in days. You could clearly hear the worry in my voice. Y/N- I've been busy, school year ending and stuff. Why didn't you sleep yet? Max- You know my sleep schedule is non existent. Y/N- Yeah, I guess I do. What did she mean by that? Her voice seemed hoarse, was she sick?Y/N- You know how I do freelance editing Max- You've told me about it Y/N- The latest author I'm working with is a sports author. I was hoping you could help me since you are a walking encycylopedia. Max- sure schat, but what's up with you? You know I'm always there for you Y/N- Yeah it nothing, just stressed. Max- Take off, you deserve it I wish she took care of herself instead of working so hard without breaks. Y/N- The summer break is here soon, I'll be fine. So about that author... Max-Yeah, what sport does she write for? Y/N- Formula One. I don't really like reading lengthy articles and I'm sure one article wouldn't do a sport any justice. I felt the ground slip from under my feet. My palms had gotten sweaty suddenly. Max- You did not go through google yet, right? (I stammered out) Y/N- Oh no, what do you take me for? I got excited to learn about something new. Do you know who the reigning champion is? I felt like I was about to lose everything. I didn't know what to say, my mouth was dry. No matter what I said, I don't think I could fix this situation. Y/N- Some dude named Max Verstappen. You guys share the same first name. He has 2 cats too; named Jimmy and Sassy, who look exactly like your bengals. I mean he even looks like you, with horrible sleep schedule just like you. He even sounds like you. There was horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach and my lungs felt like there was no air in them. Watching her tear up was the worst feeling.

Max- Schatje, I can explain. Y/N- You don't have to Max. I never asked you what you did. You don't have to explain anything. Max- I wanted to tell you, it just never came up in conversation. Y/N- I get it, it's difficult to tell your friend who has amounted to nothing that you are the World Driver's Champion, best of the best in Formula One. Max- Y/N, it's nothing like that. You're great, you're kind, you're funny. She laughed, but that stung my heart for the first time when her laugh was my favourite sound in the world. Y/N- Those are character traits I possess, they don't describe my career goals or achievements. I know I work 2 jobs to stay afloat while you make millions, I know I wish I was an author and not their editor, I know you probably thought I was too stupid to understand your rich and fancy world. Max- No, no, you're so talented. I've read your work and I'm sure the right publication will pick your work up. Y/N- I got rejected for the sixth time today. All of this is fine except that you lied to me about being single while having a girlfriend for years and having the happy family you dreamt off. You didn't have to introduce me to her; not like my boyfriends met you. But it would've been nice if I knew. Max- It just never came up. (I held my head in shame) Y/N- I...we joked about setting you up with someone all the time. Please don't. I get it, we didn't tell each other about work goals or what we did as a job but personal life; I literally told you about every guy I've ever been with. I felt bad telling you thinking you were single. I feel stupid right now. I wanted to reach out and wipe her tears but I couldn't. Max- I'm sorry,Y/N. I promise I won't hide anything anymore. Please, don't cry. Y/N- My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I majored in literature in Uni and now work as a primary school teacher and freelance editor. I'm trying to get my book published soon. I broke up with my boyfriend 2 months ago. This fucking hurt, everything she said and the way she said it. Max- Please don't do this. Y/N- I believe at least one of us should be honest. Max- Let me fix this. Y/N- Don't worry. There's nothing to fix. Max- Please don't say that. You mean a lot me. (I felt tears in my eyes.) Y/N- Me too. That's why, I need time. I'll talk to you when I'm ready. Max- Please, I can't lose you. I felt like my world was crashing. Y/N- You won't. I'll always be there for you. I just need time. Take care Max I was crying as she said it. Max- Bye, take care Y/N. I'll always be here. And the screen blacked out, I could see my reflection on the screen, tears streaming down my face.

After I was able to clear my head I texted her telling her that I would always be there for her and I would like to clear up the misunderstanding when she's ready. I spent the next few months thinking about her. It was starting to affect my relationship. I couldn't really give my girlfriend time when my mind was occupied with thoughts of Y/N. When my girlfriend brought it up how we were growing apart; I had a fight with her. I don't know what came over me, but not talking to Y/N or not knowing what was up with her was making it very difficult for me to focus on anything. The fighting became a constant after that. I didn't understand why she couldn't let me be. I missed my friend but she wouldn't get it.

I was SimRacing when Y/N's name popped up on my phone asking me to call her. I guess she was ready to talk it out. I really wished that this wasn't the end of our friendship. I really hoped that we could get over the misunderstanding and still be friends. I told the team I had some work and called her immediately. She answered like always; I waited for her to speak with baited breath. She started talking and we cleared everything up. I apologised for hiding the truth from her. I told her how much of a constant she was for me in my ever hectic life; how talking to her made everything better. She listened to me, I listened to her and then finally asked her to come to my home race. I wanted to meet her. I couldn't live knowing that I had the resources but didn't meet the one person that mattered to me the most. She was hesitant at first but I offered to get her the tickets and insisted on her joining me at the biggest race of the season for me and finally she agreed. I was over the moon. As soon as we ended the call, I sent her the tickets. I found myself counting down the days to the race for the first time.

I was waiting for her at the airport when she got here. My heart was beating very fast as I waited for her to come out. When I saw her; she was beautiful, shorter than I expected but she looked cute with her bag in one hand and a back pack on her shoulder, her hair in a low bun, a small smile graced her feature. I don't think I've noticed anyone with such detail ever before. Our conversation flowed easily. It didn't feel like it was the first time we were meeting. I dropped her at the hotel and went off to do media duty's at the paddock when I came back she was still asleep, traveling must've tired her out. She got dressed while I waited for her to get ready, even giving my 2 cents on what she should wear. She looked gorgeous, I couldn't help myself, staring at her. The black satin dress hugged her curves in all the right places. Her hair flowed down her back, the jewellery sparkling against her body. We went to have dinner at a fancy dutch restaurant. She loved the food especially the apple tart. The moan she let out as she devoured the dessert made blood rush downwards. I found my cheeks heating up, thankfully the whole place was dimly lit. We walked around for a while after the meal, she made fun of my name but I couldn't care less. I apologised and she accepted it and hugged me. Her arms were soft and the embrace warm. I found myself wrapping my arms around her, my face buried in her neck. I was scared I was gonna lose her, forever. I've never been scared to lose anything but a race until now and the thought of not having her in my life seemed scary. She consoled me and we headed back to the hotel.

The rest of the weekend was uneventful except for my girlfriend being pissed; she fought with about Y/N. I don't get what her problem is, she's just a friend I've known since forever. I'm just showing her around. I was giving interviews when I saw her talking to Lando, I saw them laughing along in the corner of my eye. It made me feel strange, there was this feeling in the pit of my stomach and I didn't like it. When I got back, Lando had left since it was his turn. She found Lando cute and it irked me, I was annoyed hearing her ask me to set her up with him. We got back to RedBull hospitality when my girlfriend asked me to talk to her, I left with her reluctantly leaving Y/N with Checo.

"Listen Max, I get it, she's your childhood friend and all, but it's so weird how she suddenly cropped up when I or for that matter any one knew nothing about her. People are saying stuff about us since she stepped on the paddock and the way you are dragging her along." my girlfriend spoke. "What are people saying? I will not stand any slander against her" I cut her off. She laughed dryly. "WOW, they are saying stuff about us, Max, us, that you are cheating on me with her. You've been so distant for months until a month ago, I didn't know what went wrong and you wouldn't talk either." she said running a hand through her hair. "It's nothing really. She just knows me as Max and not Max Verstappen and that's why I'm closer to her. Nothing more." I said. "It's pointless talking to you" she said turning around. "If we're done, I'm leaving, Y/N doesn't know anyone here except me." I said leaving for the door. She huffed before she followed me out. Y/N looked worried about what was going on between me and my girlfriend but I calmed her down and we spent the day together. She tagged along during quali too. I saw her praying before quali, it made my heart swell. I was starting pole and we spent the night watching a movie even though Y/N wanted me to rest before the race, I wanted to make the most of the little time we had.

Y/N hugged me before the race wishing me. I wanted to win so bad, I'd won here twice before but this was different. I wanted to win in front of her. I raced like a mad man and then I heard it. I crossed first and my happiness knew no bounds; knowing she was watching. I got out of the car and immediately ran to her; hugging her. It was cathartic. Y/N said my girlfriend looked annoyed, but I couldn't care less. I watched my girlfriend leave, annoyed. When I received the trophy at the top step of the podium knowing she was watching me from below made it so much more worth it. Y/N wanted to go out to celebrate my win and I wasn't one to say no. I went back to the hotel to get cleaned up and ready for the night.

I was greeted by my girlfriend in the room, it was dimly lit as she was sat at the corner of the bed with tears streaming down her face. "HOW COULD YOU DO THAT MAX?" she screamed at me. "Am I a fucking joke? I let it slide, you said you were friends but the first person you go to after winning your race was her, what do you think people were whispering when you did that?" she said in between sobs. I didn't get what she was saying. "Do you like her?" she asked. "What? We're friends" I stated. She shook her head, "No, Max, you aren't. The way she looks at you is how I look at you. The way you look at her" She cried, "You've never looked at me like that" she lamented. "It's nothing like that" I began. "You should've respected me at the very least and broken up with me if you liked someone else, I'm not gonna be some girl's place holder till you can have her." she cried out. "You're not a place holder for her" I said. "Feels exactly like that" she said wiping her tears. I felt nothing my 2 year long relationship might be ending and I didn't care. I didn't even try to correct her, did I really like her? Was Y/N really more important to me? "We're through Verstappen, if you can't even fight for us, I'm not about to fight for us" she sighed dejected. I walked towards the bathroom to wash up while she packed up to leave. When I got out she was gone. I went to pick Y/N up.

She kept asking me about my girlfriend but I never told her that we broke up. I didn't want her to feel responsible for my decision. At the club, she got close to everyone pretty quickly. She was unstoppable, downing one drink after another. I hadn't touched alcohol since I was driving. The others kept handing her drinks much to my dismay. She asked me to come dance with her but I had the others to look after too. She was busy dancing surrounded by too many guys, one of them going as far as to touch her and grind against her. All I saw was red, I bid the guys good bye and stormed the dance floor to drag a reluctant Y/N with me; I ended up carrying her out on my shoulder. She wasn't very happy, screaming and hitting me till I put her down. She puked as soon as I put her down and joked about missing my expensive car, I didn't really mind if she hadn't since she was more important than the car. I got her medicine and left them at her side after putting her to bed.

We spent the next few days after the race sight seeing. Y/N brought up my girlfriend a few time and I ended up avoiding her. When we were cuddling while watching Barbie I felt my heart beating out of my chest as she scooted closer to grab tissue. When her hand brushed against my skin, it burnt and a weird feeling erupted in my chest. She seemed completely unaware of how she was making me feel. We fell asleep on the couch that night.

I wasn't able to avoid the girlfriend question any longer and told her that we broke up without making any eye contact on the way to drop her to the airport. My eyes stung and there was a lump in my throat; I wasn't sure it was because of my girlfriend or Y/N. I bid her farewell, she would turn back towards me to wave after every few steps; my eyes were blurry after sometime trying to prevent the tears from falling. I ended up crying after she left.

All the races after, I ended up going shopping after or before every race to collect some trinkets or stuff that was special to that place and mailing it to her with small notes attached. She would graciously open them in front of me on video call; the smile she gave me the first time she received was unparalleled. It made my stomach turn over. I wanted to make her smile every chance I got. That's how I ended up sending her a package after every race from every country until I got reprimanded by her for the excessive amount of gifts. She asked me not to send one after every race and stick to one or two in total; I was forced to agree to that request.

We were planning on spending Christmas and New Year together; she wanted to leave after Christmas but I was able to convince her to stay until I had to leave for pre-season training. I couldn't wait for the season to end and to spend the year end with Y/N. We celebrated me winning the championship on video call; even though I had hoped she could be present in person but it wasn't possible with her schedule. This championship felt better than the last two since I was able to celebrate it with her. 2021 me wouldn't believe me right now.

Y/N flew in as soon as winter break started for her. I had cleaned up the house as much as possible. I had told my cats about Y/N visiting who seemed excited. I picked her up from the airport and when we got home the cats were very excited to meet her; a lot more receptive than the other guests I've had over. We spent the next few days going to places and the Monaco GP circuit. She cribbed about walking the entire time we walked the path. It made me laugh.

The night before Christmas we fell asleep on the couch cuddling; I hadn't slept this well in a very long time. When I woke up, Y/N was no where to be seen. I sat up waiting for her to return when she came back, she looked so cute in her jumper and shorts with her hair a mess. We opened up presents after some time. She had gotten me a Sid plushie, an ugly sweater and perfume. I got her a Formula One book with my face, a coffee mug and a pendant. I wanted to get her more stuff but I was sure she would make me return it if she saw every thing. I think the house would be over run with the amount of stuff I wanted to get her. Then she brought the matching sweater she got with me; I put it on immediately. I wanted to match with her all the time. We had a bit of back and forth on the dinner but agreed on Turkish kabab.

New Year came too quickly, which meant Y/N would be leaving soon. We went clubbing on New Year eve. She didn't drink like the last time we were at the club but made friends with some of the guys there. Having a social butterfly for a friend was a bad idea. We counted the time down to midnight as the clock struck 12 and I turned towards her to celebrate I saw she was kissing one of the guys she had befriended when we entered. If the club was quite you could hear my heart shatter. That's when I realised that all these weird feeling and all the times I couldn't stop thinking about her was because I liked her, no scratch that, I loved her. I felt my heart constrict when she turned towards me and hugged me later. I didn't want to talk about it, this would ruin our friendship.

All I could think about was how it felt to watch her kiss another man. I hated it, the worst feeling, worse than DNFing or not winning. I hated knowing another man could touch her and feel her. I wasn't even sure how to bring it up since what were we if not just friends. I put myself into training for the upcoming season but those feelings I felt when she kissed another man were still fresh in my head and I couldn't get rid of them even if I tried.

I was able to convince her to join me during her spring and summer break. We had fun, I loved having her waiting for me at the end of the race. I didn't really enjoy all the media questions that had cropped up about Y/N when she was seen with me, before or after the race. During my summer break, I spent it at her place. When I got there, it was a small apartment; but it had a homely feel. She would cook food for me and we would watch movies; I had a few commitments with the team and would leave for some time but then be back. It was so nice to have some one to come home to. When she was having her book launch, I went to meet her at her launch with a bouquet of flowers. "Congratulations" I said while handing her the flowers and giving her a hug. "Thank you" she replied, a smile playing on her lips. We had celebratory dinner after. Immediately after that, we were on the news. It read that I had a girlfriend, she kept apologising but it didn't matter. It made me a little warm, I'm not sure what emotions I felt hearing people speculate that she was my girlfriend.

I flew back to Netherland for the race early, she would only be joining me on the race day due to work. It dampened my mood but there wasn't much I could do about it. She flew in the morning of the race; it made my day watching her walk out of the airport. We talked all the way to the hotel where she got changed and we headed to the paddock. I had thought it through; after the qualifying, I had planned on telling her how I felt. I was gonna win this race and confess to her. Knowing that I can't hold her while someone else can was eating away at me and I wanted to take the chance before it slipped away from me.

I started the race P2 and finished it at P2. In the final laps, the only thoughts running through my head were, I really wanted to ask her out as a race winner, I can't do that now. She probably doesn't even like me like that, did I really want to ruin everything I had with her. I stumbled out of the car towards her, a big smile on her face. And suddenly I said it; "I wanted to ask you out as a race winner" emotions were running high. She insisted me to continue and when I did, she agreed to go out with me. I was over the moon, my head was reeling. This race ending was not what I hoped for but Y/N's answer was something I really was hoping for.

She waited for me in the driver's room. I couldn't help but not touch her. Her skin against mine send electric shocks through me, I couldn't help but smile at the feeling of her against me. I wanted to have this feeling for the rest of the life. I wanted to have her next to me; it took me a while to figure that out but now that I had, I didn't want to let go. I loved her and I wanted her.

We were both in the hotel room at the end of night in each other’s embrace, "Can't believe you're my boyfriend" she exclaimed. "Can't believe you're my girlfriend either." I exclaimed back. "I've liked you since I've known you" she mumbled. "What?" I asked shocked. "Yeah, I've always had a crush on you. Teenage me would lose it right now if she saw" she said. "I'm sorry it took me so long" I muttered pressing a kiss against her lips. "better late then never" she laughed wrapping her arms around my neck, flipping me to straddle my hips. She bent down to kiss me again.

I could spend the rest of my life like this, if it meant I could have her forever.

Hope you had fun. Thank you for enjoying the story!!

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pinkroseblooms · 1 year ago

Text

Boy Toy

Sugar baby!Toji Fushiguro x Sugar mama!f!Reader

Summary: You try to break things off with Toji; needless to say, he does not take it well. wc: 5.1 Warnings and tags: this story contains smut, dirty talk, cursing, rough sex, begging, emotional manipulation, toxic behavior/relationships, some soft!dom/bratty!sub elements, a clingyyandere!toji, possessive behavior, obsessive love, some angst, some fluff, all twisted af.

a/n: I see a lot of Sugar daddy!Toji content and wanted to switch things up a bit with some emotional feels. I also ended up listening to Rick Montgomery's "Boy Toy" on repeat and got ideas. Personally I headcanon that if Toji ever did somehow develop genuine love for another person it wouldn't necessarily help him chill out this time around, he'd just become more unhinged.

His things are in a pile, close to the solid red oak door; they’ve been packed away in brand new luggage carriers and on top is the duffle bag Toji had initially used to carry his stuff in for overnight stays.

If it were anyone else, Toji would have expected the various articles of clothing and personal items that had steadily accumulated inside your spacious home to be thrown out carelessly like trash on your equally spacious lawn. That or burning in the firepit.

If it was anyone else but you, it’s what Toji would have expected, but you weren’t petty that way; even now as you stand before him, arms crossed, gaze almost blank, you radiate a certain measure of dignity. It’s one of those things Toji’s come to admire about you over the past year. It’s effortless, that magnetizing charm you exude; he liked it right away.

“You can keep the bags, sell them if you want.” Your lips form a small but rueful smile. “I sent you a check; call it a severance fee.”

“I thought I didn’t work for you anymore.”

Toji hasn’t considered you a client in months, though really, a mark was more accurate. You were disgustingly wealthy with a cute face and that was all he needed to pounce on the offer to be your bodyguard and occasional companion to the odd social events. Even cleaned up and polished, Toji was able to keep others away in droves, exactly what you were aiming for; you found social obligations tedious and his handsome yet intimidating presence kept everyone around you from lingering too long and insisting on taking up too much of your time and attention. Toji spent the first three or so months in your company essentially as an employee and he was satisfied with the arrangement. It would have been so easy and simple, it should have been, had you not burrowed your way into his head, like a bullet piercing bone.

Dammit he never should have fucked you. Toji had every intention of keeping things professional. He should have kept his distance, he certainly shouldn’t have let his fingers trace your skin after zipping up your dress, and damn you by the way for looking over your shoulder at him with those pretty doe eyes and not telling him off when the second you caught Toji leaning in, almost like he wasn’t realizing he was doing it, to get a whiff of your scent mixed with the perfume he had said was his favorite.

“You don’t have to keep the charade up anymore; it’s insulting at this point. I won’t force you to stay here.”

“You’re dumping me.”

“No. That would mean we were actually dating. Toji…Fushiguro-san, I made a mistake.” You’re almost talking to yourself as you look over Toji’s tensed shoulders to the entrance of your home. “I was fooling myself, thinking you could open your heart to me. But, I knew what I signed up for. So, no, I won’t leave you without any job security until you find your next meal ticket.”

“You’re not-”

“I heard you. Please, it’s not like you to back track on your words, so don’t start on my account.”

Toji was bragging over the phone, giving a verbal middle finger to an asshole of a former employer who demanded Toji’s services for a hit. You overheard him refer to you as a “piggy bank” with a pretty face, among other things. Shortly after ending the call, Toji left to work out (he couldn’t get too lazy, got to keep in shape to protect his favorite girl) and grab some food (on your card) only to return to this. You didn't even give Toji a chance to greet you with the usual flurry of kisses and a bear hug before telling him point blank he was leaving and now.

Even as Toji struggles to wrap his mind around your abrupt change in demeanor, with that practiced look of almost serene impassivity, you look so good to him, wearing an oversized sweatshirt and tiny bike shorts. You always dress down at home, in comfy, baggy things. Toji supposes you packed away all the sweatshirts you’ve collected from him with everything else of his.

“You won’t even let me apologize?” Toji stands stiffly in the foyer, next to the bags; behind him is the front door, still open, as if waiting for him to step outside. “It was all shit talking. I didn’t mean how it sounded.”

“That doesn’t make it better and it’s not just that. You’ve been hot and cold lately. Admit it: you can’t bring yourself to acknowledge me as anything but an obligation.” You exhale slowly, rubbing your temple. “I’ve tried to be understanding; you lost your wife and I realized it would be hard. I knew that, I knew there was a chance that no matter how close we became, I was never going to be enough for you.”

You put up a good front, but Toji can recognize the faint tremble in your voice, see how your jaw locks slightly, as though you’re holding back curses. He’s hurt you.

“Baby, c’mere?” Toji opens his arms with a pleading half smile. “You’ve been stressed lately, that’s all. You’ve been working hard and I haven’t been showing my appreciation properly, is that it?”

“Oh spare me. Listen, I won’t swear revenge or sick henchmen on your trail.” You go on, calm as can be, not budging an inch. “The check won’t bounce and all your things are there; if I missed anything, I’ll send it to you. You’re free to go.”

Toji stares at you in disbelief, arms dropping to his sides. You could have just as easily said "you're dismissed" with that cutting tone of yours.

“Are you fucking serious?”

When you fail to respond, he suddenly turns from you, but not to storm off. Instead, Toji slams the front door closed so hard, it’s a wonder the whole structure didn’t come crashing down. You don’t so much as flinch when Toji strides up to get in your face.

“I want my stuff out of these bags.” he snarls. "Now."

“There’s no need to make a scene. It’s not like you’ll be without a benefactor for long; I bet you could find another meal ticket just walking down my driveway. The whole neighborhood is full of lonely rich women, you can have your pick.”

“You’re not a meal ticket. You know that, you know I didn’t mean it dammit!”

“Enough.” You raise a hand up, your voice clipped. “Fushiguro-san, you have your things, plenty of money, and my own promise to leave you in peace. What more could you possibly want? What exactly is it that you’re holding out for? You don’t expect me to fund you indefinitely, I’m sure.”

"Why are you acting like this? Like you don't even give a shit?"

Toji’s hands clenched into fists; he’s radiating power and murderous intent, but you don’t look swayed or even scared. You know he wouldn’t strike you. Just the idea sickens him; no, it’s not you he’s actually angry with.

“I’m a fucking idiot who wanted to show off, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Fine. Now we’re gonna talk this out like adults, I’ll put this shit back-"

“No, you will not. I want it gone. I want you gone. Don’t you understand?” You tell him firmly, eyes finally averting to the pile of bags. Toji’s puffed chest deflates at the sadness that finally touches your inflection. “I’m disappointed enough as it is; can’t you do this one thing for my sake? Why are you insisting on dragging this out?”

“I want to put it all back.” Toji blurts out stubbornly, so loud his voice echoes in the high ceilings. “You can’t do this to me, I want to stay.”

“Excuse me?” You snap. “What exactly am I ‘doing to you’?”

“Come on, this is so silly, kicking me out over a misunderstanding.” Toji lowers his voice, a smile coming to his lips as he attempts to charm you once again, hands coming up to gently grasp your shoulders. “You’re breakin’ my heart here. You said it yourself, it’s a been over a year, you know me-”

“Do I?”

“Yes!” Toji steps forward, a strained grin on his lips. “You do. You know me and you know you’re my best girl.”

“Out of all the others?”

“Best and only; I haven’t been with anyone else in months.” Toji rubs his hands over your arms but you only give him a look of derision. “I’m not lying; tell you the truth, ever since we went out to the beach, it’s only been you. Remember that trip?” he grins softly, nuzzles your temple; he knows you want to lean into him, you’re just being stubborn. How adorable. He loves when you get grumpy and need his help relaxing. “I showed you how to make a fire and we fell asleep outside on the hammock. That night was something else...you’ve been the only one ever since. Baby, I swear, there haven't been any other women.”

Toji inches closer, hands shaking slightly where they grip your shoulders; his love bites are still visible, some more faint than others; his arms ache to hold you. You’re so close, so what’s with this wall you’re putting up?

"I want to believe that."

"It's the truth."

Toji isn’t sure how or when it began, but before he knew it, you were calling just to talk and ask how he was doing, if he needed anything. You requested he join you not just for meetings as extra muscle or posing as a date, but on walks and meals, having conversations about the weather to debates about the nature of man to whether toast was better with jelly or jam. You’d take Toji out randomly on shopping trips and end up buying him pretty much anything that caught his eye. Anything Toji wanted, he got, and along with it you increasingly showered him with praise and affection.

When the sex began Toji thought he got you out of his system the first time, only to end up not just repeating these trysts, but staying longer and longer after he fucked your brains out. It was borderline embarrassing, how quickly Toji found himself lulled in by your pillowtalk as you encouraged him to sleep in, promising you’d have breakfast ready for him in the morning. Sometimes, Toji would come over when you weren’t even home with the spare keys you gifted him and promptly burrow himself in your bed until you were due home. The whole room smelled sweet and it was so cozy being wrapped in the down blankets. Toji's eyelids would get heavier as he wallowed in your scented sheets ike a pig rolling in mud until the combined aromas of your perfumes, lotions, and natural scent clung to his nostrils, soothing and oddly familiar; within minutes Toji would be out like a light. After some of the best rest he had ever gotten, Toji would wake up to you stroking his head, petting him like a dog, and asking him what he would like for dinner.

Eventually, inevitably, came the point of no return. During that beach trip Toji told you about his past; he didn’t go into too much detail, mainly that he had loved someone and he was pretty sure lightning only struck once. You didn’t get jealous or angry; you simply kissed his knuckles and put your hand over his, not saying much of anything while Toji spoke. That night on the beach you held his hand and allowed him to reminisce at his own pace into the early hours of the morning, until he was too exhausted to do anything else but hold you and the two of you stayed that way until noon.

That peaceful, almost unreal night, Toji realized you actually gave a shit about him and he didn’t know what to do with that. Regardless, you made it clear you didn’t expect to own his heart and soul. You only promised to take care of him.

“I was being stubborn, you know how I get sometimes. You’re my one and only, baby, can’t we just forget about it?”

“I want you to leave.”

“No.”

“It wasn’t a request.”

“No!”

Toji’s hands cup your cheeks and he winces at the disgust in your eyes; why are you looking at him like that?

“Okay, okay, let me make it up.” Toji’s voice is sweet as pie; he leans in, practically purring in your ear. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll show you how sorry I am.”

“Get. Off. I knew you were shameless, but this is...”

You might as well have slapped him across the face; Toji’s smile falls as you glare like he’s some repulsive insect, a leech, like the thought of him touching you is making your skin crawl.

Toji’s hands retract from your face, expression blank. “You’re really serious.”

“Don’t give me that kicked puppy look. As if you don’t have women on speed dial to call up. Why don’t you make up with one of your other meal tickets? I’m sure they’ll have forgiven you by now for however you wronged them-”

“I told you there isn’t anyone else. Don’t do this.” Toji mutters, head hanging; his chest throbs, he can feel sweat trickle down his temple. “Don’t make me go.”

It’s doubtful you could forcibly remove Toji from your presence, but that’s beside the point. It doesn’t mean anything if you don’t want him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

“No, I’m really sorry.” Toji falls to his knees. “Don’t make me go.”

“Hey, wait, what are you…?”

Toji wraps his arms around your thighs, face pressed into your waist; you stiffen but he hangs on tighter, fingers digging into your hips almost painfully.

“Please, don’t make me. I wanna go upstairs, back to our bed. Listen, I,” Toji pries himself away from you just enough so he can look at you with glassy eyes. He’s panicking now, babbling and frantic as you try to pry off his arms. “Stop that! Baby, I got all messed up about getting too attached and I-I didn’t mean anything I said, you gotta believe me.”

“Toji, let go!”

A cold sweat makes Toji’s already tight shirt stick to his tensed back muscles; he feels like he’s being choked. How could you do this to him? All he wants is to stay with you, whether it’s as a bodyguard, a hired companion, a fuck toy, hell, he’ll settle for being your pet if that’s what it takes to get you to take him back.

"You promised you'd take care of me." he mutters, ignoring your vain attempts at freeing yourself from his unyielding hold. "I don't...want it to be anyone else."

Toji won’t let you go. You’ve made him lazy and spoiled with your pampering; he doesn’t have to work if he doesn’t want to, never has to worry about money or food or rent, and he never has to wake up alone anymore. Whether Toji’s angry, tired, bored, or as of late, happy, you’re the first person he thinks of. You give him everything and now you’re trying to cut him off.

"You let me go right now!" You slap at his shoulders, try to pull back his head from where it's pressed into your midsection. "Are you even listening?!"

With a distressed moan, Toji nuzzles your tummy, kisses the skin peeking out from your sweatshirt riding up under his forearms; his rough hands relax their grasp a fraction to caress your hips.

“Let me stay. I won’t answer calls from my old bosses, I’ll quit betting. If I look at another woman, gouge my eyes out. All you have to do is tell me how to fix things.” Toji smiles at you, one he knows makes women weak in the knees. “Don’t be mad at me anymore. I’ll make it up, I swear. I’ll do anything you want.” he promises between kisses and nips to your skin. “Why are we wasting time arguing? You know, I can make you feel so good. My poor baby, spending all day working so damn hard; you deserve better. I'll help take the edge off...you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I can help, just-”

“Toji, stop-”

“Just let me dammit!”

Toji feels you freeze up; you’re looking back at him with wide eyes. His stomach drops like a rock.

“Sorry…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

No. Now you look scared, maybe a bit concerned; is that for him? Toji can feel some warmth creeping into his chest in spite of everything; you’re so good to him. You went to so much trouble for him and he has no idea why.

You can’t do this. You can’t treat him like a thing to be cherished and then take it all away. Toji just wants things to go back to how they were that morning, with you feeding him berries and syrup drenched pieces of fluffy pancakes, giving him teasing kisses in between each bite, asking what his plans were for the day as he lounges in your lap, wondering what he did to deserve to be so content and full and happy. You made him so happy.

“Shit.” Toji sniffs; he can feel them coming but can’t stop the tears leaking from his eyes. “Shit.” he curses again, bowing his head until it’s resting against your tummy again. “You can’t…you can’t leave me. I won’t let you. I won’t let you abandon me. I can’t-”

“Toji, calm down.” Your voice softens considerably. “Look, do you understand why I’m upset with you?”

“I know, I know I fucked up okay?” Toji croaks, still clinging to your legs. “So what the fuck am I supposed to do, huh? I already said I would do anything you want, so just tell me!”

“Sh, come on, breathe. I need you to calm down, alright?” You bend at the waist slightly, to card your fingers through his damp hair. “Okay, I believe you. I do. I believe you, Toji.”

“Are you gonna kick me out still?”

“No, I won’t for the time being. We can sit down and talk about-whoa!”

Toji wastes no time; he has you lifted off the ground in his arms. You quickly wrap your arms around his shoulders as he makes a beeline for the stairs.

“Slow down!” You glance backward in disbelief at how easily he bounds up the carpet steps. “How are you so strong? Don’t drop me, okay?”

But Toji doesn’t answer; he practically bolts, finally reaching the next level, races down the hallway until he’s at the door to your-the bedroom he and you share. Toji’s heavy boot easily kicks the door open, somehow without breaking it off the hinges; in record time you’re on the bed, but shockingly, Toji doesn’t start stripping you down.

“Toji?” You ask tentatively; he seems fairly out of it and you can’t help feel worried. “Toji, what are you doing?”

“Baby, I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed, huh?”

Toji kicks off his boots, gently sits you down in the middle of the mattress among the fluffy pillows and the cheap plush bunny he won for you at a crane machine. Nearly hyperventilating, Toji climbs into bed after you, snatches the sheets and comforter to wrap around the two of you in a soft cocoon. Toji grabs you, cradling you in close as he tries to even out his breathing; for a fleeting second you wonder if this is what stuffed animals felt, if they could become sentient, when children held them tight for comfort. Your attention is brought back by the man rubbing his face into your hair insistently, as if he could tell your mind had briefly wandered.

“Hey, are you-?”

“Don’t make me go.” Toji cuts you off hoarsely. “You love me, right?”

“I do.”

“Say it.”

“I do love you.” You confess sincerely, words muffled slightly due to your face being squished into his chest; his heart is beating a mile and minute. “I was hurt, alright? I want to be good to you, Toji. You have to let me though; you’re not the type to dance around an issue. I just want you to be honest with me and yourself.”

“Yes, yes, I want that. You’re so good to me, baby, thank you.” Toji wraps his legs around yours; if there was a way for you to mold into him he’d make it happen. “Can I move my stuff back in?”

“I…” You hesitate. “Maybe we’re moving too fast.”

“What? No we aren’t. If anything, we're not moving fast enough. Are you still thinking of leaving?” Toji grabs your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him; his eyes look crazed. “You’re not right? You just fucking said you loved me-!”

“Hey, hey.” You put your hands over his gently. “If you really meant what you said before, you have to listen and be good. Can you do that for me?”

Toji nods quickly. You smile for him, finally, and it's a sight for sore eyes. How do you always look so pretty? Toji’s chest throbs and he hugs you, making your ear press against his heart; you can hear it, right? It almost stopped dead when you were glowering at him, Toji still can't believe he was so close to losing this. It's not going to happen again.

“I wanna touch you.”

Toji separates from you as abruptly as he had squeezed you to him; he hovers above you, tugging on the band of your shorts, your panties. He groans pitifully when you still look unsure. Toji hikes your legs up until your ass is pressed to his chest and he’s face to face with your pussy, still covered up. That won’t do: wordlessly, he rips the seams of your shorts apart and pulls your panties to the side. Gently spreading your pussy lips with his fingers, Toji makes sure to look you in the eyes while he lets a long trail of spit trickle from his tongue to your exposed clit.

“See?” he licks a long strip over your slit, salivating at the taste. “I’m drooling for it, just like a dog….heh, I can be your dog. Is that what you want? I’ll fetch and roll over and beg.” he traces his tongue around your swollen clit. “All you gotta do is ask.”

You can barely form words, forget making requests, as Toji slobbers, licking and sucking until you’re dripping wet. Your hands grip the pillows and your head rolls back and forth; you can hardly speak and you’re more squealing than moaning when Toji starts using his fingers to fuck your soaked pussy.

“I’m loyal too. You’re not ever getting rid of me.”

Toji pulls back, kisses and nips the inside of your thigh as he watches his fingers disappear inside you over and over again. He’s smiling down at you, dumbly, in a daze as you let out soft cries with every pump of his wrist, every time his thumb rubs a touch too hard on your clit. He’s the only one who gets to see you like this, composure gone, face flushed, eyes wide, hardly able to do more than moan and whine at his touches. Toji’s smile turns devilish; he purposefully pulls his fingers out and shoves them back in to draw out the squelch sounds from how wet he’s made you. He slowly drags his fingers out all the way and you inhale sharply from the sensation.

“It’s my turn to spoil you.”

Toji lowers your hips down on the sheets and quickly shrugs off his sweatpants and underwear; his cock bobs when it’s released and you’re a bit shocked at how hard he is despite not touching himself.

“Let me fuck you.” Toji rocks his hips, cock over the inside of your thigh. “You still want me, right?”

And if you think he’s going to stop at one round, if you think for a second one time is going to be enough and you somehow still plan to have him out on his ass, maybe you don’t know him. Toji’s fingers dig into your ass; he’s rutting now, throbbing and dripping precum all over you and the bedspread. It brings a twisted grin to his face, like he’s marking his territory. After all, this is where he belongs. If you won’t be persuaded by his touch and words alone, Toji has other ways, he just doesn't want to resort to making you afraid of him.

Because he meant exactly what he said: you're not getting rid of him. If you try to, Toji will just come back. If you run, he'll chase, if you hide, he'll come looking. You've made him into this.

“’M being good, yeah?” Toji lowers his head to your chest to slobber over your nipples next, barely able to speak with his lips sucking and his tongue flicking over them. “I can keep making you feel good, just let me fuck you, let me put in in, let me wreck you-”

“Toji, I want to ride your cock tonight.” You play with his hair and kiss his jaw. “Can I?”

Toji doesn’t hesitate; he throws himself back to lie on your pillows, getting even harder as your scent hits him. He licks his lips in anticipation as you straddle him, stroking him once before lining the tip up with your pussy. Toji’s eyes roll in the back of his head as you slowly sink down, clenching tight; he has to grab at the sheets and force himself to be still, has to keep telling himself this is for you, he’s going to go at your pace and show you how good he can be, obedient and careful. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger and he loves it-

“It almost hurts. You're so hard.” You gasp when you’re fully seated on his cock. “Oh, Toji…are you going to cum soon?”

“Nah, don’t worry about that baby.” Toji grins up at you, face flushed and hands shaking as they cling to the pillowcase. “So good…it feels so fucking good when I’m all the way inside. Go on, use my cock to cum, ride me until your pussy can’t take it.”

You tilt your hips so the tip of Toji’s cock rubs against that spot that makes you see stars and your clit gets rubbed against him with every thrust. At first you have your hands over his chest, but when Toji tries to slide his hands up to grab at your tits, you stop him.

“Huh?”

“No, you don’t get to touch me.” You pant out, gently but firmly holding Toji’’s hands above his head. “Tha-that’s your punishment.”

Toji’s brow furrows; he’s practically pouting. He knows he said "anything", but he wants to touch you so badly. Your tits look good enough to eat, nipples slick and begging to be played with, and your skin feels like silk on his fingers. Toji watches, biting the inside of his cheek, tasting blood when you start bouncing, thighs taut and face contorted in pleasure as you get closer and closer to making a mess on his lap.

“Baby,” Toji groans. “Come on, let me, you’re close right? It’ll feel better.”

“I can cum like this.” You say playfully as you tap his pursed lips with one finger. “You said you'd be good.”

“Just wanna touch you....” Toji’s hands twitch but he doesn’t shake off your grip; he raises his hips and you let out a whine. “Please?"

You stop moving and Toji grits his teeth, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Hey…why did you stop?”

“Sorry,” You smile in genuine delight. “You’re really adorable, you know that?”

“Fuck, keep goin’,” Toji nibbles the tip of your finger before you pull it away. “Come on, keep making my dick wet,”

“So cute.” You cup his face and press a long, loving kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Toji, I really do.”

Toji can’t stop himself; he yanks you down, traps you in his arms and thrusts up.

“Ah!”

“Sorry, ‘m sorry baby. I gotta,” Toji slurs. “Ah fuck it.”

You shriek as Toji flips you over; he has your legs spread and lowers his face down to suck and kiss and bite at your breasts, slamming his cock as deep inside your pussy as he can go. He briefly touches your hair, patting your head as you scream and writhe, smiling down at you so warmly even as his cock splits you open.

“Can’t help it. Need it, need this so fucking bad.”

Toji latches onto your neck, sucking so hard you think he might tear the skin; you cry out and your nails accidentally scratch long, red lines down his back and shoulders. You’re clawing and sobbing, completely overwhelmed underneath him. He’s fucking you like an animal with no regard for pacing or rhythm, holding you down and open for him to slam his cock inside your swollen little pussy. Toji straightens up to grind himself into you just the way he knows you like best, gently rubbing away at your clit, smirking at the way you gush around his cock. You’re so pretty like this, flushed and messy for him.

“Tell me again. Tell me you love me and I’ll make you cum so hard your legs shake.”

“Love you,” You gasp, arms wrapping around Toji’s bulging neck, drawing him in closer; you press kisses over his cheeks, nose, chin. “I love you, I-ah!”

Toji is done being patient; he keeps his thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing it harshly as he grinds his cock right into that spot, deep and hard; you’re never going to forget how his cock feels. Toji kisses you none too gently, lips prying your mouth open as he shoves his tongue down your throat; he really doesn’t even mean to be rough this time. The desire to devour you is overtaking him.

He’s so close. Your pussy’s soaking, his head’s spinning; just before Toji’s about to cum, you muster up enough energy to hold him back tightly and pet his hair, moaning softly into the kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist. Toji wanted to last longer, but it’s too much. Abruptly, he breaks the kiss and his mouth goes to your jugular; Toji swears he can feel your pulse under his teeth.

“Cum inside me.” You plead, whimpering into his ear. “I want it…want you, Toji, no one else.”

“Shit.” Toji presses his forehead to yours, hiking up your thighs; the bed is creaking and shaking with the force of his thrusts. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

Toji goes rigid and still as he cums, cock suddenly painfully sensitive; when you smile tiredly and kiss the palm of his hand, actual tears well up in the corners of his eyes. It’s all too much. He didn’t know he could even still feel like this, feel much of anything anymore. You shudder from his hot cum gushing inside you, but Toji doesn’t pull out just yet and you don’t seem in a hurry to move him anyway.

“I think you broke my dick.”

“...pardon me?”

“Pretty sure your pussy drained me dry…fuck.” Toji chuckles tiredly, very slowly pulling himself out, smiling in satisfaction as his cum seeps out of you and onto the sheets. “Did you like that?”

“I loved it.” You tell him softly, just beginning to catch your own breath as Toji uses his shirt to gently wipe you clean between your legs. “Toji?”

“Yeah?” Toji tosses his shirt somewhere and lays over you. “You want me to get you something? I bet you’re real tired after that.”

You pause; you look very serious all of a sudden, all business once more. “Toji, we really should talk about ‘us’. I don’t think we can just return to what we were.”

“What? But you said you loved me.” Toji raises his head to glare at you. “You’re not seeing other men, so put that idea out of your fucking head.”

“That is not what I meant!”

“Okay…what is it then?”

“I was going to say, are you sure this is what you want?” You ask carefully, looking into his eyes. “Is this really what you want?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Toji can’t believe you even have to ask; he frowns and clicks his tongue impatiently. “Fair warning, I’ll find you if you try to leave before I wake up.”

“I don’t doubt it, you’re an excellent tracker.”

“I mean it.” Toji mumbles into the crook of your neck, his heavy arm over your stomach. “You run, I’m hunting you down.”

“I wasn’t planning on making a grand escape; I was thinking something more along the lines of breakfast in bed.” You suggest and smile at the way Toji’s visibly perks up. “Oh, have you had dinner yet?”

“No, I came straight here from the gym.” he lies, eager to have you fuss over him. "I'm really hungry..."

“I’ll order in something; what do you want?”

“Anything, just get lots of it.” Toji squeezes you. “But don’t go yet though. Wanna stay like this a little longer.”

“Whatever you want.”

In minutes, Toji is snoring and curled up in your sheets like a tuckered out puppy; his leg even kicks randomly. When he wakes up to the smell of warm food and your nails gently scratching his scalp, Toji yawns with a groggy smile and opens his mouth for you to feed him, licking crumbs off your fingers greedily. You really do spoil him.

931 notes · View notes

joezworld · 1 month ago

Text

Express Engines

So, recently some friends of mine (@sparkarrestor chief among them) finally got me to watch some TTTE fan videos on youtube. I really never got into that stuff - I’m “an old” by Tumblr standards, and my first exposure to TTTE fan video content was back in the days of wooden models filmed with potatoes, and Trainz productions that still had the Fraps logo onscreen. Things were dire, and I never bothered to really investigate further in the intervening decade+. Watching it now, I’m absolutely astounded by the level of quality and skill that a lot of people on youtube have gotten up to. I find writing to be tedious and slow, but at the least I get a few new paragraphs or pages at the end of each night to read back through. Filmmaking, especially the animated stuff that these people are making, is such a long game that I don’t think I could stand it.

One of the first things that Sparks (and @weirdowithaquill) showed me was Rhydyronen’s Express Engines, the superbly made adaptation of the second book in Sodor Island Forum’s (SiF) Extended Railway Series. (ERS) I could honestly go on about the production quality and filmmaking skill involved in this for some time, but I feel as though after a while it would stop being constructive responses and more just me pointing at the screen and mumbling things about camera movements, so I’ll relent for right now. Just assume that I really enjoyed it and keep coming back to it.

(That being said, watching “Fourth Time Unlucky” and “Keeping Up With Castle” made me feel like my third eye was opening several different times. I had no idea that some of the filmmaking techniques in this were even possible, especially the big conversation set piece in Fourth Time Unlucky.)

---

All that being said… I do have quite a few issues with the story itself. Not the cinematography, the animation, or the voice acting, but the heart of this work - the script. It’s not a problem with Rhydyronen, the creator, instead it’s something inherent to the work itself.

Allow me to explain:

SiF’s ERS was very formative to me as “a young,” entering the fandom in the late -00s and early -10s. I read literally of them, and even went through the long-since-retconned V1 archive that is still present on the “Your Own Railway Series Style Stories” page. There’s a non-zero chance that I know more about this series of works than anyone who isn’t an active or former contributor to the ERS. Even to this day, I check in every other Saturday to see what they’ve put out. A lot of my works are based in no small part on the real world setting of Sodor-in-the-present that they’ve done. It’s a huge part of my life, and even if I never log in to the site again, its influence will hang over my life for years or even decades to come.

There’s just one problem with all of this: The ERS is, from a very fundamental standpoint, bad.

I don’t mean this in a critical “this is terribly written” way - far from it, in fact. The real issue with the ERS is more fundamental: they created a world, a rich tapestry of words and stories, that draws from the works of Wilbert and Christopher Awdry… and then they made it profoundly miserable to be in.

Now, this is not a bad thing, as @mean-scarlet-deceiver has rather masterfully written, but with SiF, it’s a more cloying and existential form of misery that doesn’t really do anything or go anywhere. Sodor is on its face a normal place to live, like any other part of England, but read almost any story and you will find things happening that seem to go against the grain of most TTTE fic writers, but also of just basic understandings of human decency.

Starting off from the beginning, ERS book 42 Evan the Private Engine is a great example of what I’m talking about. Evan, the titular engine, is a privately owned narrow gauge engine operating on the Skarloey Railway. At one point, many years ago, he broke down and was abandoned by his owner in situ. Now, for everyone who is a dyed in the wool TTTE fan like me, search your feelings and think of what happens to this engine next. Is he adopted by the Skarloey engines? Do they re-home him somewhere else? Is this actually a story being told by Skarloey to the other engines? Vote now on your phones.

[Buzzing noise] Wrong answer! What actually happens is that Evan is left where he is for so long that everyone forgets about him, and he’s covered in the overgrowth out by the lake. When he’s discovered “many years later,” he’s lost his memory, and will never get it back.

This is the first book in the ERS. I told @lswro2-222 about this and she’s still mad about it.

Things do not improve from there. The ERS is filled with countless stories of:

Engines being forgotten about for decades, (ERS #152 – Scrapyard Engines)

Engines being threatened with scrapping after suffering from mechanical issues (ERS #58 – Brave Mountain Engines)

When said engine (quite reasonably) tries to ensure their place on the railway by sabotaging someone else, they’re sent away for scrap anyways (ERS #70 – Norman the Mountain Engine)

Engines rather abruptly deciding to leave the island of Sodor, for almost no in-text reason. (ERS #221 – Dane the Electric Engine)

Engines rather abruptly deciding to leave the island of Sodor, just as their character arc was reaching a high point (ERS #320 – Procor the Mainland Engine)

Massive interpersonal conflicts between members of railway staff that would in any other universe result in someone quitting due to the toxic work environment. (ERS #462 - The Joint Controllers, ERS # 464 - The Fat Controller's Birthday Party)

Extremely out-of-place bouts of anti-diesel racism all the way in the 1990s (ERSN #9 – Dockside Engines)

The Fat Controller (among others) treating engines like children, property, or in some other extremely dehumanizing way, even if they had no control over the situation. (ERS #452 – Lorries and Engines, among many others)

I could go on for some time, and many of these are far from the worst examples. There’s also a huge number of baffling choices, like creating an engine that can only talk in horse noises, and then much later having this engine have a mental breakdown over his inability to communicate. (ERSN7 - The Pegasus Railtour Campaign) They also killed off Stephen Hatt, but did it in a way that rubs me the wrong way and does nothing to really add to the character's legacy. (ERSN #15 – The Hatt Family’s Engines) I could go on about this one for about as long as I could go on about Pegasus, but I don’t have that much time at any point between now and forever, so we'll leave it at that.)

Meanwhile, interesting characters are often created and then immediately set aside in favor of things that are nowhere near as interesting. Now that I know this is a matter of taste, but would you rather read about a diesel engine placed in storage for so long that she turned malevolently insane, (ERS #169 – Sudrian Diesel Engines) or various background characters like a skip lorry that interacts with almost none of the “main” cast of the island? (ERS #475 - Rocky the Skip Lorry) I know which one I want to see, which is why the insane diesel hasn’t gotten a story all to herself since her introduction in (checks notes) 2011.

However, all of this pales in comparison to the real issue with the ERS - all of this is more or less subjective, but there’s a real, substantial, problem here: Nobody actually seems to like each other.

Reading through the stories, there’s this overwhelming sense that none of the characters - engine, person, or otherwise, actually enjoy each other’s company unless it’s explicitly stated in text. Even then, that measure is sometimes shaky, as characterizations can change from book to book. Engines can be on good terms with each other in one, and the next, they can be snapping at each other for no clearly defined reason.

Well, they might try to define it, but the ERS is rather insistent on following the short, easy to digest four-story format used by the Awdrys, which means that any character development occurs suddenly, and with little room to flesh things out. What this results in is often poorly-explained conflict that could be salvaged if they ever strayed away from the standard 4-story format. A good example of this is ERS# 340 - BoCo & the Freight Diesels. This book is actually one of the better ones in terms of character arcs - it follows a pair of class 60 diesels (Spartan and Wakefield) as they deal with the fallout of their brother/leader leaving Sodor unexpectedly. (ERS #320 - I could go on about that decision as well. The character was written out because it conflicted with what the actual, IRL locomotive he was based on was doing. Meanwhile, I’ve got City of Goddamn Truro running rampage through Sodor.) These three engines have better-than-average characterization due to the absolutely god-tier introductory story they received (ERS #151), but even still, the relatively short length of each book/chapter means that the contents of book 340 and the preceding stories don’t exactly give us enough insight into the engine’s psyches to fully grasp what’s happening. It’s not so much of a case of “telling instead of showing” as it is “this comes at you quickly and without any real advance warning.” This is probably more true to life with how people act under stress, but… this is fiction. You can show the audience what’s going on. There’s a good reason why some of the best works in the ERS are the long-form ERS Novels that allow characters room to breathe.

(Also, in #340, the Fat Controller just absolutely rips an engine a new one for causing an accident, in the process completely sidestepping the fact that said engine had a driver and a second man on board the entire time. SiF does their level best to infantilize the engines whenever possible while at the same time making them 100% responsible for the failings of the people around them.)

Another great example of this is Daphne - the NWR’s Deltic that I stole for my own fan works because there’s a solid core to the character, but she’s been sadly let down by the works that follow. In the ERS she has a decently traumatic backstory, with lots of room for expansion of the character or at the very least, hints of other things. However Daphne is at most a secondary character to the ERS, and often appears in other stories, rather than her own. In these, the writers follow a handy rule of thumb for writing her:

Deltics are loud, and so naturally, Daphne must be loud. Loud people are annoying, so Daphne must be annoying. Because Daphne is annoying, she must often speak without thinking. Because she speaks without thinking, she must be the most irritating bitch anyone has ever seen.

I mean this seriously. Daphne’s entire role in a lot of the ERS is to show up, say something unintentionally insulting, and then drive away. She had a good introduction to the ERS in book #135, but since then she’s mostly been a loudmouth side character. Even her entry in the ERS guide says so:

Daphne is best known as the big diesel with the big mouth! There is little denying that she is a good worker when she wants to be, but her occasionally spiky temper, bossiness and boastfulness can often lead to her fall from grace. She also has a knack of speaking without thinking, something that has caused many an upset or unfortunate incident over the years.

This is not an interesting character. This is an annoyance of the highest order and I don’t know why they keep her around.

At no point since her introduction over a decade ago has anyone tried to change this. They let her stagnate in the background while the fucking horse engine gets his own novel!

I apologize, I’m getting slightly off track here. What I’m trying to say is that the ERS fundamentally does not understand its characters, starting at the Fat Controller and working their way down the list. There’s hundreds of episodes of someone getting yelled at for an incident outside their control, even when it’s plainly obvious that it had to be. Characters vary wildly, and act outside of what you would expect, considering when a story might happen in-universe.

A great example of this is in Book #338. Honey, a new-build diesel shunter, is bought by the Ffarquhar Quarry Company and in short order, pulls every capital-D-Diesel trick in the book to get Mavis replaced… and it works. Mavis is hauled away on a lorry to an uncertain future, (she eventually gets bought by the NWR, don’t worry) with everyone in real fear that she’s going to get scrapped. Now, in my works, Thomas and Co. would probably commit murder; a lot of more normal folks might have the entire Ffarquhar branch in an uproar - something like the deputation that saved Donald and Douglas way back when.

What SiF does… is nothing. Absolutely nothing. Thomas and Co. not only don’t try and get Mavis back, but they eventually welcome Honey into the branch line family a few books later (ERS #368 – Christmas at Ffarquhar) despite Honey being one of the only engines in the ERS or the original RWS to succeed in her evil mission.

This is such a fundamental misunderstanding of the characters, starting with the most obvious one - Thomas the Tank Engine - that this almost would have to be set in the 1960s or 1950s. Nobody has grown attached to Mavis yet, and Honey isn’t obviously evil or something.

Naaaaaaaaaaah. This story canonically takes place in 2018 and Honey speaks in Gen-Z/Millenial slang while actively sabotaging Mavis in broad daylight. I wish I was making this up.

------

Apologies, I got off track again.

So, what does any of this have to do with the Express Engines youtube video that I linked up top?

Well, I think it shows rather clearly how the ERS rather wantonly misunderstands its own characters. Writers far better than I (@mean-scarlet-deceiver) have written pages and pages on the mental states of many of the RWS cast, most notably Gordon, who is the main character of Express Engines.

Again, Jobey has written far more on the subject than I have, but suffice it to say that by 1996 - the “canon” date of Express Engines - Gordon has mellowed out significantly. Even if he thinks that he’s going to be top dog on Sodor forever, he definitely isn’t up his own ass about it like how he was in the early days. He’s getting old and he knows it, and when Pip and Emma eventually do show up in the RWS, he’s remarkably mellow about the whole thing. Granted, that’s about 10-15 years further up the line, but it goes to show that he’s not going to go ballistic or act like a child at the first sign of his dominance being threatened like he might have in the 1930s.

(Actually, having read all the books, I don’t think he’d act like that at most points after maybe WWII. A lot of his “I’m the fastest and the best!” schtick came from being a very big but very solitary fish in a very small pond, and getting him someone his own size to play with might have taken the edge off of his sense of self-importance.)

Quite naturally, that’s exactly what he does in Express Engines.

In the “book” version of the story, the main source of conflict is him lying to newly-arrived Sodor Castle about whistle codes, and this goes directly into the time trial section of the story, before wrapping up with a neat little bow of Gordon going off to get an overhaul.

As a side note, the SiF-standard infantilization of engines starts off strong with this book. The primary conflict is Gordon feeling threatened by the arrival of a new express engine. What nobody has told him is that said new express engine is there primarily to cover for him when goes in for an overhaul. Why has nobody told him this? Because nobody told him he was getting an overhaul. The poor engine was going insane and picking fights based on literally nothing but a misunderstanding.

Now, this is all fine and good - it actually reads a lot like Gordon just giving the new kid a hard time while working through his own insecurities, (something we can probably all relate to) but the video adaptation adds more stories, and goes… a lot further.

For those who haven’t seen it, in the video, Gordon is basically being sidelined to the nth degree following Sodor Castle’s arrival, and it is driving him up the wall. Following the events of Fourth Time Unlucky, which covers the whistle code scene, Gordon and Sodor Castle are in a near constant feud, which comes to a head in the next (all-new) episode Keeping Up With Castle. In it, the primary set piece is a scene that @lswro2-222 called “Gordon McFuckin’ Loses It,” because, frankly, he does. There’s an extended race scene between a borderline-crazy Gordon and an all-too-smug Sodor Castle (seriously, he’s approaching unlikeable levels of smug and snooty) that ends with Gordon dangerously overshooting the platforms at Wellsworth. It’s very well shot, very well edited, has some great voice acting, and absolutely positively does not make sense within any existing characterization of Gordon that I have ever seen.

I’ve thought about it for some time and maybe if this happened during the height of the modernization plan in the 60s, when everyone’s spirits were at an all-time low, it might have worked. It might have fit with the desperation and malaise of that era, maybe. For this story to take place in the late 90s, this is an almost impossible characterization of Gordon. I hate to be prescriptive of other people’s fan works and go “he would not fucking say that” but… he would not fucking say that. At all. Under any circumstances. It just wouldn’t happen.

In a similar vein to that, the characterization of the other engines really chafes at me. Sodor Castle shows up, seemingly displacing Gordon to the slow services, and the immediate response is to embrace the newcomer while mocking Gordon. This is perhaps the closest to “canon” I would say the video comes - the engines would do that at first; Gordon getting one-upped so publicly by a Westerner would be hilarious for a good long while. The issue, however, comes from the fact that nobody ever seems to notice that Gordon is legitimately upset by this whole development. They either continue mocking him or actively take Sodor Castle's side, which isn't something you do unless you have a rather strong dislike for someone. Not exactly the way you'd think the engines would act after being shoved together for 50-70 years… unless you write for the ERS.

Also, I have a particular bug up my ass about Sodor Castle in this video. He's almost too smug and prissy to be likeable. A lot of his lines work really well as singular lines, but the instant you realize the circumstances they're said in it all falls apart. As an example, during the race scene in Keeping Up With Castle, you'd think he'd be concerned or worried when Gordon goes screeching through Wellsworth with his brakes hard on. Even if he dislikes Gordon by now, the passengers must have gone through the far walls of the coaches, and instead Castle takes the time to gloat. It's the little things like that that really get me - the writers are obviously aware of what's going on, and choosing this particular response says a lot in a very unintentional way.

And, on the subject of saying things, I do want to make one point clear: This is not a mean-spirited “takedown” of the ERS. Any fan work that’s gone on for literal decades, with hundreds of distinct stories and characters, is commendable just in the sheer effort exerted by those involved. I will gladly applaud SiF in their work to have a consistent quality and tone to their work, even if it's not one that I universally agree with.

Furthermore, I like the ERS. While many of the stories in it are misses, when they hit it out of the park, they really do it. The ERS Novels, especially numbers 1, 2, and 9 (The Life & Times Of Jim The Jinx, The Peel Godred Railway, Dockside Engines) are unironically good.

Many of the characters, especially those introduced in the ERS’s early days like Daphne, Winston, Samarkand, Zelda, and the Class 60 trio, are legitimately interesting, and had captivating introductions to the franchise. Sometimes, SiF even predicts the future, adding Pip and Emma to Sodor years before Chris Awdry did, and did so with an excellent set of stories that heavily influenced my own interpretation of the characters. (and then, in a classic SiF move, they de-canonized those stories once it became clear that they couldn’t be reconciled with new Awdry canon) There is a lot of genuine skill that has gone into the ERS, and it’s definitely influenced the entire TTTE fan community whether you realize it or not. (Everyone calls the works diesel Wendell. Why? SiF named him.) It certainly influenced me, and that’s why I feel the need to write this all out. This series has been a significant part of my life for a significant part of my life, and it disappoints me to no end that it stumbles so often. This isn’t a callout of “you suck,” instead it’s a callout of “do better, please.”

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

This viewpoint has taken me several months to collate into a single thinkpiece. I kicked the idea around for a bit, thought it out more, watched the video a few more times, and then realized that I’d have to talk about SiF a lot. (oh no, what a tragedy.) So here it is. Hope you enjoyed it.

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

Oh, one other thing.

While I was watching the video, and thinking about how wrong this all was, and then I thought, “well I’d do this differently.”

And then I did.

And then things got very out of hand.

I may have stolen some characters from SiF.

(Don’t worry, they’re some of the ones that I like, from the few books that I enjoy.)

Anyway, here's Express Engines.

2001

It was barely spring on the Island of Sodor, and already the railway was being pushed to its limits. Congestion at other ports on the mainland had forced more ships into the port of Tidmouth (and, by extension, the ports of Knapford and Arlesburgh), and so the cargo trains got longer and more frequent.

At the same time, the Easter holidays coincided with a spate of unseasonably early warm weather, so the island was swarmed with people seeking sunny beaches and scenic getaways. Tourist class tickets were in especially high demand, and on some days the Limited and the Midday Express would strain under the weight of five, seven, or even ten third class coaches.

Fortunately, none of the engines were “down” for heavy maintenance, so while there wasn’t a scrabble to find available motive power, some… interesting schedule choices had to be made.

“Henry, it’s occurred to me that I haven’t seen you leave to pull the Kipper in some time.” Gordon said one morning.

“I haven’t been.” Henry yawned. “BoCo’s been taking it.”

“BoCo?”

“He said yes, don’t worry.” Henry said blearily.

“But why aren’t you-”

“Because I’m getting about two hours of sleep if I take the Kipper and the morning stopper train, and that’s if someone isn’t snoring loud enough to shake the dust off the ceiling beams.”

“I assure you that I do not-”

“S’not you, you daft thing. It’s James. I think there’s something wrong with him.”

Bear growled in displeasure. It was a deep, bass-y sound that seemed to echo through the ground, and Bill and Ben fled back to the clay pits in terror.

“-and if I catch you pulling that ever again, I’ll be the last thing you ever see!”

Edward looked on in awe. “Can you teach BoCo how to do that?”

Duck goggled. “I think I’ve seen it all now.”

Emma smiled meekly. “I know it’s a little unusual, but-”

“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing., Duck cut in graciously.

“Oh thanks.” She looked around. “I wish we didn’t have such a long train, we could probably come down here more often. It’s very pretty-”

“Oi!” cut in Mike, from the Small Railway’s tracks. “What’s wrong wit’ Oliver?”

Looking back, Duck could see Oliver trying and failing to hide from Pip, much to her chagrin.

“Don’t worry about it! He deserves it!” he said after a moment’s deliberation.

“Excuse me,” the big EWS diesel asked as he rolled into Crovan’s Gate with a line of flatbeds. “But is this a heritage railway or something? What are you doing here exactly? Are you on a railtour?”

“Railtour?” James sniffed. “I’m not a railtour! I'm late! Ta ta!”

And he steamed away in a hurry.

“That… didn’t answer my question.”

----

During this time, the Fat Controller was nowhere to be seen. Rumours flew between the coaches and trucks that he was out finding them another engine, but the engines themselves knew better.

“From where would he find a King class?”

“I don’t know! But there’s a biiiiig engine back there under a sheet, and a bunch of paint all labeled “GW Green” sitting around - more than Duck and Oliver could need put together!”

Well, some of them did.

“James, what now?” Henry groaned as he rolled into the shed. All he wanted to do was sleep,but it seemed like this wouldn’t happen soon.

“Look,” James spluttered, as Gordon and Bear stared with skepticism heavy on their brows. “All I know is: Engine, sheet, paint, and soon!”

“Soon?” Bear scoffed. “Soon what? Soon the hols will be over? Soon that summer will come? Show me some proof.”

“Oh for- what about that tarped over thingy that came in last Christmas? I saw it! That’s real!”

“That could be anything!” Gordon butted in. “There’s dozens of preserved lines that wish to make use of our facilities. For all we know, it is a King class that’s being restored for a museum!”

Henry suddenly felt very bemused. He had something to say now, but it needed to be timed perfectly.

He waited a few minutes, as Bear and Gordon continued grilling James over details that he couldn’t possibly have known. It was quite funny, but not as funny as what he had to say.

Finally, as his eyelids drooped and his fire died down to embers, he saw his chance. “Excuse me, if I may.” He yawned. Gordon and Bear stopped mid-sentence to look at him. From the startled look Gordon was hiding, it seemed like they’d forgotten he was there. “But I did overhear from the coaches on the Limited, who themselves overheard from the Fat Controller, that we are getting another engine - just not a King, but instead, a Castle!”

The reactions of the others were priceless, and held just long enough for him to close his eyes and fall happily to sleep!

-----

The next morning, The Fat Controller arrived as the sun rose. “Well, my ears have been burning all morning,” he said jovially. “So I assume you already know about the new engines,-”

“EngineS?”

----

Last year - around Guy Fawkes Night

Stephen Hatt strode into his office to find his secretary holding the phone about three feet from her ear. Even at that distance, a great commotion was clearly audible.

“The National Railway Museum for you sir,” she said, straining to keep the phone as far away as possible. “Mind the volume when you answer.”

He gave her a wide berth and an askance look as he entered his office. Sitting down at his desk, he picked up the handset out of reflex, and quickly set it back down again. Carefully, he moved the phone to the other end of his desk, and pushed the speakerphone button with the corner of a particularly tall book.

Pandemonium burst forth from the device, and it took a moment for Stephen to pick out the sound of a human voice over what sounded like a fully-involved riot in the background. “Hello? Stephen? Are you there? It’s Andrew. Look, Stephen, I shan’t mince words with you, but we’ve made a terrible mistake and you’re the only person left who can fix it.”

Stephen, having recovered from being assaulted by a wave of sound, raised an eyebrow. “Fix it? I haven’t even been told what the problem is yet!”

“What? Can you speak up- oh for goodness’ sake!” There was a sound of a phone handset being put down, and then the sound of a door opening. The sounds of the riot became louder and more pronounced for a moment, and then there was a bellow of “QUIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEET!” that shook the phone.

The door then shut with a suddenly audible click, and then Andrew was back on the phone. “I’m terribly sorry about that.”

“What is happening over there?” Stephen asked, agog.

“My problem.” Andrew said, his tone hasty. He clearly expected the noise to start up again. “We’ve done some, uh. re-arranging of our collections you see, and two engines were put together who really have no business being anywhere near-”

“CITY OF TRURO I WILL KILL YOU TONIGHT.” A female voice came through loud and clear, to the point where the speakerphone vibrated halfway off the desk. “KEEP TALKING AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS.”

Stephen’s expression became slightly more fixed, and he stayed quiet for a long moment.

Andrew could feel his hesitation. “Please. We haven’t been able to open for three days. They’re on opposite sides of the building and they’re still at it. We have to get one of them off property.”

“Andrew…” Stephen said slowly. “You do recall that City of Truro had a most remarkable change of fortune some years ago, correct?”

“Stephen,” Andrew was close to begging. “Nobody will take him. We have to do something!”

“Your use of the word 'we' is very inspired, Andy.” Stephen was actually going to have to get up and walk around his desk to reach the phone.

“Wait! Wait!” His finger stopped inches from the “end call” button. “We’ll do anything! Name it!”

The Fat Controller smiled. “Anything, you say?”

-------

The engine had been brought in under cover - both tarpaulin and darkness. Once it had been delivered, it had been immediately shunted away into a far corner of the works, away from prying eyes.

It was only then that the cover was removed, and the engine was revealed. A six-coupled Westerner, one of the great Castles of yore. She - and she most definitely was a she - was resplendent in Great Western Green and Gold, complete with all the little filigree marks that only a steam-era Swindon would apply. The paint had barely lost its luster, and it appeared from the outside as though this engine had been shunted through a portal in time.

The only part of her that showed any age at all was her face. Around her eyes and brows were laugh lines and wrinkles, a generation of smiles and conversation physically worked into the structure of her beauty.

She wasn’t smiling now, though. Frown lines cut into her face unnaturally, as she sent a venomous glare in the direction of the man standing by her pony truck.

“You were much more compliant back at the Science Museum,” he said, continuing an argument that had been ongoing since the moment he’d arrived in her line of sight.

“I was valued at the Science Museum,” she snapped, putting heavy weight on the word valued. “And then you deaccessioned me.”

“We were renovating!” He protested. “I would’ve thought that you would have loved being amongst your own kind. You were to be put in your own special museum!”

“I was in the Museum longer than I ever was on the rails, but you never cared enough to find out which setting I preferred, did you?” she hissed. “All you wanted was Neil’s job!”

“Sir Cossons stood down to run English Heritage and you know it.”

“All I know is that you were in there for less than a month before I was 'better suited for display in York!'”

“So you could be put in Swindon when the museum there was ready!”

“But I didn’t want to go to Swindon!” she screeched. “And in any event, This. Isn’t. Swindon! You and Andrew sold me rather than deal with Truro!”

“Truro is more…”

“Say that he’s more famous than me. Say it. That’s all Showboat Sharp ever cares about. Not that he’s totally unsuitable for public display, or that he-”

“He can keep his mouth shut when Andy tells him to, which is more than I can say about you!” He looked at her with disgust in his eyes. “You are a train! You are supposed to be seen and not heard, and no more!”

Whatever she was about to say in reply - and it would have been vicious - was cut off by the opening of a distant door. A top-hatted figure emerged from the outside, and made his way towards them.

“And,” the man whispered. “We didn’t sell you. I gave you away. It’s the only way the fat bastard would take this deal.”

There was a quiet “so glad to be valued...”, but it was lost in the arrival of the top hat wearing man. “Ah, Dr. Sharp, and Caerphilly Castle, I’m Stephen Hatt. Wonderful to meet you both in person.”

“Charmed.” Lied man and engine as one as a small crowd of workmen filed in behind the man.

Without prompting, the portly man clambered up onto Caerphilly’s bufferbeam to address the room. To her surprise, he did so gracefully, managing to not snag himself on her lamp irons, and his shoes were sturdy boots that gripped the metal properly. Maybe he wasn’t an officious fop after all?

“Well everyone,” he said, facing the group. “This is the surprise that I have been talking about. Without going into too many details, it seems as though the Science Museum’s recent renovations have left Caerphilly Castle without a home. Now, she was originally relocated to York, however a…” He paused diplomatically. “Certain engine caused much trouble for her there, and she has now made her way to us. I’d like to thank Dr. Sharp, the director of the Science Museum, for this kind contribution to our railway.”

“How much did you pay for ‘er?” came a voice from the front of the group of men. “Was it market value for once?” It was followed by poorly-suppressed laughter from the crowd.

Even with his face away from her, Caerphilly could see that Stephen’s body language turned slightly defensive, but before he could say anything, Dr. Lindsay Sharp PhD., head of the largest Science Museum in the United Kingdom, spoke up. “Actually, you have received her gratis.” he said with a smarmy smile. “We’re just glad to see her go to a good home! Hopefully you can put her on display someplace where the public can learn from her.”

Less-suppressed laughter met this. Stephen Hatt turned to look down at the other man. “Lindsay? Forgive me for disagreeing with you in public, but you do know that we intend to restore this engine to traffic, right?”

There was a not insignificant amount of spluttering and swearing. Dr. Sharp had absolutely not known that.

Caerphilly hadn’t known either. “You want me… to run again?” she said, not quite believing what she was hearing.

“Of course!” Stephen said kindly. “Gordon, our primary express engine, is coming up on his boiler ticket, so we need another express engine to fill the gap.” He paused seriously. “Did you think that we were going to stick you on a plinth somewhere?”

“I… I really did sir,” she said quietly. “I didn’t think that anyone wanted steam engines anymore.” She blinked. “Goodness, if I’d known, I would have insisted on having someone else come with me! Lord knows that Evening Star is never going to run under the current administration.”

Stephen missed the acid glare she sent Dr. Sharp’s way. “Oh, how funny it is that you mention that. We actually have a 9F that we purchased recently. You’ll be meeting her soon enough, her name is-”

#ttte #sodor #sentient vehicle headcanon #ttte analysis #character analysis #sodor island forums #extended railway series

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vampsired · 10 months ago

Text

Hobbies JJK characters would have

cast ᯓ✦: gojo, geto, shoko, nanami, haibara, utahime

GOJO SATORU

1. eating/cooking - I feel like teen gojo mostly but older gojo would also find great joy in concocting heinous meals in the kitchen like his ‘ultimate sandwich’

2. wordle - doesn’t matter how good he claims to be, he has a meltdown and a half whenever he can’t get the answer in two tries. He’ll also gasp when he forgets to do his daily wordle and does it then and there.

3. map quizzing - he claims to be good, and with full confidence says the wrong answer. But will shove it in your face if he gets it right. He’ll go through a phase every couple of weeks trying to force anyone to vers him

GETO SUGURU

1. fixing/updating his motorcycle - he’d only be able to do this when he’s at his parents house bc it’s tedious work and needs a lot of time which he doesn’t rlly have when he’s at school.

2. music - I feel like teen geto would be swamped with school and missions most of the time to fully indulge himself into music, so when he gets more time I feel like he’d post

3. photography - defo the friend who takes pics of the sunset and sends it to you like you don’t have eyes yourself. But he’s a really good photographer, everyone ask him to take their photos when they’re out. He also has a bunch of digital cameras and loves going to photo booths

SHOKO IEIRI

1. amature barista - I think she missed good coffee when she’d go back home, so she took this up to satiate her coffee addiction. But then ended up having so much fun making it at home she got a full station when she got her own home.

2. swimming - she finds swimming relaxing, whether it’s the ocean, the pool or a lake. When she was young she had a lake near her house and she’d go swimming with her friends there all summer long, she hopes to take her friends one day.

3. collects mini toys - like mini purses and doll pieces, her fav is the mini hair dryer and straighter but she absolutely cherishes the ones utahime makes her <3

NANAMI KENTO

1. baking (duh) - although he doesn’t get into bread making until he’s older, I feel like teen nanami could make gooodd brownies and cookies that aren’t sickeningly sweet

2. reading (another obvi) - teen nanami would probably like those very long and complicated fantasy series and perhaps would like crime/thriller novels. But I feel maybe as nanami gets older he likes to read more literary fiction.

3. walks - I feel like he’d love to take the subway to a less crowded area and walk around with headphones in. He especially loves places with green landscapes or rivers

HAIBARA YU

1. comic and manga collector - loves seeing his collection grow over the years and loves sharing the stuff he has with his friends for them to enjoy also

2. legos - I feel like he has an impressive lego collection at his parents house but never dares to bring the larger ones to his dorm, he has smaller builds in his dorm which are still very impressive

3. board games - probably owns games you’ve never heard of, mostly plays with either you and nanami. But sometimes the group plays if they can get the rules down. But word of advice, don’t play monopoly with utahime or gojo 0.o

UTAHIME IORI

1. jewellery making - is the friend who has a lifetime amount of beads at her disposal. Loves making friendship bracelets for you and shoko, especially to mark like special events like holiday you guys go on or just for fun

2. painting - specifically flowers and landscapes, it reminds her of the place she grew up in and how her mother used to paint the summer flowers when she was growing up.

3. mini clay pieces - using air drying clay to make some little things like tiny mugs or tiny figurines like dinosaurs. When she made some little tortoises for shoko she screamed

🔗 divider link (credits) masterlist send requests ᡣ𐭩

reblogs are heavily appreciated ᡣ𐭩

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kosmicdream · 11 months ago

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Hello. After drawing webcomics for 10 years and making about 10,000 pages of comics, here are some things i have learned/observed in that experience..

1) making comics does not get easier.. Not really

Making comics is a tedious and slow process and with so many different facets of the experience to learn - you’ll never run out of stuff to learn or weaknesses to work on. I’m not saying this to discourage but to just give the frank reality that it really takes a lifetime to understand. Be patient with yourself and try to set healthy expectations.

2) Read your own comics after making them.

I don’t know if this is as important to other people as it is to me, but I do think that sometimes its easy to not re-read your own work and just go from your own memory of it, or maybe you’re tired of looking at it because of all the flaws. I don’t personally get sucked into the “rewrite/remake” cycle that I know is common with comics, as I sort of just accept things as they are, but re-reading my work does help me see where I have come from and where I need to go to next. I personally don’t like to lose sight of that, and I think re-reading helps ground me in the planning process of my work and gives me a better perspective on all aspects.

3) A lot of comic advice should be taken with a grain of salt, because its the person talking to themselves. (including this)

I see a lot of advice that never would have worked for me, or just simply wasn’t something I was ever going to follow. “Dont start with your big epic long stories”! Is a common one. I don’t think that’s bad advice exactly, but how many young artists are going to listen, especially if they’ve never told a story in the first place? Yes, the advice to start small and build yourself up with experience sounds great, I’m sure people do it, but if you’re an artist you’re probably not gonna be that responsible. And for me, when i tried to do this with eggshells, my house burnt down and i kinda gave up comics for a while because i lost a lot of work.

Writing short stories is still something I struggle with, its just not easy for me. I have gotten better at it but i don’t think that makes me less of a comic artist because I haven’t gotten good at that particular format, or that I jump around on my projects. Is it more impressive to have more completed work under your belt, sure. But I also think that.. Idk.. what is the advice actually saying, because with that one it sort of feels (often times) as a warning that you’re setting yourself up for failure/embarrassment by attempting a comic like that. I don’t know how to tell you this, but comics are gonna be embarrassing no matter what you do and there’s no guarantee you’ll be more successful/not experience failure by avoiding your passions. Something to think about anyway.

4) Don’t draw every leaf. Unless you really want to.

I’m the kind of comic artist that kind of doesn’t care about the art as much as the whole package of the comic. When i see a very impressively drawn panel/page, with laborious detail that is well drawn and maybe even colored ect.. That usually is kind of, I guess, a turn off for me as part of the reading experience. The thing is, when i encounter that, it usually signals to me that someone has poor planning skills for comics. It says to me that comic is probably not going to see its end or that artist is overworking themselves in an unnecessary way, that ends up concerning me about how they’re doing. Because i know how hard it is to draw comics. When an artist phones things in a bit, or has a limit on how much they work on a page, its a relief for me to see! because I understand they have healthier boundaries and expectations, and the art itself usually is less stiff too. This is all an overgeneralization, but I think with a lot of webcomic artists we are usually drawing a comic for the first time ever, so it makes sense we want to do our best and try as hard as possible - that just usually isn’t the smartest plan to put all the stock in the visual department. This also kinda frustrates me to see because most comics (professional or not) will also (generally) not reel the art in ever or make a more simple style. Generally I see it always trying to outdo itself, which leads to burn out. I personally only work about 1hr on each page i draw, that hasn’t changed in the 10 years I have been drawing comics, but i used to spend hundreds of hours drawing detailed lineart for eggshells and it didn’t even read well and i’d be disappointed with the results, feeling more lost with my goals than ever. PLEASe.. Just draw worse, its usually better looking in the end too. (because you wont have the experience to judge visual clarity until you’ve been drawing comics for a while imo..)

5) Don’t draw ahead, draw those inbetweenies.

“Inbetweenies” are the pages for the “boring” ones. They are also usually the most common KIND of page. Its the pages that are necessary, but “inbetween” the action. The impact moments in a scene, ect. You gotta draw them. They’re always gonna be there. They’re the pages where maybe, the character is walking somewhere, thinking, ect. The after impact from an action.. There’s a million examples, but hopefully you’ll understand what I mean when I say they’re both necessary pages/panels, sometimes so mundane/redundant, but also required for telling the story.. As a comic is a sequence of images. This is why, the previous advice is also important IMO- because if you really want to “draw every leaf” - maybe you should save that energy and effort for those impact moments that you want to impress the reader with.. And not for the inbetweenies, which are the foundational support, but also not the most important moments. If you conserve your energy a bit, the contrast OF that effort will also pop more. I personally find it funny when I put more effort into a page and end up tricking my readers into thinking I got better at drawing, when really i just have been able to draw better and only save it for moments like this instead of always.

Also, when I say don’t draw ahead.. I mean I draw each page at a time before going to the next one. I have no idea if this is an unusual practice or not, and I know a lot of people will draw their chapters/episodes/whatever in sections like sketch/ink/color/ect.. But I personally draw and finish page by page, unless its the thumb/sketch stage. Even then, i don’t go ahead much. I think that you can control flow/pacing better by doing chapters all at once of course, I see that as a benefit. But i also think that makes things very overwhelming and can also result in a lack of flexibility if something isn’t working. No matter HOW much planning you do- comics are always going to have an aspect of IMPROVISATION with the result you get in the end. There are way too many factors in play to be in complete control of all of them and always know the result of the reading experience. SO for me, this technique is easier and has been something that continues to get me to working effectively. Plus, rumiko takahashi said that’s what she does. And i think she has some of the best visual flow/compositions in comics. So that’s what I do.

I could write more personal advice or rules that i follow..but I think those are the ones I find are the most important to me anyway. Of course, comics are a strange medium and not everything that works for me will work for you. That’s all for now.. Bye bye…!

Oh by the way, my comics are here: feastforaking.com nastyreddogs.com https://kosmic.itch.io/ Support me on patreon! https://www.patreon.com/kosmic

#webcomics #webcomic #webcomic advice #comic #comics

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crguang · 1 year ago

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ocean eyes

You’ve never seen the ocean. Kafka introduces you to it.

fluffy as fawk, recycled the idea from that fic but it’d be like a prequel technically, 2.3k words

A/N: couldn’t stop thinking about kafka loving the sea she’s made for me atp. title only makes sense because of the other fic lol

The sea breeze washes over your being, it caresses each strand of hair and softly touches your skin like gentle hands cupping your cheeks. You feel it in your ears, a sound you’re hearing for the first time; its warmth seems to enter your lungs and clear it of past impurities with every inhale, and you wish to take a deep breath to keep it inside your chest forever.

The sensation leaves you immobile. In front of you, the ocean. A myth come true, its beauty rivaling Idrila’s. It’s vast, bigger than your mind can comprehend even after so many years spent traveling the cosmos, and a deeper blue than the sky it’s reflecting. Water has never been so alive, with waves crashing on the shore and currents on the horizon, you are facing an entity larger than life. Its depths create and harbor life that you won’t ever get to see. Your mortal eyes can only perceive a fraction of it, so small and significant. You didn’t think it was possible for water to kiss the sky, having the proof before you fills you with wonderment. Among it, some strange feeling nestles in your throat. You stand as it curls around your vocal cords and leaves you mute. Words are useless in front of something so grand, you realize, they fade away as if they've never existed at all. You lose yourself in cold blues and the occasional whites of flying seagulls, in salty air that quickly becomes your favorite scent, and you can’t speak for a long moment.

Lithe fingers, laced with your calloused ones, tighten their hold on your hand. It takes a couple blinks to tear your eyes away from the boundless sea, and you turn to Kafka’s fond smile. She’s watching you, drinking you in like you’re the precious sight and not the limitless expanse of water on the coast. A thumb swipes over the crease of your eye, lingering at the corner for a second too long, and you realize she’s wiping a tear away.

“Oh,” you exhale softly, bringing your free hand to your face. Your cheeks are wet with silent tears and you sniffle as you wipe them from your skin. “I didn’t even notice.”

“What were you thinking about so intently just now?”

You look back at the sea, an ache in your throat. The sun hides behind thin clouds and paints the world in soft colors.

“I was wondering if my planet was ever this pretty. I wish my mother could have seen it.”

Your home world fell victim to a Stellaron, like plenty throughout the galaxy. It dried most of your rivers and evaporated many of your lakes, transforming seas into lands full of sand. Water was a limited resource and a tedious thing to acquire. You remember stumbling on a picture book with various shades of blue filling some of the pages and asking your mother about it. That evening, she explained the ocean to you; never-ending, deeper than mortals can comprehend and filled with creatures your childish mind could merely compare to alien life. You thought she was making stuff up, maybe embellishing a mundane truth, but she spoke of the sea with the same tenderness she used to tuck you into bed. As you grew, you understood that it was longing in her words, a deep desire for something she would never experience in this lifetime. To you, it felt pointless to yearn for something she didn’t know; your mother was born long after the Stellaron infected your planet and spread its cancer to the roots of your world. You didn’t understand how this desire was born, where it came from. Yet, in her eyes resided a wistfulness that was only extinguished the day she died. She left the waking world longing for the sea, and memories of her constrict your chest as you stand at the edge of it.

Kafka hums, pivoting to face the water. A gentle silence settles between you as you watch the waves rise and fall on the shore. Her bare palm is warm against yours, it grounds you to the sand beneath your feet. Seagulls make a grating sound, you discover, but even their squawking can’t ruin the view before you. You feel a sudden restlessness to touch the water, to have it envelop you entirely until you feel yourself disappear in it as if absorbed.

“Can we go in the water?”

Kafka smiles. “Sure.”

Your hand slips from hers and you step out of your slides, sinking your toes into the hot sand of the beach. Sand is something you’re familiar with, it reminds you of your mom and your broken world. Comfort fills you with every step towards the waves. Kafka follows beside you, used to the sights and the sensations. She comes here every summer, but this is the first time she’s brought you along. You understand why she’d want a place like this all to herself, it brings forth a sense of serenity best enjoyed in solitude. Or, at least it did, before. Before experience brought you closer.

You hesitate somewhat once you reach the water. Your feet are submerged in it and suddenly its vastness becomes a little terrifying. Kafka walks in further until she’s standing waist deep in the water, circling hands creating ripples around her. She turns to face you with a silent question on her stretched lips.

“…I don’t know how to swim,” you confess uselessly, prompting a chuckle out of her. She knows that, obviously, since you’re unfamiliar with large bodies of water.

“We can stay on the shallow end. Don’t want you drowning on my watch, I’d get in a lot of trouble with the others.”

Kafka holds out her hand. You take it with some reticence. She brings you close enough for wet fingers to squeeze your waist affectionately. Her easy expression makes you at ease, she seems different on this planet, more carefree. She’s not wearing her contacts and her ponytail is lower than usual, its tie looser around her long locks of hair. You’re privy to a side of her you had no idea existed and you’re honored by the trust she puts in you.

“Nice, right?”

“It’s cold,” you reply, looking down at your wobbly reflections.

“Mm, I like it.”

You dip your hands beneath the water and turn your palms to the sky. Algae brushes against your calves as you move around. Kafka lets you explore, head tilting back to face the sun. You venture a bit further until your neck is the only thing sticking out of the water. Impulsively, you squeeze your eyes shut, pinch your nose with two fingers and sink into the water. Every sound is muffled in your ears, and in the darkness everything is pointless. This is different from a shower or being caught in the pouring rain, you feel light. weightless, insignificant. You wonder if that’s what your mother longed for, this freedom to be anything and anyone, drifting through the boundless sea. You emerge with a little gasp, rubbing the water out of your eyes before blinking them open.

You’re careful not to stray too far from where Kafka is drinking in the faint sunlight. Her eyes are closed when you glance back at her, chin tilted to the heavens. Her shoulders have turned a rosier color from the sun and her dark, backless bathing suit contrasts beautifully with the clear ocean blue. You walk towards her, flicking your wrist to send water flying her way. Her brows twist for a second before she looks at you with a small smile. Kafka always smiles a lot, more often than not to unsettle her opponent or prey, but there’s a softer edge to the ones she’s had since you arrived on this planet.

“What do you usually do here?” You ask, moving closer to her.

“Float. Wanna try?” Kafka holds onto your waist when you’re close enough to reach, pulling you towards her. “I can show you.”

“I don’t want to drown.”

“You’re not going to drown.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Kafka playfully rolls her eyes and takes hold of your chin with a few fingers. Her gaze follows the movement of her thumb across your jaw, then flicks up to meet yours.

“I wouldn’t let you,” she says, leaning in to press her lips on yours in a soft kiss. Your eyes flutter shut as her mouth slowly moves against yours. She pulls away after a moment and looks at you. “Do you trust me?”

“At times.”

“Well, trust me now.”

One of her hands is placed on the small of your back to support you, the other gently guides you onto your back by applying pressure on your chest.

“What if I float away,” you say, a tinge of panic enveloping you, and you grab her wrist to stay upright.

Kafka can’t help the amusement on her face. “To where?”

“Far, I don’t know.”

“Would you miss me?”

You pout. “It’s a valid fear to have.”

“It’s really not.”

“What if I float to the deep end, then it’s too late to come back and I drown because I can’t swim?”

Kafka looks at you for a moment, eyelids lowering and an amused smile on her lips. She doesn’t say anything, just stares at you like she’s thinking of something funny.

“What?” You ask, eyes narrowing.

“You killed three flying beasts twice your size at once, last week. You're scared of a little water?”

“Fuck you,” you try pushing her away, but she only presses you further into her with her arms around your waist, a laugh escaping her. “There’s nothing little about the fucking ocean.”

“Relax,” she drawls, “it won’t work if you’re tense.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

Kafka curls a hand around the back of your neck and suddenly brings you closer to capture your lips with hers. Her head tilts to kiss you better, and you can’t focus on anything but the sweet kisses she presses against your mouth. Your wet hand trails up her spine, causing droplets of water to slide down her back. Your lips part to deepen the kiss when her tongue swipes over your bottom lip. You forget the argument, your muscles relax as her chest touches yours, and by the time she pulls away with a soft exhale through her nose, you almost forget your surroundings. You chase her lips as she leans back, planting a few more chaste kisses on her mouth. She indulges you for a minute, the fingers on your nape tightening their grip for an instant. You’re breathing heavier when she separates from you for good and smiles.

“Now, let’s try it again, mmh?”

Kafka teaches you how to float in the water with firm hands and occasional teasing jabs to which you would respond if she wasn’t the one standing between you and drowning. In the end, you spend most of the day at sea, learning how to keep water from going up your nose without using your fingers and the basics of swimming. Your fingertips are pruned hours later as you emerge from the water. Kafka’s still under— you bet on who could hold their breath the longest— so you dive back beneath the surface as quietly as you can. She calls you a cheater afterwards, but you distract her with wet, slippery kisses.

You’re drying yourselves on the beach as the sun sets below the horizon. You sit on your towel next to Kafka, who’s reclined on her elbows. Her eyes are closed, not a crease between her brows, and her head is tilted upwards. Before, you thought she was sunbathing, but now the temperature is slightly lower than this afternoon and the sun is no longer visible in the sky. You think perhaps she’s simply enjoying the sound of the waves and the salty air like you did earlier. It’s funny, she hasn’t told you what this place means to her; it clearly holds some sort of significance if she returns to it annually. Her way of revealing herself is unconventional at best and a little clumsy, like a fawn taking its first steps. She presents you the sea, this part of her she keeps hidden from everyone, and says nothing else. You watch the lines of her nose, the curves of her lips and their pretty pink color. Her face is bare from any makeup, her hair loose and her expression so relaxed she might’ve been asleep. She’s beautiful. You’re no longer gazing at the ocean, though you feel a familiar sense of wonder as you observe her. Your heart is light in your chest and you suddenly understand how your mother could yearn for something she’s never experienced before.

Kafka’s eyes slowly blink open. She tilts her head to meet your stare with a smile, and you long to love her like your mother longed for the sea.

“Let’s stay a little longer.”

You nod. Your limbs move before you can stop yourself; you straddle her waist, sitting on her lap and snaking your arms around her back. Kafka lets you bury your nose in the crook of her neck, using a hand in the sand to support the both of you.

“What’s that for?” There’s a teasing lilt to her voice as you breathe in the smell of the sea on her skin.

“Nothing,” you lie, pressing a kiss to her skin.

Your mouth trails up her neck to her jaw, tasting salt, and Kafka hums when you kiss her lips. It feels different to kiss her after getting acquainted with the ocean because you finally have something to compare the weightlessness that overwhelms you with each of her fervish kisses. A hand tangles itself in your hair, pulling you closer until she reclines on the ground and your body follows without missing a beat, lips locked.

You pull away to breathe in, only slightly, reveling in the sensation of her hand up your back.

“You’ll get sand in my hair,” Kafka mutters into your mouth.

“I’ll wash it for you.”

On a deserted beach and with the sea as your witness, you kiss her until the moon ascends in the sky and the waves grow stronger behind you.

#honkai star rail #hsr kafka #hsr x reader #hsr #kafka x reader #hsr fluff #hsr x you #kafka x you #kafka fluff #hsr fanfic

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padfootagain · 1 year ago

Text

When We Were Lying

Hi! Here is another Hozier fic! Had a lot of fun with this trope, as always, I hope you’ll like this little story! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x reader

Warnings: none… a bit of strong language and an awful lot of longing? Fake-dating AU

Summary: Your ex is attending your family gathering for Christmas and there is no way you're going to face that alone. Of course, you drag your best friend into this, and he's too smitten with you to say no when you ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend. Although, the fact that you both have feelings for each other might end up being a problem...

Word Count: 10055

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

“Sorry… what?!”

Andrew was blinking at you. There was something unnerving in his frown and the intensity of his stare, but you had to bear it. After all, you had no other choice.

“You’re the only one I can ask to do this with me…”

“I’m absolutely not doing that!”

“Why not?”

“Why not?! Why not?! Do I really have to answer that question or have you found back your sanity?”

“Andrew…”

“I am not going to lie to your entire family at Christmas just to save your stupid arse!”

“But I said ‘please’…”

“Y/N!”

“Andrew!”

“This is a terrible idea! I’m not doing that!”

He stared at you as if you had lost your mind, and in all fairness, perhaps you had… for a part at least. Why else would you be sitting in your best friend’s comfortable sofa, in the middle of his large and yet welcoming living room, asking him to lie to your family and pretend that you were together? Only for a day though, just for the traditional meal on Christmas, the boring and tedious lunch on the 25th where you exchanged gifts and stabbing remarks with your least favourite members of your family.

Not that you were not used to face this tragedy on your own; if your arse of an uncle had been the only obstacle to overcome this year, you would have emerged with flying colours. But this year was different. It was different, because your cousin Samantha was coming with her boyfriend… aka your ex-boyfriend. The one she had slept with ten months ago. The one who had betrayed you and broken your silly heart. The one you wished you could put laxatives into his drinks, or pierce his tires, or put some very strong pepper into his tea… Something Machiavellian like that…

But as your chances of poisoning his food at the Christmas lunch were limited, you had to settle for plan B. Which was simple enough: convince your best friend to pretend to be madly in love with you, so you would not have to bear any comments from your family about your broken heart and the fact that you had been cheated on by your fucking cousin Samantha… and perhaps, with a bit of luck, you could also make your ex, Craig, jealous.

A brilliant plan, if there was ever any. Only, Andrew didn’t seem to share your optimism.

“You’ve lost it, this time,” he went on, eyes wide, aghast as he slowly shook his head.

You couldn’t blame him for thinking this. Especially given the fact that your feelings for him would probably end up being a problem. But despite your silly little crush on him… who else could you ask such a favour to? The two of you had known each other for years. He was your best friend, you were ready to do anything for him. No one else would accept…

“Andy… I know I’m asking a lot…”

“This will never work. Beyond the fact that this is pure madness, it will never work! Your parents know me! They know we’re not together!”

“Friends get together all the time!”

“No one will believe us. And you know me, I hate… PDA and stuff like that… I can’t… even when it’s real, I struggle with that stuff. I can’t fake it.”

“On the contrary, that’s great! Cause then, we don’t have to act too much like we’re together, and we can just blame it on your well-known aversion for PDA!”

“No. I’m sorry, Y/N, but this time… it’s a no. I’m not doing that. I’m not playing fake-boyfriend for you.”

You heaved a defeated sigh.

“And I thought you would kill for me.”

“I’m a pacifist… a punch across the jaw is the best I can do.”

“Lousy friend.”

“Fuck off! You think you asking me to lie to your entire family is better? Just so you won’t have to hear them complaining about you being single? You think that’s not worse?”

You saw the way his expression saddened when yours did, when the tinge of playfulness left your features. His voice was softer when he spoke again.

“Why is it so unbearable anyway, huh? You’ve forgotten how my mother can be? I’ve got that refrain sang to me all the time too. It’s not so bad.”

You bit on your lip and lowered your gaze before answering, holding back tears that came blurring your vision of Andrew’s soft carpet.

“Craig and Sam will be there. Together.”

You didn’t need to look up at him to know he was clenching his jaw.

“I don’t… I don’t want to have to face that on my own. I’m not sure I can…”

You barely had time to brush a tear away that Andrew was holding you close, arms wrapped tightly around your frame. And you let him pull you even closer, until your ear was pressed against his heart, until he could drop a tender kiss to the top of your head. He heaved a sigh.

“Could you still come? As a friend?” you asked, voice trembling even if you didn’t want it to.

You hated being like this. Fragile. Crying. Not over the betrayal. You wanted to wave a perfect life at your ex so he would see all that he was missing, until he regretted everything. It was petty, but true. Instead, you would be the one sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a couple of weeks, trying not to throw up nor cry while you witnessed your ex and your cousin playing perfect couple…

Andrew heaved a painful sigh.

“I’ll come.”

“Thank you.”

“No, I mean… I’ll do it. The whole crazy plan. I’ll do it. I’ll be your boyfriend for the day.”

You pulled away just enough to look up at him. There were traces of annoyance in his gaze, but a lot of tenderness too as his eyes met yours, hazel irises turning greener in the quiet light of a late afternoon.

“Really?” you asked, voice shy even though you craved for confidence.

“Really. But you’d better make sure that your mother still loves me when you break it to her that we’re not together anymore! I’m not giving up on her amazing lasagnas, not even for you.”

“I have the recipe, you know?”

“Your mother’s taste better.”

“Fucker!”

“Don’t insult me, or I’ll take everything back and let you deal with this bunch of assholes on your own!”

“Sorry!” you quipped, hiding your face into his chest again, and you heard him mumbling some complaints, playing grumpy, but you knew better.

You were smiling as you listened to his low voice lulling you back into a soothed state. You wondered how he did that. How a mere hug and some whispering were all it took to calm you down, to make you feel safe all over again, when you were so damn insecure all the time.

You lost track of your own thoughts when his large hand came to rest on the back of your head, keeping you close.

And you were glad that you could explain a lack of PDA in front of your family, because there was no way for you to survive a whole day with the man you secretly loved holding you like that…

“Do you hate me? For being selfish and dragging you into this?” you asked him, voice muffled by his woollen jumper.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

“Even if I called you to get rid of a body with me?”

“Erm… As long as I’m not the one cutting it into pieces.”

You both let out a chuckle.

“I’ll make sure to stain your carpet with the blood of my victims.”

“Now, that would make me hate you, for sure.”

“I knew you’d choose your carpet over me.”

“Yeah, but what a carpet it is!”

“It doesn’t make you lasagna though…”

“I only like your mam’s.”

You smiled, but remained quiet. You were serious again when your voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled over your two entwined frames.

“Seriously, though… I’m sorry I’m asking you this. I just… I just don’t see what else I can do. I don’t think I can stomach seeing the two of them as a happy couple while I’m still… desperately single. A real loser…”

“Stop talking about yourself like that,” he admonished, voice genuinely annoyed. “I hate it when you do that. You’re… you’re amazing, Y/N. More than you realise. And Craig and Samantha are terrible people. So… stop blaming it all on yourself. They can rot in hell.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in heaven and hell.”

“You know what I mean.”

A pause while you smiled, wool tickling your cheek.

“Thank you.”

He rubbed your back, gesture soft, taking his time.

“Don’t mention it.”

“You owe me so much…”

“I thought you said ‘don’t mention it!’”

“Don’t mention it, my arse…”

You laughed at him, you couldn’t help it. As Andrew and you walked together down the lane leading to your parents’ house, you couldn’t refrain your laughter. Andrew looked nervous… like the day he had met your parents for the first time, years ago.

“Stop acting like they don’t know you. My family adores you.”

“That’s until they learn I’m lying through my teeth.”

“You’re an infamous liar, anyway.”

“Hey!”

He faked outrage, making you laugh even more, and this time, he couldn’t refrain his own smile.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this…”

“Me neither. You must have lost your mind, too.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it, and sealed his lips again. There was something almost sad on his features for a second, and you wanted to ask if he was alright, but you were already in front of the green door.

“You ready?” he asked instead, an encouraging smile adorning his handsome features now, the cold of December making his cheeks and nose redden.

And you had to struggle through missing heartbeats to nod your head. He looked lovely like this, hair in a half-bun, some curls still free, hair tied only to keep the strands away from his face. He was wearing the grey beanie you adored, chin buried in a huge matching scarf…

“We’ll be fine,” he reassured you, all traces of playfulness or annoyance gone from his warm voice.

“Let’s make Craig so jealous he’ll choke over some pudding.”

You both chuckled, and Andrew nodded, lovely crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes as he kept on smiling.

“Sounds like a plan.”

You took a deep breath before knocking.

There was no turning back.

You glimpsed at Andrew one more time as you waited for your mother to come and open the door, and you thought it truly was the worst idea you had ever had, to ask Andrew to do this… Andrew, of all people. If he was the only choice, he also was the worst one. You simply hoped you wouldn’t have to fake too much… because your heart sped up at the mere thought of holding his hand…

What an idiot you were, getting yourself into so much trouble… at what point had you imagined it was a good idea to ask the man you secretly loved to be your fake boyfriend?!

Your thoughts were interrupted though, as your mother finally appeared. You grinned at her as she hurried to give you a hug.

Andrew had barely closed the door behind him that he was receiving a warm hug as well.

“Ha! Andy!” your mother welcomed him, making him laugh. “It’s so good to see you, it’s been too long.”

“It has indeed…”

“And finally! You two came to your senses!”

You frowned, but didn’t have time to ask your mother what she meant. Instead, you were pulled into the whirlwind that was your family.

Andrew remained close to you, and you were not surprised. There were plenty of people gathered in the large living room, several generations together in the warmth of your childhood home, and Andrew wasn’t too good with dealing with so many people. When you turned to him to offer him a gentle smile, one he immediately offered as well, he seemed a little uncomfortable, hands in his pockets as if he didn’t know what to make of his long limbs, head slightly bent, as to appear less tall than he truly was, a desperate attempt at hiding. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, such a stark contrast with the confident musician he was each time he stepped on a stage.

You introduced him to the members of your family he didn’t know (including your terrible uncle, who didn’t fail to be rude, hence living up to his reputation). And everything was going fine, except perhaps for the uncontrollable burst that sparked through your heart and chest every time you called Andrew your boyfriend. You pushed to the side the longing that washed over you at the thought that you wished the word could be true…

But it wasn’t the right time for such consideration. After years spent as Andrew’s friend while harbouring feelings for him, you had grown amazingly talented at hiding the love that coursed through each of your cells every time you saw him, or heard him, or thought of him…

But that was not the right time for such thoughts. Indeed, a new couple was just entering the room…

… and suddenly everyone was quiet.

Samantha and Craig seemed to not notice the sudden silence, or else they were simply very good at hiding it. You couldn’t control your expression as you winced, turning towards the window.

But you were surprised by Andrew’s touch, as he reached for your hand. Fingers shy at first, barely the ghost of a caress across your knuckles. When you leaned closer, fingers searching for his too, he intertwined them together, and as you turned to him, he gave you the warmest smile. A silent gesture to tell you it would be okay.

You were even more surprised when he pulled you closer, a gentle tug at your joined hands. You had discussed, before coming to your parents’ house, the boundaries you needed to respect for today. Holding hands was okay. Touching arms, hair or a waist was okay. You had not discussed kissing, but you reckoned that it was a clear no. An arm around the other’s shoulders or back was good too.

But now, Andrew was pulling you gently closer until you were settled against his chest, and he bent to softly kiss your hair, lips lingering on the top of your head for several seconds. The gesture was so tender, you had to close your eyes…

And then his lips were gone, leaving behind the quiet sound of a kiss and their warmth. When you opened your eyes again and looked up at him, Andrew was blushing, but he was smiling too. And there was something in the way he was looking at you…

“Y/N! How good to see you!”

You turned towards Samantha, hence interrupting your train of thoughts, perhaps for the better.

You forced a polite smile, but didn’t go as far as to completely hide that you weren’t happy to see her.

“Sam! How are you?”

“Good! I’m good! What about you?”

She only then seemed to notice Andrew’s presence by your side, an impressive performance, given his height and the fact that you were still leaning into his chest…

“Oh, hi! Hmmm… Andrew, is it? I remember you! You’re Y/N’s friend!”

“Boyfriend now, actually,” you corrected her, and you were amused by the look of surprise on her face.

“Oh! Congratulations! Good for you!”

Around the room, conversations had started again, filling up space once more and giving you at least some privacy… although you knew it to be but a relative truth. Your relatives who stood closer to you were probably listening closely, unwilling to lose any crumb of the conversation and drama that might ensue.

Behind Samantha, Craig finally greeted you, more uncomfortable than his girlfriend was. He grew even more uncomfortable when he offered his open hand to Andrew.

“Good to see you again, Andy.”

You hated that Andrew had to let go of your hand to shake Craig’s, but his fingers found yours again as soon as the greeting was over. It was rare to see Andrew with a clearly forced smile on his face, he was generally better at hiding his discomfort, a habit of always being polite.

“Craig,” followed by a nod was the only greeting Andrew gave your ex, and you recognised protectiveness in the way he moved slightly closer to you, placing himself between you and Craig.

And you felt a little guilty for the sense of pride that you got from that gesture, knowing you shouldn’t be reading anything even remotely romantic into it… but then again, you were but human. And humans always liked dreaming…

“How are you two doing?” Craig asked, and you nodded.

“Good, we’re both doing good. You?”

“Oh, we’re great! We’re planning on going for a trip for our anniversary, don’t we, dear?” Samantha went on, turning to her boyfriend, who merely nodded… rightly uncomfortable.

“Amazing!” you managed to get out between gritted teeth.

“And for how long have you two been together, then?” Craig asked, changing the subject quickly.

“A couple of months,” you answered, a detail you and Andrew had agreed on.

“So, it’s still the honeymoon phase, then,” Sam nodded knowingly, although you weren’t sure what kind of knowledge that was…

“It’s pretty new,” you nodded.

“How lovely! But… I thought the two of you were friends,” she went on, acting confused.

“We were,” you confirmed, and when you struggled to continue, it was Andrew’s turn to step in.

“And now we’re more than that.”

The two of you exchanged a smile, and again, you noticed the way he was blushing.

Craig nodded his head, and you saw how he was frowning, the kind of expression he wore when he was upset over something.

“It’s funny that you were friends for so long and then all of a sudden… you decide to be more,” he spoke with a tinge of venom in a tone he tried to turn honeyed.

You looked for an excuse, but Andrew was the one to answer again. And you were taken aback by his words… and even more so by how earnest they sounded, although… although he could only be lying.

“We… we’ve spent a long time tiptoeing around that line. I think… we’ve had feelings for a while for each other. I guess we were simply afraid to lose everything we already had if we gave this a try.”

“And what decided you to give this a try, then?”

“I don’t know. Some courage, I guess.”

“Or an opportunity,” Craig proposed, making you frown. There was an insinuation behind his tone, and you didn’t quite know what to do of it.

Andrew seemed to understand better, judging by the way he clenched his jaw, slightly tightened his hold on your hand. He remained quiet though, refusing to rise to Craig’s challenge.

“These things can take time, you know?” you added, trying to pull the conversation away from the glares Andrew and Craig seemed keen to throw each other, a silent battle of thunder and storms. “Where are you planning that trip of yours?”

It was too easy to centre the conversation back onto Samantha, nothing surpriseing, though, considering her character…

Lucky for you, you were soon called by your mother to help in the kitchen.

Or actually, it was but a limited reprieve you were granted. It took your mother only a couple of minutes to bombard you with questions, while she made you cut some carrots, sunlight streaming on your hands from the window set above the sink as you worked. It enlightened the orange stains that slowly grew across your fingers while you dodged your mother’s queries, struggling to remain calm while lying. You thought you would be better at it, but as you peeled the vegetables, their forms made slippery in your hands, you were losing your footing, feeling increasingly guilty as the lies passed your lips again and again.

A first date in a quiet restaurant.

A piece of carrot thrown in the sink.

A first kiss in front of your door, as a tender goodbye, one that lingered in reluctance to part.

A blade slipping too fast.

No, you were not planning ahead for now, just taking things as they went, as they formed.

No, there was no words of love yet, don’t be ridiculous! It’s only the beginning…

“The beginning!” Your mother scoffed, throwing a potato in the sink, alongside your colourful pieces. “The man has been looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars for years! You’ve been stealing glances for so long… I don’t even remember when it started! It’s not the beginning, dear. The two of you have been in love for years. It is only a logical continuation.”

She frowned as she looked at you, finally lifting her gaze from the brown pile of peels.

“You’re okay?”

You were startled by her question.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I don’t know… you seem… almost sad.”

You couldn’t hold her stare, and you fought every bit of instinct in you to avoid recoiling from her touch as your mother, in a sweet gesture, rested her hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry yourself over Craig and Samantha. And before you ask, I wasn’t the one who invited them.”

You nodded, as if you were reassured, as if she was right about the cause of your worry, had aimed straight at the knot of your problems.

She hadn’t. And you were perplexed as you realized this too. Because you had thought that seeing your ex and your cousin together would be unbearable, and it was, indeed, a painful sight. But it was hurting your pride more than your heart, a sting at your ego rather than a tear at your soul.

Instead, the images you summoned in a fake reality with Andrew were the ones destroying you. Because these details, these anecdotes, these stories you made up for your mother were ones you genuinely longed for.

A quiet date in a restaurant you loved. A kiss bathed in streetlights. Hands holding that didn’t want to let go…

This was a terrible idea. A terrible… terrible idea…

“Andrew! Come here, lad! Give us a hand with these, would you?”

You felt his presence by your side before his hand appeared in your vision, reaching for a vegetable, getting to work without any protest or arguing. He would lose anyway, against your mother, and he knew it.

You chatted together for a while, conversation smooth and easy, as always with him around. You almost forgot that all of this was fake when Andrew leaned closer, as if he longed for your nearness. You reached for him before you could think, leaning closer as well, until your arms touched as you worked, the ghost of a touch that was enough to set your heart ablaze…

God… this was such a terrible, terrible idea…

You barely noticed your mother as she moved around the kitchen, until she reached for Andrew.

“I’m so happy for you,” she spoke in a smile. “After all this time… I’m glad the two of you have finally worked out all the things that kept you apart.”

She disappeared before you could speak to her, ask her what she meant. When you turned to Andrew though, he was blinking tears away.

“Andy? You’re alright? What’s wrong?” You asked with sudden worry in your voice, but your friend shook his head.

“Nothing. I’m fine. Just… Erm…”

But he grew quiet, shrugged. You tried to guess, but were pretty sure to miss the mark when he reassured you again.

“Is my mother bothering you?”

“No! Of course, not. It’s weird lying to her, that’s all.”

There was something more to it, but Andrew interrupted you before you could question him further.

“Besides… we have another problem. A more important one. That’s why I was looking for you.”

“What is it?”

“Craig doesn’t believe us.”

“What?”

“He pulled me aside and told me he knew we were faking it. That he was going to tell everyone.”

“The son of a bitch!”

“My thoughts, precisely.”

“What did you answer?”

Andrew shrugged.

“That he was being ridiculous.”

“And?”

“That he was merely being jealous over the fact that he had let a woman like you slip between his fingers like a moron.”

You tried to hide the grin that formed on your lips at his praise.

“Nice… going all in on the ‘make him jealous’ wagon, I see…”

He took a moment to answer, voice less confident than his usual tone when he spoke once more.

“Just the truth…”

You ignored his remark, and you didn’t get why the same tinge of sadness made his hazel eyes greener again, the same way they had earlier that day…

“What can we do to convince him?” you asked, eliciting little more than a shrug from your friend.

You heaved a sigh, your carrots now all cut in the sink. Game over…

“Let’s see how all this unfolds,” was your only solution for now.

“And if he tells your family?”

“We’ll see, Andy. We’ll see.”

The meal was over. The gifts had been given, the kisses and thankful glances had been exchanged. It was time to settle in with some board games, for those willing, while others nibbled on some pastries and chatted in sofas and armchairs. The last remnants of cakes lingered in porcelain plates while coffee, tea and hot chocolate were being served. You laughed when Andrew picked up your warm beverage before you had a chance.

“Are you drinking my cocoa?”

“I’m trying it out. Just to be sure. In case of poison or something like that.”

You both laughed as he took another sip, humming in delight.

“You could have asked for a hot chocolate instead of tea!” you admonished, but didn’t try to take the cup from him, too happy to see him smiling to even think about it.

God, he could steal the entire beverage, as long as he kept on smiling like that… happy, and soft, and welcoming, calling for a smile of your own to answer his…

“Tastes better when it’s yours,” he laughed, all mischief and cheekiness while he looked at you and drank a third sip, a tiny one, just to get on your nerves.

The charm was broken though when one of the children running around bumped into him and made Andrew spill a little bit of chocolate across his chin. You burst into laughter.

“Well, that was… hot,” you teased while Andrew tried to hide his mouth and chin with his hand, looking around for a napkin of some kind. “Literally, I mean. It must be hot. Graciously so.”

“I hate you,” he glowered without any animosity in his gaze, making you laugh harder as you finally handed him one of the paper towels set on the coffee table.

On the other side of the room, people were playing a board game, but you felt better like this. Just you and Andrew chatting around a cocoa, or what was left of it. No one was truly paying attention to you, or so you had thought… among the five people who were casually chatting in small groups around the coffee table, it was easy to notice that all around the room, if gazes were directed towards your small group, it was to stare at Andrew and you.

Was Andrew aware of that scrutiny? Of the gazes fixed upon you?

“You’re okay?” he asked, frowning slightly, and you wished you could ease the crease between his brow with a brush of your thumb.

“Sure. I’m fine. Just… I think people are kind of watching us,” you added in a whisper no one could eavesdrop, leaning closer to him in the process.

He hummed, slowly nodding.

“Yeah, I think we’re kind of… the new thing.”

You bit your lip before making your next request, and you were surprised to notice that his eyes lingered on your mouth until you spoke.

“Is that okay if we act like…?” you left your question suspended in mid-air.

He nodded again, in silence, and there it was again, the flash of pain turning the hazel into full green…

You noticed the sharp intake of breath he took before finally speaking, the way his eyes narrowed just a little, for a second, while he hesitated… but then the words were out all the same, making his pale cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

“Can I… tug that strand of hair behind your ear?”

You struggled to swallow and nodded, it was your time to be silent, you couldn’t trust your voice.

He was leaning closer when he lifted his arm towards you, shifting to be facing you, both of you sitting on a sofa that was too comfortable and too familiar for you to feel this tensed, almost frightened.

“You’re sure that’s alright?” Andrew asked again, and this time you let out a faint yes along with your nod.

Frightened wasn’t the right word though. You weren’t scared at all, in fact, you felt absolutely safe with Andrew sitting so close to you, your bodies almost touching, but not quite, just far enough to leave you longing to close these gaps. Slowly, his hand was lifted, all the way up to your face, pushing back a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He was staring at you, something that went beyond softness, beyond the usual tenderness his gaze adorned when it fell on you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, guess what it meant. But then again, his thumb was brushing your cheek, and the ghostly touch made you too dizzy, anyway.

He leaned closer, unbearably closer, until his lips were next to your ear, his fingers moving to hold your face in place, palm cradling your jaw.

“Can I… Can I kiss your cheek?”

You were certain that your heart could not take more of this, of his intoxicating cologne, of the warmth of his skin across yours, of the delicate breath fanning across your ear…

You reached up for something, anything to hold onto, and your fingers met his woollen jumper, attached themselves to it as if holding a safe line.

“Yes, you can,” you answered despite your shaking voice and the fact that you had no air left in your lungs whatsoever.

Your rational brain wanted to remind you that this was not real, that it was all for show… but the world had vanished the second he had leaned closer. No… no, before that. When he had stared at you in this gentle way, when his hand had risen towards your face. You couldn’t even remember that you were at your parents’, in fact, you couldn’t remember your own name. Your entire world was being rewritten because this man was holding you close, a palm cradling your jaw while the other found its way to your waist; because he was moving slowly away, only to come back closer than ever, lips resting on your cheek. You closed your eyes the second his lips found your skin, their warmth coursing through your entire frame it seemed, his beard slightly tickling you, just enough to make it all the more endearing. He lingered there for what anyone would consider too long, but when you thought he was about to pull away, his lips merely hovered above your cheek, close enough for you to feel their warmth still, and the hurried breaths he exhaled. And then he was kissing your cheekbone again, and again, and with each resting of his lips upon you, you tightened your hold on his jumper, your free hand coming to rest right against his heart, in the end…

You both jumped at the sharp sound of something falling, glass breaking. As you turned, you noticed that someone had dropped a glass of water to the floor. Nothing too bad, your father was already heading towards the kitchen to clean up the mess that was made. Craig didn’t have a drink.

Before you could analyse the situation in depth, though, Andrew was turning his attention back onto you, and you had no choice but to look at him again too. You remained perfectly still for a moment, hazel eyes meeting your gaze in an unreadable expression, his hands still on you…

And then you both realised how close you were, how easy it would be to just lean a little further and to close the gap between your lips…

And you pulled away in a jolt, startled by your nearness, like two teenagers caught red-handed by an adult.

Andrew cleared his throat, rubbing his palms on his dark jeans, shifting like he didn’t know what to do with his own body all over again.

“I should… help clean the mess…” you mumbled, stuttering slightly, while Andrew was nodding and humming, averting his gaze.

You did just that, hurrying towards the table and picking up pieces of broken glass while your brain remained stuck on the feeling of Andrew’s beard on your skin, the softness of his lips, the way he held you closer…

Your heart was still pounding, your breath catching in your throat every now and then; in fact, every time you thought about his fingers slipping to your hair…

“Let’s throw all these away, darling,” your mother told you, nodding towards the shards in your palm.

You stood straighter without a word, headed for the kitchen…

… to fall face to face with Craig.

Wonderful…

“Sorry about the glass,” he said, breathless for some reason.

“Oh, you’re the one who broke it? Don’t worry about it, my parents have plenty of those. As long as you didn’t cut yourself…”

“I did, actually.”

You took a closer look, and indeed, he was pouring cold water onto a cut across his thumb. Nothing worth worrying about, but it would be quite painful and bothersome for a few days, still. The cut was long and clean, if not too deep.

You had walked closer to inspect the wound, and you didn’t notice the way he stared at you.

“It’s not too bad, but it must hurt.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just waiting for it to stop bleeding.”

“You should press something on it, then.”

You handed him a napkin, which he rolled around his finger as he thanked you. You finally noticed that you were alone in the kitchen, that everybody else was still in the living room either chatting or cleaning up the mess Craig had made.

“Actually, I… I wanted to talk to you, just us…”

You silently encouraged him to continue, but you were taken aback at the passion and hurt in his eyes when your two gazes locked together.

“I… Is it serious? With Andrew, I mean?”

“Yeah… yes! Of course, it’s serious. Why?”

He shrugged, but you saw the way he clenched his jaw.

“It’s just… you’ve been friends for years… why now?”

You shrugged, feeling uncomfortable now… and you blamed it on a lie, but you knew it was because of the longing that was stuck in your heart, and had been dormant there for too long for you to count.

“I don’t know… the timing was always wrong. He wasn’t single, I wasn’t single, he was touring, I was busy… we kind of… were never on the same page, you know? We… our lives never managed to align.”

Slowly, Craig nodded.

“But this time, your lives are aligning?”

“Yeah! I mean… we’re both single, both staying in Ireland for more than a couple of weeks… we… we both want the same things.”

“And what is that?”

“What’s what?”

“That ‘thing’. Whatever it is that you want, what is it?”

You struggled to swallow, looking for a lie, an answer, anything to say. And a weight fell on your chest as the earnest answer flashed before you, taking the shape of two hazel eyes, unruly curls, soft-spoken words and an infectious laugh…

You thought you wanted some revenge. To make Craig jealous, for him to regret leaving you… but the truth was, you had wanted another man all along. And you still couldn’t have him. It was only a game of pretence.

What a terrible idea, this whole fake-relationship scheme…

Craig took a step closer to you, bringing your bodies so close, as you looked up at him, he was but a breath away.

“What do you want? Why are you with him? Of all people, why Andrew, and why now? Do you want to know what I think about all this?”

You frowned at his tone, crossing your arms before your chest, a glare starting to cover your features.

“Oh, enlighten me!” you replied with challenge in your voice.

But Craig didn’t back down. He only leant closer.

“I think you’re trying to make me jealous. I think you’re not over us. I think that deep down, you still want me. And you turned to your best friend as a rebound. But you’ll be tired of him in a couple of months.”

You shook your head, but your ex still went on.

“Look, I know that what I did was horrible, okay? I… Samantha was a mistake… but we could still have this. You and I, we… we were great together.”

You scoffed, taking a step back, shaking your head some more in amazement. The guy had balls, you had to give him that, at least.

“A mistake you’re about to celebrate your first anniversary with…” you replied, tone acidic and bearing no regrets for it.

“Y/N…”

“No! I don’t know what you’re trying to do right now, but you’re wrong, that’s for sure. I… you cheated on me! With my cousin! How could you possibly imagine that I would want to give you another chance?!”

He heaved a sigh, and you thought he would give in, but he didn’t, on the contrary. This was only the first round.

“So what? You’re bringing Andrew here and playing perfect couple just to get under my skin? To make me pay? To show me what I’ve lost?”

You looked for something to say, but couldn’t deny the plain truth.

“Because I already know what I’ve lost, okay?” Craig went on, tears shining in his eyes. “I know that. I don’t need you to pretend to be in love with someone else to see that.”

You let out a shaky breath. You could have walked away, but it felt good to let the truth out. A day spent telling nothing but lies, it was a relief to reveal the truth, even if it was but a fragment.

“You’re wrong. I love Andrew. In fact… I’ve loved him for years.”

He frowned at that, but you went on, a tear escaping your eyes that you didn’t even notice flowing down your cheek. You had been lying to yourself for a long time, pretending that all this made sense, that it was alright, that you were happy and content as Andrew’s friend. In truth, you were anything but happy, anything but content. And today, pretending to be his, pretending that he was yours… it only showed you more clearly that this was what you wanted. What you had always wanted. What you couldn’t have, perhaps, but what you needed.

It was a confession spoken to Craig, but made for you.

“I’ve been in love with Andrew for years. I’ve had relationships because… I wanted to forget him. Thought I could. Thought it was nothing but an infatuation, then nothing but a crush, and then nothing but a meaningless unrequited love that I would get over quickly. But the truth is, you were the band-aid, Craig. And he’s the one I’ve always wanted. And you know what? You’re right. Coming here with Andy today I… I wanted to come with him because I didn’t want to have to face you and Samantha on my own. Didn’t want to have to bear everybody’s stares and pity thinking I was the poor victim of a tragedy… And I wanted you to see that I was fine without you. That I deserved better than the way you treated me. That I… That I was worth keeping, and loving. But I… at the end of the day, if this afternoon has shown me anything, it’s that I don’t need you. I don’t want you. And I don’t give two fucks about you and Samantha. So… let’s be cordial, as we must, as you’re still part of the family for as long as you’ll be dating my cousin, but… I’m over you, Craig. I’m over all of this. And if there is one thing I want in this world, it’s Andy.”

Before Craig could say anything, before you could even process his reaction, you were storming out of the room. Or at least, you tried to. Because you had taken but a couple of steps towards the door, when Craig held you back, holding onto your wrist.

“Really? Is that how you feel?” he asked, clearly hurt, but also unmistakably angry. “I don’t believe you.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you. You and Andy? I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. You’re faking it. You’re lying now and for what? To hurt me?”

You didn’t say anything, instead, you merely broke free. Walked out of the kitchen, angry and annoyed and not thinking straight but with a decision taken anyway…

“Andy?”

When you looked around, he wasn’t on the sofa anymore.

“Yes?”

You turned around again. He was right there, by the table, wet napkins in hand, as he had clearly been helping cleaning up the mess your ex had made, standing not too far from the door to the kitchen, your mother by his side while everyone was turning towards you.

He frowned slightly as you hurried towards him, making a bee line to reach him, not caring that everyone was staring at the two of you. Instead, you didn’t think, forgot about the world, focused your attention on Andrew and his unruly curls and the confusion in his hazel eyes, and the way his lips slightly parted as you approached. And then, you took his face in your hands, pulled him down and rose to your tiptoes to meet him halfway, and you kissed him.

You crashed your lips against his, nothing graceful in the gesture, but desperation pouring from every inch of you. You were taken aback though, by the quiet huff he let out, your brain finally kicking in again, and thinking that this was crazy, a terrible idea, and more than anything else, highly inappropriate…

… but Andrew quickly recovered from the initial shock, and before you could pull away and profusely apologise, he had dropped the napkins that hit the floor in a thud, and his arms were wrapping around your frame, pulling you to him. You felt his eyelashes brushing your skin as he closed his eyes, leaning into your kiss, moving his lips over yours to compliment your own movements. And if he was more graceful about it, softer than your rushed gesture, he poured such passion into the kiss that your knees grew weak, and you rested your weight on him, leaning into his chest.

It was over too soon, though, interrupted by the sound of someone – probably one of your parents, or your pain of an uncle – clearing their throat. Andrew was the one pulling away, clearing his throat as well as he took a step back, although one of his hands remained at your waist.

He was blushing when you opened your eyes. And you suddenly wanted to leave. To just go and disappear and pretend like you had not broken the best friendship you had ever had and that the man you loved would not hate you from now on for kissing him like that and that you had not humiliated yourself in front of your entire family…

But as you were about to speak, Craig was hissing from somewhere behind Andrew, making him turn around. Before his attention was pulled away from you, you noted the way Andrew was looking at you. Intensely, a little stunned too, like he wasn’t sure that it had happened, that you had truly kissed him, and yet, like he was searching for answers in your eyes…

But then he turned to face Craig. He had barely turned towards him, though, that your ex was grabbing Andrew by the collar, and pushing him against the nearest wall, Andrew’s hand leaving its resting spot on your hip in the process.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Craig shouted, the whole room too stunned to react while Andrew’s back collided with the wall, a hollow sound ensuing and making a couple of framed pictures shake with the strength of the impact.

“Get off me!” Andrew merely replied through his teeth, struggling to break free, but fighting had never been his strong suit…

“You fucking BASTARD!”

“Craig!”

The first people were finally reacting, hurrying to pull your ex away, but he kept them at bay, trying to keep on pushing Andrew against the wall.

“You were just waiting for your turn, you son of bitch! Dickhead! You were just waiting to get a chance to fuck that bitch!”

Andrew’s expression hardened, and this time, when he reached for Craig, it wasn’t to pull at his hands, but to grab the collar of your ex’s shirt and violently pull as well.

“Don’t you fucking dare insult her like that!” he growled, with such anger and threat, a tone you had never heard on his voice before.

“Both of you, stop!” your father ordered.

“Stop this! What are you doing?” you added, tugging at both their arms, but none of them seemed to care.

Instead, Craig went on, pushing on all of Andrew’s buttons…

“I can’t believe she did run straight into your bed like a whore…”

Before anyone could react, Andrew was pushing Craig away with so much force that he stumbled backwards and fell down.

For a second time, the whole room was too stunned to react, while Craig staggered back to his feet. Andrew moved away from the wall, and as your ex stood straighter again he was glaring at him, jaw tightly clenched. You had never seen so much wrath on his features before.

But it wasn’t over. Craig threw Andrew only one look before he was bending over and running to him, tackling him and making him fall back easily. You gasped at the loud sound of Andy’s head hitting the tiles.

Too stunned to move, Andrew didn’t even try to avoid Craig’s punch, and he got hit straight across the jaw. Thankfully, hands were then pulling Craig off of Andrew. You didn’t care though. You didn’t pay attention to your father and one of your aunts pushing Craig into the kitchen while shouting at him. You didn’t notice your cousin hurrying to join him, clearly worried. All you could do was to fall on your knees by Andrew’s side, holding onto his shoulders and gently shaking him while he blinked, clearly disoriented.

“Andy! Andy, you’re okay? Can you hear me?” you asked in a rush.

His unfocused gaze finally found you, and he blinked some more. You thought he was about to faint.

“Andy! Stay with me! Are you alright?”

Your hands moved from his shoulders to his cheeks. He took hold on your right wrist, touch firm and yet gentle still.

“Y/N…”

“You’re okay? Andy?”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re sure? How’s your head? Do you feel dizzy?”

“A little bit. I’m okay though.”

“Really?”

Slowly, he nodded. Your mother appeared by your side, asked Andrew how he felt as well. His answer was to slowly sit up. He looked exhausted, all of a sudden, paler than usual, but there was no cut across the back of his head, merely the beginning of a bump.

“I’m fine,” he repeated.

You helped him to his feet, your mother checking that he was unharmed too.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologised, but your mother was quick to dismiss it all with a wave of her hand.

“It’s not your fault, dear. Let’s seat you down on the sofa for a moment.”

“No, I’m… I’m fine.”

Samantha walked out of the kitchen, crying, and you wondered why. Or actually, you didn’t. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to stay for a minute longer in the same room as either her or Craig.

“Actually, I think we should go,” you interjected, and Andrew nodded.

“No, please… Craig is going to be kicked out, don’t worry about him,” your mother argued.

“No, really, I… I want to go home. Please, I want to go home.”

You were on the verge of tears, and so you turned towards the hallway, followed by your mother’s protests, along with some of your other relatives’ kind words. But you wanted to run now, disappear and leave all of them behind. You were tired of being looked at… you needed to be on your own for a while.

Meanwhile, Andrew was remaining silent. He only spoke to apologise once again to your family, clearly ashamed. You left before Craig could be let out of the kitchen, and were close to running to your car.

You climbed in, Andrew following suit in the passenger seat. You drove on, heading for home. You should have taken Andrew to his house, but you didn’t even think about it. The thought never came. You simply headed home, and Andrew didn’t protest, even though he obviously recognized the road you were taking.

Only when you arrived before your building did you realise that Andrew was still here, the ride had been filled with nothing but silence.

“You should come in, I’ll take a look at your jaw.”

Indeed, a bruise was forming under his beard, colouring the sharp angle of his face with yellowish hues.

“It’s nothing. Nothing broken.”

“Please, come in. Please…”

You stared at each other for a moment, but he yielded, nodding, at long last. You waited for him to climb out of your small car, and he held on the door before closing it, wincing as he unfolded his tall frame.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just… a little dizzy, that’s all.”

“You need to go to the hospital?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it was just a punch.”

“And a hit on the head.”

“Thick skull. Don’t you know that already?”

You both chuckled, while Andrew followed you inside your home.

You rid yourself of your shoes and coat, aiming straight for the freezer to get a bag of frozen vegetables there. Andrew was by your side, leaning against the kitchen counter. He didn’t protest when you gently rested the cold bag against his jaw, merely winced at the sharp sensation.

“Thanks,” he breathed, staring right into your eyes.

But you didn’t acknowledge his words. Instead, your world got blurred by tears.

“You… are you angry?”

But Andrew shook his head.

“No. No, I’m not angry.”

“You should be.”

“Probably.”

“You… you had to lie all day long because of me, and then I kissed you without your permission and you probably hated that, and then you punched Craig, and you got punched in the face… all because of me. I’m a lousy friend.”

“The worst,” he corrected you, but there was a tender smile on his lips.

“You should be angry.”

“I’m not.”

“You should hate me.”

“I don’t. And I…”

A pause. He seemed out of breath for a second, wetted his lips, before he went on.

“I liked it, by the way.”

“What?”

“Your kiss. I… I didn’t hate it. I liked it. A lot.”

Your eyes merely grew round, and Andrew looked away, averting his eyes. He heaved a painful sigh.

“I told you this would be a terrible idea,” he pointed out.

“I know.”

“And you didn’t listen.”

“I know.”

“And now… what are we going to do now?”

You had no answer to give, you were plagued by this same question yourself.

A moment of silence, suspended in mid-air. Outside, the quiet of cars passing by and the wind flowing through branches and pushing clouds around. Inside, the cold of the bag making your fingers ache, a welcomed burn to distract your busy mind, while Andrew was taking a sharp inhale.

“I heard you, you know?”

His voice was quiet, low and deeper than usual. He blinked, focusing on you again, trapping you into these hazel orbs you adored.

“When you talked to Craig, in the kitchen. I heard you. I was right behind the door.”

“That’s creepy,” you tried to deflect the impact of that revelation with humour, speaking the silliest thing you could have uttered. It still made Andrew break, laughing despite his best effort not to.

“I was sent to put the napkins away. But then… I heard you. Didn’t interrupt. Wanted to know what you would say.”

He narrowed his eyes a little, the ghost of a frown forming a crease across his brow.

“Did you mean any of that? Or was that just… one more lie?”

The bag of vegetables slipped from the hold of your numb fingers and fell, but Andrew stopped you as you reached for it, holding your face in his hands to force you to look at him.

“Did you mean what you said? About me? About us?”

“What does it matter?”

He knitted his brows, tightening his hold on you. You noticed the way his breathing stuttered, grew shallower.

“What does it matter?” he repeated. “Are you serious?”

“You don’t feel that for me. So… what does it matter?”

He let out a shaky breath, almost a sigh.

“Why did you kiss me like that, though?” you asked, tears shining in your eyes but you were determined not to let them fall. Your tone was almost bitter as you questioned him. “On the couch. You kissed my cheek… God, that was so much more than what it should have been…”

He blinked, trying to read behind your words for their true meaning. He didn’t find it, reached in the dark and his hand closed on nothing.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I just… I didn’t mean to.”

“Why did you kiss me like that? That was so out of line…”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

“Why did you do that?”

Slowly, he shook his head. He looked almost stunned by your question.

“You really don’t know?”

He leaned back against the counter, and pulled you with him, until your faces were so close, you could feel his breath fanning over your lips.

“You really don’t know?” he asked again.

“I don’t know…”

“Did you mean it? When you said… when you said that you wanted me. Did you mean it?”

“I said a bit more than that…”

“I’m not foolish enough to hope for the rest to be true as well, I’ll settle for a ‘I vaguely like you’.”

It was your turn to chuckle even if you didn’t want to.

“If I answer earnestly, you’re going to hate me for wanting more and breaking our friendship.”

He shook his head, leaning closer, until his forehead rested upon yours. At long last, you reached up, holding on his forearms for support, and to make sure he wouldn’t go away…

You heard him wincing as he spoke, heard it in the way his voice was shaking. You had closed your eyes, and so had he.

“Let’s be honest with each other. Please… I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of denying the way I feel for you, or what I want when it comes to you, I’m tired… I’m tired of letting you slip away. So, please. Please be honest with me. I can’t keep on holding onto some mad hope. I can’t keep on pretending that I don’t… That I…”

He struggled to breathe for a moment, you tightened your hold on his arms but remained there, eyes closed, leaning against him.

“I kissed you like that because… because I wanted to. Because I let myself slip into yielding. Because I couldn’t help it. Because… because it hurt so fucking much to hold you like this, to be close to you in this way, to act the way I have longed for for years under some pretence, under a mask, as a lie… when it wasn’t a lie. When I… I wish it wasn’t a lie. I wish it could be for real.”

He sighed, long and painful and full of hurt, and you reached up to kiss him before he could say anything else.

If your first kiss at your parents’ house had been passionate and quite messy because of it, this one was slow, taking its time to learn each other’s taste and lips and mouth. You had no idea for how long you kissed, all you knew was that, while it lasted, there was nothing else in the world but Andrew kissing you; and that when it ended, you longed for it to start again.

“I meant it,” you whispered, bearing your soul in a confession that was so raw you couldn’t summon anything but a murmur, eyes still closed and lips barely parted from his. “What I told Craig, I meant it. I mean it. I want you… And this whole day has been torture for me too.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t either…”

“I almost said it a thousand times. Never had the courage.”

“Please… have it now, and kiss me again.”

He obliged, without protest or hesitation. You were lost in his embrace all over again, and rested your head against his chest when you eventually pulled away.

“So… what now?” you asked, voice muffled by his cardigan.

“We could go on a date.”

“I want to be wined and dined, just so you know,” you joked, making him chuckle.

“Duly noted. Anything else, for her ladyship?”

“I don’t know… I’m… I’m so fucking scared, to be honest.”

“Because everything is going to change?”

“Because it might not work out. Because… you might leave me, and I might give up and a thousand things can go wrong, and…”

But he softly shushed you, running his hand through your hair.

"Look, I… I’m not going to pretend that I’m not scared to bits by this. I feel like we have so much to lose. But I… I want you so badly. I want you so much, I’m ready to take the risk. We can take things slow, we don’t have to rush through this. I just… I feel like I'm truly myself when I'm with you. I want to be myself when I'm with you. So now, if you're scared, don't call it love yet. But whatever you want to call it, it's incredible, and I'm not going to give up on this. I'm not going to give up on us. I can promise you that, at least. That I’m ready to fight for this, for you.”

He was surprised by your chuckle.

“You’ve fought already. If you can call it a fight…”

“Yeah, exactly. I mean… he was about to seriously kick my arse but I did have a few seconds of manly glory there.”

You both laughed at that, the tension receding as a result.

“Perhaps, at the end of the day, that plan of mine wasn’t so bad,” you joked, making Andrew laugh harder, shaking his head.

“It was definitely a terrible idea. The worst idea you’ve ever had. Look at all the trouble it has caused!”

“Are you calling me trouble?”

“Of the worst kind.”

You were happy about this kind of trouble though, as Andrew was leaning down to kiss you once more, holding you close, unwilling to ever let go.

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