#I am now instantly regretting my decision

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu...dge

[nereidprinc3ss]

come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you. 

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better. 

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either. 

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.  

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.  

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring. 

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there. 

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?” 

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows. 

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?” 

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.” 

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside. 

“Nice, nice. What else?” 

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.” 

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening. 

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.” 

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself. 

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.” 

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.” 

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”  

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.” 

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice. 

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.” 

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better. 

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.” 

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry. 

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.” 

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless. 

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.” 

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart. 

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.” 

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again. 

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle. 

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life. 

“Then I’m on my way.” 

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.  

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime. 

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.  

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?” 

You shake your head and gasp a small sob. 

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders. 

His hand smooths over the back of your hair. 

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.  

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear. 

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.” 

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight. 

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?” 

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.” 

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.” 

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea. 

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave. 

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.  

At least, until he goes home. 

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up. 

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.  

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you. 

“That among other things.” 

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?” 

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does. 

“Okay.” 

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.  

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

His lips pull into a melancholy smile. 

“Anytime.” 

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.  

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close. 

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist. 

“I can’t do that, honey.” 

“Why not?” 

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently. 

“Because we’re not together anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is. 

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down. 

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.” 

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.” 

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke. 

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.” 

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again. 

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.” 

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales. 

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.” 

When he kisses you, it feels like home. 

[abbyromanoff]

Could you do: beefy!gp!Carol who gets jealous after seeing you flirt with one of the avengers?

UNFAIR

PAIRINGS: Carol Danvers x reader

WORD COUNT: 1,019

WARNINGS: smut, Carol has a dick, angst, break up sex, fluff, secret love, jealousy, captain!C, praise, smut, cumming on body, jerking off, no protection, pregnancy, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“That’s not fair, Y/N.” Carol proclaimed, and you had to bite your lip to prevent further disagreeance.

“You can’t just walk around and- and act like you’re all up for grabs, that’s not fair.” You clasped your hands together at her dejected face, and she plopped on the bed with a sigh.

“Carol, we’re not together anymore, I- I can talk to who I want without consequences.” She shook her head and placed it in her hands, her fingers digging at her scalp as red nearly exploded across her face. She was angry, you both knew that, but it wasn’t just anger and frustration that coursed through her veins; it was sadness, betrayal. She had no reason to feel this way, like you said, you weren’t even hers anymore. But she still felt a lingering pain deep in her chest, it felt worse than any bruise you’d tend to.

“But I still love you-“

“But you can’t, Carol. You can’t keep doing this to yourself, you deserve to move on and be happy.” There was a silence filling the room, and for a moment you thought she might’ve wanted you to leave. Which you began doing before you heard a mumbled whisper. You turned, asking for the repetition you needed.

“But I want to be happy with you. I am happy with you, why won’t you just accept that? Why won’t you accept me?” You gulped, your voice seeming to hide with it as you shook from a sigh.

“We weren’t good for each other.” She stood suddenly, and your hand was taken in hers for a soft peck.

“But you were good for me. You made me feel things I never felt before, and I want to be with you again. Please, I- I promise I’ll change! Whatever you need, I’ll do it all. I’ll do anything for you, dove.” Her pleading eyes had always been impossible to ignore, and the same continued even now. You couldn’t resist her, she was the love of your life, after all.

“Just one last time, okay? We’ll have sex, and in the morning I’ll be gone, deal?” She wanted you to stay, but she knew this was the best chance she’d have at seeing you again. If she said no, who knows if you’d ever come back.

“I’ll make it worth your while then, Y/N.”

“Fuck, I’m- I’m so close, baby.” The woman mumbled, and you had to stifle a moan that still found its way out of you.

“I know, Carol, I know, sweetheart.” Your fingers dug threw her hair, your nails scratching her scalp softly in a soothing manner. Her eyes fluttered shut as her free hand fell to your hardened nipple, the other landing on your cheek as she used her thumb to stroke the soft skin.

“Can I…can I kiss you?” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. But you nodded, and she instantly drew you in for a passionate, loving kiss. She noticed the goosebumps along your skin, and she drew back for only a moment, her lips lingering against yours as you begged internally for more.

“I know you’re cold, just hold onto me.” Your arms went around her back, your legs wrapping around her ass as tears threatened to escape you. You sighed in relief when her mouth met yours again, and her body heated up to the perfect temperature to keep you warm.

“Please, captain, I want you to cum in me.” She shook, and her thrusts were coming to a halt. But she kept up, determined to force your quickening arrival first. And the moment you hit your peak and eventually regained your breath, she immediately drew out, stroking her cock until reaching her peak. Her coil snapped, and her release painted your body. You looked up at her, confused as to why she dismissed your request.

“I don’t want you to make a decision you’ll regret. If you’re serious about..about leaving me, then I’m not going to get you pregnant and force you to handle something you can’t.” She seemed hurt at the thought, you always knew she wanted a kid, a family. She wanted that family with you, however, and you caught yourself daydreaming about the same possibility she offered you.

“You didn’t leave.” She noted, and you turned to face her with a grin, the towel covering your wet body. The shower had streaks of steam running down it, and she could tell by your looks that you had just finished taking one.

“No, I didn’t.” She sat up instantly, and you bit your lip at her exposed chest through the see-through tank top. Her nipples were hard under the cold aroma, and all you could imagine was wrapping your lips around them and hearing her groans of pleasure.

“Are you going to?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“…I know a good diner if you’re willing to stay long enough for breakfast.”

“Sure, I’d like that.” You never would’ve expected close to a year later that you would continue to lie next to her, your hands interlacing as her free one was set on her book. Her reading glasses were on the brink of her nose, and you looked out the window to admire the scenery.

“I still can’t believe you took me to space.” She chuckled, placing a kiss on the back of your palm as she followed your gaze.

“It’s pretty great isn’t it?” You hummed, receiving a wrap of arms around your body. Her book was now in front of you, and she read it quietly in your ear. You cuddled into her chest, poking her strong biceps that she teasingly flexed.

“Thank you for not giving up on me, Carol.” She paused, taking a moment to leave soft pecks on your neck.

“I could never give up on you; on us.” She rubbed her thumb over your swollen stomach, smiling softly as she spoke a greeting to the arriving young girl.

“The moment we land on Earth, nothing can stop me from meeting my little one.”

“As long as I have you two, I’ll be okay.”

[lovelytsunoda]

heatwave // mick schumacher

summary: sticky, sweaty days are no fun at all

pairing: mick schumacher x fiancée reader

prompts used: laying in bed all dayyy together with fans on & when one loves to cuddle and the other hates feeling sticky & "i know the weather is hot, but you're so much hotter, babe" ".... why did you have to be so cringe--

warnings: mentions of heatstroke, mentions of sex

authors note : I know I said I had no inspiration but I guess that was a bold faced lie because now I have some?

the ceiling fan spun in lazy circles, sheer curtains drawn shut and a small portable fan set on the nightstand. the two young lovers were drenched in sweat, despite not having left the bed (or gotten up to anything rated above a pg-13) all day.

the heatwave was a killer, and although they had been warned about the impending inclement weather to the dallas are, neither one had listened.

“ew, mick, your top is soaked through, take it off!”

“so is my skin!” he shot back with a laugh, shaking his head so that droplets of sweat flew off his soaked blond locks. “how’s that going to make any kind of difference?”

“it just will!” his fiancée whined from the bed, where she was lying on top of the sheets in nothing but panties and a grey robbed tank top. “I am literally dying here.”

laughing to himself, mick flopped down on the bed and reached for the tv remote, placing one warm hand on his lovers thigh. it felt like a branding iron on her skin, the simple sweaty contact becoming all too much.

“stop, stop! you’re too hot, I can’t take it!” the shout was followed by the rustling of pillows as she tried to find one that still had a cool side, pressing it over her face in an attempt to cool down

still laughing, mick sunk down on the bed next to her, nimble fingers raking his sweaty hairs away from his eyes as he joined his lover in staring at the ministrations of the ceiling fan.

“you know, this weather is hot, but you’re so much hotter, babe.” mick mused drowsily, turning to face yn.

the woman he loved. the one he was going to marry. there were only a few months now until the wedding, only a few things left to do.

if they could survive this heatwave, that is.

“mick,” she started, pausing for a second as she pulled the pillow away from her face, ready to hit him with it. “what do you have to be so cringe?”

“because you looove me.” mick laughed, leaning over her sweaty body to press kisses all over her face

“mick, you dog!” she shouted in between giggles, fighting the urge to curl her body around his, especially knowing how hot and sweaty she would become if she allowed herself to sink into his loving embrace.

she shoved mick to the side, using the last of her energy to sit up in bed, the gurgle of her stomach echoing throughout the room.

“uber eats?”

“uber eats. and nothing too heavy, the heat will kill my appetite pretty fast.”

moving to the edge of the bed, yn got up and slowly stretched out her sore limbs. she didn’t deal with heat well after having gotten heatstroke watching mick race in singapore a few years prior, hence why she had barely left her bed all day, allowing mick to do yard work and cooking and such.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she started “and it’s likely the only time I ever will. please go and get the ice bath from the garage and make it as cold as humanly possible.”

micks eyes lit up, a devilish smile crossing his features. at the sight of his mischevious grin, yn regretted her decision almost instantly. her lover swept her off her feet, carrying her fireman-style to the garage. she sat on top of her dads old work bench as she watched mick set up the ice bath.

typically, she avoided ice baths like the plague. she found them far too cold, as if she was single handedly reentering the ice age.

but with heat like todays, that seemed to be the perfect answer.

she watched mick set up, his back muscles and shoulder blades moving under his toned skin. “water should be cold, I’ll run inside for some ice.” that smile. that damned cheeky smile. “do you want a swimsuit, or do you want to go skinny dipping. let me tell you which one I would prefer-“

“stop. please. it is too hot for sex today.” she whined, gesturing for him to come closer. “just dump me on the cold water. I want to feel something other than heatstroke.”

mick laughed, picking her up again. “babe, you do not have heatstroke.”

“you don’t know that!”

still laughing, mick leaned over the ice bath and slowly began to lower his lover into the icy water. as the cold water began to touch her, she squealed, flinching back.

“it’s easier if I just drop you right in!”

“well, what are you waiting for!”

with a hearty grin, mick dropped her into the water, stepping back to avoid the splash back.

“holy fuck!” she moaned “god, that feels good.”

“um, excuse you, you never moan like that when I’m the root cause of pleasure.” mick joked, pretending to be offended

she held up her hand, sinking further into the water. “hush. I’d like to meditate in this chilled water, in peace.”

mick knelt next to the ice bath, reaching to playfully tug on her nose. “the ice bath fits two. have room for one more?”

she laughed, turning to kiss him softly. “come on, romeo. of course there’s room for two, we just might need more ice.”

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 3

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: you escape and face the consequences of your actions

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

It’s cold outside, you think, and you wish you had brought a little more thought to your choice in outfit because the shirt you’re wearing does little to protect your skin from the harsh wind. You regret not finding something a little thicker, something with longer sleeves perhaps when you had raided the wardrobe earlier. You were searching for comfort, not practicality, and now that decision was coming to bite you in the ass. 

Your body carries you through the wooded area surrounding the house, brambles scratching at your arms and drawing blood. You thank your body for pumping out adrenaline once again, protecting you from feeling too much pain. You’re not sure if you’ve ever run this hard or this fast in your entire life, the burning in your lungs evident that maybe you should have focused a bit more on staying in shape. Your shoes were definitely not made for running and you add it to the list of things to curse yourself for later. 

The pavement under your feet is different from the mushy grass surrounding the SKZ base and you find yourself trying not to connect your feet as hard to the ground to make up for it, lest the burning in your legs slow you down. Wait… pavement? You slow, coming to a stop to allow yourself a moment to view your surroundings and catch your breath. 

You notice you're in the city, albeit a deserted part of it that you don't recognize. Looking left and right, you decide to go in the direction of the faded city lights. At every car that passes you hold your breath and try to sink into the bushes, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible just in case Chan is in one of the vehicles. 

Salvation comes to you in the form of a gas station, seemingly devoid of any life. As you near close, you let out a sigh of relief when you see the blinking ‘open’ sign. One person mans the register, a man in his mid-30s that doesn’t seem to pay you any mind. He smells like cigarettes and whiskey but even so you can’t find it in you to be displeased. 

“Excuse me, sir,” you say, saccharine sweet. “Do you have a phone I could borrow?” The first thing you would like to do is give your sister a phone call, to let her know you’re on the way.

“You have to buy something first,” he replies instantly, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper. 

You freeze. “But… I don't have any money.” It's the truth. God knows where your phone and wallet are; you haven’t had either since you started dating Jungwon and became dependent on him for everything. 

“That's not my problem,” he says. You take a deep breath to ground yourself, inhaling the aroma of hot dogs and nacho cheese. A slushie machine whirls behind you, reds and blues that could be impossibly easy to get lost in. 

“Listen sir, I've had a rough couple of days, and I don't know where I am, and I would really appreciate it if–” 

“No, you listen, brat,” he spits the word out, finally slamming his paper down and shooting you a nasty glare. “I don't give a damn who you are, either buy something or get the Hell out of my store before I call the cops.” 

You feel inclined to listen and book it out of here but you realistically don’t have many other options. You ignore the tears threatening to spill from your lash line. If he won’t let you use the phone, the least you could do is try to figure out where you are. 

“Um… okay, how far is Second Street from here?” 

“Least three miles.” 

“Three miles? Okay. What about downtown?” 

“Still at least an hour walk.” 

“Shit, okay. Have a nice night, sir,” you say, but you don’t mean it and he doesn't deserve it. You walk out of the store nonetheless, walking on the abandoned sidewalk in the direction of the city. Your body aches and you’re not sure how far you’ve walked when you hear voices in front of you. 

There’s three men. One of them sways back and forth as he walks, obviously inebriated. Fuck. You keep your eyes glued to the sidewalk and your pace quickens, hoping that a lack of engagement will increase your luck. Maybe, just maybe for once in your life you’ll get a free pass here. Of course that doesn’t happen. 

“Hey, pretty thang. What's a girl like you doing all by yourself this late at night?” The man nudges his friend, the noticeably drunker one. 

“I don't want any trouble,” you mumble, pushing forward. 

A large unwelcoming hand reaches out to grab your wrist and you shout out in pain. Broken. Despite the ice and bandage wrapped around your appendage, your wrist is still broken. 

“What wash that? I think she said she wantshta show ush a good time!” He slurs, and anxiety settles in the pit of your stomach. You’re starting to get really tired of the feeling. 

“Let me go, please!” Your other hand gripped the offender’s, placing it over his tight grasp. 

You're shoved to the ground, knees scraping against the sidewalk. Your breath is caught in your throat, and the scene is all too familiar. 

“Come on bunny, don't you want to play?” A hand grips around your throat, and you feel like prey. How they managed to find the parts of you that were weak and vulnerable, you had no clue. Men like this just had a knack for being awful like that. A hand snakes in your hair and grabs tight, and you’re reminded of just days ago being in this exact situation. 

“Look, she’s crying!” one of them coos. You let out a loud sob and think, God, I’m going to die here. How you always have a knack for making wrong decisions, you’ll never know. 

“Let her go.” Your eyes shoot open when you hear a familiar deep voice. Instead of being filled with fear at finally being caught, you can’t help but to feel relieved. 

“Felix!” you cry out. You try to crane your head to look at him but the man’s grip on your hair is too tight. 

“Let her go? Why? We were having a good time!” One of them laughs and you feel his grip on you tighten. You whimper in pain. “Do you wanna join in?” 

Felix doesn’t say anything, but you hear a soft, mechanical clicking sound. It’s too silent and you’re afraid that you know the reason why. Your eyes stay closed but you’re free, suddenly. As you begin to fall you brace to hit the concrete but you’re surprised when you don’t. A warm and steady arm wraps around your middle and you relax into Felix as the men scamper away. 

“He's fucking crazy, man. The bitch isn't worth it.” And like that, they are gone. You allow yourself to glance down at Felix and the gun he is holding, but you aren't intimidated anymore. He has gotten rid of the real threat. 

“Are you hurt?” He asks, not looking at you. You swallow, hating to be the target of his disappointment. The gun is put away and forgotten about and you slump out his grasp and onto the concrete. You shake your head at him, trying to indicate that you are okay, you’re not seriously hurt, but you can tell he doesn’t believe you. Instead he ushers you into a car that you hadn’t even noticed had appeared, obviously too caught up in the situation at hand. He opens the door for you and you climb in, noticing that he sits in the passenger seat, not the driver’s. You furrow your brow until you recognize Hyunjin in the driver’s seat, tapping furiously on the wheel. On your left you recognize the broad frame as Changbin, who seems to be more distressed than anyone else in the car. You hope for silence, but once again, you can never be so lucky. 

“How do you always manage to get yourself into such trouble?” Hyunjin laughs. He irritates you to no end, always so sure of himself and full of it. “First Jungwon, us, and now these thugs? Do you have a knack for finding trouble or does trouble find you?” You notice Felix tense, and you decide staying in silence is probably better to not irritate the men further. You look out the window instead as the car speeds off. 

Hyunjin continues, “Normally Chan would want us to blindfold you if we were taking you back to our place, but he told us not to bother this time. He seems incessant that there’s no reason to.” Does he ever shut up? “Expect for him to be pissed. He knew you were going to leave, though.” 

Now that was enough to break your silence. 

“He knew?” you ask, incredulous. 

“Of course. It was a test, after all. To see where your loyalties lie, if he threatens you and tells you not to escape, you’re much more likely to leave right after because you think you can get away with it.” Shit. Now you feel dumb. But instead of letting on, you scoff and turn your head back to the window, finding the view much more interesting. You’re shivering still from the cold despite the heat pumping through the air vents. Felix wordlessly takes off his coat and hands it to you, and while you want to be proud and reject the offer you can’t help but want for this chill in your bones to go away. His jacket is warm and you can smell the trace of his cologne, floral, like jasmine yet earthy.  

You couldn’t have been in the car for more than ten minutes, and you curse yourself, realizing that you really didn’t get as far as you thought. 

Then, you approach a long driveway, adorned with a large iron gate that would intimidate anyone that made it to this part of the city, encased in grime and rust that’s indicative of its age. The car drives down the winding roads with familiarity which puts you at ease and keeps you from feeling nauseous, which you feel grateful for. When you arrive at the front of the house, you are finally given the opportunity to take a look at where you have been staying, as previous circumstances hadn’t allowed you to do so. 

The exterior of the house is a little dreary, the age of the cracked brick and marble noticeable. Even in the dark you could tell everything else is well-taken care of, well-trimmed shrubbery and flower beds surprising you. You don’t get as much time to look around as you would like, though you do notice the sheer size of the house as you follow the men up the gravel pathway. Large front doors open up and you’re guided inside. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You and Felix walk in silence to your room. You’re almost ashamed to meet his eye. 

“How did you know where to find me?” you finally ask. 

“I came to bring you this,” he says, gesturing to what he had been holding. A hard brace for your wrist. “When I came to your room and you weren’t there, I panicked. You couldn’t have gotten far, but we jumped in the car right away.” 

“But… What about what Hyunjin said?” You ask. Meanwhile he starts to unwrap the bandage on your wrist, revealing the very swollen and purple affected area. You wince slightly. 

“About it being a test? I wouldn’t be surprised, you’re probably in deep shit with Chris.” He says. You notice that he uses a nickname when referring to the man but you don’t say anything. He pulls out a first aid kit and starts to sanitize the surface of your skin and it stings more than you’d like to admit. Still, he does so delicately, making sure his fingers don’t press onto your injury too harshly. “I didn’t think you would leave,” he admits. “It was really stupid, you do realize that, right? I was just… really hoping you would be smarter than that.” 

You scoff. “Stupid, got it. I’m sorry that I didn’t want to stay trapped with the mafia, but I saw my opportunity. I have a life out there I want to get back to! I can’t stay here for the rest of my life.” 

“That may be true, but you won’t have a life to get back to if you’re killed the moment you leave,” he points out. “I’m not trying to be malicious, but you have a huge target on your back. Even if it’s not Jungwon who comes for you, you’re affiliated with ENHA. People who are not as kind as we are will see you as a way to get to him and they’ll kill you in cold blood.” He delicately places the new brace onto your wrist, strapping it shut tight. You try not to think about how his touch lingers on your skin, that you can still feel where he touched you and how it makes your face heat up. Instead you try to flex your wrist to test the brace, finding that it provides enough support for you not to move it too intensely. Felix hums in approval. 

“Come with me,” he says. He takes you to the bathroom and gestures for you to sit on the toilet lid. You do, looking up at him inquisitively. You see that he has brought the first aid kit with him and he’s keen on tending to your other injuries. 

“I just don’t understand,” you say, breaking the silence. He takes an antiseptic wipe and starts to wipe away scratches on your head. “Just… Why do you care if I live or die?” 

“That’s a tough one,” he says. You can’t tell if he’s joking. “I guess you can say I don’t like Yang Jungwon. Our feud with them has lasted for several years and he’s just a nuisance. He kills people in cold blood and is remorseless. I’m sure you’ve seen it first hand just how manipulative he can be, and we really just want to make sure that he doesn’t do anything to undermine us. That being said, you’re a benefit to SKZ. I know you might not see it yet, but you might be the ticket we need to finally one-up them. If you’re dead then we’re back to an even playing field.” 

“What about the infiltration? Don’t you have plans with Lee Know?” you ask. 

“Oh, Minho? He’s a very skilled person, he excels at this kind of thing. We’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while and we finally have an opportunity to do so. I hear that they’re planning to start up an underground drug-ring, something that would put us both in the public eye more than we want. Minho is going to try to find out what he can about it and then we can proceed.” 

Felix bends down, kneeling before you. Your breath hitches before you can think about it; it’s not fitting for someone who looks so majestic to be below you, you think. 

He starts to clean the scrapes on your knees. They’re bloody and raw from your fall and you’re only now starting to feel the aftereffects from it. You’re grateful that he’s taking the time to tend to your injuries, scanning your entire body from head to toe until he’s content. “You’re too good for all of this,” he finally says. “Someone like you should have never gotten involved in our lifestyle. You have so much potential, I can just see it. How did you even get stuck in this life?” The question is so intimate that it takes you a moment to process that he asked it. 

“I didn’t know who he was when I started dating him,” you admit. “Like you said, he’s manipulative. He’s mastered the art of deception. When I met him, he was charming and sweet, you know? It feels dumb to say, but by the time he admitted to me he was part of the mafia, I was head over heels in love with him. By the time I realized that the Jungwon I knew was just a facade it was too late, he caused me to completely rely on him for everything. I lost everything, Felix.” He nods in understanding, looking up at you before he stiffens. 

“Your neck… Did he do that, too?” he asks. There’s no judgment in his voice. You realize that the makeup you applied so diligently before must have completely rubbed off by now. You sigh. 

“Yeah. The night Chan found me, Jungwon and I got into a fight. It was my fault, but he threatened me, and it got physical, and…” 

“I don’t know what happened, but I severely doubt it could have been your fault,” he says. You decide not to divulge the details of your argumentThis is the first time you have admitted the situation out loud, and you feel very vulnerable. For some reason, you really want to tell Felix, despite the tears threatening to spill from your lashes. 

“He knocked me unconscious outside of the club, and when I woke up, I was here.” He finishes bandaging up your injuries and he stands, stretching his back and popping his joints. There’s blood on his white dress shirt. Your blood, though you don’t remember how it got there. 

“When you left tonight, where were you planning to go? You weren’t going–” 

“Not back to him, God no. Um… I have a sister, I was just trying to get in touch.” He seems content with your answer. You wonder if he’s just going to relay all of that information back to Chan. You feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, though, so you can’t really bring yourself to care. 

“I don’t know how long you’re going to be here. But for now, this is the safest place for you. So, try not to do anything else that’s stupid.” He turns to the door to leave, but you find yourself calling out. 

“Felix?” He halts and his eyes meet yours as you call his name. “Thank you.” There’s a lot of meaning to convey with just two words, but you hope you get your point across; thank you, for saving my life, for talking with me, for treating my wounds. He seems to understand. He graces you with a small smile before leaving 

You take a minute to breathe and look at yourself in the mirror. You are definitely not the same person you were two days ago. You smile at the reflection of yourself that has been beaten and bruised, and you hardly recognize her. You open the door to retreat to your bedroom for the night, but are shocked by what you see. 

For the second time in one night, Bang Christopher Chan sits on your bed, waiting expectantly. 

“We need to talk,” he says. 

He looks pissed. His glare sends shivers straight up your spine, and it takes everything for you to not break down and cry on the spot. It makes you feel guilty for everything that happened tonight, but you have to shake that thought. You were justified, you need to stand strong. You sit on the bed next to him without him gesturing for you to do so, as it feels like what he wants. You aren’t stupid enough to disobey him again. 

You look him in the eye. 

“I’d like to think I’m a kind person,” he says. “I don’t ask much of you–”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt. 

“Speak when spoken to. I won’t tell you again.” He clears his throat. “I don’t ask much of you. In fact, I gave you just two, simple, commands that you couldn’t be bothered to follow. Do not contact Yang Jungwon, and do not leave. What did you do?” He looks at you but you stay silent. “Answer.” 

“I left.” 

“That’s right. You must be pretty stupid, Y/N. Stupid enough to somehow end up here, and even more stupid to disobey me. I knew you were going to try to push your luck,” he says. “Explain yourself.” 

“I…” you gulp. You decide honesty is the best way to go about this. “I got scared. I know you told me not to leave and I didn’t listen, and I truly apologize but I remembered how trapped I felt when I was with Jungwon, and, well… the prospect of staying here for the rest of my life really really scared me.  I wanted to see my sister and tell her I’m alright. My phone is gone, and she probably thinks I’m dead. I envisioned a world where I  never got to see her again and make things right, and I thought this would be my only chance.” 

He sits in silence for a moment, contemplating. “This will be the last time I extend such kindness to you,” he says slowly. “From here on, I want your complete loyalty to me and the rest of SKZ.I will ensure your safety from ENHA and any potential threat. For now, that’s all you need. If you try to undermine me one more time, I will make sure you never see your sister again. Take that any way you want.” He stands. 

“Hyunjin said that this was a test,” you say cautiously. “Are you going to punish me?” 

“I thought I made myself very clear that there would be consequences to your actions,” he says. “I will go lightly on you, just this time. I’m being very nice, just so you are aware: I am not usually known by others as a kind person.” He sighs. “Pick a number between one and ten.” 

“Um… five?” you say, trying to play it safe and pick a number that’s not too high and not too low. His hands slide down to his waistband, unbuckling his belt and taking it out of the loops. 

“Lift your shirt up and turn around.” 

You do, with shaky hands, turn around and lift your shirt up so just your back is revealed to Chan. You don’t protest, worrying that that could somehow make things worse. 

You steady your breath and brace for impact. 

Thwack. 

One time, Chan’s leather belt comes down and hits the skin of your back hard. It’s obvious he has no intention of holding back and it stings; you bite down on your bottom lip to suppress your cries. 

Thwack. 

The second time, just as hard. 

Five times Chan hits you hard with your belt and you can’t hold back your tears any longer, though you do stay strong in the decision to not let him see them. After the fifth hit, you stand and pull down your shirt. 

“Rest up,” he tells you. “Tomorrow you’ll meet everyone else.” 

It’s stupid of you to think about, but you practically disregarded the fact that there are other members you have not met yet. You’re not entirely looking forward to it, though you don’t say so.  

“Does everyone know?” you ask him just as he’s about to leave. “Does everyone know that I’m associated with Jungwon?” 

“Everyone knows,” he confirms. “I trust my group implicitly. I felt no need to hide it from them, though at this point I don’t think it’s something to be ashamed of.” You nod your head at the information, lost in thought. 

Then Chan leaves and you’re finally alone. When you lie down in bed you finally take note of how your body feels after all this time. Every muscle aches and you can’t lay down on your back and once again you ignore the incessant throbbing in your skull. When you lay down in the bed to sleep, it’s on the comfiest, most luxurious mattress that you’ve ever laid on. You stare at the wall until you drift off with a dreamless yet peaceful sleep.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

@rylea08 ; @the-sweetest-rose ; @oddracha ; @kapelover ; @goldenmellow ;

@zerefdragn33l ; @uhh-awkward-rightt ; @astudyoftimeywimeystuff ; @kaleigh-2002 ; @thatonexcgirl ;

@mindfreecreator ; @linoalwaysknows ; @velvetmoonlght ; @minahaeyo ; @crystalchuuu ;

@hash2013 ; @skzswife ; @b0bbl3s ; @thecutiepieme ; @bear8585 ;

@moss-the-man ; @softkisshyunjin ; @sylveonitesworld ; @m00njinnie ; @nicoleparadas ;

@starsofasteria ; @klopez01 ; @luvlinos ; @hyunjinnnnnnnnnnnnnn ;

[christinesficrecs]

I had a request for newer fics, so here you go! Also, some other recent fics were posted here.

They’re all together ooky, the Hale family… (Snap, Snap) by DropsOfAddiction | 12.4K | Explicit

Derek realises that he’s probably squashing Stiles a little bit, right at the same moment that Stiles apparently realises that he’s still holding onto Derek’s face.

They both definitely acknowledge Derek’s nakedness at the same exact time, judging by the alarmed look on Stiles’ face.

“So, you have no clothes on,” Stiles removes his hands and holds them above his head in surrender, cheeks a muddy red.

“In my defence, I was covered in fur less than two minutes ago,” Derek rolls his eyes and he pushes himself up and off him, hands covering his junk for Stiles’ sake.

“You’re still kind of furry now…” Stiles sits up, blinking rapidly, clearly just as weirded out as Derek. “Oh my god, pretend I didn’t say that. I’m not looking or anything.”

Derek smirks, because that… that was a lie and he cocks an eyebrow at him.

as dear as a brother by endversed | 10.3K | Explicit

“You are not allowed to sleep with him,” Scott says.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Stiles scoffs.

Stiles and Scott become best friends at college. Derek is Scott's hot older brother.

Take Me Away From Here by Hedwig221b | 33.5K | Explicit

Derek Hale looked terrifying. With his broad frame and muscles, with his wild black hair and thick beard, with his eyes the color of blood and fangs of a killer. Despite his kindness and his apparent attraction to Stiles, he was still a stranger, a predator, a wolf.

The thing is, Stiles would deal, but others might not. People found Lord Hale horrid, monstrous and unapproachable.

If Stiles stood behind him, no one would touch him.

He’d be safe with the wolf. If not from him, then definitely from everyone else. And that was enough.

Messily Ever After by KaliopeShipsIt | 20.3K

When Stiles and his blue slushie have a literal and quite splashy run-in with an adorable five-year old flower girl and her panicking daddy in the middle of the mall, the last thing he expects is to get a date to a stranger's wedding out of it.

Let alone, a boyfriend and a kid.

His Accidental Touch by Hidden_Orchard | 12.8K | Explicit

It happened accidentally, the first time. All the many and varied times afterwards, Stiles would hold his hands up and admit full responsibility for. But that first time – pure chance.

Derek needs a cuddle. Stiles - generous man that he is - would never deny Derek something he needs.

An Alpha's Misunderstandings by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 48.5K | Mature

And Derek was there, as if it was a simple twist of fate.

There were so many ways Stiles wanted to forgive Derek, but then he came to his senses.

He wouldn’t risk Charlotte’s safety for that hope–never again. ~*~ Stiles and Derek are parted by war and misunderstandings, only to find each other again.

Red, Red, Red by loserchildhotpants | 9.4K | Explicit

“Just… it’s weird, I’ve been - uh. You ever, like, dream of something? Something you’ve never seen before, but then you see it out in the world?”

everywhere, everything (every day) by nerdy-stilinski (Captain_Ameriyeah), S3anchaidh | 14.3K

Derek’s never been the best at making decisions. That’s how he keeps waking up with Stiles in his arms, but never under the right circumstances.

Or: Derek agrees to a pack vacation and instantly regrets it.

Matchmaking in Fandom by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) | 13K

It wasn’t like it was a secret that the showrunners made terrible decisions when it came to their own show, so why he’d had actual faith in them not fucking the movie up, he had no idea. Really, it was his own fault.

He hadn’t even set the bar high for the movie! The bar was so incredibly low, like mid-shin height, and they somehow managed to get it subterranean. That was talent. A bad talent, but still a talent.

if i'm not made for you, then why does my heart tell me that i am? by EvanesDust | 13K

When Derek’s kids write out their Christmas lists, they insist he writes one too. Not long after it's deposited in Santa's mailbox, he's reunited with the man of his dreams.

Stiles.

Derek can't help but fall for him again. It's really too bad Stiles is so obviously taken.

...or the one where Derek’s a grump who makes assumptions about his pregnant omega neighbor.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part eight

authors note: wow, you guys just keep on amazing me. all of the kind comments really do make my day, you have no idea. the beginning of this one is heavy, but i'm gradually working towards exposing more of reader and joe's backstories!!!

song inspo: with me by destiny's child

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: angst (parental neglect, abandonment) language, suggestive themes

words: 6k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

“It’s been almost a year, babe.” His tone is the perfect combination of understanding yet frustrated, like he’s trying his best to be patient but his needs are getting the best of him. “You still not ready?”

You wanted someone to talk to for the drive, even if it was only an hour, but at this moment, you’re regretting choosing your boyfriend.

“I just….I want to be really sure, okay?” 

This has been the latest conversation between the two of you, more a point of contention. You care about Amir, you love him, but there’s something about letting him take your virginity you’re still a bit unsure about. Maybe it’s the fact that you just turned 16 three months ago and still feel like you’re a bit on the young side to take that next step. Or maybe it’s the fact that you guys have been rocky, almost since the beginning, having your fair share of arguments, even makeups and breakups. 

But, you also know that even with the ups and downs, a year deep for a high school relationship is almost unheard of. That has to mean something.

“I love you, and you love me, right?”

You check the rearview mirror and switch lanes. “Of course.”

“So let’s seal the deal.”

A glance at the navigation makes you aware that you’re roughly ten minutes away from your destination. Instantly, your stomach begins to twist and knot. And like many with anxiety, it comes out as anger.

“Look, can you please just stop pressuring me?” You snap. “I feel like that’s all you ever want to talk about.”

“Whoa, whoa, where’s all this attitude coming from?” He, understandably, becomes defensive. A small part of you feels bad, taking your nerves out on him, even if it’s not entirely undeserved. It has become an annoying, frequent hot topic. “Am I wrong for wanting to be close to my girlfriend?”

“Bullshit. You just want to get your dick wet.” 

“If that was the case, I wouldn’t be asking you,” he retorts, arrogantly. “I can get pussy anywhere.”

That’s the wrong thing to say, obviously, because you angrily fire back, “fine, then go do that and leave me and my pussy alone!”

He sucks his teeth on the other side. “I’ll talk to you when you not in one of your bitch moods. Must be on your period or something.”

“Fuck you, Amir.”

The phone disconnects.

He hung up.

Frustrated, for a lot of reasons, you squeeze the steering wheel and curse, loudly. This isn’t what you needed. You’re regretting not calling Mariah instead. You’re starting to regret this decision altogether but work to remind yourself why you’re doing it, why you want to do it. Amir and his shit be damned. He’ll always be there, and you’ll figure the shit out, like you always do. 

Right now though, you need to focus on yourself and your plan. 

So, you spend the rest of your time driving by feeding positive mantras into yourself in an attempt to bleed out the negativity. 

It’s especially needed when you finally arrive at your destination, parking your car as far back in the parking lot as you can. You blow out a big, deep breath, keeping your hands on the steering wheel as it really sets in that you’re doing this, finally doing something you’ve wanted since you got your license but have been too scared to follow through on. 

It’s going to be a daunting task no matter what, but it’s what you want, and you’ve come too far to back out now. 

Shaky hands reach to pull down the sun visor so you can use the mirror to assess your makeup and hair. You’d saved up your paychecks to afford this 14k gold necklace the local jeweler had gotten in stock and kindly agreed to hold until you could afford it. You just wanted to look your best.

You needed to look your best.

Blowing out another breath, you reach to spray another layer of your trial size perfume. It was some expensive ass designer fragrance that smelled sinfully sweet, but the trial one was all you could afford. 

Climbing out of the car with your best bag, you make sure to lock the door and start heading toward the entrance, offering a few small smiles to the cops you pass by.

Stepping into the precent, you march right up to the front desk with your head held high.

“Hi,” you breathe, pasting on that rehearsed smile. “I—umm, is Captain Wilson available?”

“Uhhhh.” She stands up and looks back, most likely where his office is. “I believe so, can I ask what this is in regards to?”

Crap. You hadn’t thought about what to say, how to explain how you knew him. Quickly, you settle on, “old family friend.”

She assesses you, probably wondering why their police captain is family friends with a high schooler.

Thankfully, she nods and moves from behind the desk to escort you. “Follow me.” 

You’re briefly relieved that the first part is done, far from the hardest but necessary for you to actually get to the hard part. 

She knocks on the open door. “Captain?”

He looks up, and your stomach drops. 

Years.

It’s been years since you’ve seen him, been this close in proximity. He’s older, obviously, but still very similar to how you remembered him all those years ago. He looks at you for a second, clearly confused and then at the woman.

“She said she’s a family friend.”

Nervous that this will mess up your plan, you interrupt, “I—I need to speak with you, please.”

The woman turns to you. “I thought you said—”

He lifts his hand, standing up. “It’s fine, Yang.” He motions to the door. “Leave us.”

You can feel her distasteful expression on you, but she follows his command, closing the door behind you. 

“Well, how can I help you, young lady?”

It's such a loaded question, but you came prepared, ready to jump right to the point. Don't want to waste any time.

"I, well, I'm—" Chuckling, you reach into your bag and pull out the old picture of your mom you kept in your locker. Opening and showing it to him, you watch his entire facial expression shift from friendly to shocked. "I'm your—"

“What are you doing here?” There’s a sudden change in his tone, even in his body posture, less friendly, more hostile. Clearly, he recognizes you.

“I—” The answer is simple yet difficult to get out, but you manage. “I wanted to meet my father.”

He suddenly asks, accusingly. “Did your mother put you up to this?” 

“What?” Frowning, you explain, “no, no, she—she doesn’t even know I’m here. No one does.”

“Good,” he mutters. “Listen—”

“I’m 16 now,” you interject, suddenly remembering the list of things you wanted to share with him, wanted him to know about you. “And I’m—I’m captain of my school’s cheerleading squad. Took my team to state last year. I’ve had a couple of scouts from colleges reach out already.”

“Listen—”

“And I just got my SAT scores back. I got a 1400. A 32 on my ACT. That puts me in the top 10% of the nation for both of them.”

“Is there a reason you’re telling me all of this?”

“I thought—” This is going the complete opposite of how you planned, how you hoped. You expected him to be confused and surprised, but you didn’t expect this level of disinterest and aggravation. Like you’re annoying him. Like you’re bothering him. “I thought if—if you saw me, if you met me and see I’m not a bad kid that—that maybe you’d want a relationship with me.”

 “A relationship?” He scoffs, actually fucking scoffs. “Why would I want a relationship with you? You’re not even supposed to exist.”

Of all the things to say—cruel, hurtful, mean—you’re not sure just what to label this. Because it’s almost inconceivable to you that he could say such a thing while looking directly at you, as if you’re not his blood. As if you’re not his daughter.

“I—” Any hope or confidence you had is all but squashed underneath the weight of his cruelty. “I’m your daughter.”

“No, you are a mistake that I paid your mother to take care of.” He turns away, one hand on his hip, the other running his hand over his face. “Biggest waste of money I ever spent.”

Devastated. It’s the closest word you can use to describe what you’re feeling right now, all over, in every crevice of your body. You never knew a person could feel so much pain at one time. 

That a heart could feel so heavy.

“How—”

“Honey—”

Turning your head, you see a woman dressed in fine clothes, adorned in real, 14k or more jewelry, and a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes when she sees the Captain isn’t alone. “I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

You’re unsure how to answer, especially when you notice the big rock on her finger. It doesn’t take much to realize this must be his wife. The same woman he cheated on with your mother and unintentionally created you. 

“Not at all,” he answers with a chuckle. You watch with a twisted stomach as she walks over to him, kissing his cheek. He smiles at her with such adoration, such happiness, a complete contrast with the disgust and disdain he sent your way. “I was just telling this young lady there’s nothing we can do for her.”

Young lady. That’s all you are to him, and it was stupid of you to trick yourself into believing otherwise. If he could go sixteen years without once asking or inquiring about you, he could go another sixteen. Another 100. You weren’t a part of his world, didn’t exist there, and you never would.

“Dad, Elijah won’t get out of the car. I swear, you should have kept me an only—” Another person enters the room and also stops mid-sentence. “---child.” An identical set of brown eyes land on you, eyes that he has, that you have. The similarities don’t stop there. Nose, lips, even bone structure to some extent, age. “Oh, my bad. Dad, who’s—” 

You never give her the chance to finish or yourself the chance to hear the rest of her question. Rushing past her as well as the other cops in the precinct who surprisingly don’t try to stop you, you don’t allow your feet to rest until you’re in the safety of your car. 

And that’s when it finally comes out. 

The guttural, vulnerable scream that you’ve been holding in. You beat at the steering wheel, narrowly avoiding the horn. You beat at that thing until your wrist aches and fist grows tired. Nearly hyperventilating, the sob erupts from your throat, almost your entire body shaking from the intensity. You’ve never felt so awful in your life, so empty, so unwanted and unloved.

It’s the kind of pain that’s so visceral you can only understand if you’ve felt it, and no one deserves to feel this. 

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You feel it, and more, for bringing yourself down here and making a fool of yourself. 

A family. 

He has a whole family. He already has children, has a daughter who’s close in age. A daughter he loves and whose life he wants to be involved in. 

And it’s not you.

It’s never been you, and it’ll never be you.

Finally, you understand why your mom always shot down or redirected any attempt you made to ask about your dad. It was for this reason. This is what she was trying to protect you from, and you idiotically ran right into the line of fire. 

Immensely grateful you had the wherewithal to park as far back as you could, you sit there for who knows how long, screaming, crying, heartbroken, avoiding what’s sure to be the longest drive home of your life.

There’s such an intolerable level of discomfort at this, this pain, this hurt. You don’t want to feel it, don’t want to sit in it. You can’t. You’re not sure if you can continue to function in this state.

You need a distraction. 

And you have the perfect one. Whatever development has occurred in the prefrontal cortex is nonexistent and inactive as you dig in your purse for your phone. 

With shaky fingers, you send him a simple text, knowing he’ll know exactly what you mean.

Tonight. Let’s do it tonight. 

________

Three days after her emergency surgery, Calista was officially discharged from the hospital, allowing her to be home with you just in time for Thanksgiving. Not that that ended up being anything to write home about. You opted to stay home with her, aiding in her recovery as your mom came over to drop off some food and assist in nursing your sweet little girl back to health.

It was much appreciated, especially as Joe had to leave the day before she was released, much to his and Callie’s chagrin. She loved the company of you, even your mom, but she especially loved being around and with Joe.

Not that he was any different. You could see how much it killed him to have to leave her when she was still admitted in a hospital, so you had to continue to remind him that the hardest part was over. Ironic considering how grounded he kept you in that terrifying experience. 

Joe’s promise of returning for Christmas was the only thing that kept Callie slightly less disappointed. She loves Christmas, and him being there for her favorite holiday will definitely mean a lot to her. You know she just hates having to wait so long to see him again. It’s safe to say she’s pretty attached to him, which warms your heart and makes you even more eager for her to finally realize that Joe is not just Joe.

He’s her dad.

And speaking of daddy, your dynamic with Joe has been both different yet the same. There’s always been this chemistry between you two, but it seems him finally admitting he wants to be with you and your finally acknowledging that it's something you’re willing to consider has given him privilege to up the ante.

He’s always been forward with you, but it’s been subtle, if at all present, since his return.

That's no longer the case.

He makes his comments and innuendos, always appropriate and respectful enough to not warrant pushback. But, it’s still there. 

And you like it, way more than you should for someone who doesn’t even know how she feels about any of this to begin with. 

“I have an idea.”

Th comment comes from the very person who you summoned to help with said ambivalence chimes with that mischievous smile that almost got you both kicked out of school at least two times.

Alexis Palmer stands on the opposite side of the kitchen, a bottle of vodka in one hand and another unidentified alcoholic beverage in the other. To say you summoned her may be a bit of an exaggeration. You emailed her, yes, but you didn’t except her to actually fly across the world to come visit you. Apparently, she was in Norway when she received your email.

“You couldn’t not expect me to come. You sent out the bestie bat signal!”

The first time you met Alexis, you hated her. She was your assigned roommate who you had the displeasure of meeting during move in week. A large part of your disdain for her was because she represented everything you’d always found utterly annoying: rich, entitled, privileged.

You’d quickly find out that was only partially true. Yes, Alexis came from money, but that was essentially all she came from. You’ll never forget the time you two were actually having a decent conversation and she casually mentioned that neither of her parents had ever told her happy birthday before. Ever. 

Even your mom, though not having much, made sure to make the most of all of your special days.

That was the first day you started to see our roommate in a different light, and now, over ten years later, you consider her a best friend. If Alexis didn’t spend her life randomly traveling to various parts of the world, living comfortably off her trust fund money, you’d absolutely be much closer. 

But until, or if, she gets tired of always being on the go, you settle for email updates and countless snapchat messages because WIFI is a wonderfully universal thing when compared to international texting and call fees.

Alexis's partially drunk ass skips out of the kitchen, clearly going to retrieve something as you take a moment to check your phone. It took a moderate level of convincing for you to agree to Callie spending a day or two with your mom, not that you didn’t believe she wouldn’t be in the best care. It was just some lingering anxiety from your baby being hospitalized, that mother’s fear of something happening in your absence and you not being there to comfort her.  

But, your mom brought up a valid point, that you’d spend almost nonstop time with Callie since her discharge, and that was fine. You loved spending time with you little girl, but you also needed some time for yourself. Some adult interaction, and Alexis' surprise visit created the perfect opportunity. 

So, that brings you to your current scenario, having an in-house girl night with your college roommate, drinking wine (harder liquor for her) and figuring out just what the fuck you’re doing with your non-existent love life. 

When Alexis turns with one of your poster boards, you protest, “Lex, those are for my students.”

She gives you the most disgusted look. “Girl, fuck them kids. If it’s not my sweet Cal Gal, I don’t care.”

Knowing good and well this is a losing battle, you let it go and watch as she lays the poster board on the kitchen island and pulls out a sharpie.

“What are you—”

She lifts a finger, silencing you as she continues to write. Shaking your head, you take another sip of your wine. 

Alexis is done in a matter of a few minutes and finally prompts you to look. “Okay, all done.”

It’s in reading what she’s created that you nearly drop your wine glass. “Lex, what is this?”

She rolls her eyes, pointing with the sharpie to the title. “Obviously, it’s the ‘figure out who I should be with’ chart. Created by yours truly!”

You blink a couple times. “Alexis, why is Kai’s name up here? He was a high school hookup.”

“Yes, but still a hookup nonetheless, so he makes the cut.” Lord as much as you missed Alexis, you’d almost forgotten how draining her eccentric ways can be. “Now, as you can see, each option has a pros and cons column. I say we start with the pros, and I’ll even help you out.”

“Should I be scared?”

She pauses. “Maybe.”

Shaking your head, you wait for her to quickly jot down whatever she objectively believes is considered a pro. But, when she turns the poster around, you actually laugh. “Oh my god.”

She’s written only in Joe’s pro column, but it’s more what she has written that has you humored.

“Obviously, at number one, we have 'big dick' because that's the most important thing in life. Never commit to a micro-penis.”

Ignoring the latter part of her statement, you ask, “big dick? Really?” 

“Is it a lie?” She challenges. You open your mouth and immediately close it, taking another sip of wine. “I rest my case.” Yeah, you definitely can’t fight that one. “Wait, is he the one you tried anal with that one time?”

You nearly spit out your wine, for a couple of reasons. You'd never really considered yourself a feminist, but you were definitely someone who believed in women being free sexual beings. You never subscribed to that modesty bullshit. Sex was fun to you, and you liked it. You definitely considered yourself more on the freaky side. Outside of the really weird shit and threesomes, you were down to try whatever. Especially with Joe. Well, except for that. “Absolutely not. He’s too big. That shit already hurts, hence why it was one and done.”

Confused, she asks. “Who was it then?”

“Amir,” you answer, casually. Alexis, being Alexis, was pretty much the same as you when it came to embracing sexuality, hence speaking so openly about your sex lives.

She turns up her nose. “Yuck. Okay, back to Big Dick Joe.” After over 10+ years of friendship, you’ve learned, to some extent, certain things Alexis says just have to be chalked up to being a part of who she is. Like this entire activity that you’re for some reason entertaining. “Now get back to naming!”

You shrug, thinking about it, even if there’s not much to think about. “I mean, we have a child together already.”

“Oh damn, forgot about that,” she mutters and quickly adds Callie to the list of pros. “Sorry, Cal.”

This isn’t necessarily a difficult task. You’re pretty sure you could talk for 30 minutes straight about all of the reasons you like Joe. “He’s kind, smart, easy to talk to, an amazing dad to Callie.”

She downs the last of her concoction before shouting out, “oooh, don’t forget rich!”

Your eyes lift to the ceiling as you shrug, genuinely uninterested. “You know I don’t care about that.”

“You will when it’s time for Callie to go to college,” she ‘sings’, adding it to the board. “Fine as fuck,” Alexis talks aloud while writing the same thing. “Like very fine. As in you should have asked if his wife could fight fine because the way I never would have asked that man to leave—”

“Alexis.”

“Sorry.” She’s really not. “Why don’t we switch gears? How about we do the pros for Amir? Or even Kai?” You open your mouth to respond when she cuts you off. “Couldn’t think of any? Me neither. Back to Joe, it is.”

You run your hand against the side of your face, elbow on the section of the island that’s not occupied by the poster board. “Seriously, Alexis. There’s nothing there for Kai. At all. Hell, Amir neither.”

It’s like a light goes off, like all of her efforts have finally proved fruitful. The entirety of her eccentricity minimizes to something calm and considerate. “Exactly.” Laying down the poster, she comes and sits in the bar seat next to you. “You don’t like Amir. You definitely don’t like Kai. But, you do like Joe. Maybe more, though I’m not sure you’re ready to actually admit that out loud.” Much like a lot of what she says, though usually cloaked underneath her quirkiness, she’s correct. “So, what’s the real issue, roomie? It was his wife before, which I totally understood. You’re a moral person and shit. But now? He’s divorced, Y/N. You two have a child you’re trying to raise together. What’s holding you back?”

It’s a very, very valid question that you have no idea how to answer. You’ve tried, to some extent, to explore what your hesitations are. It hasn’t been high on the priority list due to your being focused on nursing Callie back to health, but as she’s on the mend to a full recovery, if not already at the eve of one, you know you’re gonna have to figure this shit out. Preferably sooner than later. 

Joe will respect your need for time and space, but you also know he can be a persistent bastard, especially when it’s something or someone he wants.

It’s how ya’ll even got together in the first place. 

“I’m gonna say something, and I don’t want you to bite my head off. Just hear me out. Let me put this expensive ass psych degree to use.” That makes you chuckle, but you remain quiet, allowing her to continue. “I think….I think whatever the situation is with your dad might be at play here.” Instantly, you're stiff, any hint of a smile or humor gone. “I don’t know exactly what happened outside of the fact that he’s not in your life, but something tells me there’s something there that you need to face.” And if she wasn’t already hitting you where it hurts, she adds on, “and I think it had something to do with why you didn’t tell Joe about Callie from the very beginning.” 

Alexis has always had this uncanny ability to make you wonder if there’s something possibly mentally wrong with her and in the same breath wonder why the hell she didn’t decide to pursue a higher degree in psychology because of her sage wisdom.

This is one of those moments.

You know there’s some element of truth to what she’s saying, some layers behind events you’d pushed so far back in your head, you tried to convince yourself they didn’t still impact you. 

But opening that box…..it’s hard for you to justify doing so. To understand why you need to revisit such uncomfortable, painful memories. You’re gonna be 32 years old next year. You’re too damn old to still be dealing with daddy issues.

Reaching for the bottle of wine, you pour some into your glass, noticeably more than the first one. “Maybe.” 

Alexis also knows you well enough to know that a dismissal was bound to be your approach to such a heavy topic. “Is that the sign to change subjects, even though that’s literally why you asked me to come?"

“Technically, you invited yourself.”

“Bullshit,” she snorts. “You send that wild ass email and expect me to not book it back here to make sure my favorite twerk partner isn’t Gucci?” She suddenly asks, “wait, do people still say that?”

“Probably not. We’re old and outdated now.”

“Speak for yourself, I had a 24 year old Frenchman eat me out last month, and it was C'est Magnifique,” she sighs, clearly reminiscing as you turn up your nose.

“Too young for me, girl.” Younger men have never done anything for you, even Amri, who was a grade above you, felt too close in age.

“That’s right,” she nods, and you just know there’s something on the tip of her tongue. “You like em’ older. Samoan, tatted, with massive arms and big dicks.” 

“Alexis.” You have to laugh, leaning into her side and laying your head on her shoulder. “I’ve missed you, girl.” You needed this, the time and space to be silly, to have difficult yet important conversations, to both think and not think. Alexis has always been that really great space for you, Mariah for even longer, but given your last interactions with her, you realize she’s not exactly the best candidate at the moment. 

And as if reading your mind, she asks, “how’s ole girl doing?”

Ole girl aka Mariah.

The relationship between Mariah and Alexis……well, there is none. Put simply, they hate each other. More hate on Alexis' part, Mariah has just always kinda ignored Alexis and her role in your life, which is significantly easier considering Alexis is always on the move. The reason for the dislike and incompatibility between the two of them will always be a mystery.

“It’s just something about that girl.”

That’s what she would always say, and it once reached the point where you and Alexis stopped speaking for a couple of weeks, because you were a lot of things, loyal at the top of that list.

Outside of the whole situation with Joe….you still don’t know what exactly happened there.

Nonetheless, it just became agreed upon that talking with one woman about the other would be kept to a minimum, preferably none.

You know Alexis is just trying to be nice by asking. She doesn’t really care. 

“I don’t know,” you answer, honestly. “She’s been….I think she’s just going through something.”

She rolls her eyes, clearly unsurprised. “I’m sure she is.” 

You sigh. “Alexis.”

“I know you don’t like it when I talk about her cause that’s your other ‘best friend,’ but I’m telling you, Y/N, that girl is not your friend. She’s jealous of you. She been jealous of you,” she blurts out, as if keeping it in any longer would be painful. “But, imma be quiet.”

And she does which you’re grateful for, even if her words are, for the first time, starting to trigger some unfamiliar thoughts. Alexis, Kai, your own experiences. You’ve always leaned on the side of where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and Mariah’s forest is ablaze.

You just have to figure out how to approach all of this.

Among the other 50 fucking things you have to figure out.

_______

You can’t remember the last time you propped up your phone to call Joe for any reason other than Callie wanting to see or speak to him. 

And yet, here you are, in your bathroom, preparing for your nightly routine, doing just that. 

He answers on the third ring, eyes lighting up with surprise when he sees it’s you and not Callie. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Your tone is much too cheery for your taste, so you attempt to roll it back. “Is, uhh, is this a bad time?”

“Never a bad time for you,” he replies, smoothly. Looking into the screen, you realize he’s sitting up in bed, one arm behind his head. “What’s up? I thought you were having a girls night with Alexis.”

“We were. Well, we did, but she’s white girl wasted, passed out in my bed right now,” you answer, peeking through your ajar bathroom door to make sure she didn’t wander off somewhere. She was always that mobile drunk friend who had to be carefully monitored or else she’d end up on a local new station. “You talk to Callie?”

He nods as you grab your face wash and dispense some into your hand to lather. “Yeah, earlier. She seems to be having a good time with your mom.”

“She usually does, cause like you, my mom never tells her no.” You’ve always allowed that space for your mom to have her own relationship with Callie, one that you have no interference with. Similar to how it was for you with your grandma. But now with Joe being in the picture too, you foresee having to be that parent that actually tells their kid no.

Cause Lord knows Joe ain’t shaping up to be the one. 

“She doesn’t do anything for us to have to tell her no.”

You pause in the midst of scrubbing your face. “God, I can’t wait for you to finally experience one of her tantrums. Next time you come, I’m gonna keep her up so you can see how she gets when she’s tired.” Joe has been blessed to really only experience happy Callie, even, unfortunately, sad Callie, but he’s yet to see your little girl when she’s angry.

“Don't do that to her.” He immediately grows defensive, and you giggle. “She’s a good kid.”

“She is,” you agree, rinsing your face and adding, “but all kids have moments, Joe. I would know, I work with them.”

“Well, you—”

“He don’t wanna be saved, don’t save him!”

You’re in the midst of drying your face when Alexis’s drunk, random ass comes stumbling by the door. “Alexis, what the hell are you doing up?”

Your words clearly trigger something with her wasted ass, cause in a matter of seconds, she’s crying. “My name is Alexis, but I’m not from Texas,” she begins to cry profusely at the word ‘Texas’, and it takes everything in you not to fall out laughing. You haven’t seen her this wasted since your junior year of college.

Hand on her back moving in circles, you soothe, “it’s okay, sweetie. You’re way better than her anyway.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, all soft and innocent, the complete opposite of the porn star she’s crying over not being. 

“Of course.” You place your arms around her and mouth to Joe you’ll be right back. “Now, let's get you back to bed.”

“Are we gonna fuck?”

“No, Lex, you’re gonna sleep, and I’m going to finish talking to Joe.”

“Oh.” Her disappointment is hilarious as she yells out, much louder than necessary. “Bye, Joe!”

“Girl, you are gonna get me evicted,” you scold with a small laugh, guiding her into your bed and under the blankets. “Now, you sleep this off, and I’ll roast you in the morning over your antics. Deal?”

Alexis is so drunk, she couldn’t consent to breathing right now, but she does manage to give you a crooked thumbs up. “Deal.”

Stepping back into the bathroom, you give Joe a look and shake your head as he asks, “Damn. How much did ya’ll drink?”

“You mean how much did she drink?” You correct him. He knows good and well that’s not your thing. Never was. You didn’t need alcohol to have a good time. You could shake your ass on any table just fine, good and sober. “A lot. I just had two glasses of wine.” Suddenly remember something, you start speaking again, eager for his perspective on an idea that crossed your mind the other day. 

“I think we should—”

“Go out with me.” 

You both speak at the same time, but his statement obviously gives you pause. You stare at him, momentarily confused and ask, “what?”

He repeats himself, just as confident the first time around. “Go on a date with me.”

For a second, you think he’s joking, think he’s playing with you for some reason, but one look at his expression, and you know he’s being for real. You’re not sure how to respond, asking again, “like an actual date? A real date?”

“No, like a fake date.” He rolls his eyes, and you resist flipping him off. “Yes, an actual date.” 

Still confused, you ask in a quieter voice, “why?”

His answer is surprisingly simple and unsurprisingly genuine. “Because I’ve never actually taken you out, and I want to. You deserve that much.”

This has been such a wild ass day. Hell, ever since Joe reentered your life, things have been wild. For the majority, if not entirety, of your relationship, you spent most of your time with this man holed up in your apartment and hotel rooms. Now he’s asking to take you out on a proper date. 

What a 180.

It’s like he can see the wheels turning in your head and reassures, still with all the boldness. “We can take this as slow as you want, but you should know I’m heading in one direction and one direction only.”

Fuck. There’s nothing unclear about that, but it’s not surprising. He’s made it clear what he wants from you. He’s just waiting on you to tell him what you want from him. 

After a few minutes of silence, you ask, "just a date?"

“Just a date,” he agrees. You should know him well enough though to know that’s not it. Sure enough, he smugly adds, “but if you end up riding my dick, then that’s just fate, baby.”

And there it goes, that charisma and charm that always kept you coming back for more.

Your smile is hard to conceal, so you settle for biting your lip, looking away. This man has no filter sometimes…not that you’re complaining. At all.

Feeling bold, probably from the wine traveling through your system, you play into his teasing. “Maybe I just want some dick.” 

“That’s fine too.” He shrugs. “You know all you gotta do is ask, and I’ll get you right. Every single time.” A beat. “How you think Callie got here?”

That’s the thing….he’s not wrong, not wrong at all. You can’t think of a single sexual encounter with this man that didn’t either bring tears to your eyes from how good he was eating you up or had you walking with an almost limp the next day from how good he beat your shit up. Often both.

It’s always a good time with the head of the table.

Finally, you settle on an answer that feels most appropriate. “I’ll only agree if you agree to behave.”

He looks confused. Understandable. “What does it mean to behave?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you answer confidently, “it means keeping your hands and body parts to yourself.”

If you agree to this, it has to be well regulated and feelings or hormones can’t get in the way of things. If you and Joe are to progress into something more, you have to take it slow, even if just for Callie. 

At least, that’s the hope. 

Nodding, he asks, mischief in his light eyes. “What if you’re the one who can’t behave?”

You snort, using the oil to grease your scalp. “Unlikely.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll see about that.” He has that look in his eyes, the same look that almost always ended up with you bent over whatever the most sturdy object in the room was. It’s a dangerous expression. 

And you suddenly find your thighs clenching together. 

Not a good sign. 

“Well,” you clear your throat, leaning over the counter, praying his perceptive ass didn’t notice that. “As much as I would love to continue to chat with you, I have to call our daughter and talk to her before she goes to bed.” It’s not an entire lie; you do need to call her. Just not at this moment. He doesn't need to know that though. 

“You’re flustered, aren’t you?” 

This man….

Two can play that game. 

Pushing your arms together to press your breast together, you’re pleased seeing his gaze darken. “Does it look like I’m flustered, baby?” His jaw clenching is all the satisfaction you need. Mission accomplished. “Goodnight, Joe.” 

Refusing to give him a chance to come back with something, you end the call, only realizing what just happened once you’re left alone with your thoughts.

You’re going out on a date with Joe.

What the fuck?

[thebest-medicine]

The Harm in Trying

MHA - BakuDeku & the Bakusquad lee!Bakugo, lers!Izuku Kaminari Kirishima & Sero - [read on ao3]

Summary: Bakugo is put into a ticklish situation by Midoriya with the rest of his friends… and of course he denies he’s ticklish.

A/N: I am so weak for giggly smiley Kacchan…it’s a problem and I’m making it all of y’all’s problem now. On a fucking roll with these BNHA fics lately, sorry not sorry for my bkdk brainrot~.

Words: 2.3k

…

“Wait, no way! Kacchan! Are you still ticklish?” 

Bakugo can feel the heat of his blood burning across his face and ears with embarrassment. “The fuck? Of- of course not!” He dares a glance at Midoriya—and finds a knowing grin on his classmate’s face, instantly regretting the decision. “Don’t even think about trying—”

“Aw, why not? If you’re not ticklish~, then why does it matter?”

“Shut up, Deku!” Katsuki hisses. 

“No, no, Midoriya has a point.” Kirishima agrees, holding up a finger to get the attention of the rest of the group.

“Seriously, what’s the harm in trying~?” Kaminari grins.

Bakugo rolls his eyes at Izuku despite his prominent blush. “Look what you did. Damn it, nerd!” He cracks his knuckles and shifts his weight so he’s in a good place to spring up from his seat quickly if he needs to. “Hope you guys know, if you try this, I’m gonna kill—”

Sero is quick with his tape and has the advantage of being out of Bakugo’s line of sight. At the first sign of movement, explosions start to crackle off of his hands, and Katsuki leaps to a stand to put up a fight with his classmates. 

Instead of a fight, it’s over in moments, to Bakugo’s dismay, as tape wraps its way around his arms, legs, and whole body tightly. There’s a tug, and Bakugo feels himself tumbling backward, only to be caught short of the floor by Midoriya. 

Katsuki’s eyes flare with alarm as he realizes the brief battle has taken a severe turn out of his favor, and fast. He also notices Izuku looking down at him with.. Amusement? Concern? Interest? 

“What the hell?! You guys are seriously dead! Let me up! Now!” 

“…Sounds like something a ticklish person would say.” Kirishima smirks, moving closer.

Kaminari laughs, joining in. “Hehe yeah, you seem worried Bakugo… What’s wrong? Are you like reeaaaaally ticklish or something?”

“No you idiots! I just don’t like being jumped by my so-called friends! What the hell?!” 

Ignoring his barking, they reach in to help Midoriya lower Bakugo gently to the floor of the common room. Kaminari throws a leg over Bakugo’s legs while Kirishima untangles one of his arms and drags it up over his head, exposing his side. Sero sits down beside them. Katsuki’s other arm is taped against his side, and his legs are haphazardly wrapped together, meanwhile his idiot best friend now has one of his arms in a vice grip over his head. Kaminari settles into a spot just above Bakugo’s bound knees, holding him in place further. 

Midoriya leans in closer, shifting around the Bakugo’s side opposite Sero, clearly remembering the tickle fights they had gotten into as kids. “Uh oh, you’re in trouble Kacchan~.” 

All four of his classmates have excited grins on their faces. Fuck. Fuck. Red blooms across Katsuki’s face.

Kirishima brings a super wiggly teasing hand down slowly, frustratingly slowly, toward Bakugo’s exposed armpit, and he can’t help his eyes locking to it. “Seriously, cut this crap out!” 

“Not a chance!” Kirishima exclaims with a giddy smile.

Bakugo growls in frustration as the claw draws closer, just a few inches from his skin. Suddenly, it dips down faster, and a gasp fills the room just as quickly. 

Bakugo growls again when he realizes the trick… and his mistake. His attackers snicker with glee.

“Did you see his eyes just now?” Kaminari observes excitedly.

Sero chuckles along. “Yeah, oh man.” 

“You’re totally ticklish Bakubro.” Kirishima laughs, delighted, and continues his teasing descent.

“Bet you we can get him to giggle.” Kaminari suggests.

“I don’t fucking g-giggle.” Katsuki swallows, quick to stop talking as Kirishima’s fingers touch down, poking curiously. 

“Actually, Kacchan, I’m pretty sure you do have some giggle-spots.” Izuku chimes in, biting his lip to fight back his grin. 

“You’re gonna be the f-first to die, Deku!”

“Hey! That’s not very nice.” Izuku chuckles. “You’re not really in a good position to be rude right now.” He pokes his fingers into Kacchan’s tensed abdomen which jumps slightly under the touch. 

Bakugo’s skin is alight, his nerves tingling in anticipation. His focus is forced in on the points of contact his friends have with his underarm and stomach. “Don’t.” He grumbles weakly, energy focused on keeping his composure intact.

The hesitant yet curious fingers pick up pace, encouraged by his stonewalling. Kaminari joins in, pinching the tops of Bakugo’s thighs, and Sero starts poking at his exposed ribs. 

Katsuki twitches more and more under each touch, his chest starting to rattle a bit with held back laughter. This led him to the conclusion that he was absolutely, definitely, undeniably still ticklish. It was much worse than he remembered.

As his friends grow more and more confident by the moment, he finds it harder and harder not to laugh. A wide smile works its way onto his face and Katsuki curses himself internally. Soon, giggles are starting to slip through. He only wishes he could at least have a hand free to cover his ridiculous face. 

“It’s working! Look!” Kaminari concludes triumphantly, reaching up further to prod at Bakugo’s hip bones. 

“Ah! Stahahhop it—”

Kirishima and Sero grin in turn, encouraged, and start to tickle with more determination at their respective spots. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for Katsuki’s laughter to begin leaking out.

“Nahahaha- idiots! Cuhuhuhut it out! Thihihis is stuhuhupid!” Bakugo complains, chuckling through his torment.

“It’s working, let’s get him worse!” Kirishima and Kaminari agree, suddenly tickling with fervor over their respective spots. 

“No!” Bakugo shouts, panic rising with his laughter as he realizes he can’t move.  

“Guys…” Izuku clears his throat for a moment. “Wait a second.”

They pause, turning to look at Midoriya.

“Let’s just… take it easy ok? I don’t think we should be too mean…” 

Kaminari shrugs. “I mean… He’s already gonna kill us all for this, regardless of what we do going forward.” 

“Yeah but.. I still think we should be...” Izuku pauses, drawing a lazy finger down Bakugo’s midsection, feeling the muscle tremble beneath it. Little protection is offered in the form of casual dorm clothes. “—well, try to be… nice. I think.” Izuku brings the rest of his fingers out into a spider-y crawl up to his ribs. “He always hated it if you went too hard, back then.” 

“Sh-shuhut the fuck up!” Katsuki growls between fading laughter. “Stop tahahalking about mehehe- while you’re—”

“Hey! He’s trying to stick up for you, bro.” Kirishima chastises, pinching Bakugo’s upper rib cage, sending his head back with a shout. He keeps up wiggling his fingers softly into the ribs.

“I don’t cahahahare! All of you shut uhuhuhup! Gehehet off already! It’s ahah- hahaha obviouslyhehehe not wohohohorking!” The fire of Katsuki’s embarrassed rage burns its way into the words, finding its way through despite the cackling laughter surrounding his words.

“Listen.” Kaminari leans in, trying to force eye contact with the flustered, angry blond. “Even though you’re being a big fat liar and a total jerk right now and you totally deserve to get it worse… We’re gonna listen to Midoriya and take it easy on you.” 

Part of Bakugo wants to scream, ‘don’t you dare take it easy on me! Ever!’ —but the ticklish part of his brain keeps that other part silent. He scoffs instead and tries again to kick his legs out unsuccessfully. “Whatever! Either get off or get whatever the hell you’re gonna do over with already!” 

Kirishima beams. “…That almost sounds like an invitation.”

“Shut up!”

“You need to work on your attitude, Kacchan~.” Kaminari snickers, poking a few times into Katsuki’s sides, and Bakugo tenses again, face still lit up with a warm blush. Midoriya continues to scribble gently at Bakugo’s stomach and up to his lower ribcage, searching for the perfect spot on his ribs that always made him.. Ah, there it was.

“Ehehehe, stahahaha— Deku d-dohohon’t!” Katsuki giggles.

“Are your feet ticklish too?” Sero asks, happy with his tape bonds and feeling a bit crowded with the other two up near Bakugo’s chest. 

Bakugo’s toes curl in his stupid, measly, unprotective slippers. “N-no! I told you— I’m not fucking tihihicklish!” He blatantly lies. “Sh-ahaha-shut up, stupid ehehextras!” 

Kirishima sighs dramatically over the sound of Bakugo giggling. “Sounds like we’re gonna be here a while guys…”

“That’s fine by me!” Kaminari adds gleefully, pinching at both of Bakugo’s hips every few seconds and watching him buck faintly at the touch.

Katsuki continues his mantra of cursing and denial, only encouraging his tormenting friends to push him, tickling and teasing with a greater boldness with each passing threat he makes. And well, damn if his own competitive steak isn’t to a fault — he can’t help the instinct that he doesn’t want to lose. He knows it’s stupid at this point to keep denying that he’s ticklish. And yet…

“Shuhuhut up! I’m nohohohot! I’m not! Ahahah- don’t! Shihihit-fuck you Deku! Hahaha nooo—”

“Ooh what’d you do?” Curious voices crowd Izuku, faces trying to catch on to what he did to attract Bakugo’s ire.

“Nothing—” Izuku lets out a little laugh. “Just—”

“Nothing!” Katsuki reiterates, interrupting and glaring up at Deku. 

Midoriya laughs awkwardly. “I think Kacchan would actually murder me if I showed you… sorry guys.”

They think for a moment, then shrug in agreement. “We’ll just have to keep doing this until we find whatever that spot was, then, I guess. Start a weekly tradition.” Kirishima says as though it’s a new chore they have to complete. 

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking dahaHAHAhahare!”

“Wow, Bakugo, for someone who’s definitely not ticklish, you’re laughing a lot.” Kaminari teases. “What's so funny?” 

“Your stuhuhuhupid fahace!” Bakugo laughs back without missing a beat. 

Kaminari narrows his eyes, then pulls away his hands. He pulls his hand in close to examine it, flexes his fingers a few times; he rests his fingertips gently on his other forearm, watching thoughtfully. Electricity crackles, quiet enough to miss over Bakugo’s strangled laughter. With a grin, both of Kaminari’s hands are back, reaching down toward Bakugo’s middle, who groans with frustration. 

When Kaminari touches his stomach this time though, he pushes his hand under the shirt and against the bare skin. Bakugo tenses even further, his mind stumbling between a mixture of embarrassment, lightness, anger, laughter, and an overloading nervous system. 

“The fuhuhuhuck are yOU-HA! STAHAHA-NO! WHAHAT!? WHAahahaha whahahat iS THAHAT!?” Comes Katsuki’s increasingly frantic response to the feeling of tiny, popping electrical stimulations pulsing out from Kaminari’s nimble fingers. 

“Oh man, seriously what is that?” Kirishima asks with a grin.

“If you want us to stop, all you have to do is admit that you’re ticklish~.” Kaminari reminds a cackling Bakugo. He drags his fingers in light, slowly closing and widening circles along the skin he can reach under Bakugo’s shirt that isn’t fully closed off by tape. “It’s nothing really, just getting a little creative with my quirk.” He says casually to his friend as though there were not a writhing Bakugo between them.

“That’s so cool! How’d you come up with that? Is it easy to manage the minimal electrical output? Oh man, it seems like it tickles really bad! Poor Kacchan..” 

“Hey, if you want to try it out next…” Denki snickers.

Izuku holds his hands up, crossing and uncrossing them in front of his chest quickly. “No! No, I’m, heh, I’m already really ticklish so…” He blushes crimson with a nervous smile.

“Oh are you now?” Kaminari winks, grinning. “Maybe we’ll have to test that some time.” 

“N- uh. Heh.” Midoriya’s face is red as he stumbles over words and eventually just turns to focus on poking at Kacchan in front of him rather than his future possible victimhood.

Sero, meanwhile, tickles up and down Bakugo’s soles and pinches at his ankles and calves and shins, gaining him some suppressed kicks and jerking muscles.

When Midoriya returns to tickling along his ribs, Bakugo feels that he isn’t going to be able to take this much longer, with Kirishima on his underarm and occasionally neck, Sero on his feet, and Kaminari spreading his terrible little sparking tickles all over his sides and stomach now.

“Fuck! Stahahahahop- ehehehehenough already!” Bakugo growls through his increasingly desperate laughter. 

“You just have to admit it~.” Kirishima sing-song’s.

Bakugo shouts through his laughter, frustrated and nearly at wit’s end. He grapples with the few options he can think of right now, landing on nothing but the obvious out. Deku’s fingers start crawling back up toward his ribs and he panics, shouting out between laughs. “Fine! Fihihihine I’m ticklish! It fucking tihihihihihickles! Ahahahahhare you happy nahahahow? I am! Ahaha- haha is- is thihihis what you wahahahanted?!” 

Everyone slowly pulls their hands away, leaving a panting, flustered, still-giggling Bakugo taped up between them all. 

“See, that wasn’t so hard!” Kaminari laughs, starting to tug at the tape securing their friend. 

Bakugo flinches when he first reaches in, which makes everyone laugh again. Soon, everyone is helping, and Bakugo is quickly free enough to stand up and rip the rest off. He tries to glower, to stare them all down, but the red hasn’t left his cheeks yet, and the smile is still fighting its way onto his lips. 

“You’re all gonna fucking die. I hope you know.” Katsuki cracks his knuckles, then turns and points accusatorily. “Especially you, Deku!” 

“Wha- me?!” 

“Obviously! This was all your fault!” 

Midoriya squeaks, shrinking in on himself and putting distance between him and Kacchan. 

“I have better things to do right now. But you’re all gonna get yours.” Bakugo threatens as he heads toward his dorm to ‘do better things’ (totally not just take a nap because he’s exhausted from laughing so hard).

[moonlightsolo]

beauty of all things.

summary: joining the military was never on your bucket list. mostly just a fantasy that your parents couldn’t live out themselves. somehow, you snagged a job to study the native people of pandora and were sent to space. after slowly figuring out that the organization you work for is crooked, you decide to escape into the pandoran forest to seek out the omaticaya clan. on the way, you take quite a tumble, and a certain na’vi boy saves your life.

pairing: neteyam sully x human!fem reader

warnings: smut 18+, vvvv descriptive, unprotected sex i'm sorry, slight size kink, squint for breath play, mentions of animals dy!ng, violence, guns (sorry but the reader is a badass), brief uses of y/n, also non-accurate na'vi language but i tried my best.

word count: 8.5k+

note: hello i havent written smut in so long so if its terrible just tell me i did good and scroll !!! thanks ily <3

the year is two-thousand, one-hundred seventy, and you’ve finally arrived on pandora at the rda base, now named bridgehead. 

the feeling of waking up after six years in cryosleep is indescribable. your brain feels like jelly bouncing around in your skull, the organ thumps in sync with every beat of your heart. 

even a slight movement of your finger feels as if your bones will shatter up your arm.

“calm down. everything will be fine. just breathe.” someone speaks to you. the sound of their voice echoes in your head, making your ears ring as if they screamed directly into your ear drum. 

but fuck, you can’t breathe. 

something covering your mouth and nose is flush against your face, making it hard to take in a full breath. one of your arms lift up, sending a shockwave of pain throughout your body. 

you grunt as you rip the oxygen mask off of your face, taking a deep breath of fresh air. your lungs burn from the feeling, making tears spill from your waterline. your eyes finally flutter open, welcomed by a bright white light above your head.

maybe you’re dead. wouldn’t that be something.

“calm down, private.” a nurse dressed in blue scrubs shines another bright light in your eyes. “reflexes look good.” she talks to another person on the other side of your bed. 

“where am i?” your hoarse voice croaks out, making pain sizzle in your esophagus. 

“you’re on pandora.” 

the nurses don’t waste time to get you ready for your first mission. your bones and muscles are still sore, but you’re required to join some fellow colleagues on a tour on the outskirts of the forest. 

well, what’s left of it. 

your first step outside made you realize that the people you’re working for are making the same mistakes as they did on earth. stripping the planet to its bones, and killing anything in their path just to pocket a dollar.

the destruction of the environment around you makes your heart ache for the na’vi and the native animals. the area is barren and dry from the wildfire they caused when the first group of ships arrived last year. 

you couldn’t help but feel slightly emotional, completely regretting letting your parents make this decision for you. 

you reluctantly follow the group, the trees and vegetation growing thicker as you trek farther into it. 

you didn’t know there could be this much green on a planet. the exotic flora fascinates you, how it glows and interacts with the world around it. 

“hold up.” the guide of the brigade raises his hand, all of the soldiers halt in their steps. an animal that resembles a much larger deer strolls from behind a large tree, grazing on the grass. 

from your studies, you recognize it as a hexapede. you go to step forward to admire the creature, but you can’t help but notice your lieutenant move his hand to his gun. 

he snickers and lifts his gun to aim at the animal, “watch this.” he cockily smirks at the other male comrades next to him, who grin excitedly at the mention of a hunt. 

before he could pull the trigger, you turn your back and cover your ears. the ring of the bullet being fired makes you jump. tears instantly burn in your eyes, seeping from your eyes and trailing down your cheeks. 

your breath shudders in your chest, heart breaking for the animal that just lost its life for some sort of game. 

“look at her.” some of them chuckle as they pass you. 

another soldiers walks by, hitting you with his hip which causes you to fall to the ground directly on your ass. the wet dirt seeps into your uniform, soiling your pants with a mud stain.

“get a grip. you need to toughen up, princess. it’s not going to be castles and rainbows out here.” the lieutenant spits out at you from above, face red with anger. 

you flinch, shoulders rising higher to your shoulders with every insult thrown at you. the laughter from your comrades makes your anger and embarrassment grow stronger by the second. 

you slowly stand to your feet to follow them, facing screwing up in pain with every step. you decide to walk farther behind them since you would rather be eaten by a predator then have a conversation with any of them. 

the rest of the day was filled with indoor training, lectures, and meetings with the big guys. all they yell about is reprimanding the na’vi, and if we see them, we shoot to kill. 

somehow, every single person in the room seems to be too excited to go out and hunt them- everyone except you. 

the thought makes you queasy, like you could vomit at the thought of using violence against them. 

back on earth, you studied the omaticaya people for years. the last thing you want to do is to hurt them. 

every day is the same. training, lectures, and numerous meetings. the rda somehow created their own avatars, and are using them against the omaticaya people to take down jake sully. 

it’s already your fifty-seventh night on pandora, and it feels as if you’ve been here for months. every day, the heavy feeling of wanting to leave grows heavier in your chest. 

the thought looms above your head like a dark storm cloud, following you around everywhere you go. 

tonight is the night you decide it’s time to leave. you’ve seen and studied enough of the forest to know how to survive for a few days. 

all you know is that you need to find this jake sully everyone is talking about to warn him about everything. 

you’ve already packed a bag full of non-perishable food and water, a fresh pair of clothes, ammo, and a poncho for the rain. the pistol you stole from training is tucked in the waistband of your pants. you would rather not use it, but if it came to surviving you would have to. 

taking a deep breath, you crack open the door to your quarters. you look down the long corridor of the dormitory, seeing that the coast is clear. 

you flip your hood onto your head before stepping into the hallway. you keep your head angled down so the cameras can’t get a glimpse of your face. 

you truly can’t believe you’re about to do this. you’re honestly stupid. how will you ever get past the guards? you mentally battle yourself to go back to bed and plan this out more, but you’ve already gotten this far. 

once you get outside, you pull the full-face oxygen mask up from where it was hanging loosely around your neck. you truly start to believe you actually might get away with this. 

you take another deep breath, “you got this. you can do this.” you give yourself a little pep talk, before scurrying behind a wall. 

you peek your head out to scope out the area. there’s the gate that leads to the outside and it’s guarded by one guy. it’s only one guy- well, one big guy.

you press your back against the wall you’re hiding behind, looking up at the dark sky that sparkles with stars. you take another deep shaky breath before stepping out and heading straight towards him. 

your eyes dart around the area to make sure nobody else is coming. you slyly bring out your knife that sits in a sheath connected to your belt. 

“hey! you’re not supposed to be out here.” he shouts loudly at you, forcing you to pick up your pace towards him. 

“hey! what’re you doing?!” he goes to grab his gun, but before he could, you lift your heavy boot up to kick in his knee. a loud crunch sounds from his leg, making the man fall to ground with a loud yelp of pain.

before he could cry for help, the blade of your weapon is pressed against his jugular. 

“scream, and i’ll kill you.” you hiss at him quietly, eyes still looking to the side to make sure nobody is coming. 

“give me your keycard…now!” you tighten your grip on him, pressing the blade into his neck. he grunts as his hands scurry to unhook it and reach it up to you. “you sick fucking bitch.” he seethes out through his teeth. 

before you grab it from him, you land a blow to his temple with the handle of the knife. sending the man to the ground unconscious, “douchebag.” you grumble as you bend down to swipe the card off the ground, pressing the plastic key to the scanner. 

the gate beeps green, and slowly clicks open as the multiple bolts unlock. you push through the gate, slamming it shut behind you before you break out in a sprint down the steps and into the dirt. 

the buildings behind you begin to blare sirens, red lights flashing into the sky. they must’ve found him. “fuck, fuck, fuck!” you whisper to yourself, picking up your pace as you dash to the tree line. 

the forest in front of you is dark with no sign of life nor light. you continue sprinting, jumping over logs and hopping over puddles. before you know it, you’re surrounded by vast darkness and the base is no where in sight. 

you slow down, leaning against a tree to take a breath. you can’t believe you did it- you actually escaped from that hell hole. 

your eyes squeeze shut as you breathe slowly, attempting to slow down your heart rate. “eywa, if you’re there. please don’t let me die.” you speak out into the air desperately. 

when you reopen your eyes, you can see absolutely nothing in front of you. that cues you to grab your flashlight from your pack and to begin your hike. 

you have no idea where you are going, but from all the intel you overheard in all those meetings you know that their base is somewhere in the hallelujah mountains. 

you fish through one of your pockets in your cargo pants, finding the map of the surrounding area. your eyes locate bridgehead, the coastal rda city, and then the mountains. 

“holy shit. that’s a long way.” you grumble to yourself as you continue walking forward. 

crack!

you stop in your tracks to spin around in a three-sixty, shining your flashlight every which way. another loud crack sounds from behind you that seems even closer than before.

“fuck this shit.” you spit out and take off in a run again. you weave and bob between large tree trunks and leap over fallen ones. you need to find shelter and wait for the sun to come up for the last two hours of nighttime. 

you’re thankful that training helped build your stamina because if you couldn’t run for more than five minutes, you’d probably be dead already. 

once you slow down, you realize there’s a clearing to your right. as you grow closer, you realize it’s an old hut- specifically an rda scientist pod. your eyes scan the area for any possible danger before stepping out into the open. you keep mind to where you step, making sure to make as little noise as possible. 

you notice the pod is overridden with vines, and the windows are shattered. as you step inside, grass cracks under the sole of your boots. you wince from the noise, peeking behind your back to make sure you’re still alone. 

you decide to sit down in one of the non-smashed-in avatar capsules, taking a deep breath. 

wow, you really did it. you’re now a fugitive of the government. 

unbeknownst to yourself, your mind is more exhausted than you thought. you take a few gulps of water, before leaning back to finally (sort of) relax. before you know it, you’re fast asleep. 

a few hours later, you’re awoken by a loud screech of some sort of animal. gasping and automatically reaching for your gun, you pull it out and aim it in front of you through the broken window. 

the sun has already risen, streaming through the  numerous trees surrounding the opening. you take another deep breath to slow your breathing, realizing there’s nothing to worry about. 

you decide it’s time to get up and eat something, but you would rather begin your very long trek to the mountains instead. so you grab a granola bar and start heading north. 

you pull out the map and your compass, following the directions and hoping you’re going the right way. “god. i’m so stupid.” you whisper to yourself as your head lifts up to see where you're going. 

you didn’t realize where you were walking since you were too busy paying attention to the map. suddenly, your feet are taken out from under you and you’re tumbling down a rocky hill. 

unfortunately, you land in a large pool of mud at the bottom. sticky, heavy mud that gives off heat.

the air in your lungs feels like fire, oxygen fuels the embers deep in your chest. your throat constricts as you wheeze, the wind is knocked out of you, and it feels as if you’re suffocating.

mud splashes up on your face, the feeling of the thick dirt sucking you under makes you panic even more. another wheeze punches your chest as you attempt to climb out of the pit, but to no avail. the mud continues to suck you under the surface as your nails dig into the grass in attempt to keep your head afloat. 

you let out a loud cry once some oxygen returns to your lungs, but you can feel the mud compressing the tube connected to your backpack. some of the air from outside is slowly leaking into your headpiece, making you feel extremely lightheaded. 

“please..” you squeak out, eyes squeezing shut as you slowly start coming to terms with your death.  

unsure if you’re hallucinating or not, you hear muffled commotion in front of you. your eyes flutter open, vision blurry and unable to make out the large figures. “help.. me.” you softly call out, lungs compressed by the weight of the mud.

suddenly, hands are gripping any part of your exposed body they can get to and you’re being pulled from the pit and laid on the plush grass. you instantly gasp for air as the oxygen returns back into your mask, chest heaving as it alleviates your dizziness. 

a coarse cough pummels your chest and you roll over on your side, sucking in fast deep breaths. 

“hey, hey… it’s okay.” an accented voice speaks to you before going back to speaking in a foreign language. seemingly, talking to someone else who responds in the same language.   

your eyes finally open to see your rescuer, praying to every supernatural god that it’s not the rda. 

to your surprise, a very blurry na’vi is crouched in front of you. his golden eyes are wide with fear that glance between you and the person behind you. 

your breath gets caught in your throat at the sight of him. a very beautiful one, at that. he’s adorned in handmade beaded and weaved garb. his head is covered in very tight knit braids with various decorations tied in them. 

you can tell that he’s arguing with the person behind you in their language, almost making out a few words. 

dangerous… human… girl… listen to… dad…?

before you could say anything to him, one of his arms slide under your head and the other slides behind your knees. “don’t worry. we are going to help you.” 

his warm skin gives you a sense of relief as he holds you close to his chest while he starts to run. blinking through your blurry vision, you notice another blue figure following closely behind you. 

you float in and out of consciousness, every breath you take squeaks as if you have an instrument in your lungs. your head is sitting in the crook of his elbow, now watching mountains flash by. beside you, is another boy flying a banshee. 

are you in the fucking air right now?

“please don’t die. stay awake for me.” the one holding you mumbles, making eye contact with you before your eyes flutter shut again. 

something burns your nostrils, sending signals to your brain to wake up. “ah!” you yelp, going to sit up but the pain in your body causes you to fall back down in a crying mess. 

once your watery eyes finally open, you’re greeted by another pair of yellow eyes, but this time it’s a girl- not the boy who saved you. “hi, i’m kiri.” she smiles wide. her face looks quite familiar. 

“don’t tell her your name, skxawng.” someone scolds from somewhere around you, which just makes her roll her eyes. it’s another boy, but not the one who saved you. 

“where am i?” you rasp out, looking around at the room you’re in. it’s almost like a makeshift hut with a strong smell of herbs and smoke.

“i can’t tell you that, but just know that you are safe.” her hand gently runs down your hair, making you tense up before relaxing. her entire presence calms you down, there’s just something about her. 

“i think you might’ve broken one of your ribs, and you definitely have a concussion.” she sits back on her heels to grab medicine that’s laid out next to her. 

“i still think we should get mom and dad.” she chirps, eyeing someone out of the corner of her eye as she crushes something in a mortar. 

“if we tell dad, he will kill us for bringing her back here, and then mom will skin us afterwards.” the same voice sounds from the corner of the room. 

you can’t help but attempt to lift your head, but kiri’s hand presses on your oxygen mask to keep you down. “stay.” she reprimands you as if you are a dog.

you groan in annoyance, but continue to stay put as she scoops up the medicinal paste she was grinding and swipes it on your forehead and temples. “to relieve your pain.” she smiles at you and nods. 

wooden beads clink together as someone enters the room, “is she okay?” 

there he is. 

“yes and no. she’s in a lot pain but she will live.” kiri speaks to him as she continues rubbing the paste on different points of your body. like your neck, wrists, and numerous pulse points. 

the paste gives off a cooling sensation, almost making your pain go away instantaneously. this time, you refuse to listen to the girl. you swiftly sit up to look at the boy, teeth gritting together from your aching muscles.

your movements makes him take a step back, almost like a scared puppy.

“look, i’m not going to hurt you.” you glance at all three of them before continuing, “i’m here to warn your people about what’s coming- what the rda is planning next. i need to talk to jake sully.” 

once you mention that name, they all pause and look between each other with an ‘oh shit’ gleam in their eyes. 

“what do you know about jake sully?” the older boy stands up straight with his shoulders back, his height towering over you intimidatingly.

“i know he’s your eytukan, and your toruk macto. so that means he’s in charge, right?” 

“why do you need to warn him?” the younger boy stands up from behind him, walking forward to face you and await your response. 

“the rda. you know, the mercenaries. they brought in avatars, but they want to kill him and everyone that comes in between them.“ your voice is strong as you lay out the facts, but on the inside you’re nervous as hell. 

“how do you know you weren’t sent here to spy on us?” the older one speaks again. 

“neteyam. i don’t think she—.” kiri gets cut off by his hand raising for her to be quiet. 

neteyam… so that’s his name. 

he sighs at his name being mentioned. obviously bothered by it as one of his hands come up to rub the bridge of his nose.

“i promise i wasn’t sent here. i came here looking for jake because i just… couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. trust me, please.” he takes a second, almost as if he’s deep in thought. 

“i’ll relay the information to him, but i can’t let you be seen by our people. they won’t react well.” he mumbles, “they don’t trust humans that come from where you’re from.” 

“lo’ak, why don’t you go get her some food?” neteyam looks back at his brother who throws his hands up in annoyance, “and kiri, why don’t you clean this up so nobody wonders where you are?” 

kiri grumbles under her breath as she packs up her medicine and herbs into a pack to leave alongside lo’ak. 

and then there were two…

thankfully, neteyam sits down in front of you with his legs crossed- instead of intimidatingly towering over you from above. your eyes travel over his body, admiring the color of his skin and the stripes that adorn him, “so what’s your name?” 

“i’m y/n.” you respond with a smile, “i’m guessing you’re neteyam?” you almost let out a laugh, which makes his lips quirk up a bit. 

“that’s me.” he shrugs with a shy grin. his fingers tap gently on his knees as he looks around awkwardly. 

“how do you know english so well?” you question, making his pointed ears perk up. you watch how his tail curiously flicks behind his body. 

“some of the scientists that work here. they’re humans… the good ones.” he quickly adds, his glowing eyes watch your every move.

“thanks for saving me back there. ya know, like in the mud and stuff. i probably would have died if you weren’t there.” you breathe out, almost as if you’re slightly embarrassed by the situation you got yourself into. 

“i will be honest, i was kind of scared of you. i didn’t know if you were one of the 'good ones', but i couldn’t just leave you there. i’m a gentleman, you know.” a cocky little grin tugs up on the corner of his mouth. 

a deep shiver runs through your body from his words, feeling heat rush onto the apples of your cheeks. for some reason, this na’vi boy is way too charming for his own good.

something stirs in your belly, a gut feeling to keep prying at him slowly. maybe you’ll get to know him better.

“so how old are you?” you ask out of pure curiosity, not for any other reasons…

neteyam slightly stiffens at the question, eyes squinting at you for a brief moment before softening. almost as if he was deciding what to say, “i’m twenty.” he states simply with a blank face.

“i’m nineteen.” you blurt it out, even if he didn’t reciprocate the question. 

neteyam smiles and goes to answer, but lo’ak bursts through the beaded doorway with various foods in his hands. he dumps it on the bed in front of you, bowing like a servant. 

“bon appetite.” he grumbles sarcastically before turning around and heading back out of the room- but not without purposely bumping into neteyam with his hip.

“what’s up with him?” you almost laugh as you rummage through the exotic fruits in front of you. 

“that’s my brother, lo’ak. he’s an ass.” he shakes his head with a laugh, his braids swing on his head as he does so. 

you go to pick up a bright pink fruit to bite into it, “wait! don’t bite it. you cannot eat the skin.” he crawls toward you, unsheathing his knife from his waistband. 

“what’re you gonna do? stab me?” you ask playfully which makes the boy smirk at you, “yeah, i might as well. it’ll keep you from asking anymore questions.” 

his response makes you laugh and shake your head. his large hand wraps around the fruit to take it from you, slicing around the center to follow the seed in the middle. almost like a giant pink avocado. 

he lifts the top off, and there sticks out the oblong seed sitting inside yellow pulp that looks disgustingly delicious. “so all you have to do is suck on the seed…” he trails off, bringing the fruit to your lips. you pull the oxygen mask off your face, holding your breath. 

“and pull it out with your teeth, then you can drink the inside.” his voice is breathy as he watches your lips wrap around the seed to lick off the extra pulp stuck to it. you can’t help but tease the boy by looking up at him through your eyelashes, which makes his breath evidently hitch.

neteyam gulps as he watches you pull the seed out with your teeth, before you take the fruit from his hand to tip the fruit back to drink the inside. 

you pull the mask back over your face, looking up at him with a little smile. “that was delicious, thank you. it kind of tasted like vanilla pudding.”

his eyebrows furrow, “pudding?” he questions. 

“oh yeah. it’s from earth. like a sweet, thick textured milk. it’s yummy, but not good for you.” you lean back in the bed you’re laying in, stretching your arms above your head. 

neteyam‘s heart beats a little faster as he watches your shirt slowly hike up to reveal your belly. 

“so who’s bed am i in?” you smile softly up at him from where he’s sitting the end of the bed, shaking him out of his trance. 

“mine. this is my… erm- kelku.”

“oh, your room?” you smile at him and he nods, “yeah, m'sorry i didn’t know the english word.” 

“don’t be sorry.” you shake your head at him, still smiling away, “does your kelku have a bathroom i can use?”

neteyam grins at your use of a na’vi word, “ah no, but… i can take you to get cleaned up. you just might have to wait until sunset.” 

you overly exaggerate a loud sigh, making the glass fog up but you can’t help but still smile at him so he knows you’re not really upset. “okay fine..” you grumble sarcastically as you sit back up with your legs crossed. 

“they really made more avatars, huh?” neteyam asks. 

“and they’re dangerous and were created solely for combat. i don’t want to see you and your family get hurt. all of you have already gone through so much.” you mumble, eyes falling down to your hands sitting in your lap. 

neteyam reaches out to lay one of his hands on yours, completely engulfing your lap with it. the soft touch makes your eyes raise to look at him, “you… are brave.” he nods his head along with his words. 

you couldn’t help but beam, a sense of accomplishment filling your chest. “thank you.” you turn your hands up so your palms were against his. you carefully wrap your hands around his, holding his one hand with both of your own. 

“you put your own life at risk to help us… to let us know we’re in danger. so i thank you.”  his fingers curl in to hold onto your hands with a soft smile curling onto his lips.  

something in you urges you to leap forward, to rip this goddamn mask off and kiss this boy to show your appreciation for his kindness. 

it seems as if he’s feeling the same way by how he is looking at you. his big round eyes glance over your lips before returning back to your eyes, his chest is picking up pace from his rapid breathing. 

the sound of beads rustling snaps both of you out of your mutual fascination with each other. “just coming to check on her.” kiri walks forward with her hands on her hips. 

“and what are you two doing?” she looks down at your hands wrapped around each other, making neteyam jump back and stand swiftly to his feet. you can’t help but notice his braids swing wildly with every move.

“i- um…” he points at you then scratches his head, “i’ll be right back.” he bolts out the doorway, leaving you silent and shocked. 

“boys.” kiri sticks out her tongue in disgust as she bends down to your level to check the paste she smeared on you. “seems like your body is reacting to it well. are you feeling okay?” she looks up at you.

“yeah. i actually feel completely fine. a little sore, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary.” you laugh, which makes your ribs ache. 

“then you didn’t break a rib, but just bruised yourself.” she hums as she stands up to her feet.

“you need to get cleaned up. you’re covered in mud.” she looks over your body, her nose scrunching up at the sight. 

“oh yeah.. um neteyam said he would take me during sunset.” you awkwardly laugh as you gnaw on your lip. 

kiri slightly side-eyes you, before shrugging. “okay... then. get some rest, i’ll have neteyam come to you when he’s ready.” she comfortingly rubs your shoulder before walking out. 

you let out a groan before falling back against the cot, rolling onto your side with a slight wince from the dull pain. 

your body refuses to fall asleep, unable to get comfortable from the curiosity of wanting to see what’s outside of your room. you decide to just peek, it won’t harm anyone, right?

you quietly slide out of the bed and tip toe to the beaded doorway. your hands move them to the side so you could get a good look. it’s nothing but rocky wall and the backside of another hut, which is disappointing. 

you slowly creep out from behind the beads, looking around to make sure nobody can see you. 

you press your back to the outside of the hut, sliding across it to the front to look on the other side. before you could step out, a very large hand presses against your mouth and an arm wraps around your waist to hoist you up. 

you let out a yelp into the palm of your captor, kicking your legs once they leave the safety of being on the ground. “shh, shh… it’s just me.” neteyams voice whispers next to your ear. 

your body relaxes as he turns around to walk back inside of his room to put you down. you turn on your heel to scold him for scaring you, but he starts first, “i was coming to get you so i could bring you to get cleaned up, but you decided you would like to escape now, huh?” the tone of his voice seems agitated, and his breathing is quite fast. 

“anybody could have seen you! my parents could have seen you! they would have tried to hurt you. you’re not trying to leave, are you?” he slightly whisper-yells at you, now obviously frustrated. 

you’re a bit taken aback by his demeanor, “look, i’m sorry. i wasn’t trying to leave, i just wanted to look around. ya know… see what it looked like.” you sheepishly speak out. you can feel your heart rate starting to pick up. 

“i don’t believe it. are you trying to spy on us?” his eyes are slightly squinted, now starting to pace in front of you. “i don’t want to keep you here, if you’re the one putting us in danger.” 

your eyes blow wide in shock, heart dropping to your feet. “no, no! neteyam, believe me, please!” he stops in his tracks to watch you, “i wasn’t trying to spy or anything, i swear! i’m just a curious person and i’ve studied the omaticaya clan for years. i just wanted to see what it looked it. i wasn’t trying to spy, i promise you!” your voice gets higher as your emotions start to take over. 

neteyam notices your watery eyes and shaky hands, slowly coming to terms that you’re actually telling the truth. “don’t cry.” he mutters out, running a stressed hand through his braids. 

he takes a hesitant step towards you, head angled down to look at you from above. one of his hands cradle your head, tip of his thumb rubbing over your forehead and down the bridge of your tiny nose. “i don’t want to make you cry.”

“i just don’t want…” you sniffle, “you to think of me that…” another sniffle, “…way.” your bottom lip quivers, as all the horrible memories of the rda come rushing back into your brain.  

“i don’t, i don’t. i am sorry.” he bends down slightly, eyes darting over your face in attempt to search for a way to help you. he wishes he could kiss you, to make you feel better. 

“would you like to go get cleaned up? i found woman’s clothing in the scientist’s shack.” he mumbles, gesturing to the pack on his back. 

“oh really?” you brighten up slightly at the sound of getting clean clothes. 

“follow me.” neteyam motions with his hand for you to walk with him. 

he parts the beads for you to walk through with him, bringing you down the rocky hallway with numerous huts filled with other na’vi. “i may have told my dad about you. he wants to meet you after i get you clean.” he nonchalantly speaks as if you know who his dad is. 

“and who’s your dad and why do i want to talk to him?” you question with a laugh. 

“oh… well my dad is jake sully.” he mumbles, “i didn't tell you because i didn’t trust you at first.” 

“hm.. that’s reasonable. i can’t believe he’s your dad though that’s crazy. the big and bad toruk macto.” you giggle softly, covering your mouth with your very dirty hand. 

neteyam can’t help but laugh along, “yeah… big and bad, sure…” he grumbles sarcastically as he walks you up to a clearing. 

there’s a few banshees laying on the rock next to an opening in the floor, and a giant hut in the middle next to the science pods. you can see the tops of a few na’vi’s heads but they don’t notice you thankfully. you can't help but feel excited to finally see one of these in real life, let alone ride on one.

“let’s go.” he jogs toward his ikran, bringing his braid forward to make his bond with it. he easily climbs onto the large animal before he reaches out to you to help you climb on. “we’ve got to hurry. hold on to me tight, okay?”

your arms wrap around his waist tightly, one of his hands reach back to pull you closer by your thigh. “wrap your legs around me. this is gonna be a wild ride.” he chuckles. you can’t help but feel nervous as your legs wrap around his hips, making your body quite literally flush with his back. 

the banshee squawks loudly before nosediving off of the landing, making your stomach do somersaults in your stomach. “neteyaaaaaam!” you squeal loudly as the wind rushes by your ears and your arms hold him in a deadly grip. 

he finally levels out, cackling loudly and throwing his head back. “the way you screamed my name!” he belly laughs as he continues to fly forward. 

“you can’t just drop us into the sky with no warning!” you can’t help but laugh along, arms and legs still wrapped around him tightly like a vise. 

neteyam slightly descends into the forest below, dodging numerous trees and taking turns until he finds where he needs to land. “finally.” you breathe out once you slide off the animal, “i’ve never been so happy to see the ground!” you exclaim which makes him laugh. 

neteyam pulls the pack off of the side of the bird, swinging it over his shoulder and walking forward. you take it as a cue to follow him, hopping over a few rocks that he easily steps over.

the sound of running water grows louder as you keep walking, eyes searching the area for where the sound is coming from. “just up here.” he calls back at you, picking up his pace. 

you can’t help but start running, since his speed walk is like a sprint for you. “god, neteyam. i’m tinier than you. slow down!” 

before you know it, he stops in his tracks right in front of a clearing. “here it is.” he breathes out with a wide smile. 

you duck under his arm, a gasp leaving your mouth from the view in front of you. 

natural pools cascade down a mountain, spilling into each other like a domino effect, creating multiple spouts of water that pour into a lake. the color of the water is cerulean, sparkling in the sunlight. 

“the best thing about this place. is that humans can naturally breathe here.” neteyam states as he admires the small waterfalls. 

“what?!” you shriek in excitement, tugging on his arm happily, “how?!” 

“the mix of gases in the air and in the water create the perfect recipe for humans to breathe, but only for a little bit.” he grabs your hand to pull you forward down the little hill towards the lake.

“you can get cleaned up here.” he drops the bag onto the ground before bending down to rummage through it. “stole this.” he hands you a plastic bottle of old spice body wash from earth, “and this.” he hands you another bottle of two-in-one shampoo and conditioner. 

obviously the stash of a man, but you couldn’t be happier to see soap. you know that you have to smell terrible. 

“thank you very much, kind sir.” you hold the soaps to your chest and dance around happily like a kid in a candy shop. 

“what… are you doing?” he stares up at you in awe, his pearly whites on show. 

“dancing cause i’m happy. now close your eyes so i can get undressed.” you cheekily smirk at him, making his eyes go wide and turn his head away from you. 

you place the soaps on the ground, using your hands to finally take the mask off your face. you take a deep breath of fresh air, the natural smell of dirt and plants filling your senses. 

you swiftly pull your shirt over your head and your pants down your legs, along with your underwear and sports bra.

you keep your eyes on the back of neteyams head, grabbing the soaps and taking a few hesitant steps into the water. 

“oh my god! it’s warm!” you cheer with a surprised laugh, continuing to walk farther into the lake until you reached one of the spouts of falling water. 

you can’t help but put the soap down on a ledge, ducking your head under the natural faucet. you almost moan from the feeling of the caked mud washing out of your hair, “neteyam! this is amazing!” you glance back at him, seeing his back is now towards you. 

aw, what a gentleman. 

neteyam can’t help but turn around slightly to glance at you. you’re waist deep in the lake, standing under the water as you wash your hair. 

he admires your back, watching how the brown water turns to clear as it flows down your skin in little streams. he wishes he could reach out and touch your soft body. 

he feels terrible for looking, but he can’t help himself- you’re just so beautiful. he wants to admire your body like a form of art, not for an object of his own personal pleasure. 

some ways that you move, he can catch an glimpse of the swell of your breast. making his head around turn to stop looking, but something deep in his belly urges him to go in there with you.

the sound of moving water behind you makes your heart skip a beat. something wants you to turn around, to look and confirm what your gut is telling you. 

neteyam is in here with you. 

before you could turn around, a tall shadow looms over you from behind. your hands drop to your side, breathing picking up in pace from his proximity. 

“can i… touch you?” his voice is low, deeper than normal. 

“please.” you desperately respond into the air. 

neteyam’s fingers dance over your sides, sending shivers down your spine. his thumbs gently press into the dimples of your lower back as he bends down. 

you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your shoulder and onto the next one before he finally lays a kiss against your damp skin. “you are so beautiful.” he whispers, which makes you smile. 

“i shouldn’t be doing this.” his voice murmurs in your ear, making your head lull back against his abdomen. “you’re right, but it’ll feel so good.” you look up at him, watching how his face screws up in shock from your words. 

“bad influence.” he snickers, nose scrunching up cutely. his hands quickly take dominance over you, twirling you around so your back was pressed against the cool surface of the damp rock. 

he leans down just enough, lips barely pressing against yours with a featherlight touch. your breath mixes with his, making you lean forward to attempt to kiss him but he pulls back. 

“are you sure?” he asks, which just makes you roll your eyes. your arms swoop around his neck to pull him down to you- finally kissing those damn lips you’ve been dying for. 

neteyam smiles into the kiss as his hands slither up your sides, making you giggle from the soft touches. “does that tickle?” he hums into your mouth, making you nod fervently.

your lips move in sync, tongues wiggling against each other as he deepens the kiss by turning his head to the side. his giant hands cup your breasts, the tips of his fingers reaching just above your collarbones. 

his hands move to your back, snaking downwards under the water to cup your butt with his hands. “your body is amazing.” he groans against your lips which makes your face flush. 

neteyam can feel his back aching from bending down to your level so he lifts you up from your ass, making you squeal as your back is pressed against the wall behind the waterfall. 

“backs hurtin’… can’t bend down.” he breathes out against you, moving his lips away from yours to slowly kiss down your neck. he spends time ravishing your skin with kisses and tiny love bites. 

you gasp and wriggle in his arms, shivers wrack your body from his teeth running over your sweet spots.

neteyam slowly backs away from the wall, shuffling directly under the water which spills over both of your heads but neither of you could care. you’re both completely enamored with each other.   

he shuffles back over to the rocky bank where your clothes are piled up. he gently lays you down on the flat surface, standing tall to admire your nude body from above. 

suddenly, you feel overexposed and you go to cover yourself but he stops you, “don’t do that, tìlor.” 

the little nickname makes you smile, even if you have no idea what it means. 

neteyam leans over you, lips hovering over yours before kissing you softly. so delicate as if you would shatter from the slightest touch. 

“means beauty of all things.” he mumbles against your lips before dragging his lips down your chin. he presses wet kisses down your neck, between your breasts and down to your navel. 

his hands cup under your ass to push your legs up, shins resting on his shoulders. “gonna make you feel so good, ma tìlor.” he repeats the same word that makes you go crazy. 

the feeling of his breath puffing over your core makes you wiggle in anticipation, “please, ‘teyam…” you whine. 

he smiles at your begging before dipping down, swiping his tongue through your dripping folds. “oooh my god.” you gasp out.

neteyam smirks as he dives deeper with his tongue, keeping his eyes on you the entire time to watch how you writhe under his touch. 

his entire mouth fits over your cunt, his tongue flattens against your clit before his lips wrap around the bud to create suction. 

you cry out in surprise, hands flying to his head to grip it as your back arches off of the ground. one of his arms wrap around your hips, right above your pelvis to hold you in place. 

he chuckles against you, which sends another shockwave of pleasure to course through your entire body. 

he can tell by your body language, and the heartbeat he can feel that you’re already so close to release, so he reluctantly pulls off with a pop.

a string of saliva and your juices connects his lips to your core, a giddy smile pulls up on his face. your eyes glance over his wet chin, the look on his face makes you want to push his head back down between your legs. your chest bounces with every sharp breath, now starting to feel the effects of the toxic gas getting to your head. 

neteyam kisses his way back up your body, tongue licking random stripes on your skin. your hands attempt to reach down to untie his loincloth, but they aren’t long enough. 

“so tiny.” he mumbles against your skin before pulling back. he presses one forearm against the rock to hold himself up on top of you, while his other one is working on pulling the thin cloth off. 

your eyes can’t help but bulge out of your head once he throws the cloth to the side. his cock sits heavy between your bodies, blue and striped like the rest of his body. the pink tip is oozing pre-cum, just begging to be licked up. it's almost as if he could read your mind...

“not now, later… wanna be inside of you first.” he swiftly kisses you before he grips the base of his cock to line it up at your entrance. your legs absentmindedly wrap around his slender waist. 

nervousness bubbles in your chest from his size, because how is that going to fit inside of your body...?

“i’ll be gentle with you, ‘promise.” he reassures you, eyes looking over you before leaning down to pepper kisses all over your face. 

he slowly thrusts forward, letting it run through your folds to soak up your wetness. he breathily moans into your mouth from the feeling. the sound could quite literally make you cum without being touched. 

“ready?” one of his arms are above your head as he looks down at you, while the other holds his cock. 

you nod and bring your bottom lip between your teeth, glancing up at him and in between your bodies to watch. your hands rise to rest on his sides, right on top of his rib cage. 

he tantalizingly presses his tip against your entrance, making you suck in a sharp breath. your eyes are wide as you look up at him, but his gaze is too focused watching himself push into you. 

god, he stretches you out. it burns, and you feel so full- overly full. the tip gets sucked in by your entrance, making his face screw up in pleasure. his plump lips part in awe before his eyes look down at your face in attempt to read your expression. 

“good?” he asks softly with a shaky voice, and all you can do is nod. 

his hips push forward after letting you adjust for a moment, your nails dig deep into his skin as a mewl falls from your lips. 

you throw your head back against the rock, face screwing up as his cock completely splits you open. 

he gets about half way before he pulls back out, and thrusts back in to the same depth. “ngh!” you whine, hands desperately clinging onto his body.

neteyam digs his head into the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, biting down on your skin. almost hard enough to draw blood with his sharpened canines. 

“oh yes, ‘teyam...” you moan out as the pain of the stretch slowly succumbs to the pleasure sparking in your lower belly. 

“you feel so good, my girl.” he chokes out, one of his hands cups the side of your head to pull you in for another kiss. 

it was barely a kiss though, mostly just moans and breaths spilling into each others mouths.

neteyam uses your sounds as a suggestion to slightly pick up his pace, his cock going even deeper inside of you than before. 

your body bounces with every thrust, drunken hiccups and gasps bubble from your lips as your nails scratch over his ribs. 

“pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.” your words slur together as you feel the tightness building up in your lower belly. 

neteyam starts rambling in his language, the tone of his voice shows how desperate he is for release. his tail absentmindedly twitches and wraps around your ankles, locking them into place around his back. 

you couldn’t even care at this moment if he would cum in you. the feeling of him inside you has you hypnotized. 

your head feels dizzy, and you can see stars in your vision whenever you blink. the lack of oxygen is getting to your brain, making you feel lightheaded and even more sensitive to his cock ramming into you. 

“gooooonna cuuum.” your voice is high and your words are drawn out. 

“mmmm sran, ma tìlor.” he moans out, his teeth bite down on your shoulder. definitely drawing blood this time by the pain that sparks up your neck.

one last thrust, he pushes almost the full length of his cock inside of you as he releases. you swear you can feel it in your throat. 

he lets out a guttural groan against your skin, his back quivering as he thrusts every last bit of his seed into you. 

you cry out in pain and euphoria, eyes rolling back inside of your head. your body arches off of the ground as you climax in unison with him, thighs gripping his sides tightly and chest pressing into his.

neteyam uses this moment to kiss you as if he would never kiss you again. his lips move intensely against yours, savoring the taste of your lips before pulling his head back to shove the oxygen mask back on your face. 

you instantly suck in a deep breath, chest heaving as your foggy head begins to clear from finally being able to breathe clean air.

neteyam gently rolls over onto his side next to you on the rock, his hand still holding your mask on your face as he attempts to catch his own breath. 

he gently presses soft kisses along your arm, and uses his other hand to touch the bruised puncture wounds on your shoulder. 

“m’sorry. got carried away.” he breathes out heavily, resting his head on your shoulder. 

you take a moment to pull the mask onto your face fully so he didn’t have to hold it for you. 

“don’t ever… be sorry. that was fucking amazing.” you laugh in shock as you look down at him. a big smile is on his face as he stares up at you from his place on your chest. 

you both lay there in silence, the only sounds being your heavy breathing and birds in the distance. “we should probably get dressed and head back since my dad wants to talk to you.” he mumbles a bit sadly. 

you huff a breath out, but nod in agreement. “you’re right.” you mumble, sitting up along with him. 

he ties his loincloth back on himself before grabbing the pack to fetch the clothes for you. he hands them to you with a little smile. 

you hold out the shirt, seeing it’s a very old rda employee shirt and some sweatpants. you stand to your feet to pull the clothes onto your body, and thankfully they fit. 

“oh…” neteyam breathes out disappointedly, “your neck… i’m sorry.” he reaches out to run his thumb over the hickeys and teeth marks he left behind.

“nobody will notice, right?” you attempt to look down at the damage, but from the angle you can’t see what he is talking about. 

“uhm.. right.” he agrees with a nervous little laugh. 

the ride back was full of laughter and light-hearted remarks coming from neteyam about his dad. mostly just preparing you to talk to him, on what and what not to do. 

once the ikran lands on the rocky floor of the cave, you can’t help but take notice to a very tall na’vi man waiting directly in front of you. 

“and that’s my dad.” he whispers quietly enough to you as he helps you off the animal. he lets off a little sigh as you duck under his arms to walk up to jake. rule number one was to let neteyam introduce you first, but you didn't listen.

“hi, sir.” you clear your throat, reaching a hand out for him to shake. jake uncrosses his arms to shake your hand, and you can’t help but notice that he has five fingers. unlike four, like his son.

“i know this is terrible timing, but i promise the information i have is worth while.” you give him a curt nod, standing tall with your shoulders back so you wouldn’t look weak.

jake let’s out a little breath and his eyes glance over your body before raising to stare at his son, “and do you think whatever you did to her neck was worth while?” 

you freeze in your spot, body instantly heating with embarrassment. you slowly turn your head to look up at neteyam. his eyes are wide like saucers as he stares at his dad, his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. 

when the boys eyes trail over to you, humor bubbles in your chest when you make eye contact. it seems like he’s feeling the same by the way he’s trying to force the smile away that’s slowly creeping onto his face. 

almost like a ticking time bomb, the two of you burst out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, stumbling into the space between your bodies to lean on each other for support.

oh my eywa, you’re both really in trouble now.

-

tags: @supernerdycookietrashblr @fireflystoughts @eddieslvt @bluealiensimp @aliseaaah

[wjhik]

Why Are You Doing This To Me?! (Jude Bellingham)

A/N: guys im way too proud of this one. so much angst so much heartbreak. gaslighter!jude so much fun PLEASE COMMENT ANYTHING I LOVE READING THEM

As my birthday approached, I clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, tonight would be different. I planned a special dinner for just the two of us, maybe a chance to reconnect and rediscover the love Jude and I had lost over the past 5 years. I was there for him at his worst at Dortmund, and now his best at Madrid, but as the hours ticked by and Jude failed to show, any remaining hope turned to despair. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I blew out the candles to my homemade chocolate cake, as per Jude’s request, alone, the flickering flames a cruel reflection of my shattered dreams.

↭

I sat on the edge of Jude and I’s bed, my fingers tracing aimless patterns on the wrinkled sheets beneath me. The clock on the bedside table mocked me with each passing second, a cruel reminder of Jude's absence. He had been drifting further away with each passing day, lost in the shitty late-nights with his friends. Our once vibrant relationship had begun to crumble, leaving me alone to pick up the shattered pieces of my heart.

I had given everything up for Jude. I left everything I knew to come to Dortmund to be with him. I gave up scholarships to end up going to a shitty college in a country where I knew no one, but I never complained, because I was with the love of my life. A few years in, I had finally settled down, but Jude decided he was too good for Germany, so he made the move to Madrid with not a thought about me. He wouldn't hesitate to leave me behind if I didn’t make it work, but being the dumbass I am, I made it work. I moved out here to Madrid with him just for me to see him, if I’m lucky, twice a week, despite living together.

Unable to bear the silence of our empty house any longer, I made the decision. The decision I would regret forever. I went to Jude's regular bar, the place where he often chilled in the company of his friends. Pushing open the door, I was greeted by the familiar scent of stale beer and laughter. But, unexpectedly, Jude was nowhere to be found. My heart started pounding, thinking about the worst possible situations. I scanned the room to see a group of some of Jude’s teammates. I let out a sigh of false relief, suspecting maybe he was using the toilet or something. Desperation clawed at my chest as I approached Vini.

"Vini, have you seen Jude tonight?" I asked the Brazilian, my voice trembling with emotion, hoping and praying that he knew.

His eyes were glassy and unfocused, words slurred from far too many drinks. "Yeah, he left a while ago," he mumbled, pointing vaguely in the direction of the exit. “With someone…” He softly added on softly. “With who?!” I exclaimed. “Just one of his friends, don’t worry.” Luka adds on. “Where’d he go?” I asked, slightly shivering. “I don’t know.” They said, miserably lying. “Please.” I plead, tears in my eyes.

↭

I heart sank unhealthily deep in my chest as I shoved my phone back into my pocket, the address burning in the forefront of my mind. I started the 30-minute walk to the given location, all sorts of horrible thoughts in my head. Who is this friend? Do I know him? Why would Jude not tell me? Why were the guys keeping it a secret? Is he with another girl? 

↭

With trembling hands, I pressed the doorbell, my pulse racing with anticipation as if I had run 5 marathons with no break. The door swung open, revealing Jude. He was shirtless, bruises all over his uncovered chest, bruises I didn’t leave. He looked around briefly until his eyes meet my wet ones. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” Jude asked me, much too surprised for anything innocent, his voice tinged with guilt. Before I got the chance to reply, I heard a voice calling his name from the next room. I heard light footsteps approaching my boyfriend. “Baby, who’s there?” She asked. My heart instantly dropped. Anguish surged through my veins as the truth dawned on her. 

The beautiful woman wearing lacy lingerie and a silk robe places a kiss on the back of Jude’s neck before clinging onto his arm. “Can we help you?” She asked, far too nicely. My eyes filled with tears as I struggled to find my voice. "Who is she?" I whispered, ignoring the girl on Jude’s arm in my place and locking eyes with my ‘boyfriend’, my heart breaking with each and every word

Jude's gaze shifted uncomfortably, his grip on the other girl tightening. "She's just a friend," he insisted, but his words fell on my deaf ears. Her eyes widened as she realized who was standing at her front step.

A torrent of emotions flooded through me as I screamed all sorts of horrid curses at Jude, each accusation tearing at our already fragile bond. “You’re a cheating, lying bastard! All these fucking years I wasted on you, you’re going to throw that all away for this?! And on my fucking birthday?!” I couldn't understand how the man I loved with all my heart could betray me like this, how he could throw away everything we had built together for the sake of a fleeting moment of pleasure.

“Love, you’re hyperventilating. You’ll pass out at this rate. Please come inside.” The woman offers. She sat me down on her couch as I uncontrollably sobbed and screamed at Jude. She disappeared for a moment into her kitchen and came back with a glass of water. 

Our argument echoed through the empty hallway, or should I say my yelling, because Jude had nothing to say. All of my insecurities that Jude has ever reassured bubbled to the surface, fueled by years of my doubt and his neglect. I was small and insignificant. I didn't matter in Jude's eyes anymore. I didn’t matter in anyone’s eyes. 

Jude stepped away from my shaking body to cross paths with his ‘new girl’. I couldn’t hear everything except for something along the lines of: “You’re right, Jude. She’s not well. She needs help.” It sounded sympathetic. I stood up and continued yelling. “You made me seem like I’m fucking crazy! You fucking asshole, you ruined everything! Anybody would go crazy with all the shit you put me through!” The two got startled and came over to comfort me once again. I felt like I was nothing. Nothing but a mentally ill, crazy bitch. I felt like it was all my fault. Maybe Jude wasn’t wrong to cheat on me. “It’s okay, darling. Just breathe.” The girl comforts me. 

↭

Somewhere along the lines of screaming and crying, I had given out and fallen asleep on my boyfriend’s side chick’s couch. This was probably my lowest point ever. My eyes shot open and the tears fell out once again. I looked around to see no one there. I heard a sweet voice coming from the other room. I went over to see Jude on her bed, head in his hands, and her hugging and comforting him. Jude looked up and immediately shot up. He moved towards me and hugged me. 

"Y/N, let's go home. You’re so exhausted." he said softly, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.

I hesitated, torn between the desire to lash out at this fucker who broke my heart and the girl he broke it with or the longing for comfort they both were giving me. But in the end, I nodded, allowing Jude to drive me back to our shared house. The journey was filled with a heavy silence, the weight of his unspoken words hanging in the air like a thick fog, my words were all spoken. I laid my head on the window, unable to hold back my tears.

As we entered the house, once called a home, the tension between us was obvious. You could break it with the dullest of knives. I looked at the man I once loved who didn’t hesitate to throw me aside like a broken toy. But to my own surprise, I wasn’t leaving. I always preached about leaving your cheater boyfriends, but I truly had no one else.

"I'm not leaving," I said, my words hanging in the air like a lifeline. “I have nowhere else to go. You’re all I know."

And with those simple words, I thought the fragile remnants of our love were stitched back together, a patchwork of broken promises and shattered dreams, but I was wrong. 

"I have to go, Y/N," Jude's voice broke through the heavy silence, his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud.

My heart skipped a beat, confusion etched into every line of my face. What is he doing? I’m letting him have his happy ending. What the fuck is happening? "What do you mean?" I whispered, my voice barely audible in pure confusion.

Jude took a deep breath, his gaze filled with sadness and regret. "I'm leaving you, Y/N," he said, each word like a dagger to my heart. "Cassie… she's pregnant. I'm going to be a father, and I’m really happy about it."

The world seemed to spin out of control as I struggled to comprehend the enormity of Jude's betrayal. Tears welled up in my eyes as I stared at him, unable to find the words to express the depth of my pain. “Jude, I’m giving you what you want here. I’m supposed to be the independent woman and leave you, but I’m not. I’m staying. What the fuck are you doing to me?” I say, sobbing as I try to plead my case. 

“Y/N, please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He said, walking into the bedroom to get his pre-packed suitcase, me trailing behind. “Listen, I was planning on doing this anyways. The house is all yours. I don’t need it.” He says, handing me his keys. I looked around at our house, all of his belongings were gone. How did I not notice? “Wait, Jude. Hold on. Why are you doing this to me-” I tried to say as Jude walked out of the room. “You’ll be fine.” He interrupted. He put his hand on the back of my head and kissed my forehead. And like that, he walked out of my life.

↭

Six years passed in a blur of heartache and longing. I watched helplessly as Jude built a new life with Cassie, our shared house now a distant memory. I thought I would accept it, but I never did. I couldn't change the past, couldn't erase the hurt and betrayal, and I knew that, but it didn’t help. All I could do was move forward, one painful step at a time, but I couldn’t. All of our pictures hung in my apartment, despite selling our house out of desperation. I couldn’t keep a job, always coming to work drunk and miserable, so I needed the money. 

Here I found myself standing outside a church, my heart heavy with sorrow and despair. I received an invitation to Jude's wedding, a cruel reminder of how that sick bastard ruined my life. But as I stepped inside the beautiful venue, my eyes fell on two familiar faces in the crowd.

Jude stood at the altar, his hand intertwined with the woman who ended it all, a big smile playing at the corners of his lips, bigger than when we were ever together. And beside them, a little boy with Jude's dark curly hair and soulful eyes, his resemblance to his father unmistakable. 

My heart hurt and felt heavy at the sight, a bittersweet and horrible mix of sadness and resignation washing over me like a tidal wave. I watched silently as Jude exchanged vows with the other woman, my heart breaking with each promise of love and fidelity. He promised her love, care, attention, and ironically honesty and loyalty. The same things he promised me almost 10 years ago, but here I am. A miserable guest while she’s his wife.

[themellowminx]

After the Fire Dies ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ MDNI

———-> fyodor x reader x dazai

You made a mistake, how will you repent?

< After the actual smut, but still suggestive content, not proof read >

“S-seven…” You could hardly feel anymore, sweat clung to your body and your breaths came in panting gasps, all you could think about was how bad you had fucked up, was that really only a few hours ago? When Dazai was holding you so tightly, gripping you in all the right places. But now, your blood dripped from the slim slashes across your thighs and stained the white bedsheets, you struggled against your restraints, straining your arm to push the silky, black, blindfold off your eyes.

“So, malishka,” You could hear the grin in his smooth voice as he teased you with that special pet name, baby, not slut, or whore, but baby. He knew you’d get it wrong. You were almost certain that even if you did guess right, they wouldn't stop. “Who was touching you just now? Who made you cum?” Sucking in as much air as possible, limbs heavy, nose stuffed and tears streaked your poor, flushed face.

“You–Fedya.” A self-satisfied hmm came from one of them, you guess Dazai by the tone. Instantly you regretted your decision. ‘Wait–actually–”

“Too late, you already made a choice.” Dazai was speaking now, his voice lacked the accent that you loved so much, but still carried such a lustful melody. Suddenly the blindfold was slowly peeled off and you squinted your tear-filled eyes to the destroyed bedroom. Frantically looking at your lover, Fyodor, for approval, you were met with both men smirking down at you. So pretty. They were both so beautiful, where Fedya was slim angles and sharp bones, pale skin and striking, sharp eyes, Dazai was stronger, softer, still lean but bigger, not as deathly-pale and a mop of curly brown hair with matching honey eyes. They made a lovely pair, and had ruined you beyond comprehension.

“Ding ding ding!” Dazai sang out, hopping on the bed next to you.

“Good job malishka, how’d you know?” You guessed correctly? Finally! Honestly part of it was dumb luck but…

“You get…when you get tired you get softer, and you also kept licking the blood from my thighs, I figured Dazai would do that too but he’s inclined to be more–well–rough.” You looked down sheepishly. Fyodor pat your head and undid the restraints on your wrists and ankles, now you realized just how exposed you had been. A puddle of liquid, cum and spit and sweat and blood, was layered on every inch of your skin. Both of them started peppering kisses along your flesh, prickled with chills yet still overheated, a kiss to the collarbone by one man, a peck in between your breasts from another, they continued and Fyodor eventually went to fetch a warm cloth.

“What did we learn malishka?” Fyodor asked you later that night, Dazai in deep-sleep on the other side of the bed, still in the aftershock of their tortuous play-time, you trembled slightly against Fyodor's bare chest.

“I’m never going to sleep with another person–”

“No, say it exactly.”

“I-I am never going to cheat on you…” You looked back up at him for guidance.

“With Dazai,” He guided your words.

“Cheat on you with Dazai, or anyone else, ever again. I only want–need–you, Fedya.” He hummed at your confession. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/n.” He replied simply, and you drifted off into sleep, body aching and face tear-stained and salty, still naked, but warm and so, so full

ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹ thx for reading! :)

[schrodingers-romy]

Sketches [Choso x Reader]

Pairing: Choso x GN!Reader Word Count: ~ 1600 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: Your charcoal artist boyfriend offers you draw you for the first time...

Warnings: implied no curses au, kissing; reader is referred to as beautiful but no gendered terms are used

Notes: This is so soggy fluffy oh my god. I am so down bad for this man. Anyway I was haunted by the image of Choso drawing with charcoal so here this is I guess.

You can feel your boyfriend’s eyes burning into you.

You do your best not to fidget, yet it is so difficult. Choso’s eyes always held a certain solemn weight to them, which made being the focus of his gaze feel unlike anything else. Just being at the center of his attention normally made your heartbeat quicken and your breath catch in your chest. After dating for months, you thought you were finally acclimating to it. You were horribly incorrect

His normal gaze was nothing compared to this. Even though you are facing towards the window, ostensibly looking out of it, you see nothing. Your senses are narrowed down to the caress of his stare on the side of your face. If being under his scrutiny usually made you feel hot, being under it now made you burn. It was all you could think about.

You had seen him draw before; the single-minded focus he would get when he was creating. Many a time had you sat next to him, admiring his silhouette as he drew, completely oblivious to your attention. He would be trapped in his own world, dark eyes locked onto the subject of his newest sketch as his charcoal flew across the page. You always admired how immaterial his sketches looked at first, like he was merely doodling lines as he watched something. But then, as if magic, the drawing’s true form would take shape. It would take only a few more strokes of the pencil, or a decisive smudge of one calloused thumb through the dusty charcoal, and suddenly a perfect image would appear. No matter how many times you saw him work, it always managed to amaze you… the creation of something out of mere dust.

Your boyfriend did most of his artwork in charcoal. It wasn’t something that you knew much about before you met him, but it suited him. If a charcoal drawing came to life, you would imagine it to look like him. He was dark, and somewhat imposing, like the starkest strokes of the charcoal…but with charcoal pictures, the closer you looked, the more you noticed the softness of it, the gentle grays hiding amongst the harsher black, like Choso’s own softness, his caring hidden behind a blunt exterior.

You once joked that the tattoo across the bridge of his nose reminded you of the smears of black dust he would leave on everything after drawing. In reply he took his thumb and stroked it across your face, telling you that you matched now with the goofiest grin on his face. You swore you fell for him right then.

Choso once mentioned that he favored charcoal because of the emotion he could express with it. You were skeptical, at first, but you soon saw the providence of that statement in every one of his pieces. It was…captivating. Every time he would show you his drawing, it was like he invited you to look at its subject through his eyes. The trees you passed by every day on your way to work, a dog at the park, crowds in the city, the clouded skies before it rained…every mundane piece of life that you had grown used to would take on a new light when he drew them. It was like seeing each for the first time again; it gave you a sense of wonder at the world.

That was why when he offered to draw you, you agreed instantly. Whatever he made was always so beautiful…and a part of you desired to become beautiful by his hand.

And yet now you almost regretted your decision. You had been sitting for what felt like an eternity now. You can’t even face towards Choso to watch him work, as you normally did, because he had posed you facing the window for ‘better lighting’ or some other such excuse. You have the sneaking feeling that he felt too nervous to have you looking at him as he drew you.

You can understand the feeling. The intensity of his gaze makes your heart thump faster, and you struggle not to move and shake off the excess anxious energy. It’s ridiculous to get so flustered over the halfway imaginary feeling of someone just looking at you. But you can’t help yourself. Something about being under that intense glare makes you hyper aware of your own body. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you…if he can see the way your throat bulges as you swallow nervously. If he can see your pulse beating in your neck. If he can sense the blood in your body shifting rhythm in response to his gaze, in a sort of observer’s paradox.

You are broken out of your thoughts by your boyfriend’s soft voice. “It’s done. You can come over here now.”

You stand up so quickly you feel a little dizzy from it.

Now broken from his typical artist’s trance, Choso looks almost sheepish now. A complete contrast to how you perceived him a moment ago, burning intensity replaced with flushed cheeks and slightly averted eyes.

Now you are the one staring as he looks away.

You make your way over to sit next to him on the couch, body tilted towards his.

He’s almost clutching the sketchpad to his body, although, as always, he’s careful not to brush against it until the finishing spray is applied and the charcoal set.

“May I see it?” you ask him gently, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. He relaxes slightly into your touch. You haven’t seen him this nervous to share his art with you in a long time, not since the very early days of your friendship before you even began dating. Your own anxiousness from before is mellowed out by the sight of his own. You don’t even know why you felt it in the first place.

Choso lets out a little sigh, and hands the pad to you, bracing for verdict.

It’s…beautiful. You love all of his art, of course; not only because it technically looks good, but because you can see him in his art, so naturally you would adore it. But this feels different.

The piece is relatively simple, made using only a single piece of charcoal and his fingers to smudge it. And yet it captures your defining features perfectly. The drawing is clearly you, and yet you almost can’t believe that it is, because you’ve never seen yourself look like that.

In Choso’s art, you look…stunning. Every slope and curve of your face is highlighted by the darkness of the charcoal...your eyes are full of life even though they are no more than dark smears on paper. Your body is tilted in a way that makes you look regal, refined in a way you’ve never felt.

You cannot even fully describe how you look in the picture. Your head is spinning with a million thoughts, but only one makes it out of your mouth.

“Is this really how you see me?”

Choso finally tilts his head up to meet your eyes, his own serious. “I don’t even think I did you justice.”

You are careful to set the sketchpad aside safely before you throw yourself into his lap.

You press yourself close to him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck to conceal the raw emotion spreading across it. His arms wrap around you instinctively, pulling you closer even as he holds his hands away from your clothes so as not to get charcoal on you.

You had dreamed of him drawing you, of him making you even a fraction as pretty as his other art…and yet this was more than you ever could have wished for.

“Am I really that beautiful to you?” you whisper, lips pressed to the soft skin of his neck as you try to cling as close to him as possible.

He pulls back, just enough to where he can look you in the eyes once more. His hands come up to hold your head, gently like he fears you may break otherwise. The black dust on his fingers is no doubt leaving smears on your cheeks, but you can’t begin to care.

His gaze is just as intense as when he drew you. You are locked into the depths of his eyes.

“I could never even hope to capture how beautiful you are to me on paper. I told you I poured emotion into my drawings…but I’m not good enough to put all that I feel for you down in charcoal. I love you. I don’t think there’s anything I can create to express how much I do.” He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes as he inhaled shakily.

You feel a tear drip down your face: not from sadness, but from sheer joy. Your heart feels like it’s about to overflow.

“I love you too, Choso. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself.”

You reach a hand out, caressing his chin, tilting his face into yours so you can press a slow, loving kiss to his lips. He meets you at the same pace; not a frantic make out, but something softer. Something unrushed, syrupy-sweet, as if you both are trying to press your feelings into one another’s mouths. Like you could make your lover swallow your devotion by feeding it to them with each languid stroke of tongue.

Choso’s hands are all over your body; on your face, caressing your neck, rucking your shirt up to grip onto your sides. Gone is the prior hesitation to sully you with the smudges of charcoal lingering on his hands. Now it marks you everywhere; an artist’s signature in every black fingerprint pressed onto your flesh.

[zuhaism]

⊹ ｡˚ 𓂃 ♡ AFTERMATH ?! ┊ kim chaewon ⁺

[ navigation | corso ]

eunchae was already passed out on her bed. the only source of light coming from her study table illuminating the room. the silence rang through the room as you were focused on solving the problem for her. eunchae had asked you for help with her math homework after finding out you were in the mathletes.

“unnie! you should’ve told me you were a nerd. now my life is going to be easier.” you smiled and patted her head “i can tutor you. free of charge” now you’re already regretting your decision. who made math so hard nowadays? you’ve been stuck at this question for so long eunchae already fell asleep.

the front door unlocking made you comeback to reality. you glanced at the clock ‘2:34 am’ you rubbed your eyes and cleaned up for eunchae before going to greet your beloved leader after her schedule.

you walked out eunchae’s room and was greeted with chaewon on the floor leaning against the kitchen counter with a viking hat on. her eyes could barely open. “chaewon-unnie?” you called out. she opened her eyes and slowly moved her gaze to you and smiled lopsidedly. “y/nnie!” she slurred out trying to stand up.

you immediately went to help her up. when your hand got a grip of her forearms she wrapped her arms around your shoulders mumbling ‘i missed you’ ‘you should’ve been there’ all that kind of stuff.

you ignored her incoherent slurs and circled her legs around your waist so you could carry her easily to the bathroom. she was still mumbling in your neck as you entered the bathroom.

you sat her down on the toilet. slowly taking off her viking hat. she was looking at your face with with doe eyes and puffed up cheeks. you wanted to squeeze her face so bad. you got some makeup remover, bending down right infront of her and started to gently rub the make up off.

you held the side of her face for a better grip. she leaned into your palm which made you smile softly. “you’re the best. d’you know that?” she slurred out as her eyes closed. your heart fluttered at her drunken words. “i didn’t know that. thank you.” you said softly. rubbing her cheek in circles using your thumb.

you’ve always cherished moments like this where her attention isn’t being taken away by the other members. compared to the other members you’re a low maintenance person. having grown up an only child alone in the house you’ve learned to be independent.

“you’re so cute y/nnie.” she said breaking the silence. she was looking at you intently with half lided eyes. you chuckled and pecked her cheek once you’re done. standing up to bring her to her room. chaewon started moving around seeming uncomfortable with her clothing.

you helped her unbutton her top. while doing so u slowly squinted not trusting your eyes to wander. chaewon giggled at your actions “y/nnie its finee you can look.” you could feel your face heating up before leaving her to take one of your sweatshirts from her closet that she’s stolen.

after putting the sweatshirt that’s engulfing her tiny frame. “can you stand?” you asked as you held her hand up. she nodded, swaying a little as she stood up and putting her whole weight on you. her eyes was closed as she held onto you while you brought her to her room.

you tucked her in pulling the blankets over tiny frame and tucked her hair behind her ear. “goodnight chaewon-unnie” you whispered softly as her eyes began to fully shut. you admired her for a while. stroking her hair softly adoring her resting face. you noticed your eyes lingering on her half chapped lips. you shook your head.

you stood up slowly, you were about to go back to eunchae’s room but a tug on your pants stopped you. you turned around and was met with chaewon’s sleepy eyes looking up at you with a pout. your heart tried not to burst when she “stay with me, please.”

without saying a word, you lifted the sheets and laid down. she instantly clinged onto you, her nose nuzzled into your neck and her hair tickling your chin. you laid awake until you heard soft snoring.

you were awoken by loud footsteps running through the hall. you stirred awake , looking down checking on chaewon. her whole weight was on you and she was dead asleep.

then suddenly the door opened “good morning!” it was eunchae. she always does this. wakes up super early on day offs and disturbs everyone. you shushed her, giggling softly because she was wearing the viking hat chaewon brought home.

before you could say anything about it, you felt movement on top of you. chaewon was wiggling around in your hold then eventually she opened her eyes and was greeted with eunchae. “what the hell” in her raspy voice. when she realised what eunchae was wearing she snatched it from her.

“hey thats mine.” she said while hugging the head. eunchae let out an annoyingly loud laugh with her head tilted backwards. “you’re silly chaewon-unnie. anyway kkura-unnie went out so im going to be making ramen for breakfast.” she pumped her fist in the air after getting approval from you.

“be careful!”

“i will!”

you looked back down on your chest and saw that chaewon was already looking at you sleepily. “thank you for taking care of me.” you played with her hair and tsked. “you dont need to thank me. im always here.”

[vhagarlovebot]

JUST A FRIEND TO YOU ── PART 2.

♡. ── gif credit. ; ( aemond targaryen masterlist. )

pairing: modern!aemond x fem!reader and a little bit of cregan stark x fem!reader.

summary: after you agreed to go on the date, aemond realizes what a big mistake he has made.

warnings: pining, aemond regretting all of his life decisions basically and getting what he deserves, and angsty shit bc you know i love to make you all suffer.

note: hi besties! i didn’t wanna do a part two of this one shot but since a lot of you were asking me, i heard you and here you have. and i’m already thinking about writing a part 3? or maybe a mini series? even tho i said i don’t like it. i need help!! btw if there are any mistakes i apologize, but as some of you may know english is not my first language. hope you enjoy! reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

read part one here.

YOU REALLY DIDN’T WANT to go on that date but, as always, you couldn’t say no to aemond.

and it turns out, you had fun.

aemond’s girlfriend —or date, or girl friend? you don’t really know— is actually nice and you hate yourself for not being able to dislike her, she’s so freaking sweet that it makes you want to throw up. and as nice as she is, her friend is also very nice and a total gentleman. and also the quarterback of the college footfall team.

cregan stark made you forget all about aemond targaryen in just a couple of minutes with him. he knows how attractive he his and also how to use his charm with girls, because he had you flustered all night. he didn’t do anything more than just smile at you, pay for the dinner and drinks and walk you back to your dorm, kissing you goodnight. on the cheek. and just a couple of minutes after leaving, your phone buzzed with a new message asking for a second date.

but as much as you enjoyed the date, once you were alone with your thoughts your mind wandered back to the last person you wanted to think about.

you knew he was on a date too, he told you it was that day. you didn’t want to know but he told you anyways because you’re his best friend, he wants to share that kind of things with you. but you wish he wouldn’t, that way your heart wouldn’t break every time he opens his mouth.

and as you thought about aemond kissing another girl, you typed your answer to cregan.

when the next day came, you didn’t feel any better.

and it only got worse the second you bumped into aemond outside the coffee shop you were supposed to meet cregan.

“there you are! i’ve been looking for you everywhere.” he says, kissing you on the forehead.

not everywhere because you were in your dorm all day and he never, not once, came looking for you. weird it wasn’t his first option.

“here i am.” you try to sound nonchalant, your lips barely curling upwards.

“aren’t you going to ask me how it went?” aemond looks excited to tell you all about his date and you feel guilty for not wanting to know at all.

“i really want to know,” what a fucking liar you are. “but i can’t right now. maybe tomorrow?” you try convince him with that smile that says ‘pleaaaaaseeeee’ but aemond, for the first time in forever, it’s not convinced. even his smile instantly disappears.

“why?”

but you don’t have time to give him an answer because the answer walks out of the shop, two coffee in each hand and a big and radiant smile that only grows the second you make eye contact. and it’s strange, because your face lights up just by seeing someone that was a total stranger less than 24 hours ago.

“i was starting to think you stood me up.” cregan says, not acknowledging aemond at all, and leans to kiss you on the cheek just to hand you one coffee. “to show you i was paying attention last night.” just by the smell you know he got your coffee order right.

aemond clear his throat and you both turn to face him. your cheeks are impossibly red and you avoid his eyes, choosing to look at your shoes instead.

“oh sorry,” cregan chuckles, and gives aemond a pat on the shoulder. “i’m going to steal her for a while, you okay with that?” you didn’t know you could be any more embarrassed, but it is possible. and you hate it.

aemond nods, looking at you one final time before turning around and walking away, leaving you with a strange and awful feeling in your heart.

but cregan soon makes you forget about almost everything. and it keeps happening for the next couple of weeks. but even him and his friends can’t make you forget about him.

you have barely seen aemond since that day in the coffee shop. you tried to call him the next day to apologize but he only texted you that now he was busy and he would give you a call when he could; but that never happened and since that day your friendship has been reduced to short and cold text messages. and it hurts. but you’re decided to not let another day pass without talking to him. or just seeing him. you miss him and you wonder if he misses you too.

but after trying to communicate with aemond all day, calling him and messaging him over and over again, you give up. he clearly doesn’t want to talk to you and as much as it hurts, it angers you too.

“i’m sure he’s just busy and will call you as soon as he can.” cregan tries to calm you as he walks by your side, his thumb brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

you only nod as an answer, looking at your phone hoping to see a text from aemond.

“hey, look at me.” he stops walking, his hands cupping your face, softly forcing you to look at him. “forget about him and enjoy the party, okay?”

it’s very sweet how he’s always making sure you are fine and listening to you talk about your best friend, not once telling you that he actually doesn’t like the guy.

you thank him by standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, making him chuckle and hold your hand resuming your walk.

the first thing you notice when entering the living room are cregan’s friends drinking and chatting, but what draws your attention the most is aemond. sitting on a couch in a corner, cigarette between his lips as he looks annoyed at you two.

you fight the urge to walk to him. you miss him so much but it looks like he doesn’t miss you at all. he probably hasn’t even think about you. and that’s why you accept the drink cregan hands you, sitting by his side and trying to ignore the pair of blue eyes on you.

unbeknownst to you, aemond hasn’t stopped thinking about you since the day you accepted that date. he really thought you were going to say no and he still doesn’t know why he asked you to do it, but he regrets it so much.

but he also knows how selfish and childish he’s being.

he can't keep his eyes away from you as you laugh about something that has everyone laughing too. but he only can hear your laugh, loud and clear, and it's like a knife cutting through his chest. he wants to talk to you so badly, he has missed you like crazy, but doesn't know how to do it, what to say. he's pretty sure you're going to snap at him.

however, that doesn't stop him from following you when he sees you standing and walking away.

you're pouring some vodka in a cup when he enters the kitchen. his hands are sweating and he feels so nervous it's pathetic.

"so," he says, but you don't look at him, you just keep doing what you are doing. and that makes him even more nervous. "enjoying the party?"

there's a lot of noise, between the loud music and people talking, but the silence coming from you is louder than that.

"i was thinking," aemond says again, trying to make you talk or at least react. "maybe tomorrow we can go watch that movie you told me about."

you laugh and aemond smiles, feeling relief. but then you turn to face him and all that disappears.

"are you serious?" you ask him, but you don't give him time to answer. "that was months ago, i stopped asking you to go with me because you always had an excuse." you shake your head, looking at the liquid in your cup, not wanting to look him in the eyes; it's easier this way. "and when you did say yes, you never showed up."

it's his time to avoid your eyes, looking down embarrassed.

"i don't have time for this, aemond. you wanted me to meet new people? i'm doing exactly that, i don't know what's your problem."

"you don't have time for me." he whispers but you hear it, and your blood boils.

"it doesn't feel nice, does it?" you try not to cry in front of him but the more he stands there, looking lost and sad, the harder it is. there is something about finally giving you your place that makes you say the thing you never thought you were going to say out loud. at least not to him. "i'm in love with you, aemond, but loving you is hurting me. and i know it's my fault for never telling you and i'm not asking you to say or do anything... i just wanted you to know now that i feel things between us can never go back to the way they were."

aemond takes a step towards you, hands itching to touch you, but at the same time you take one step away from him. you know that if he touches you, the little wall you've created will come crashing down.

when you finally make eye contact, you can see the fight inside his head. you don't hate him, you hate yourself for not telling him sooner, for letting things go this far.

you smile softly at him before turning on your heels and walking back to the living room, swallowing all the tears.

cregan knows something happened the minute you sit and he doesn't hesitate to wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side, placing a kiss to your temple.

aemond watches everything frozen in place, your words replaying in his head over and over again.

maybe he did know you were in love with him and that's why he did what he did. the real question is, is he in love with you? aemond realizes that doesn't matter anymore as he watches you and cregan together, and how comfortable you are around your new friends.

he's got a lot to blame for too.

the question now is; is he really willing to lose you?

[slytherinboysappreciation]

LMAO here i am again 😋😋 ok love, the last request gave me another idea abt a genius reader (male ofc), but in this one he's absolutely feral. Everyone in Hogwarts knows to not mess up w him. Let's say he's from a pureblood family that got sum connections w the ministry of magic so yeah Hogwarts cannot do anything bout it.

Butttt the thing is, he's actually just a sweet guy (if u didn't count the times he got someone into the hospital wing for bullying others). I js wanna see the rivalry relationship between this fella n Tom Riddle (ofc, i love this guy) n when Tom realized that reader wasn't as bad as he thought.

Fighter - T. R. x male!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the ask!! 💛 I really tried hard to fulfill it, so I hope this is good. I’m really hoping the ending conversation makes sense; please PLEASE tell me if it doesn’t. It’s completely unedited with no use of Y/N.

I think I tagged everything but let me know if I missed something!

CW: fighting, descriptions of fighting, blood mention, petnames, violence, anger, Tom gets really mad at Reader, detention, bickering, Reader gets a brush thrown at him, Tom’s anxious thoughts, mentions of punishment, talk of pureblood ideals, Tom does not understand his feelings, probably ooc Tom

1732 words

Tom can hear the sounds of a fight going on.

Right outside the library, and a vicious fight too, judging by the sounds.

After spending a full moment regretting the decisions that lead him to be Head Boy, Tom gets up and goes to investigate.

The fight is in the corridor. Brutal sounds of fists upon flesh and ugly cheers from the surrounding students fill the air.

Tom thinks it’s barbaric.

He takes a deep breath and shouts, “Out of the way! Head Boy coming through!”

The students part for him almost instantly, the roar of noise starting to die down.

In the center of the commotion, predictably, is you. You’re pinning the other guy down, hitting him repeatedly.

Tom can’t make out what you’re saying to him, but he’s sure it’s nothing good.

He spots Goyle in the crowd and waves him over. The boy obeys, and Tom gestures to the fight. “Break it up.”

Goyle hesitates, then obeys by grabbing you and forcibly hauling you off the other boy. You immediately go to punch Goyle, but stop when you see Tom.

So predictable.

You smooth out your shirt and wipe a bit of blood from your mouth. “Hello, princess.”

Tom bristles. He hates your nickname for him. “Hello, degenerate. I see you’re still picking fights.”

You grin crookedly and shrug. “What can I say? It’s part of my style.”

Tom’s expression doesn’t change. “It’s another detention for you. You’re lucky the Headmaster hasn’t considered expulsion.”

It’s an empty threat. Your family is part of the Sacred Twenty-eight, as rich as they come and with enough connections to make even the Malfoys jealous. You never receive more than a slap on the wrist for your behavior.

You know it. He knows it. And yet, you’re the only two that pretend Tom has some sort of control over you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes and smirk a little. “Whatever you say.”

He scowls, but doesn’t say a word as you slip off into the crowd. He knows better than to try and keep you there.

Tom is furious. Livid. Angry enough to make the whole castle feel it.

You’ve cost him his evening. A valuable evening, that could’ve been spent looking in the Restricted Section.

Now spent in detention.

Not that you’re aware. You’re off gallivanting somewhere, ditching class.

Causing Tom to fail his surprise partners project given to them by Professor Dumbledore.

Tom has never wanted to murder you more.

He calms down by evening, but your appearance in detention only makes this all the worse again.

You stroll into detention, all smooth movements and smug looks. You take a seat on the other side of the room, leaning back in your chair.

Gone all day, only to reappear just in time for the wrong thing.

Tom watches you from the corner of his eye, already annoyed.

He received detention last night, after being caught in the Restricted Section by Professor Dumbledore. Humiliating, given the fact that he’s Head Boy. He shouldn’t have to deal with detentions any more.

His annoyance only worsens when the professor announces it’s just the two of you.

Scrubbing suits of armor once again.

Tom’s halfway through his set when you show up.

“Hello, princess.”

Tom grits his teeth and scrubs a little harder. “What do you want?”

“Just came to see how my favorite rival was doing.”

You lean against the wall next to him and smirk at him.

Tom glares at you. “We’re not rivals. Rivals implies equality. We are not equals.”

Your smirk doesn’t falter for a moment. “Fine. Enemies then.”

Tom rolls his eyes and bites his tongue and goes back to scrubbing.

You lean in. “How was Dumbledore’s class?”

Tom throws the scrubber brush at you. “You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

You catch it and laugh. “When have I ever? You’re just too cute all riled up.”

Tom refuses to react. You’re only saying it for shock value after all.

“Look,” you say, after a tense moment. “I came here to tell you, there’s a spell for the armor. You can use that instead of scrubbing all night. The teachers never care.”

Tom bites his tongue again. He’s certain Dumbledore will care, but perhaps Tom can play this off.

“Teach me,” he orders.

You grin and oblige.

Tom neither gets questioned by Professor Dumbledore nor gets asked about his unusual quickness in cleaning the suits of armor.

For the whole next week, Tom is apprehensive about it. Surely using magic in such a way qualifies for extra detention?

But nothing happens.

So Tom grows suspicious of you.

Why would you teach him that spell? What motive do you have behind your sudden kindness?

It bugs at Tom, messing up his concentration while studying and making his skin crawl with curiosity.

You had to have some hidden agenda, some secret evil plan. It just didn’t make sense otherwise.

You weren’t a kind boy. You started fistfights every other day, not to mention how vicious you are in a duel.

So why be nice?

Tom just cannot figure it out.

You were in the Hospital Wing after yet another fight.

One of the Beaters on the other team had gotten angry with you during a quidditch match and had hit a bludger right at you.

Half the other team was in the Hospital Wing with you from the extent of the fight you’d started. The Beater who’d hit you had gotten sent to St Mungos, with their family in shambles.

They’d been in tears, falling at your hospital bed, begging you to forgive them the moment you woke up. You’d just seemed amused.

If there was one thing your family took seriously, it was your health and safety. Despite all your fights and mishaps, you were still the heir.

The Beater’s family was done for, and no amount of forgiveness from you could save them.

Tom visits you on the second day you’re in. He brings your homework, strictly on assignment from Professor Dumbledore.

You look up from the bag of chocolates you’re munching on. “Oh, hey, princess.”

Tom bristles a bit. “Why do you insist upon calling me that?”

You grin and pop another chocolate into your mouth. “Coz you’re prissy and elegant like a princess. All prim and proper till someone gets under your skin.”

Tom opens his mouth to retort, then closes it again. Prissy? He wasn’t prissy. He valued being good manners and being well-dressed, sure. But he wasn’t prissy.

You laugh at the expression on his face. “See? I told you! I bet you’re coming up with some good reply about how it’s ‘good breeding’ and a mark of ‘refinery amongst the purebloods’.”

Tom’s cheeks flush. He had been thinking something along those lines.

“Haha!” You sound triumphant. Almost smug. “You’ve been around Malfoy too long. He’s rotting your brain.”

“You’re a pureblood too,” Tom points out. “Maybe I’ve been spending too much time around you.”

“Nah.” You laugh again. “I don’t preach it like he does.”

Tom doesn’t know what to say, so he just sets your homework down on the edge of your bed. “Here.”

“Aw, Merlin.” You sigh and reach for it. “I was hoping I’d get out of doing it.”

Tom scoffs softly and takes a seat next to your bed. “Why? Too hard for you?”

You snort out a laugh. “Hell no. It’s too easy. I’ve known most of this stuff since I was five.”

“Since you were— How?”

You shrug. “With our breeding, we don’t tend to last very long. Gotta have everything learned quickly so we can marry once we’re done with school.”

“You…” Tom falls silent at this. He knew about pureblood traditions and stuff from Abraxas, but he hadn’t ever applied them to you.

You were just… the opposite of everything he imagined a pureblood to be: smug and cold and overbearingly intelligent.

You were all hotheadedness and feral fights and lazy boredom.

It baffled him.

“Look, princess,” you hand him your bag of chocolates. “Don’t stress too much about it. Have a chocolate or two. Relax. If you haven’t gotten detention yet because of me, you won’t anytime soon.”

Tom takes a chocolate. He considers your words as he eats it. You’re a puzzle of a pureblood. The most eligible boy at Hogwarts, yet you act like you don’t care about your family’s reputation one bit.

Finally, he just asks one question. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you act so…”

You shrug. “My family’s full of pricks. Always going around spouting nonsense about this and that. If I’m coming to Hogwarts, I’m at least going to have some fun while I’m here.”

“And your idea of fun includes beating people up?”

You grin. “Don’t knock it till you try it, Riddle. Besides, I only hit them if they deserve it.”

It occurs to Tom that you called him Riddle for perhaps the first time since he met you. It makes a funny sort of feeling sprout in his stomach. Like a sudden weed amongst a perfect garden.

Perhaps it’s his distaste for you popping up again.

“If they deserve it?”

“Yeah. You know, bullies and cheaters and kids who pick on the first years.”

Tom gives you a deadpan look. “Oh, how generous.”

You laugh. A genuine, full belly laugh. One that makes you wheeze with pain from your injuries.

That little spark of something inside Tom grows for a moment. It makes his chest uncomfortably warm. He tries to snuff it out as fast as possible.

You’re rapidly turning around his mental image of you in his head. Yesterday, he would have pegged you as the arrogant heir to your family, a boy who just wouldn’t leave him alone.

Now you’re… something else.

Thinking about it too much makes him prickle with what must be discomfort. So he hands you back your chocolates and stands up.

“You’re odd. I’ll admit that. But you’re not all that bad either.”

You grin. A wide, warm grin that sends more prickles throughout Tom’s body.

“Glad to hear it, princess.”

Tom makes a face. “You really need to stop calling me that.”

You just laugh as he leaves.

Tom thinks about you as he walks. About your odd ways and peculiar thinkings.

You certainly are a riddle of a pureblood, and he’s determined to figure you out.

[hulhudhonado]

So I Heard A Rumor...

Synopsis: You promised Kaeya drinks, he promised to be your wingman so you can finally ask his brother, Diluc, on a date. However your plan comes crashing when rumor comes out that you would be buying drinks for all the knights. You also just can't seem to get rid of this bard who keeps singing songs to you. Will you achieve your chance to ask your dream man out? Let's find out.

CW: ALCOHOL, OTHER THAN DILUC NO ONE IS GOING TO BE SOBER, minor swearing, Venti is a bit clingy too

HC: Reader is gender-neutral, Reader does not have a vision, Reader works as a knight, Reader is very clearly in love with Diluc (lol)

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Venti, Jean, Mentions of Favonious knights and Traveller (Honorary Knight)

Note: Going to apologise in advance because I have no idea how alcohol works as I am not a drinker and don't plan to. I clown on Diluc a lot because my friend is obsessed with him however funnily enough he is the character I have the most ideas with. I'm talking angst, fluff, comfort, everything. Anyway enjoy this cringe fest! Please make sure to like, comment or reblog the post. It helps it reach a wider audience and motivates me to write more silly stuff like this. Enjoy!

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The current situation was far from ideal. Tonight was supposed to be the night you finally dared to ask Diluc out on a date. However, right now you were surrounded by drunken knights who wouldn’t stop singing along with an even more drunk bard who had his whole body wrapped around you. You could see Diluc seething at the bar, his fist clenched on the glass so tight you were certain it would break any minute now.

Backtracking to how you have ended up in this situation, it all started because of a rumour. Whispers among the crowd saying Donna was going to make her move soon. You couldn’t allow this, you had loved Diluc since his days as a knight! Sure you never dared to confess this entire time but Donna barely had any history with this man compared to you! She had a long way to go to get to your level. However, it didn’t help that Diluc was a bachelor and a perfect one at that. Even if Donna did or didn’t make her move, someone else might snatch him up sooner or later. It didn’t help that the honorary knight seemed to have become close to him as well. You need to act fast.

So you made a deal with Kaeya, if anyone was going to help you it had to be him. When you first told him about your crush he burst out laughing, before realising you were serious.

“Wait shit for real?” He asked, dumbfounded. You nod, trying not to be embarrassed. He stared at you like you had just said the most unbelievable thing. In Kaeya’s defence, you did say the most outrageous thing imaginable. He knew Diluc was considered a hot target in the single’s market, but for you to also fall for his charms? A shocking revelation.

“Are you going to help me or not?” You ask, now impatient. You didn’t have time to let him make fun of you for liking his brother, someone could be seducing him right now! Kaeya blinked at you in disbelief. However, his face soon shifted to a shit-eating grin. You groaned, instantly regretting your decision. “If you’re not then I’m going to ask someone else ok?!” You exclaim, annoyed and try your best not to give him more reason to make fun of you.

“Nah nah! You came to the right place! I’ll help, I'm an amazing wingman!” He laughed. You shushed him, you didn’t want anyone else to know about this and Kaeya tried his best to hold in his laughter but chuckles and giggles could not stop escaping this man. “Just buy me a couple of drinks and I’ll make sure you both end up in bed together by the end of the night!” He teased, which only made you groan.

That was the plan, you buy him drinks and he would help you look good enough for Diluc to swoon over you. However, for some reason, word got out and suddenly the whole knight team was out and about ready to get drinks from you.

“Wow, aren't you generous? Paying for the knights to drink as much as they want!” Swan chuckled. You didn’t know how it ended up like this, even Kaeya shrugged at you confused. Somehow word got out that you would be paying for ALL the knights to drink until they passed out. It had gotten so big that even Jean decided to join in.

“Well, the knights barely have time to come together and have fun, so I couldn’t miss this.” She smiled at you and that stopped you from calling the whole thing off because there was no way you could say no to Jean.

So now here you were, at Angel Share, drunk knights singing and playing games at the bar. You chugged down on a bottle of wine, feeling like absolute shit. Not only were you going to have to pay for all this but right now you were the worst offender in Diluc’s eyes. Dragging all the knights here and ruining his shift. All you wanted to do was confess but instead, you ended up creating the worst environment for any love to happen.

Finally the damn bard on your lap. You don’t know how he got into this but he was drinking off your tab as well. He was so grateful for your generosity that he decided the best way to show it was by singing tunes dedicated to you while sitting on your lap. He had one arm wrapped over your neck, which strummed the lyre in his hands. He was wrapped around you like spaghetti on a fork. It didn’t help that Diluc could see this man sit on your lap while singing tunes about how wonderful you were.

So right now in Diluc’s eyes, you were, a drunk who wastes their money on alcohol, loves to bring chaos to environments, and also a flirt who has no shame in doing PDA with strangers.  The least ideal person to date. You avoided any eye contact with Diluc, you could not face him at this point. You turned to look at Kaeya who was completely out of it. He had drunk so much that he was pretty much passed out just a couple of minutes ago.

‘So much for being a wingman…’ you thought, but honestly speaking in this situation, if Kaeya spoke up it would have probably ended up worse. You looked at the time, seeing how it was almost 12. The bar was set to close soon and Diluc would begin to kick out the knights. Finally, this terror would end and you could go back to your house to cry yourself to sleep. You were smart enough to call the next day off. you hoped whoever spread the rumour had a terrible hangover tomorrow while working the next day. They deserved it.

As you continued to curse the people who spread these twisted rumours, the bard decided to speak up after chugging down another glass. “You seem down my friend! Another song will cheer you up!” He laughed, stringing his lyre once more ready for another song. Cheers of knights could be heard across the bar, hyping him up for another. You sighed, placing a hand on the lyre and putting it down. “No no, I think we had enough songs for tonight. Let’s end the night guys.” You say, trying to stand up while carrying the bard bridal style.

As you tried to stand up, the bard whined trying to shake you off. You underestimating how drunk you were couldn’t carry his weight anymore, especially when he was moving around. You tried to steady yourself but the bard would not stop squirming leading you to slip and fall down. Making sure the bard didn’t hit the floor, and get hurt you shifted your body so you would land on the ground instead, your back hitting flat on the floor while the bard fell on top of you to soften his fall.

The bard whined, resting his head on your chest while you had your grip him to make sure he didn’t get hurt during the fall. The crack of glass could be heard in an instance. Everyone turned towards the sound to see that Diluc had in fact, shattered the glass he was cleaning the entire night.

“Out.” He said. The aura in the tavern immediately turned grim. Knights anxiously made their way out the door, saying their goodbyes to you. Jean carried Kaeya on her back, giving you a weak drunk smile before heading out as well. The bard clearly didn't get the clue as he had passed out on top of you.

Diluc was mad and it was all your fault. You could feel the tears come out. It especially didn’t help that you were drunk out of your mind, unable to hold back your emotions. You gently pushed the bard off you, trying to stand up. At this point, the only people left were you, Diluc, and the passed-out bard. 

You mumble sorry, trying to get up while tears continue to flow down your face. Unable to see clearly made it a bit of a struggle to get up, it also prevented you from noticing Diluc who had somehow made his way to you. You jolted up, almost falling over once more, but he caught you before another slip occurred. His arm wrapped your waist gently, steadying you up. You could feel yourself heat up.

“You have to be careful. Here.” He mumbled, guiding you to sit down. You were shocked he had not kicked you out honestly. You looked at him teary-eyed as he pulled out a handkerchief from his apron, dapping your tears away.

“You can sit here and wait until I close. I’ll drop you off afterward. “ He exclaimed, placing the cloth in your hands. “Oh no you don’t have to, I need to drop off the bard home first.” You say, your hands gripping on the cloth ever so tightly. You didn’t dare to stay with Diluc, especially after how terrible the night went. You wanted to leave as soon as possible but the minute you mentioned the bard you could see Diluc halt.

His gaze turned cold as he glared at the unconscious bard on the floor. He walked towards him, picking the bard up from the scruff of his clothes and heading towards the door. He tossed the bard out like trash before dusting his hands off. “Venti can figure out his way to get home. You're unsteady and drunk, so I’m taking you home myself.” You had no escape now. Muttering an ok, you put your head down trying to feel as small as you could.

Were you such a mess that Diluc didn’t think you were capable enough to get home? You were still a knight! Sure you weren’t an honorary knight but you were one, and a decent one at that. You could feel your thoughts spiral but it always leads to the same conclusion. Diluc would never like you back and probably felt pity for you.

You didn’t know how long you were lost in your thoughts, before Diluc spoke up. “I’m done, let’s get going.” He said. You try to answer but the alcohol finally seems to be in your system because you couldn't force yourself to say coherent words. You groan which only made Diluc sigh.

He lifted you from your seat, making you wrap your arm around his neck. He wrapped his arm around your waist once more and held onto your arm with his hand. You immediately could feel the heat from his body. You were already sweating because of the alcohol but now with his heat on your side, you could almost feel your skin burn. You whine, trying to push him away a bit but his grip on you was firm. You look him directly in the eyes. Big mistake.

He had the same poker face he usually had but for some reason, stars were dancing in his eyes tonight. Was he always this beautiful? You weren’t sure if the alcohol was playing tricks on your mind because you couldn’t believe how stunning this man looked. Looking carefully at his face you could see light scars scattered around his jaw. His cheeks were decorated with slight freckles. You couldn't believe how close you were to even notice them.

You weren’t sure what came over you but it was too late to stop the words from spilling out of your mouth. “I’m in love with you.” You stared at him before suddenly realising what you had just said. You can’t believe you had just said that. You wanted to take it back, your brain was wrecking up on excuses to say to him.

‘It’s a joke’ or ‘I didn’t mean to say that’ or even an ‘I meant it for someone else’. Your brain kept thinking of various things you could say but nothing would spill out. So here you were mouth gaping open, begging yourself to say something.

Diluc sighed, and you could feel your heart shatter. “Let’s take you home.” You didn’t argue, letting him drag you back to your house. You could feel yourself fall asleep on the way. You gave up in defeat. At least you were off the next day, you would be able to drown in your sorrows tomorrow.

As you tried to comfort yourself, you felt yourself drift off asleep. You could hear Diluc speak but the words wouldn’t register, you needed to escape from him for a bit.

—

You woke up on your bed, you turned to look out the window to see that it was still clearly night. You groan, sitting up on your bed. Your room was dark but you could see a light peeking under the door of your room, the living room light was still on. You groggily walk out of the room to turn it off, only to see Diluc outside. He was in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets.

You look at him in disbelief while he turns to face you. “You ok? It’s too late to buy hangover medicine so I wanted to see if you had any stocked up.” You try to speak, only to be stopped by a cough. Your throat felt so dry, you couldn’t say a word. “Oh, drink this.” Diluc handed you a glass of water, which you chugged down in an instant.

“I was going to hand it to you with the medicine but never mind. You should go rest, I’ll leave soon.” He said, continuing his search in your cupboard. You shook your head. “You can just leave, it’s fine, I can take care of myself.” You wanted him gone as soon as possible. As domestic as it felt having him in your house taking care of you, this man rejected your confession and you didn’t have the strength to handle it at this moment.

You had a splitting headache and a broken heart and Diluc being here was not going to fix that. Diluc halted, stopping his search, you could see a frown on his face as he closed the drawers before turning to you. “Can I ask you something?” He asked, ever so quietly. He was always a silent type of guy, but even this time you could hear how vulnerable he was. The way he asked you in such a soft way made you instantly answer him without a second thought. “Go ahead.” You wanted to hit yourself, you wish you didn’t have such a soft spot for him.

“I heard a rumour, going around…” he continued. He played with his hands, fiddling them about as if he was feeling shy. You cringed at the thought, why would Diluc of all people feel shy? You were just being delusional at this point. As you contemplated your thoughts he continued. “People were saying you invited the knights out for drinks because you got engaged, is that true?” 

The cup you had in your hands dropped to the ground. You were glad it wasn’t glass because it would have shattered in an instant, and you had seen enough things shatter today. However, you honestly could not believe the words that had just come out of Diluc’s mouth. “Wait what? Are you serious?” You ask, completely thinking this was a prank. “Why would you think that? Who would even say that?” Who was spreading these rumours around? You were going to kill them.

“So it’s false?” “Of course it’s false! I’m not even dating anyone!” You exclaim, now wondering whether your confession was rejected because Diluc thought you were cheating on your nonexistent partner. 

“So you aren’t dating Venti?” “I don’t even know who that is!” You say, frustrated. You put your hands on your face, feeling annoyed. You groan into them in anger. All these stupid rumours were the reason you were here with a horrible headache and Diluc looking at you like you were scum on Earth. You wanted to crawl up into a ball and disappear right now.

“Then can you do me a favour?” Diluc spoke up, disturbing your grovelling session. You look up from your hands and stare at him sadly. “What?” You weakly ask.

“Can you confess to me again when you aren’t drunk?” You blink, unsure of what you just heard. “What?” You say, still unable to process what he had just asked you to do.

“Your confession. Say it to me when you aren’t drunk.” He said once more, looking at you with his unchanged expression. He was being deadly serious. He was asking you to confess again. “Wait wait, so you don’t hate me?” Diluc tilted his head, eyebrow raised. He seemed shocked you even said that. “Why would I ever hate you? Were people saying that?” He asked, crossing his arms, his face turned dark when he said it but you shook your head. “No no, but, does that mean you like me?” You ask, feeling sheepish.

And for the first time this entire night, you could see a small smile fall on his lips. His face softened, no longer a glare in his eyes. His cheeks rose a bit when he smiled and you were certain this smile was for you. “Ask again when you aren’t reeking of alcohol.” He retorted back playfully. “Now, off to bed, I’ll head out now. I heard that you won’t be at work tomorrow so I better hear from you soon.”

With that, he left you, alone in your house, with your thoughts full of him. You knew for a fact you were not going to be able to sleep the entire night, nor was your headache going to be fixed by any type of medicine. 

Sorry Mondstadt, but your favourite bachelor is finally going to be off the market!

—

The slight sounds of a lyre could be heard in the distance on the streets of Mondstadt. A drunk bard still singing a tune.

“Did you hear about this rumour? There is going to be love in the air soon~”

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