#I don't know how light I need to tread

[dirtytransmasc]

this post is gonna seem so fucking random, and its really not at all important, tiktok is just being tiktok, and I have something to say that really doesn't mean shit but would get me flamed on that hellsite, and I hate not saying whats on my mind, even when its in my best interest so I'm saying it here, cause I can, just ignore me.

there seems to be this devote group of people in the SoC's fandom (*cough cough* I've only seen them on tiktok, and they're always those types of fans, that just like, care way to much about others opinions. *cough cough*) who hate people who see the dynamic of kaz and wylan as a father/son-esque relationship, like getting all types of mad about it. again it was like 5 or 6 people, but it was enough to make me really think about it and then proceed to get pissy, cause I'm a stubborn asshole at heart who can't just drop something once it's pissed me off, and it really only pissed me off cause someone said interpreting them like that was "infantilizing gay men" and I just... no, please no, that's not at all whats happening, I promise.

so here's my unnecessary two cents, cause I can't just move on;

what would you like me to call their dynamic hmm? kaz is only a bit older in age, but forced himself to mature and take on burdens that make him much older then he is, burdens he won't let anyone take off his shoulders. while he is very much like a mentor or older brother to wylan, trying to be who he needed after losing jordie, his role within the group as a whole puts him into much more of a caretaker role. he's the dad of the group, he is provider and protector, he is the brawny brains so to speak, a very paternal energy as head of the 'family'. he is the protector of his crows, he takes care of them, all of them, in his own fucked up ways, being what they need him to be. he would do anything for them, even if he tries to hide it, and this typically ends up with him in one way or another taking on a nurturing role of sorts (describing this man is so hard, cause his internal vs. external actions are so fucked by his mental state. going above and beyond for him and like bare minimum to the average person, and I don't know how to verbalize it). factor that into the fact that wylan lacks a father figure, a good one at least, he naturally plays that role in a very similar way that an older brother or mentor would fill the void of a younger sibling/mentee. wylan also looks up to and takes after kaz a lot, which points into the father/son-esque vibes. all in all, no they aren't your traditional father/son dynamic, but like, that's the closest simple term I can slap on them, cause I'm not giving this little speech a million times. their dynamic is messy and layered and complicated by both of their metric tons of trauma, paired with the overall found-family/trauma-bond thing those littles shits got going on over there. let them be messy and let me just sat father/son for my sanity, I beg (if someone tells me I'm infantilizing wylan cause he's gay/dyslexic/autistic-coded I'm gonna have a stroke, I just want my boys to be vaguely happy and have some semblance of family alright, and sure, maybe my daddy issues play into it, but that's none of your goddamned business)

please say I'm not the only one to encounter those fans, and please tell me this makes sense to someone, I beg of you.

[justblades]

⌕ FLIMSY FEELINGS, 18+

⟢ CHARACTER : blade x afab! reader WC : 1.4k

⟢ WARNINGS : EXPLICIT, MDNI. dubcon, somno, voyeur! blade, oral (fem receiving), sadistic masochistic themes, mutual masturb#tion, cunnilingus

⟢ A/N : we don't have much info abt his character rn but i tried my best with the available provided info as of the moment !! enjoy <3

raven hair ripples from the bitter cold winds blowing, the glint of crisp solferino hues show a reflection of an unknown person - someone the stellaron hunters just happened to pick up as they tread upon weaving the threads of fate, just how the screen play director foretold.

it was just blade and you alone, encompassed by the archaic, gunmetal gray walls. blade watches your slumbering figure as he wears a solemn face, lips pressed into a thin line, not showing any kind of expression at all except for a stoic mask.

is it really a mask? no one could tell. blade just proceeds to stride towards your body, feeling an aching sensation he needed to tend to. it's a feeling he'd come to despise - but it's still a part of his bodily function. even though he abandoned his old way of living and is now in a pursuit of his path to vengeance, there are trivial things he must fulfill at once.

blade slowly descends to your position, vision still not anchoring away from your dozing shape. humans truly are fragile, he thought to himself— to see someone in their vulnerable state, it feels quite intimate. it was an epiphany blade had for a long time ago he forgot when, but all he knows right now is there's just one thing that must be done.

he feels his pants grow tighter by the minute, the flickering light bulb casts a darker shade of monochrome gray on the crotch part. the navy haired doesn't delay any further and proceeds to get it done. blade unbuckles his belt swiftly, letting the item crash against the concrete flooring; followed suit is an act of self pleasure, he gradually wraps his dominant around his throbbing girth, reveling the wamrth he had to offer to himself in dead silence.

the stellaron hunter may not show it but gratification already courses through his system. at a slow pace, he continues to lean more towards your figure, his cock now at its full glory. its head twitches, itching for a sensation for it to be enveloped in; something warm, something tight and something alive. three qualifications that his mere hands could not satisfy.

perhaps that was your sole purpose for you being brought here in the stellaron hunters' temporary hideout. he rips your clothes with one clean cut from the cracked sword he brandishes, one of the many ways he showcases his astonishing swordsmanship. steadily positioning himself from your slit, a hot, rock hard feeling rubs on your lower lips.

blade's heart begins to pulsate against his rib cage, each beat becoming louder and faster in such an irregular manner. the more he got to feel your slippery cunt, the more eager he only got. and with one powerful thrust, he successfully makes his entrance inside you, his cock lavishing the comfort of your velvet walls clamping around his length.

he huffs a deep breath and only realizes it late as he catches a quick whiff of your scent— for some reason, he was drawn on. the male inches forward your neck, his hands tightly clasped on yours to make sure there would be no attempt of escape. presently atop you while you laid on your stomach, you could feel some faint but added pressure on your limbs plus a somewhat familiar presence from above.

blade was only detached from what you were feeling and only carried on with his own intentions. he rams inside you with no forewarnings, his tip fills you all the way up to the very brim. a breathy, whiny moan erupts in the vicinity that undoubtedly came from you but he heeds no mind to it— continuing to pound into your walls, intruding with such an abrupt pace and not in gradual motions.

in anything that he does, he emanates of destruction. a polar opposite of care, tenderness and love; it shows in his rough, vertiginious thrusts, his firm tight touch, and lastly, in his facial expression. you were not one bit shocked, if anything, you just accepted what is happening as of the present. being used as a cocksleeve for a passing feeling, it rips at your heartstrings but you were powerless before him.

you continued to pretend as if you were still dozing off in spite the mewl that you tried so hard to bite back, stifling more noises threatening to slip out. it would be far more awkward if you're awake as you weren't one bit acquainted with blade. not even shared glances, all the information you have is an overheard conversation from the hunters, only knowing his sole name : blade.

the swordsman eventually begins to drop his guard down, becoming more lax at letting his guttural groans come undone from his mouth. his bandaged hand wanders on your naked, exposed skin, traveling to places where he finds the most appealing. aside from the sound of skin slapping, clothes shifting and his jagged breathing were accompanied by the chime of his dangling scarlet earring.

a sharp pang of pain follows from a loud smack sound. it was his slender hand coming into harsh contact against the plush of your ass, leaving darker imprints from your complexion - it was no doubt, his spanking's seal. you could no longer play pretend as you wince from the pain, your eyes shot open and you turn your head.

your vision was then graced by the indigo haired, he took notice that you were awoken but as usual, he's cold as a gelid ice. he did not care.

when suddenly, he withdraws his cock from your pussy and flips your body around— thus making you meet his face, catching you off guard from your current dazed state. you slowly look up to meet his sharp gaze to the point that you could see your own image from his vivid cerise eyes. your very first locked gaze with blade, and mayhaps the last. his hand clasps on yours once again but only to bring it down to your cunt, he proceeds to uncurl your balled up fist.

he guides your fingers to stroke and pleasure yourself, your own digits prodding through your wet entrance. your breathing quickens, a foreign sensation brewing in the pits of your abdomen; meanwhile blade doesn't do anything but to watch on your expressions. "continue." blade commands ; his raspy, deep voice resounds into your ears.

you were struck with both of shock and nervousness, his tone laced with authority and coldness to it yet again. as embarrassing as it is to do it in front of a man you've never met in your lifetime, you obey his order, continuing to pump your fingers in and out of your coiling walls before his predatory naked eyes.

the navy haired pleasures himself at present, along with you - matching your rhythm. your legs spread open in front of him to feast upon that no man has ever tasted, an unfamiliar sensation wells in his heart. he groans and picks up the pace of him stroking his own erection, a feeling of release immediately dawning upon him.

with blurry vision, for a moment, you could see a hint of sadness and regret behind the vermillion windows of his soul. although the actions he's committing currently are lascivious and of lust, you swear to yourself there was something more than what meets the eye.

as quickly time flashes, strings of muddy white spring out from his cock, the liquids spilling into your exposed tits and your panic stricken face. he catches his breath in the midst of it, heavy panting echoes inside the enclosed vicinity. "i didn't order you to stop."

his words pierces your perturbed mind, he pertains to your masturbation ending just as when he reached his climax. the male swiftly gathers all the cum littering your skin with one hand and one movement, cupping the liquids carefully only to insert all of it into your pussy.

a moan bubbles from your throat, feeling his long fingers curl inside your sticky walls. blade, even though a stoic man most of the time, he's also full of surprises. he flicks his tongue over your clit, the pointy tip rubbing viscules and in circular motions on the specific spot.

your back arches, waves of pleasure crashing upon your lethargic self. blade doesn't halt and carries on to suck your walls out, margins of his sticky lips perfectly fitting with your lower ones. his tongue once again skillfully glides over your sensitive parts— earning him your climax as it spills out from your hole, adorning his sharp, masculine features as if your ejaculation was an accessory.

it felt ecstatic, as if your body drifts into the seventh heaven from blade's cold touches. in spite of the overwhelming gratification pooling in your body, hundreds of questions start to flare up in your mind, mainly about blade's identity. naturally, it rolls from your lips, a question he didn't see coming.

"what are you really?"

among the many blank faces blade shows you this night, he finally unravels a different one upon encountering your question. "are you really that fervent to know?" he rhetorically asks as a sneering smile creeps on his lips.

my masterlist !

[leclerc-hs]

tachycardia! pt. 1 - cl16

pairing: doctor!charles leclerc x nurse!reader (alpha/omega au) summary: in which you don't always get along with the arrogant alpha doctor warnings: LIGHT a/b/o dynamics, angst??, none really (yet!), badly translated french, NOT PROOFREAD word count: 1.7k author's note: hi so this is the first part!! I'm thinking about turning this into like a "blurb" series, like i'll do a bunch of parts with them but they won't be toooooo long. emphasis on the LIGHT a/b/o dynamics because i am STILL leaning all about it but I'm sure the more I write the better with it I will get. I def will discuss more about it during smut scenes. let me know what you guys think and what else you would like to see happen between them!! don't be shy!!! xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

IT WASN’T HATRED, per se, but more so the fact that you both knew how to get under each other’s skin so easily. 

The amount of time it took for Doctor Leclerc to make some sort of asshole comment as you entered the doors of the hospital was little to none. It was almost a predetermined ritual at this point. So common that you should’ve been more concerned with the premise that he might’ve memorized your schedule just so it’s his face you see first thing every time you arrive to work. 

You had made a solemn vow to yourself long ago never to become romantically involved with a doctor. Any doctor for that matter. The allure of dating a doctor might have seemed appealing in theory, but they tended to exude an air of pretentiousness, rudeness, and arrogance that left a bitter taste in your mouth. 

Doctor Leclerc was what you would consider the living embodiment of this, a constant reminder of the vows you made in the first place. Yet, the fact that he was probably the hottest fucking man you have ever seen, made it hard to not want to blur the lines sometimes. His chiseled features and commanding presence were sometimes a magnetic force, no matter how much he annoyed you.

So, you wonder why, even as you’re leaned against the nurse’s station with an elbow propped on it, you can’t help but stare at the muscles of his back poking through his scrubs and white coat, as he pours a cup of coffee into his mug. His massive shoulders rising and falling as he picks the coffee pot up and places it back down.

-

“Did he say something to you?” You ask as you press a tissue into the hands of one of your co-workers, April. You didn’t know that well, but nurses stuck together regardless.

“I’m fine,” she says, but the tears welling up in her eyes, made you know better. “I just need to stop being so sensitive.” The words hang in the air, a fragile façade masking the turmoil within, and you recognize the weight of her emotions despite her attempt to downplay them.

“He must have been a proper douche,” you remark, the water from the bathroom sink running over your hands as you meet April’s gaze through the mirror. “What did he do?” Your tone carries a mix of concern and frustration.

Her hesitance to disclose wasn’t rooted in desire to withhold information, but rather in a reluctance to escalate the situation unnecessarily. Aware of your tendency to stand up to Doctor Leclerc, she treaded cautiously. You turned back around to face her, an eyebrow raised as if you’re saying spill the beans already.

“Well,” she begins, her grip tightening on the crumpled tissue in her fist, “all I did was ask if the symptom the patient was experiencing was a common side effect of the medication we prescribed her, just to be sure.” You cross your arms over your chest, you can feel the agitation growing in your chest. “He wasn’t mean in front of the patient, but he pulled me aside after and told me how unprofessional it is to be questioning in front of a patient.” Her voice wavers with a mix of frustration and hurt.

Your lips press into a thin line as she recounts the encounter. “He then told me that I should’ve paid better attention in school and then maybe I would know the answer,” she emphasizes, tinged with a hint of bitterness. The word “maybe” lingers in the air, weighted with insinuation, as if Doctor Leclerc’s implication stung deeper than mere criticism.

“What an alpha asshole!” you exclaim, your frustration evident in the forceful wave of your hands. “Don’t listen to him.” You offer her comfort, a smile of reassurance accompanying your words, a silent vow to stand by her side.

April’s lips curl upward into a small, grateful smile, her eyes softening as she murmurs a heartfelt “thanks”. In that moment, her expression speaks volumes, conveying both appreciation for your support and glimmer of relief.

-

You saw him before he saw you. 

As you step through the doorway into one of your patient’s rooms, a pang of exasperation washes over you, accompanied by the silent question of what you did to deserve this particular form of punishment. It feels like a cruel twist of fate to find Doctor Leclerc attending to one of your patients, whom had just recently had a coronary angioplasty and a stent placement. Despite the urge to roll your eyes, you summon all your professionalism and force one of the biggest smiles onto your face. It’s a façade of warmth and cooperation, masking the internal tension brewing beneath the surface.

There he stood, a figure of authority on the opposite end of the bed, his arms folded across his chest as he chuckled at whatever anecdote your patient shared with him. His laughter, though genuine, seemed to echo with a hint of superiority. You can’t help but notice the subtle flex of his jaw muscles as his head tilts back briefly. The sight of his scruff and the contours of his muscular neck send a tingling sensation coursing through you.

You need to snap out of it! You repeat to yourself, a silent mantra echoing in your mind. You were so preoccupied with convincing yourself that Doctor Leclerc wasn’t unbelievably attractive that you failed to notice the scrutiny of two pairs of eyes now fixed upon you. The sudden realization jolts you back to the present, and you redirect your focus to the patient.

You didn’t need to glance at Doctor Leclerc to sense the presence of a smirk tugging at his lips; it was almost palpable, a silent acknowledgement that he had caught you staring at him. Distracted by him. 

“Glad you can join us, mon lapin.” My bunny.

You narrowed your eyes at him, a flicker of irritation igniting within you. That forsaken nickname—he just couldn’t resist. Ever since your first day, when you innocently showed up with a tote bag adorned with colorful bunnies, he had taken great delight in teasing you with it.

“Ne m’appele pas comme ça.”  Don’t call me that.

The patient looked up at both of you, eyes full of delight in entertainment.

His verdant eyes look at you for a few seconds, contemplating something, before looking back at the patient. “I’ll make sure you’re out of here in no time,” he assures the patient, his voice full of warmth. “I just need to check your vitals, and hopefully we can have you out here in a few days.” His words are reassuring, delivered with a blend of confidence and empathy that contrasts with the earlier tension in the room. Despite your reservations, you can’t deny that he provides great care for his patients.

“How has your medication been? Still uncomfortable?” You inquire, while Doctor Leclerc listens intently to your patient’s chest with his stethoscope.

“A little bit,” your patient murmurs in response, pausing between deep breaths as instructed by Doctor Leclerc.

“I’ll make sure you get another dose of aspirin to help ease the pain.” You promise with a tight-lipped smile as Doctor Leclerc removes the stethoscope from his ears.

“I think we need to reconsider the dosage,” you assert, meeting Doctor Leclerc’s gaze.

“We don’t want to risk any adverse effects.” His eyes, a much darker hue of green now, narrow at you, like he can’t believe you’re telling him what to do. “I’ve already adjusted his medication. It’s within the recommended for his condition.” 

He shifts his focus back to the patient, the darkness and annoyance that once clouded his eyes now dissipating. “Everything is looking great! I’ll check on you tomorrow morning,” he reassures the patient with a warm smile before bidding his farewells. As he turns to you, nodding toward the doorway, his demeanor shifts, and a lethal glare meets your gaze. Without a word, you follow him out the room, bracing yourself. You refuse to cower, meeting his glare with a steely resolve of your own. Each step you take alongside him is a silent assertion.

His touch on your elbow sends a jolt of tingles to your stomach as he swiftly turns you around, your back now pressed firmly against the wall. His gaze pierces through you with a lethal intensity. 

“Que pensez-vous faire?” What do you think you’re doing? He pinched the bridge of his nose in between his pointer finger and thumb, with his eyes scrunched as if he got a splitting headache in the span of one second. Like he was in pain. Did you know how strong you scent was? He wondered mindlessly, almost forgetting why he was so mad at you in the first place.

You thought nothing of his actions, too busy feeling the anger swell in the pit of your stomach.

Your eyes roll in exasperation, and your eyebrows knit together in annoyance at the audacity of this man. 

His eyes meet your again and can’t help but think how beautiful you look, even when angry. How he would just love to bend you over his knee and remind you who is in charge.

“Je veille sur mon patient.” I’m looking out for my patient.

He rests his hands on his hips, stealing a glance at his beeping pager before fixing his gaze back on you. His eyes, nearly black, pierce through you. “Non, tu essaies juste de provoquer une dispute comme d’habitude,” You’re just trying to start an argument as usual. He grits through clenched teeth. “His medication is completely fine, et tu le sais!” And you know it!

So, maybe you were trying to start an argument with him. Especially after April’s crying face came to your mind.

He’s so close that you can hardly think around his scent. It’s almost intoxicating.

“Don’t ever make April cry again.” You jab your finger into his shoulder, reminding yourself why you’re here in the first place.

He blinks, and you catch the glimmer of recognition spreading across his features. “Elle n’a aucun courage” She has no spine. He remarks before continuing, “She should learn from you. You probably have spare spines.” He steps back from you before striding down the hallway in opposite direction of the nurse’s station.

No matter how annoyed you were, you couldn't peel your eyes off his muscular back until he was completely out of sight. You scoffed at yourself. How pathetic am I? You questioned yourself repeatedly until you take in his last words to you.

Did he just make a joke?

[blitzyn]

welcome home

leon s. kennedy x ftm!reader

request: Is it possible for you to do a Leon Kennedy x ftm reader where Leon's been away for months and it's just sweet sex? Maybe a hint of cockwarming(Leon falling asleep while still inside), loads of praise and just in general body worship stuff! - Anonymous

synopsis: leon comes back home after being months away for a mission and he's eager to feel you again

a/n -> this was actually my first time writing cunnilingus i was STRUGGLING but all in all this was exciting to do i had fun. anyways alhaitham next i haven't done him in a while. ALSO. IM SORRY I KEEP CHANGING THEMES AND USERS 💔

wc -> 2.4k

cw -> cunnilingus, fingering, praise, p in v sex, cockwarming, ftm reader - use of the word 'pussy' and 'cunt' for reader's genitalia, brief description of top surgery scars, soft leon (heart eyes), not beta read

It was silent when Leon finally made his way back home, the soft moonlight shone brightly, as if treading a path for him.

He was exhausted, wanting nothing more than to feel the warmth of your body in his arms as he held you tightly, to smell the scent of your hair, and to hear the sound of your laughter that sent butterflies to his stomach no matter how many times he's heard it.

His keys jangled loudly in the silent night as he unlocked the front door, swiftly entering the house to make his way upstairs. He knew you were asleep since the lights weren't on, as made evident by your figure covered in blankets. Slowly, he made his way closer before sitting on his side of the bed, creating a dip in the mattress. Gently, tenderly, he reached out and shook your shoulder, chuckling softly at the sight of you taking a moment to stare at him.

Your drowsy eyes lit up in instant recognition as you sat up eagerly to take him in your arms in a tight hug.

"It's good to see you again, [Name]," he said, burying his nose in your hair to breathe in your scent. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Leon," you said, relief flooding through your veins, grateful to see him home. Reluctantly, you pulled away, watching the way his eyes darted all across your face to take in your features. "You've been gone for so long. I was so worried you'd..."

"I know, sweetheart," he muttered, cupping your cheeks to gently rub them with his thumbs. "And I'm sorry for that."

You nodded, holding onto his wrists. He took a second to gaze into your eyes before he pressed his lips against yours, cherishing the way they melded together with practiced ease. You sighed contentedly, leaning into him to deepen the kiss.

In need of air, you moved back, only for Leon to follow after you, refusing to take his lips off of you just yet.

"Hey—Leon!" You laughed, trying to tilt your head away from his onslaught of kisses. "I still need to breathe."

"Your lungs can wait," he jokingly said, chasing after your lips. You leaned back far enough to lie down, rendering you unable to resist his affection any longer. Not that you wanted to, anyway. Soon enough, he found himself on top of you, peppering kisses all over your face—on your forehead, nose, eyelids, cheeks, and lips before moving downward towards your neck.

At first, they were innocent, but when he tilted his head and sucked on the piece of flesh that pulled a moan from you, you knew then that neither of you would be getting much sleep tonight.

"Leon," you gasped out, reaching up to comb your fingers through his hair. "You just got back... Aren't you tired?"

"Honestly, yeah," he admitted, sliding his hands over your shirt to caress your waist. "But I'll be fine," he muttered against the column of your throat, pressing his lips to it for a chaste kiss before sitting up.

"The question is, are you tired?" He asked, scanning your expression for any lies you might've tried to hide. "I don't wanna push you."

You shook your head reassuringly despite having woken up not too long ago. "I'm good. Don't worry about me."

He let out an amused huff through his nose, the corners of his lips quirking up in a smirk. "No promises." He gently tugged on your shirt in a silent request to take it off, swiftly pulling it up and over your head as soon as you nodded.

"Christ, Leon, your hands are cold!" You let out a surprised yelp, arching your back in a futile attempt to get away. He only laughed, sliding his hands all over your stomach mercilessly to use your body heat to warm them up until you finally relaxed.

He leaned down again, gently biting on a spot over your collarbone as he ran his tongue over it soothingly. He moved again, kissing a trail down your sternum until he took one of your perky nipples in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. You bit your lip, watching him toy with your chest, running his fingertips along your scars. A heat pooled in your stomach as he slid lower, finding himself slotted between your legs. He watched your face intently, burying his thumbs underneath the waistband of your pants to slowly pull them off upon finding no disapproval from you, his breath hitching at the sight of your cunt.

"Fuck..." He whispered, blowing a teasing puff of air onto your clit, lips quirking up when you shivered. "Missed you and this pretty pussy," he groaned, hiking your thighs up and over his shoulders. Electricity shot down your spine when he looked up at you and gave it a quick kiss before encasing his lips around it, sucking gently.

You sighed, reaching down to comb your fingers through his hair. He hummed in response, curling his arms around your thighs to keep your legs open, squeezing the swell of them with his calloused hands. He moved down to give your pussy a long lick from your hole all the way back up to your clit and down again, savoring the taste of your juices on his tongue. He looked up through his lashes to gauge your reaction, feeling his cock throb in his pants as he softly ground his hips against the mattress.

You let out a moan when he pressed his face firmly against your cunt, eagerly sucking and flicking his tongue up and down your clit. Pressing your heels against his back, you rocked your hips, tightening your hold on his hair as you tugged on the strands.

He let go of one of your thighs, pressing two of his fingers against your hole, swiping upwards to gather some of your wetness before pushing them inside, groaning against your nub when you clenched around them. He curled them, searching for that one spot inside you that'll have you cumming in no time.

A subtle grin lifted his face when he saw you jerk, legs twitching, before diving back down to your clit. He was gentle but relentless at the same time—a blend that had you reeling for more.

"Fuck, Leon," you moaned, squirming. Your belly heaved as you looked down with half-lidded eyes, meeting his.

"That's it, baby," he muttered against your skin, giving it a harsh suck. "Moan my name just like that."

He pulled away slowly, his lips and chin glistening with your juices as he raised his free arm to drape it across your hip and inner thigh. The fingers inside you stopped, pressing against your G-spot while his other hand spread your pussy lips. Leaning over your crotch, he spat on your swollen clit before rubbing it in tight circles with his thumb. You shuddered, tightening around his fingers as his saliva mixed in with your fluids.

"You taste so fucking good," he mumbled, licking his lips. He began moving his hand again as he stared up at you with heat evident in his eyes, watching you toss your head back in ecstasy. "I could stay here for hours."

He curled and crooked his fingers, listening to the sounds of your sopping pussy around him, squeezing and trying to suck him back in whenever he moved away. "You're so wet f'me... This how much you missed me?"

"Uh-huh." You groggily nodded, rocking your hips against him. Your cunt throbbed—you were sure he could feel it—with the need to cum, legs writhing just a little bit more. You bit your lip, whining and gasping as you tensed, inadvertently trying to close your thighs around his head.

"No, don't do that," he said, taking his hand off your pulsing clit to hold one thigh open while his tricep kept your other one down. His arm ran across your lower abdomen, gently bobbing up and down with every labored breath you took. "Keep your legs open... Let me watch you cum 'round my fingers."

You could only nod, utterly drawn to the rasp of his voice and the undeniable authority in his tone. You whined when he latched back onto your sensitive clit, flicking his tongue up and down, eager to make you orgasm.

"That's it, baby," he muttered, giving your nub a firm suck. "You're so close... C'mon, give it to me." He groaned, grinding harder against the mattress as he moved faster, pushed deeper, until finally, you came around him with a loud moan.

"There we go..." He nearly came in his pants as he curled his fingers into the special spot inside you, helping you ride out your orgasm. "You did so good, sweetheart. Missed watching you do that for me." Sighing, he sat back up and pulled his fingers out of you to lick them clean, staring straight into your eyes.

With a grunt, he flopped beside you, turning your body so your back was flush against his chest as he ran his hands along the side of your thigh. His painfully hard cock was pressed against your ass, grinding against you leisurely.

"You wanna go all the way?" He questioned against your ear, his hot breath fanning against the shell of it to bring shivers down your spine. Even when the throbbing between your legs hadn't subsided yet, you couldn't find the need to decline.

"Thanks, baby," he said. You could hear the faint smile in his voice as he shifted around behind you, listening to the sound of rustling fabric and the jangling of his belt buckle. He tossed his pants to the floor haphazardly before swiftly pulling his cock out of his boxers. It throbbed fervently, leaking with precum and leaving your skin slick when he dragged it along the inside of your thighs.

He grit his teeth as he rubbed the shaft of his dick against your pussy, mouthing at the back of your neck before he slowly pushed his way inside you again. The two of you let out satisfied noises, savoring the way he stretched you out so perfectly.

"You're so tight..." his voice was strained as he spoke through gritted teeth, roaming his hands along your body. "You were made to take my cock like this, huh?"

"Mhm," you signed contentedly, eyelids fluttering shut. "Couldn't touch myself without you here."

"Poor boy," Leon teased breathlessly, snaking an arm under you to toy with your nipples, ghosting the tips of his fingers along your top surgery scars every so often. His free hand moved down to rest on your belly, gently pressing down to feel himself thrusting inside you. It was far too late at night to do anything intensive, but both of you were satisfied with just soaking in each other's presence. He held you close to him, whispering those sweet words that you've been aching to hear ever since he had to leave for his mission.

He was already on the verge of cumming just by eating you out, and it was no secret to either of you with the way he twitched and throbbed. He spent countless nights fucking his fist trying to imagine it was you, but his calloused hand could never compare to your soft and warm cunt.

"Fuuuck..." Leon drawled out, fucking you a bit faster. "I'm so close..."

"Already?" You laughed quietly, hissing when he pulled about halfway only to ram himself back inside in response before resuming his relaxed pace. "Okay! Sorry, sorry."

You bit your lip and let out a pleased sound when his free hand shifted itself to pat your clit before massaging it, lifting your own arm back to run your fingers through his hair again. You turned your head, connecting your lips with his passionately. You moaned into his mouth when your sensitivity from earlier began pooling in your abdomen again, earning a beautiful groan from the man behind you when you tightened reflexively.

Breaking away, you lazily pushed against him in sync with his thrusts, eyebrows furrowing in concentration when you could feel the heat burning brighter in your stomach.

"Fuck... That's it, sweetheart," he panted, tugging you closer, fucking you just a bit harder. "Cum for me again. Please, pretty boy, I wanna feel you cum." He rubbed your clit with just the right amount of pressure, brushing up against your G-spot with every thrust. He sucked and licked and kissed the skin of your neck, littering it with hickeys and shallow bites.

"Shit, Leon, 'm gonna... gonna cum again," you gasped, your hips jerking. You could feel him nod in response, but he was in no rush to get you to orgasm. He maintained the pace until he felt you squeeze tight around him and let out a loud moan, your body tensing and convulsing for a moment. The sight and feeling of you cumming sent him right over the edge as he swiftly pulled out with a wet squelch, pressing your thighs around his slick cock to fuck the plush flesh.

With an audible groan, milky white ropes of cum spurt out of the tip of his cock, landing on your skin and the bedsheets in front of you. He pressed himself flush against your body until his cock stopped throbbing and jerking before finally relaxing with a satisfied sigh.

"That was so good, [Name]," Leon praised, nuzzling into the back of your neck. "You did amazing. Like always."

"I know," you responded swiftly, feigning arrogance. But you could hardly keep up the facade, softly laughing at yourself. "But you did amazing, too."

"I know," he parroted playfully, giving you a quick kiss to the nape of your neck when he suddenly shifted to push his softening cock back inside your hole. He caressed you reassuringly when he felt you tense, explaining that he wasn't going to move. Not too much, at least.

"Now go back to sleep," he instructed, exhaustion taking root in his voice as he pulled the covers over your spent bodies. He wrapped his strong arms around you in a comforting embrace, listening to the sound of your soft breathing. "We'll clean up tomorrow."

You rolled your eyes with an exasperated huff through your nose. "Fine." Your eyes fluttered shut, feeling your body relax. "Goodnight. I love you."

"I love you, too."

cross-posted on ao3

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: Suspicious

G/N. So so stupid.

Your boyfriend is indulging in suspicious behaviour.

More and more, you catch him smiling sweetly at his phone, chuckling. At times you think you might have heard a squeal. He's always staring into it late at night, first thing in the morning, hiding his screen away from you.

Which usually would put you on edge if he was anyone else. Leave your imagination running wild, cause your insecurities to rise to the surface.

But you know Goo. He would have no problem kicking you out of his bed, his apartment, his life if he didn't want this anymore.

Except this isn't that. He's still as clingy as ever, still a mischievous menace. A brat, feral and needy, showing his own brand of affection and fondness.

You're almost certain that if you asked, he would shave his head for you. His precious blonde locks. That's how much he loves you.

However. The behaviour is peculiar, odd. You don't know what to think.

.

.

He's engrossed in his phone even more than usual this evening.

He didn't hear you come through the door, pad through the apartment, sneak up over his shoulder, almost breathing into his ear, eyes briefly scanning over his screen until-

"What's this?"

Goo yelps. Jerks away violently and with such force his glasses clatter onto the floor.

"Shit!" You hear him mutter under his breath as he tries to discreetly click his screen off and bend down for his glasses.

You're pretty certain you saw what you think you did.

…Really? Is this what he's been hiding from you?

Tentatively, because it's obvious this guy is touchy as hell about this, you ask, "Is that-"

"Nope!" He snaps, a very uncharacteristic blush blooming over his cheeks.

"Goo," You grin, eyes crinkling. "Are you embarrassed?"

He puts his glasses back on, adjusting them as he peers over haughtily at you, regaining some of his composure. "No cupcake, I don't get embarrassed."

You put your hand on your hips, raising an eyebrow. "Sure. That's why you've been sneaking around with your phone."

"I have not been sneaking."

"Sneaking."

"I-"

"Sneak. Ing." You emphasize each syllable, then ready your fingers at his forehead. "I may have thought you were up to no good." With that, you give Goo a light flick that he grossly overreacts to and screeches.

"So what?" he rubs his forehead with a pout, "I'm always up to no good."

That's true. You admit it with a sigh.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, clicks it back on sheepishly. "They just... They love each other."

"I know." You tread carefully, not sure which of his manic moods he's rapidly approaching.

"And they both die in the manga." You swear you see Goo's lip wobble, "I just want them to be happy."

Ok, that was definitely his voice cracking you heard there as he shows you his browser, tabs upon tabs of fanfiction open-

Really, goddamn. That is a lot of fanfiction. Although you understand the grip of a hyperfixation all too well.

Maybe you should have seen this coming. You know Goo loves his manga and anime, and you know he loves this particular one. You just didn't know how much. You didn’t realise he indulges in fandom activities.

But-

Did he not realise you loved it too? The amount of fanfiction you gorge on? That there was no need to hide this from you? You wouldn’t have ever made him feel ashamed of this.

"Hey,” You give him an encouraging smile and a nudge, “Did you read the college AU one? Where they're both-"

"PROFESSORS AND MARRIED!" Goo interjects, eyes widening in realisation. 

"Cupcake!" He purrs, any embarrassment or hesitation a thing of the past. The distant past. He throws his arm around you. Ecstatic at finding new common ground, starts to ramble and talk about his favourite fics, his least favourite. The tropes he loves, the tropes he hates. Mouth running a mile a minute.

When he finally pauses to take a breath, he smooches you on the cheek. Reading between the lines, as a way of apology for his suspicious behaviour.

And continues, until you interrupt him and tell him that your favourite ship is actually these other characters and-

"Ugh. Tasteless." Goo scoffs, removing his arm from you and stepping away as if your terrible taste will infect him.

[bratfiction]

price as bestfriend's dad who kisses bimbo reader reassuringly as she whines and moans when he fucks her!!!

"ah, mr. price! i- I don't think this is right..."

"shh, you're fine, angel"

warnings -> 18+ CONTENT, MDNI. f!reader, ditsy!reader, best friend’s dad + sleazy!price, age gap [reader is in her 20s], dumbification, a hint of pseudo-cest right at the top.

john is filthy— it’s something a very small number of people know. his friends, his daughter’s mother. no more, no less.

naturally, he can only contain how terribly he wants to ruin you for so long. he’s a simple man, he has his needs. and he thinks you’re conveniently as dumb as a box of rocks, truly. always twirling your hair and walking around his house like it’s your own. in short dresses and cute pajama sets. almost as if you belong here. as if you��re his daughter, too. his stomach churns. that’s nearly the reality of the situation, and it has him tossing and turning at night in his crisp sheets.

he can hear your giggle coming from his daughter’s room—cute and as hollow as your head— standing in the kitchen trying his best to swallow down some tylenol. and then he hears the telltale sound of your tennis shoes treading over the hardwood floor, his heartbeat picks up. large palms becoming clammy before he even turns around to meet your glossy eyes— your little voice makes his ears ring.

“mr. price, do you think i can get a ride home?”

you must know what you’re doing, right? you must know you’ll end up folded in his backseat. knees pressing against your shoulders until you whine at the discomfort, face scrunching up in the dim overhead light in his expensive SUV. his calloused hands grip the plush underside of your thighs, all while he eases his thick cock into you.

and if this is morally disgusting, john decides he doesn’t care. not when your pretty cunt drools around every inch of him so perfectly. not every inch, actually. you can barely take all of him, but the feeling of the fat head of his cock kissing at your cervix is enough to make up for it.

“mr. price, ‘s too much,” you squeal. feeling oh-so cramped up in a position like this one, feeling too full.

poor girl, never been fucked by a real man. john can only bring himself to grunt, before he kisses your glimmering lips. baby pink gloss that he wants his cock coated in eventually. he’s sure he can make that happen. maybe next week if you haven’t learned your lesson about testing his self restraint.

“enough babbling,” he groans against your sweet mouth, “you’re cuter when you’re not using your brain.”

[buckets-and-trees]

Don't Blame Me

Fandom: MCU Title: Don't Blame Me Characters/Pairings: Bucky x f!Reader Word Count: 960

Summary: A chance encounter in the middle of the night in your kitchen.

Content Warnings: smut, vaginal penetration, some light drinking, tw: cheating/infidelity

Logistical Notes: A humble little offering for @nickfowlerrr's Seven Deadly Sins + Seven Holy Virtues writing event, though certainly no virtues to be seen here - just envy and lust.

Additional Notes: I'd been thinking of Bella's writing event for quite a while, but @biteofcherry tormented me with a very inspirational gif and fed me some naughty thots that I haven't been able to get out of my head. But finally tonight, this demanded to be told. Title taken from the Taylor Swift song of the same name as it's loosely based off some of its feelings/drives.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You hadn’t expected to have company in the kitchen when you’d left your room in only the loose tank top and panties you’d worn to bed, but you made no attempt to hide your body when you heard his footsteps quietly treading down the hallway because part of you wanted him to see.

As he rounded the corner, he flicked on the single light that hung lower over the center island counter, the soft glow illuminating you leaned up against it with a pint of ice cream and a spoon, and pouring over his shirtless form, dark sweatpants slung low on his hips.

“Oh, I didn’t – sorry,” he said softly, tugging his pants up a bit more, and averting his gaze sharply away from you.

“You’re fine. Don’t mind me.”

You watched as he turned away to grab a glass from the cupboard, longing to reach out and run your fingers over the muscles moving and stretching along his back.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be here tonight,” you pressed as he slotted the glass beneath the waterspout on the door of the fridge. “You have that giant presentation for the investors in the morning.”

Bucky sighed.

“Your girlfriend, my roommate, was specifically complaining about how you wouldn’t go out with her tonight because of it – which is perfectly reasonable by the way. You know that, right?”

He didn’t respond, still not looking at you, and then it was you who let out a sigh.

“Bucky, please tell me you didn’t go pick her up when she called.”

“Of course, I did, what else was I supposed to do?”

“You’re such an idiot.”

He finally rounded on you, his face a mixture of anger and hurt. “She was drunk at a bar, she needed me.”

“No, she didn’t! She went out with five of her old college friends – any of them should have taken care of her. She could have gotten an Uber. She could have called me, and I would have grudgingly been annoyed but gone and picked her up, even though I wanted to throw things at her when she left saying not to wait up because she was going to call you to go get her anyway because she knew you’d come because you’re the perfect boyfriend.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “I’m not the perfect boyfriend.”

You scoffed. “Sure you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Why are you arguing with me about this?”

“Because I’m not the perfect boyfriend.”

You frowned.

He flexed his left hand in agitation, making the black plates quietly whir, but every sound in this nearly silent kitchen was loud. You could even hear the gentle, intermittent snores of your sleeping roommate down the hall, Bucky having left the door open when he came to the kitchen.

You looked from his beautiful vibranium arm back up to his piercing blue eyes.

“I want you to kiss me,” you breathed, barely above a whisper.

But you didn’t need to say it any louder.

His eyes darkened at your words. “I can’t.”

“You can,” you said, taking a step closer to him. “Please just kiss me.”

“Fuck,” he whispered when you placed one hand on his shoulder and one tentatively on his waist.

You closed the space between the two of you and tilted your head up, offering your waiting lips to him.

“Please, please kiss me.”

He didn’t move, which meant he also didn’t move away.

“Bucky, I know how you look at me now. You didn’t at first, but you’re bored of little miss perfect, you want imperfection, you want reality, you want me as much as I crave you.”

He dropped his forehead to yours, shutting his eyes. “Don’t.”

You pressed your chest flush up against his. “Just one kiss.”

“It won’t be just one kiss,” he shot back so quickly your stomach flipped, and you couldn’t hold back.

You surged up and captured his lips. His hands flew up to grip either side of you head, and it would have been tender if not for the heat and rage and longing that fueled it, causing him to hold you a little more firmly. You moaned into the kiss, and he backed your hips up to the counter, then lifted your hips up onto the granite countertop. You leaned back, bracing your hands on the smooth surface behind you. You drew your legs up around the backs of his thighs to pull him close, his legs stopping against the island, and you dragging your pelvis to the very edge, pressing your cunt against the bulge in his sweatpants. He broke off the kiss, his head dropping back on a groan of pleasure.

Desire was desperately coursing through you, you had wanted this man more and more over the past months, every friendly interaction only seeping deeper and deeper into your heart.

But adrenaline and bitterness also fanned the flames of your need.

Because it was likely she’d gotten plastered enough to sleep clean through anything until morning.

But she could wake up and come out here and see you like this as you kissed her boyfriend and pushed his sweats and boxer briefs down to free his cock. She could hear him growl into your mouth, licking against your tongue in an eagerness to taste more of you, pulling your panties off so quickly.

He only broke away from the kiss long enough to line up his cock, and then he shot into you, reclaiming your lips to swallow a sharp cry from you.

You’d been fueled by lust, but sustained by longing.

This was so much more than one kiss.

And as you clutched onto his shoulders – one metal and one flesh – you knew this would not be the end of it.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[nariism]

yours, truly

pair. itoshi sae x gn!reader

content: suggestive but nothing explicitly nsfw! angst (kinda) and comfort, heavy narration, mutual pining (sae is bad at feelings lol), implied childhood friends to lovers

synopsis. sae was always afraid of those three words. he's broken, after all. how do you love when you are unlovable?

wc. 1.4k

i love you should be simple.

unfortunately, loving a man like sae was never meant to be peaceful.

it was always catastrophic—the way fire licks skin, the place where lightning and thunder meet, the expansive sea opening up to swallow you whole.

he was just like that, you suppose. closed off from the world in a way that you could not heal even if you tried your best to kiss the wounds away. he was never the type to open up about feelings. and he's never been sentimental, either.

being touchy-feely and sentimental are signs of weakness. the last thing itoshi sae wants to be called is weak.

the first time he offered up his heart on a silver platter, beating and bloody and raw, it was trampled into the ground. stomped out by the heel of someone who had seen him in his most vulnerable moments. it was just some fling in spain; he's not even sure he can remember their face, but for some reason he wanted to throw up.

he told you about it once in passing, with a coffee in one hand and your groceries in the other (he always insisted on carrying them). and he said it so nonchalantly that you had half a mind to laugh in his face and say "yeah, good one, sae," until he looked at you with a sort of sadness in his eyes that you couldn't forget.

you've quickly learned how to tread on eggshells around him when he was in a bad mood; delicately balancing between his good and bad days—mostly bad, mind you.

you're too patient. too kind to a man so broken. but he's too selfish to care.

he's had his fair share of hardships, maybe more than the average person. definitely more than he could count on all ten of his fingers. and each time life snuffed out whatever little light he had left in him, he became more and more angry.

angry at what? angry at himself. angry at the universe. filled to the brim with this rage that he couldn't tame. it's made him cold and detached and starved for warmth.

it was the natural progression of life that filled him with this greed and hunger. he craved for something to finally be his.

he can't love without it being disastrous anymore. it’s almost as if he needs something to fill in the gaps in his heart where fate has so brutally stolen from him; his career, his dreams, his brother.

he was thirteen when he left japan. he was eighteen when he came home. he was thirteen when he said goodbye to you in that airport. he was eighteen when he finally felt like he could breathe again.

but even with your fingers in his hair and your lips against his and the world finally coming to a halt for the first time since he was a child, he couldn't say it.

i love you should be simple. it should come as easy as a heartbeat. for sae it’s agonizing. what right does a man so unlovable have to give love of his own?

being unlovable is a horrible, lonely thing. that's all he knows. that's all he allows himself to know.

it doesn't help that he's bad at it, too. he really does seem like a monster when he says things he doesn't mean in order to protect his own heart. but what most don't realize is that the world has been terribly, terribly cruel to itoshi sae.

now he's twenty-three and doesn't know how to do anything but love devastatingly. he’s incapable of being gentle.

it's constantly there, in the back of his mind. dancing just behind the barrier of his lips when you give him soft smiles and smooth out his jacket with your hands. the words are pounding on the cages of his throat as you climb into his lap and smear kisses along his jaw, breathy and whiny and sweet. but then he bites his tongue until he can taste the blood, and buries his face between your legs instead.

i love you should be simple. for sae, it's the furthest thing.

it's a complicated swell of emotions in him, melting his usual indifferent facade until he's a puddle in your arms. he's not sure what love really is, if he's being honest. it's not something easily defined in a dictionary. words can’t describe the turmoil inside of him.

whatever it is, he's convinced himself that he's in love with you—that he always has been and he always will be. but everything he touches he sets ablaze. you're the last person he wants to be collateral damage. he's so fucking afraid that everything will be too real once he tells you those three words.

he's lived in reality his whole life. he wants to live in a dream for once. just this once, in your arms. and selfishly.

and you must know that, too, because despite making him dinner every night and sleeping in his bed even though your name is not on the lease, you've never told him you love him, either. but he can tell by the way your fingers brush his knuckles when he reaches out to hold your hand in the middle of the night. and when you kiss him it lingers for a moment longer than would leave him sane.

there are words unspoken with every action: i love you.

and when sae finally cracks, because every part of him has always been brittle, he loves you wholly. destructively. like a flame raging through a forest—bite marks and promises whispered into your skin. there are words buried beneath all that, as well:

i'm sorry. please be gentle with my heart. the world has not.

itoshi sae doesn't know how to be loved. every part of him is rough around the edges. but there's something beautiful in the way you love him without reason. in the way you're so patient when he shuts you out like a child slamming their door.

you were kinder than he could ever be. you had so much love to pour out that he envied it. he remembers growing up and thinking it was ridiculous. now some nights it's all he wants.

sae is unlovable. that's what the world had taught him. but for some reason, it never seems to stop you.

it's supposed to be a sunday night like any other. you're complaining to him about something silly called the "sunday scaries" and how you were currently being put through the ringer at work. it's an english phrase that gets a laugh out of you. he adores it. he adores you.

you're stirring a pot of curry while you speak. he's standing beside you watching. you aren't dressed even slightly, your hair is all over the place. and you're talking about something entirely stupid, putting a name to the feeling of not wanting to go to work tomorrow.

there it is again; the complicated swirling of emotions etched deep in his heart. you deserve something better. you deserve normalcy. and itoshi sae is anything but normal.

and accompanied with this thought, for the first time in his nearly twenty-four years as a mortal, the idea of silence is even more scary than snapping out of this daydream he's living in and saying—

"i love you."

you blink at him, pausing in your stirring. "what?"

"i love you," he says it again. you've always known how to read between the lines with him:

i'm offering all of myself to you and it's fucking terrifying. don't just look at me like that.

he reaches over to turn off the stove because you're staring at him with your mouth opening and closing. and then he rolls his eyes as if he didn't just do the one thing he feared most.

you're not sure how you get pressed up against the counter so fast, head tilted back as he greedily devours your skin like he usually does when he doesn't want to talk anymore. you definitely don't mind.

there's more to the story. more he wants to say. but he's not good with words—never has been. so he only kisses you until you're gasping for air and laughing. until his heart throbs where it sits in his ribcage. until you tell him:

"i love you, too."

i love you is not something simple for itoshi sae. but with you, he's willing to learn.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[gretavansmooch]

All he ever wanted ~ Jake Kiszka x Reader

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ Minors DNI!!!!!!

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral (m rec), oral (f rec), unprotected sex, a little fluff, a little angst, light choking. Pleae let me know if I missed anything <3

A/n: Just some cute friends with benefits turned lovers with Jake. <3 (I posted this months ago and then deleted it so now Im reposting it!

Word Count: 2.6K

All he could do was stare. 

A shiver ran down his spine. 

Panic. 

He knew that if he did not do anything to stop her, this would be it. 

All of his limbs felt frozen as he watched her frantically pack up her stuff scattered around his usually peaceful bedroom. 

Do something! He thought, though his feet felt as if they had been nailed to the hardwood floor.

She turned towards him as if to give him a chance to undo what he had done. 

Her tear streaked face made her even more beautiful, and for the first time that night he truly realized the depth of the damage he had caused. 

Her sad eyes stared into his own tear filled ones. 

“I feel like I’m drowning, Jake. And you seem to just be fine, floating around treading in a sea of chaos,” she finally spoke in a whisper. Her energy was long gone, her throat sore from the screaming match that had taken place earlier in the evening. 

Gaining some strength he shook his head and stepped forward cautiously. 

“All I’ve ever wanted is to be with you.”

“You are everywhere all at once, but at the same time you’re never here,” she shook her head at him and stepped back, both of their stances faltering. 

Realization hit them both at the exact same time; maybe it was best if they went their separate ways. 

He immediately shook the idea out of his head, he did not want that. 

He began racking his brain for things he could possibly do to make her believe his words, because he knew that his words were nothing but empty promises to her. 

“Are you actually leaving me or do you just need some space?” He whispered, his voice smaller than she’d ever heard it. 

“I don't know,” she sighed. “You’re leaving, and for a long time. I know what I signed up for when we started this agreement. It was never meant to have feelings involved.”  

He grew frustrated, maybe even angry. 

He knew he had been the one to make it all come crashing down around them, their own little bubble bursting into a million pieces in a matter of seconds. 

How could she not see how deeply he felt for her? 

How could she not see the yearning for her in his eyes every time she got out of his bed in the early mornings, the moon shining strategically onto her form as she picked up her clothes, leaving him there alone, in a now cold bed. 

He allowed himself to reminisce for a short moment. 

-

Her long hair fell over her shoulders as her naked form moved above him. 

Both of them were close to a bursting euphoria that they only felt when being in each other's arms like this.

Jake watched intently at where their bodies were connected as she leaned forward towards him, her knees getting weaker the closer she got. 

Both of their moans filled the room as they came.

His whole body was trembling as the intense, blissful white pleasure took over him. 

He wasn't entirely present but he was sure he might have let out a long drawn out yell like moan. 

He had never in his life experienced such intense euphoria as he did in that moment. The pleasure so pure it made his head spin even as he was coming back down to the present again. Back to her.

Their eyes locked, and in both of their eyes were a thousand words neither of them dared to say out loud.

He didn't know what his soul was meant for or what it was made of, but in that moment with her, he knew that they were one in the same. Bound to be connected by not only sex but love. 

I will surely screw this up, he thought.

-

And screw up he did, though not in the way most might think. It had been his idea, after all, to not involve feelings, making it a strict friends with benefits relationship. 

And although she had agreed, he could still see the hurt in her eyes.

For months they ended most of their nights in one another's beds. Sometimes even in hotel rooms somewhere as he traveled and lived out his dreams with his brothers. 

But, it was him that uttered those words that were strictly off limits just mere hours ago.

She’d recoiled back from him as if he had physically struck her in the face.

All he ever wanted, all he ever needed, was her. But how do you make someone understand the depths of your love when you have simultaneously been the one to deprive them of that same love for months?

Never in his life had he felt so at a loss for words, now when he needed them the most. 

He wasn’t sure what he would do if she actually left, though he did know for sure that if she did go, a piece of him would leave with her. 

It was truly now or never, he had to get it right this time. 

Taking a step towards her once more, he waited to see if she moved back again. But when she didn't, he closed the rest of the distance between them and placed a gentle hand upon her still tear stained cheek. 

“Will you please just listen to me for a second?” He begged.

“If you decide that you still want to leave after then you can, I will never force you to do anything. But please just give me a few minutes.” Not only did his voice beg her but his soft, sad brown eyes that she knew she would not be able to say no to, did too.

When she didn't say anything he took that as a yes. 

“At first it was just sex for me, and I know I hurt you when I told you that I didn’t want more than that,” he explained and took a deep breath. 

He was about to attempt to put his love for her into words, say it to her face and he did not know if she would accept it or give him her love in return. But to him, in this moment he knew it had to be done. Even if it meant that she might potentially break his heart. 

“Words don't come easy to me so forgive me if I stumble and make a fool of myself.”

“I don't know when it shifted for me, maybe the feelings were there from the beginning and I was too stubborn to acknowledge them.”

“I love you. And not how I love my friends and family. I love you as in I want you around me at all times because you make even the gloomiest of days shine brighter. I love you as in whenever we are apart, it feels like a piece of me isn't there. And I know our moments together are short, but they don't have to be, not anymore. I want you in all aspects of life. I want you in the morning while you sleep in so I can slip away to make you breakfast for no particular reason other than because I love you. “

“I am not trying to get you to stay by saying all these things so we can keep having a sexual relationship only. I am saying it to make you see that I truly want you. All of you.”

By the time his eyes flicked up to hers, her eyes had filled up with new tears though he wasn't sure what kind of tears they were. 

“Everytime I kiss you, I hope you can taste all the words I want to say to you that I know I shouldn't. Ever since you stepped into my life everything has been better. I wake up and my first thought is how you are feeling and what you are up to. I know I have not been fair to you, but I promise you this; I will dedicate all of my remaining days into showing you just how much you mean to me. I love you,” he concluded as he swept away her tears. 

“I am scared,” she admitted quietly. 

“I am scared that if I give my heart to you, you might break it without meaning to.”

He smiled softly at her, “I have proven time and time again that I am unworthy of your love, and I know I stumble into situations that end up hurting you. But if you are willing, even in my darkest moments I will cradle your heart with such gentle hands that it will never break. Never at my hand and never by anyone else’s, for as long as I am alive.”

Before he could really comprehend what was happening her lips were on his. Her bags dropped to the floor with a loud thud. 

In their kiss there was no longer pain and sorrow but a newly found higher passion and love.

The need to be as close to each other as possible grew intensely as their frantic hands pushed and pulled at their clothes that now felt like one heavy barrier. 

He laid her down on the bed as he’d done so many times before, though this time with purpose and much gentler hands. 

“I love you too,” she whispered out as he poured his love out onto her in his kisses. 

He lifted his head to look at the girl under him, enamored by her soft spoken declaration of reciprocated love for him.

“I want all of you too, and I’m also sorry, for being so cruel to you earlier with my words and actions. I’m sorry for denying you as well and making you feel as if you were wrong for telling me how you feel when we said that we would be honest with each other from the beginning,” she said, stroking his cheek and the little patch of hair on his upper lip. 

He shook his head at her as he leaned down to kiss her lips quickly before he replied. 

“You don't have to say you're sorry.”

“Okay, but I am and I know we need to talk more about this, but right now all I want is you,” she spoke, to which he smiled and silently agreed.

Her hand came up to his chest and gently pushed him to lay beside her. 

As she crawled over him, she left kisses everywhere, and as she descended down to where he wanted her to be most, she whispered a final I love you to him.

She began kissing his length all the way down and up again as her right hand grabbed him at the base, and with a final kiss on the tip she opened her mouth and gently guided him onto her tongue, his cock laying heavy and throbbing with need for her on it. 

As she bobbed her head up and down he threw his head back panting, all the while letting out tiny whines. His hand reached down to hold onto her hair, he knew she was there but he needed to feel her so as to not lose himself completely.

As he felt himself growing close he gently pulled her off him, to which she whined and pouted.

“I don't want it to be over so soon, besides I have been dreaming about the way you taste for weeks,” he smiled up at her. 

He laid her back down onto the bed, kissing his way down to the place he never wanted to leave, and as he got the first taste he's had in weeks, his eyes rolled back and a low growl came out directly onto her clit. Her back arched off the bed as she let him take her in any way he wanted to. 

Her moans filled the room as he worked on her, switching between sucking her into his mouth and shaking his head vigorously. He knew though that the trick to get her there was to circle his tongue around her clit in fast tight circles. So that's exactly what he did until she was calling out his name and putting a trembling hand through his hair and if she had not stopped him right then he would have continued for the next several hours. 

When she came down from her high he captured her lips in an even more passionate kiss than before, if that was possible. 

“Please, please fuck me Jake,” she pleaded with him, though she did not have to beg nor try to convince him to do it. 

“Oh, I plan on it, Sweetheart,” he said grinning. 

She layed splayed out on the bed, hair wild and for a moment he allowed himself to admire her. Her big eyes were sparkling at him with a hint of lust in them. 

Snapping out of it he grabbed himself and looked up at her to see if she was ready, only to find her in a similar trance-like state, looking at him lost in her own head. 

His grin grew as he slapped the head of his cock down onto her sensitive clit to snap her out of it. 

She gasped lightly as a similar grin crept up on her face.

“Are we doing this or-'' she didn't get to finish her sentence before he pushed himself into her in one thrust. Both of their eyes rolled back into their heads. 

“God, I've missed you,” he panted out as he set a pace that was borderline brutal. 

“I lo-love you, I love your cock so much. Fuck…” she cried out, grabbing onto him by his shoulders. 

“I love you, s-so much too. Fuck, come here,” He moaned out as he pulled out of her flipping her over onto her stomach.

He laid his full body weight onto her and began thrusting deeply into her from behind, as his arms circled to hug her around her neck. 

He reveled in being this close to her, to feel this connected to her on a deeper level than they had ever shared before, because now they could. There was nothing holding them back from each other now.

He could feel her getting close as he panted and whined directly into her ear and flipped them both over so they were now both on their backs. 

As he drove into her so hard their skin grew red, he moved his left hand up to her neck lightly squeezing it, just how he knew she liked it and when his other hand reached down to circle her clit she cried out for him.

“I got you, Love. I got you. Let go for me, show me how much you love me and I’ll do the same. I'm so close, God! You feels so fucking good,” He exclamied as his moans grew louder, nearing his end. 

His hand tightened its grip on her throat and as he moved to an even faster pace than before she reached her high and as he felt her cum around him he reached his as well.

High pitched, whiney and long drawn out moans filled the space around them as they both experienced that same euphoria they only had being with one another. 

Jake loosened his grip around her throat as they both fell limp against each other. 

She moved to lay down beside him and as they both let out a content sigh the pair locked eyes, and in that moment they both knew that this is exactly where they both belonged. 

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

The end <3

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2

Behind him, Eddie hears the others beginning to stir. The illusion, the foolish hope that he could just keep driving alone with Steve, that he could have all the time in the world to fix this shatters in a matter of seconds: Nancy’s light tread approaches and, as he reaches an intersection, it’s like he can already hear a clock beginning to tick.

“Why… why are we going this way?”

And, God, Eddie is so damn grateful for Nancy Wheeler: she’s tactful, keeps her voice down, as if she already suspects something. Hell, she must do; if Eddie can recall directions to Steve’s house, she’ll definitely sense where they’re heading.

Another stop light. Straight ahead after this, then…

Eddie glances to the side, just in time to see Nancy’s eyes widen as she looks at Steve.

She whispers his name.

Steve gives the subtlest shake of his head.

Eddie has to look away—it’s an intimate exchange, yes, but it’s not romantic, that’s not why he can’t bear it. It’s the fact that they’re so clearly sharing last-minute signals, silent communication only created by going through hell over and over again, and it makes him feel sick that he now knows what their expressions mean. Their doomsday looks.

When he pulls up to Steve’s driveway, he hears various murmurs of confusion—Dustin is the loudest.

Steve claps his hands and everyone falls abruptly silent.

“Okay!” he says, rising from his seat, and he sounds determined, almost up-beat; Christ, Eddie doesn’t know how he manages it. “Sinclairs, Mayfield, Henderson, you’re all with me. We’ll be in and out, got it?”

He heads out of the RV with purpose. Save for Eddie and Nancy, everyone is looking at each other with wide eyes and furrowed brows. Robin opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, Steve calls from outside, “Hello? Come on, let’s go!” and it sounds so normal, like they’re just running late for school or something.

I might not have known, Eddie thinks, with a creeping horror. If I had slept instead… fuck, why are you such a good actor, Steve?

Erica leads the way out, prompting the others to follow; Eddie hears frantic whispers that he can’t decipher, Max lifting up one side of her headphones so she can hear as Dustin and Lucas crowd close to her, hopping outside and heading to the house.

Robin moves to the RV door, but Nancy stops her.

“Robin, stay here. I need to talk to you,” she says firmly, and it sounds like Code Red. She fixes Eddie with a pointed look and nods towards the house, like it’s not even a question that Eddie should go after Steve.

So, he does. Of course he does.

He finds them all in the kitchen, voices echoing, rebounding off the high ceiling.

“What are we doing?” Lucas says.

The kids have formed a little group by the counter, staring as Steve opens cupboards, his back to them.

“Want some back-up alcohol for Operation Flambé,” Steve says easily, “just in case.”

It could almost work, Eddie thinks. He can hear the clinking of glass as Steve methodically pulls bottles off the shelves—that is what he’s doing, so it’s not exactly a lie. Not yet. But he looks at the growing frowns of shrewd kids that are too used to waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Steve must sense it, too, because he stops collecting bottles, turns round to face them. He gets closer, rests his hands on the counter. The pretense drops.

“...Steve?” Erica says.

“You guys trust me, right?”

Eddie doesn't answer; he knows it's not directed towards him. He watches as the rest nod as one. Steve takes a deep breath.

“This is the deal, non-negotiable, okay? I don’t ask much from you, so, y’know. Figure you owe me one.” He’s smiling again, his tone flippant; he’s trying so hard to make it easy for them. Eddie digs his fingernails into his palms. “Here’s your jobs for tonight: you stay right here. Eat some food, put on a movie, I don't care. Just no moving.” He points at Max. “You keep that Walkman on. I've got... see that cabinet, by the T.V? Got some tapes in there, Hounds of Love is on the... third row, I think? Yeah, see the purple? If your one wears out, you've got a back-up.”

They just stare at him. Relief sweeps through Lucas’s and Max’s shoulders, even as they stand rigid with tension, like they’re at war with themselves. Like they feel ashamed at the instinct to stay safe. Christ, they’re all just too young, far too young for any of this.

And so are you, Eddie thinks fiercely, as he watches Steve sweep past them, going up the stairs two at a time. So are you.

Dustin snaps out of it first. He moves forward, voice sharp and urgent, “Steve? Steve!” He barges past Eddie like he isn't even there, then thunders up the stairs.

Eddie follows.

He hears the tail-end of Max saying, “Lucas, he's... I can't feel him anymore. Why can't I—?” Then, he reaches the top of the stairs, heads to what must be Steve’s bedroom. He hovers in the doorway.

“—not even going to look at me?” Dustin is asking.

Steve doesn't answer. He's rooting around one of his drawers, distractedly pulls out a cassette, puts it into his jeans pocket. Eddie sees the horrible moment where it clicks for Dustin—of course, it barely takes half a second, kid's as smart as a whip. All the colour drains from his face.

“Steve,” he says. “You can't just—this isn't how we do things.”

“I'm older than you,” Steve returns. “I'm pulling rank for once, Henderson.” He's pinching the bridge of his nose harshly, still not looking at Dustin.

Dustin laughs. It’s an awful sound, his voice cracking with vulnerability. “Seriously? Fuck you.”

Eddie can’t stand it, feels like he’s intruding on something deeply private.

Steve sniffs, starts to head for the door.

“If—if you leave, I’m never speaking to you again,” Dustin says.

“Okay,” Steve says gently.

Dustin reels from the word as if struck. His eyes fill with furious tears. “I hate you.”

“Dustin,” Eddie says quietly, even though he knows that Dustin doesn’t mean it; it’s obvious that he doesn't mean it. It’s a tactic Eddie is all too familiar with: to say the most hurtful thing you can think of, just to make the other person lash out—because even if they’re angry with you, at least they’ve stayed.

Make sure Dustin doesn’t see, Steve had said. The reason is clear. Because Dustin’s eyes are full of something wild and desperate, like he would follow Steve anywhere.

I can't let that happen, Eddie realises. Steve’s almost at the doorway, and from here Eddie can see him angrily swipe a tear off his cheek, out of Dustin’s view. It would break him.

Steve turns, finally looks back. “It’s okay, Dustin,” he says, soft and kind. Kind until the end. “It's okay.”

And then he leaves.

“Eddie,” Dustin whispers. “Please.”

“I'm sorry,” Eddie says. It's all he can say. “Dustin, I’m so fucking sorry.”

It's torture, seeing the flash of hurt and betrayal across Dustin’s face. He storms out, catches Eddie's chest with his elbow.

Make sure Dustin doesn’t see.

Dustin might be fast, but Eddie is faster; at the foot of the stairs, he easily darts in front. With long, quick strides, he reaches the RV, sees that Nancy, Robin and Steve are already inside, and he locks the door, runs to the driver’s seat. Dustin is a second too late, pounding on the glass. Eddie has never heard someone scream like that before.

He glances behind as he reverses. Steve sits directly on the floor, his head in his hands; Robin is rubbing his back, murmuring something to him.

Eddie speeds away. His last sight of Dustin is in the wing mirror, trying to run after them, only stopping when it’s clearly hopeless.

“Fuck,” Steve whispers, and then he dry heaves.

“I've got water,” Robin says frantically. “Here, here, slow sips.”

There's a gentle hand on Eddie's shoulder. Nancy.

“Where...” Eddie clears his throat. “Where to, Wheeler?”

“Your trailer,” she says, and it sounds like something else again, like thank you and I'm sorry all at once.

He doesn’t talk for the whole drive there. The others keep up the conversation, Eddie straining to hear every noise Steve makes, inwardly pleading that he never falls silent. The plan is hastily amended: the extra alcohol Steve has brought means that they can split their supplies, leaving some for Vecna and some for deterring the bats and vines. He nods when Robin asks if there’s a tape deck in his room, which settles it: he will stay with Steve in the trailer, and… wait.

They don’t mention the word bait, but Eddie can hear it anyway.

Once he’s parked, Robin and Nancy get out first, carrying the drinks and weapons. When he gets out of his seat, he finds that Steve is still halfway to standing, swaying slightly, as if sea-sick.

“Woah, woah, hey,” Eddie says quickly, and he carefully pulls Steve up with one hand. Steve’s palm is damp with cold sweat, his pulse jumping rapidly in his neck, feverish. “Still with me?”

Steve’s eyes dart around before settling on Eddie.

What are you seeing? Eddie thinks, his own heart beating faster at the unknown he isn’t privy to. Let me in. Let me help.

But all Steve says is, “Get ready to duck out the way, man, feel like m’gonna throw up.”

Eddie squeezes his hand. “You’re good, I was kinda thinking my shirt should be a different colour.”

Steve wrinkles his nose, chuckles weakly. “Gross.”

He drops Eddie’s hand and climbs out of the RV. Eddie stays close, ready to catch him if he so much as stumbles.

In the trailer, Robin and Nancy wait by the makeshift rope. Steve’s posture straightens as they look at him, as if to say, See? Don’t worry about me.

“Give him hell, Nance,” he says.

Nancy nods. “See you when we get back,” she says, her tone firm. She catches Eddie’s eye, and the intent is clear: Look after him.

Eddie nods back. Always.

Robin’s lips are trembling; she’s trying to fight it, but it’s there all the same.

“Come on, Rob,” Steve says, through another one of his smiles, but his voice tightens, like he might break down if he’s shown an ounce of sympathy. And when he gives her a little wave, it’s like Eddie can see the routine of it, like Steve is simply bidding Robin goodbye after dropping her off somewhere. “See you soon.”

Robin doesn’t hug him, even though she’s clearly desperate to; must have noticed, just as Eddie did, that it would make this even harder still for Steve. Instead, she gives a joking little salute, like a sailor, and there must be something in that, because Steve lets out a choked laugh, and they all pretend that it doesn’t resemble a sob.

The girls climb the rope quickly, and by the time Eddie has turned back after having watched them leave, Steve has already headed for Eddie’s room, presumably looking for the tape deck.

But when Eddie hurriedly follows him, there’s no music playing, and Steve is sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Don’t you want your music on for a bit?”

Steve shakes his head, then nods in the direction of the gate. “Wanna start the distraction as soon as possible,” he says, “give them the best shot.”

The distraction. Like he isn’t risking everything, like he’s just feigning a move on the goddamn basketball court.

“Okay,” Eddie says placatingly. He sits down opposite Steve, close enough that their knees bump. “Sorry, I should’ve vacuumed.”

Steve laughs, but it breaks off at the end. “Y-yeah, where’s the welcoming…” His voice fails and he sighs shakily. “Sorry, Eddie, I—I’m just. I’m really fucking scared.”

He sounds embarrassed. Eddie reaches for his hand, and Steve clings on in a tight grip, like he’s drowning.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, don’t be sorry. Don’t you dare.”

“That a threat, Munson?”

“You know what? Sure. Thought you could do with some more pressure.”

Steve gives a lovely, tender little smile. “Hey. Thanks. For… everything.”

Eddie shakes his head in disbelief. “Are you kidding? I haven’t fucking done anything. This is all you, Harrington.”

And Steve is laughing softly, really laughing, and he says, “Don’t bullshit—”

And his eyes roll back, the irises suddenly clouded over, and his hand becomes slack in Eddie’s grip.

Eddie has to force himself not to scream, not to jolt back; he thinks he might be sick, and the only thing stopping that outcome is the fact that Steve needs him. He barely counts to three inside his head, remembering Chrissy, how quick it all was, and he’s standing, tripping over his own feet.

“Right, I’m calling it,” he says, his chest tight, “long enough fucking distraction, they’ll already be at the—”

And he stops.

Because the tape deck doesn’t have anything inside. Because, next to it, is the plastic cassette case that was once in Steve’s pocket.

And it’s empty.

He pictures Steve back at his house, distractedly picking it up, focused on reassuring Dustin; Steve not realising his mistake until he had walked into Eddie’s bedroom and gone to put the tape in. Steve going ahead with it anyway, all while knowing…

“No,” Eddie breathes, “no, no, no.” He dives for the case, but the paper sleeve inside is worn beyond all recognition; he has no idea what the song could have been, even what album it came from. He grabs the closest tape he can find, ramming it in, and suddenly thinks Robin’s assessment of his music was more than accurate. Seriously, what is all this shit?

“Come on!” he shouts, and cranks the volume up as far as it will go.

When he turns back around, Steve is already floating.

Eddie can hardly hear over the roar of the music, but he feels the scream tear at his throat; he’s useless, he’s fucking useless, it’s Chrissy all over again—

One leg snaps. He screams again, screams Steve’s name. Then an arm begins to shake, to twist unnaturally at the elbow, and—

And Steve falls. Eddie lunges to catch him, and his heart both leaps and breaks at Steve’s cry of pain. You’re here, you’re here, you’re here.

“Steve, Steve, hey, hey, hey, try not to move,” he says, “you’re okay, you’re okay.”

Steve jerks, then vomits, the bile black with blood.

“All right, that’s fine,” Eddie babbles. “Just a little blood, you’re doing good, you’re—”

His hand brushes Steve’s side, comes away wet. The wounds on his stomach have reopened, as if something else has clawed at them.

“I can’t,” Steve gasps, “I can’t feel you.”

“I’m right here! Hey, Steve? Steve, look at me, I’m right—stop, stop, don’t move, you’re gonna be—”

“Eddie, I don’t want to go,” Steve says, and he’s sobbing, “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to—”

“You’re not dying. You’re not—Steve, Steve, just look at me, stay with me—”

But Steve just shakes in Eddie’s arms, and he throws up again, each breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps.

Fuck, he can’t breathe.

And then, it’s very quiet.

“Steve? Steve.”

Eddie looks down. Steve’s eyes are fixed, glassy. His chest is still.

The trailer splits. Jagged lines in both directions, one from the gate, one from Eddie’s room, burning red. Eddie runs out without consciously thinking about it, holding onto Steve, cradling his head.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” The words are ripped out of his chest, his voice turned into something unrecognisable, so pained that it’s almost rendered inhuman.

He’s gone, Eddie thinks numbly.

His grip on the world fades, awareness only breaking through in fleeting impressions. Nancy and Robin’s faces. Screaming. Nancy saying, “Eddie, you have to let him go—”

He’s gone.

He comes back to himself in a crowded hospital corridor. Robin is reaching for him, and she’s crying, saying his name, but he moves away before she can touch him. He doesn’t deserve her kindness; Steve should be standing here, should be falling into her embrace—

He’s gone.

And then, he’s in a bathroom, thrusting his hands under scorching water. Red and black stains the sink. Blood. Steve’s blood.

The door bangs open. Dustin is standing before him. There are several cuts on his face, and he’s gasping and clutching his side like he ran all the way here. Maybe he did.

“Eddie,” he says, and it’s in that tone, the one Eddie heard when he was trembling in the boathouse, the one that shocked him to his core. Because it sounded like, Yeah, I’m the younger one, so what? I’m still going to protect you.

In hearing that, Eddie knows that he has already been forgiven. Because Dustin’s love is like what Steve’s had been: fierce and unconditional.

Eddie tries to take a breath—it comes out in a ragged, wet exhale. “I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t—I tried—”

And then words fail him completely. He can’t stop the tears once they’ve started; and there, chest heaving with grief, he falls apart in Dustin Henderson’s arms.

[teyamsatan]

My sweet bb Andra 💕 How are you doing love ? 💫

I have a juicy Request and I know you will make its justice 😩🤌🏻

So basically, we have Neteyam and Mate going out for a little time together at the lake, or pond whatever (deep enough 😏😳). Reader decides to draw Neteyam. So he poses for her and well she starts drawing and all. She is all concentrated looking at the paper for a moment and she feels something being thrown at her. She looks at him and well 🥴 We don't need any precisions here :3

Reader is all flustered and Neteyam is just smirking widely. Reader hasn't any time to react because we hear Jake's voice screaming Neteyam's name from afar. Oh ! Guess what ? Neteyam forgot. Yes. He forgot a training with his father (Pls let this poor guy rest a bit 🙂).

And Lo'ak (Otherwise it wouldn't be funny hehe)

Neteyam tries to grab his loincloth but reader is faster and throws it far into the bushes, with a smirk obv. So Neteyam has no choice to jump into the water (I know that Na'vi are less ashamed of nudity... Are they ? Anyways !)

So his brother and father get there, very fastly. Everything that happened before was like in 10 secs.

The rest I leave up to you 😏 We only need some funny dad-Neteyam and brother-Neteyam interactions when he just can't go out of the water, but he's very very late... Then we have Lo'ak that finally understands and just cannot stop laughing, making Jake more than less annoyed than he already was. And we have some intense playfull eye contacts with the reader. She's enjoying it haha.

Yeah... You can end it like you want 😂💖 My brain is a mess sometimes ugh 😥

Okay Imma stop 🙈🌸 I hope this inspired you and no pressure okay ? 🫂

Smooches 🥰

no cause this is so so funny and i hope you enjoyed bestie xx it feels good to be back writing for neteyam :((

pairing: neteyam x human!reader

wc: 1170 words

warnings: smut, fluff, minors do not interact 🔞

na'vi compendium: yawne - beloved, tewng - loincloth, tanhí - bioluminescent freckles

As a human on Pandora, there wasn't much for you to do, very little your body was inherently made for. You were slow and clumsy, a stark contrast to the Na'vi carrying you on his back like a little doll, all nimble and quiet as he treaded the deep shrubbery, his thumbs massaging your thighs as you rested your chin on his shoulder, humming contently in between peppering kisses to his neck.

As a human on Pandora, you were stuck in a lab most days, with filtered air and fluorescent lights, that did nothing for you, that had a rare talent of making even the most beautiful creature look ghastly and ashen, that gave you a headache, that made you miss the beautiful light peering through the uneven gaps created by the branches of the tall trees of the Omaticayan forest. Stuck as you were, you turned to artistic outlets for your boredom. You loved to draw, and you became very good in time, enough that the entire lab and some of the village were now covered in your landscapes and your portraits. The people loved you, and your talents, and often urged you to draw them or loved ones, as a way to immortalise a face or a moment forever in time, a priceless gift for them, and one that gave you a place amongst the Na'vi, even different, as you were.

As a human on Pandora, you didn't have a lot of choice of entertainment... or men. But you've never felt the lack... not when you had Neteyam. Your best friend, your confidant, he was always up for a challenge, and, let's just say, he always thought of you as one. In the few years since your 18th birthday, a rite of passage of sorts for humans, you were told, Neteyam made it his purpose to show you that you will never have to miss out on anything on Pandora, that he would make it his life's mission to... be there for you, in any and every way you needed, be it to be a shoulder to cry on, or a shoulder to rest your legs on as his head was in between your thighs, Neteyam was always there - ready to help, ready to serve.

You gulped as you reminisced about this morning, about the moans that escaped him as he was lapping at your folds like he was quenching an unquenchable thirst, like eating you out was for his own pleasure, and not your own, or the way he didn't stop until you were so overstimulated you were crying, something he made up for by showering you in soft kisses and quiet whispers of "you did so well for me, yawne. you always take me so well."

"You ok back there... friend?"

"Yes, Teyam. Just tired. Are we almost there yet?"

"Patience, love. You wanted more inspiration for your drawings, right? I told you I found just the place, and you're going love it, I promise. It's just a little further."

Well, he was right. The little meadow created by a small, clear pond, bustling with little fish swimming peacefully, drowned in warm sunlight, was the perfect backdrop for the painting you had in mind. With a small smirk, you pointed at the water and clicked your tongue at your much larger, beautiful, muscular friend.

"Get in, Teyam."

"Why?"

"I've wanted to draw you for a while, I just wanted the perfect background, and now I have it. Now go."

You chuckled to yourself as you heard a loud splashing noise, and settled on removing your pad and pens, placing them on the ground next to you as you thought about what positions would work best for what you had in mind. You gasped loudly when something soft hit you in the face, removing you from your less than innocent reveries - it seemed Neteyam was ahead of you, as you felt for the object that you removed from yourself and realised it was his loincloth. When you looked back at him, your mind shortcircuited at the sight of his naked body, glistening in the sun as the water dripped down every defined muscle, down his chest and abs, down his v-line, down his -

"You like what you see, yawne?"

Although it pained you, you raised your eyes until they met his beautiful features, tanhí shining brightly even in broad daylight, as they always did when he was overtly happy or amused, and by the wild, mischievous grin and crinkles by his eyes, it was a safe assumption he was both.

"I say you forget the painting for now, and come here so I can show you how... grateful I am you thought of me as your next subject."

It was a no-brainer to you, really, but when you heard a voice you knew all too well screaming, the noise echoing through the trees, heightening the sound, your body stilled in place.

"Neteyam! Are you there, boy?"

"Fuck! I forgot I was supposed to meet my dad for training."

"Quick, throw me the tewn-" you screeched as the instruction came too little too late, and in the heat of the moment and much to Neteyam's dismay, frightened by the quickly approaching steps of the Olo'eyktan, you threw the cloth in the opposing direction, somewhere in the bushes.

"Netey- ah, kid. What are you two doing here?"

You just looked at him, panicked, eyes flickering from him to Neteyam's younger brother, who looked at you suspiciously, eye narrowed as they assessed the situation at hand through a lens of youth and misdemeanour Jake couldn't really see, and you were glad.

"Cat got your tongue, kid?" The Sully patriarch's raised eyebrow did very little to will out of the catatonic state you found yourself in, so you remained quiet as he scoffed, turning his attention to his oldest son, instead.

"You were supposed to be in training at 1400 hours, remember?"

"Yes, sir."

"Come on, out. We need to be off and make up for it."

"I-I... can't."

"And why the hell not, boy?"

You felt Jake's eye roll deep in your soul, and you felt like you should take the blame for this since... you threw Neteyam's clothes away in fear, and everything. You should rectify this.

"Jake, I-"

"Oh, my Eywa! He's naked! He's so naked!"

Your mouth dropped in shock, but it was too late. The cat was indeed out of the bag, and as your and Neteyam's eyes met, listening to his dad's groans of disgust, you were a little relieved to see a hint of a smile on his face, the beautiful twinkle of amusement putting your mind at ease, letting you know it was all going to be ok. As long as you were together, and you had him, it was all going to be ok.

Reaching your hand behind your head to scratch the itchy spot at the base of your neck, you laughed awkwardly as you spoke:

"I'm... experimenting with some new artistic techniques?"

[plump-lips-imagine]

Could we get a part two to the human expert x bowser? The first one was so cute!

ASK AND YALL SHALL RECEIVE!!! (Ya simps.)

Cupid and The Dragon: Second Chapter

A week has passed since that last encounter. Bowser treaded aimlessly in his kingdom looking for you. You weren't in the guestroom he let you stay in, and Kamek didn't know where you were either. With an Irritable look written across his face, he grumbled.

"Stupid Human. Where'd ya go?"

The guards would've found you if he didn't. there was no real reason to find you himself. he could just order someone to do it for him a wait on his throne like a king should... But maybe they wouldn't find you.

He took a pause from moving, his mind racing. Maybe you weren't in the castle anymore. Maybe when you had the chance, you dipped out so you wouldn't have to do these lessons anymore. Maybe you escaped as soon as you saw an opportunity.

Bowser's form began to shake, and his face scrunched up in anger at the possible scenarios. And to think he was starting to get used to you being here! Were you just acting chummy to let down his guard?! Well, two can play it that way. Well, he can just lock you in a cage again when he finds you, you couldn't have gone that far! He just needs to call Kamek and-

"My, My, I see you like strong women, don't ya." Bowser froze at the sound of your voice just around the corner. His head turns as he quietly makes his way to you.

With a turn of the corner, he saw you looking intensely at the Hammer Bros hands, with a gentle gaze as your hands cradled his in such a loving manner. His face was flustered at your insight. Two other bros were looking intensely at the reading being down with curiosity, one shell was a snowy blue, while the other was a fire red.

"Woah, bro. Is that true?" The Ice bro asked.

"H-How did you know?" The Green One asked.

"So, it's true?!" The Red one looked at his bro with excitement.

You giggled at the trio of bros' astonishment. "Hehe, I see a heart that jumps with glee at how fierce she is, with nothing holding her back...And she wields a boomerang. She has a pretty blue shell too. She's a determined spirit, and compatibility wise....." You paused for a second as he gulps. You were getting everything right so far, he was scared that it would be a low percentage.

"98%!!" You exclaim with glee swimming in your eyes. He looks at you shocked. It was that high!?

"Aw sick, way to go bro!!" The fire bro cheered as he puts his bro on the back.

"That's like, nearly soulmate percentage!" The ice bro says with the same enthusiasm.

The now flustered Hammer Bro has a wobbly smile on his face. "Well, what should I do? How do we get together?"

You close your eyes deep in thought and open them up to stare into his eyes. "Ironically, the thing you love about her is the same thing that's keeping her away from you. She's a little afraid that you find her too intimidating. You'll have to make the first move. Just be yourself. I suggest asking her out during training."

"I will!" He says with determination. Hehe, another satisfied customer!

"You got this in the bag!"

"Yeah, you're going to be a number one couple for sure!"

"Thanks guys!"

Aww. It's nice to see that even as minions for an evil king, there is some healthy companionship in the kingdom.

"Yo, Cupid. Can I go next" The fire bro waved his hand excitedly at you.

"Hey! I was here first, so that means I should go first!" Ice bro retorted, raising his hand too.

"Fire beat Ice, Bro. That means I get to go next." Fire bro say with a smug look on his face, pushing him back.

"That has nothing to do with this!" Ice chided back with a scowl, butting up against him back. You and Hammer Bro just look at them with blank looks a y'alls faces.

Well. More or less healthy companionship.

"Well, Well, Well. If it isn't a hallway full of no-good slackers." A Dark Low tone growled, making everyone in the hallway jump a bit. You now just noticed a shadow taking up the light look up to see Bowser, A deep scowl on his face, watching you and the three bros quivering in fear. Huffs of smoke puffed out is nostrils as he peered down at all of you with an intense glare.

"S-Sir, we were just uh...-"

"Good morning, Bowser. Did you sleep alright?" You butted in to try to ease the tension that was created all of a sudden, giving him a warm smile.

His glare only softens a little as he Gruffs at you, but his eyes glare back intensely when he spots the position you were in. Your hands were still cradling the hammer bros' as he shook like a leaf at his boss' eyes being directed at him. A low growl came from Bowser's throat.

He takes a couple of steps in front of you, causing the Fire and Ice bro to quickly move out of them and the Hammer bro to jolt back, releasing his hands from yours. Bowser suddenly grabs you by the waist making you yelp in surprise.

"Human, with me. Now." He then gently but firmly placed you between his arm while glaring at the three fidgety bros. "And you three..."

He stomps the ground loudly. Making everything around them jump. "GET YOUR BUTTS TO THE TRAINING DECK!! I WANT ALL OF YOU TO TRAIN ALL DAY! IS THAT CLEAR!?"

"Y-Yes Lord Bowser!!" They all salute, still shaking in place. Bowser Grunts and turns away with you in tow, still being carried by him.

Sometimes you forget how easy it is for him to carry you. It's almost way like nothing to him. It makes you feel weird how close he has you, being carried like luggage. He had pretty scales. they would glimmer in specific lighting so sometimes it would be easy to miss Them. They shone like diamonds. You didn't really mind being carried like this, because he was still mindful of you, so it wasn't too tight on your body. it was kinda fun.

"Why weren't you in your room?"

"Huh?" You were brought out of your thoughts by Bowser breaking the silence. He struggles to not snap at you for repeating yourself.

"You weren't in your room when I went to get you. Why?" He retorts at you. You look at him as you think of an answer.

"Well, I woke up early so I didn't want to disturb you before you woke up. And I was bored so I decided to do a few love readings for minions that were willing to get one. I guess I lost track of time." You meekly explained. Bowser rolls his eyes and looks back down at you.

"What's the point of me paying for your service if you're just going to give yourself for free? He grumbled. You shook you're head frantically.

"I wouldn't do that! They promised to tell me more about the Kingdom and about its inhabitants. I saw a lot more than regular koopas and goombas and I wanted to hear more from them while you were asleep. I was...a little curious."

"Well, don't do that again. I don't need any of my minions slacking off just for a love reading. That's only for me and I only got it. I ain't paying you to get chummy with anyone else. Got it?" He growled, just thinking about you wasting your time on anyone else but Him.

You frown at this. How are you going to learn now? "I understand...I'm sorry."

Bowser looks down at you and sees your disheartened gaze and his face softens up. a moment of silence happens then he lets out a low breath, one that he didn't know he was holding in his throat. His anger dissipated. He rubbed his hair, struggling to find the words to say.

"After our session, I'll allow you to ask me any questions you have about this Kingdom. Also, I'll let you use our library to learn a bit about the inhabitants. Just stop looking like a kicked puppy."

You look up at him in surprise. " Really!? You don't mind. I won't bother you?"

"If it had bothered me, I wouldn't have proposed it in the first place. You're teaching me about humans so I might as well tell you a thing or two about my minions." He grumbles. Your eyes lit up in excitement.

"Of Course! I promise to not ask too much! You can count on me to work extra hard on teaching you how to love a human!" You beamed.

Bowser felt himself having to control the urge to cover his eyes at the nonexistent bright light around you, his face feeling a bit warm. You were going to be the death of him one day.

***

Both You and Bowser stood in his Private room.

"Peach. I stand here before you for one thing. A chance. Please, let me show you that I can treat you like the Princess that you are and more. Will you go out with me?" He holds out his hand in front of you.

You are back in your peach outfit, with no reaction on your face. You then clear your throat as you prepare your answer.

"No." You said Bluntly.

you see Bowser's eye twitch in frustration, struggling to keep in his true emotions as his body shakes in anger.

"I......I............" He takes in a deep breath, "I......u-understand." he finally force himself to say as he lets out a breath of relief. You smile at him.

"Excellent. You took that rejection like a champ! That's the best one yet!" You praised Bowser, who was struggling on the floor a bit.

You see. Rejection is a part of life for the everyday human. Especially when it comes to love, so we have to accept rejection than refusing to take no for an answer.

This was a struggle for Bowser the most. Every other time y'all would practice with each other, it usually ended with him on a rampage or you ducking for cover from the fire that he spewed. Such Progress!

"Guh...This Sucks. I thought rejection would be easier to handle over time."

"Heh, well don't get to hung up on it. Most humans struggle today to handle rejection, so you're doing a lot better than most. You're doing awesome!"

Bowser stares at you for a moment and gets back up with a smirk on his face. "Heh, of course! I am the king of Awesome. I can handle any obstacle far better than any human. Anyone for that matter!" He puffs out his chest with Pride. you just stare at him.

"Your delivery when asking the question could use some work."

"Oh puh-lease, that was going to make her gush at me, and you know it."

"Eeeeh, gush isn't the word I would use."

Bowser glares at you. But it didn't carry the tone that his usual glares do. This one was in a more playful manner, with a non-threatening tone.

"Oh yeah, you think you can do better?"

"Well, I'm not a love expert for no reason. I am known to be a charmer."

He scoffs. "Alright prove it. Use your charm on me." He stands tall, waiting.

"Alright, Challenge accepted." You say as you clear your throat. a pause was made and then you look at him deep in the eyes.

"My dear King. Your passionate spirit wraps around my soul like a never-ending flame. I may not offer much but my love for you is in full, so please," You brought his claw to your face as your cheek rested on his palm. "won't you let me become yours, my handsome Koopa? And let me break you out of your shell?" You finished, with the gaze of undying love.

K.O.

Bowser felt a critical hit that felt like an arrow to his heart. His face flushing red from the confession and he has to hide his face away from you. Holy Shit. He was this close to putting you in his Treasure vault.

"Damn it.... Well Played."

"Thank You! It's in my nature!" You say playfully.

You get up and take the Peach wig off your head. " That concludes on lesson for today. Only one more lesson to go. You're on fire."

Bowser rolls his eyes but a smile creeps on his face. He couldn't help it. You just have this way of bringing him up in some way. Your good mood is infectious.

As he looks at you and takes off the makeup, his mind began to wonder. You were alone when you were captured here. And you didn't show any signs of missing anyone. Surely somebody like you has someone waiting to go home to, right?

"Say, Cupid."

"Hm?" you hummed, letting him know you were listening.

"Since you're like 'The' Love Expert and everything..., you got a lover yourself?"

You pause and turn to look at him surprised. Silence takes of the room, making Bowser a little uncomfortable. Why did you look like that?

"Nope. Honestly, never had a lover to call my own in a while."

"What? But I thought if anyone were to have a lover, it would be you." He looks at you puzzled, now by your side to look at your face.

Your face had a smile, but your eyes shine solemnly. You sit down, making him do the same.

"Well, I wasn't always the Love Expert that I am today" you admitted. "I've been called a lot of other things before. Witch, Noisy Hag, Perverted Creep, delusional Moron. Turns out, lots of people don't like to be read like a book, even when they ask you to. Ironic Right?"

A pathetic attempt at a joke was made but he didn't laugh. he had to hold down his angry for all the names that people used at you.

"But it's not just that, I grew up around a town where love.... wasn't love. It was mean, bitter, toxic, and hateful. With a town like that; Who needs enemies?" You stood and looked outside, the night sky mixing in contrast with the lava-filled landscape. "But hey! It's not so bad! I was able to get away and bring so many lovers together through hard work. I may not be able to find my own love now, but seeing genuine love around makes it worth it." You smiled at him with a determined look.

He stares at you. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he couldn't help but admire you a bit. Your resolve to help them find love in the unlikeliest place made him...respect? Yeah. It made him respect you.

"And you know what, jokes on that town. They missed out on the most amazing spouse they could ever have, hehe!" You say, with a joke in your tone.

"Yeah, they did." He Concurred, sounding so sincere, which shocked both of you. He thought that he only said that in his head. It made you giggle softly.

"Wow, you're becoming a real charmer!! 10+ Points!"

Oh, Shut Up." He says, grabbing your face playfully in his hand, making you whine at the contact. But he was actually glad. He didn't like that far-away sad look you had. He much rather have you act like a goofball instead. A weird, charming goofball.

***

"Alright, Almost done. tell me the most important things in a relationship?"

Bowser looks at you with a begrudging look on his face. Struggle to say the words out loud.

"Do we really need to do this again? I don't see how this wi-" He stops mid-sentence seeing the expression on your face, one that holds a silent plea to comply. He sighs, his red eyebrows knitted in focus..

"Honesty."

"Okay."

"Communication."

"Good."

"Trust."

"Mhm."

"Safety."

"Great."

"V-Vulnerability."

"And....?"

"Affection!"

"Right! You remembered!"

Bowser was a bit bashful under that gleeful gaze, but it was balanced out by the praise he oh so craved.

"Now. The final element of a Great and Loving relationship is this key factor. It's Respect."

"Huh? Are you sure it's not the ability to give your partner everything you want?' He asked as if it's an obvious question to have. You roll your eyes.

"No, Your Majesty. There's nothing more powerful than having respect for your partner." You think about your words for a minute. " You see, Relationships will have its ups and down. You might like red, she might hate red. She may like apples; you may loathe apples. Sometimes, we can't always agree with our partners or have a different viewpoint, but that's okay. Respect is important because it lets you know that no matter the differences and no matter our disagreements, I will always see you in a positive light. And I would never make you feel less than."

Bowser listen intensely, but couldn't help but quip out, "Stars that was painful to here. That was so corny."

"Hey, I'm letting down some really good advice. C'mon!" You blushed in embarrassment, feeling embarrassed for the way you let out your soul on your teaching.

"Bwahaha! Right, right! I'm sorry. I was just joking." He smirks at you playfully. You huff and then hold out your hands.

"Let's see that percentage, shall we?"

Bowser lets your small hands touch his gigantic ones, seeing you focus at the percentage.

"Congratulations, King Bowser. You are at exactly 50%. Which means my work here is done."

"Only 50%!"

"I'm afraid the other half is Peach. Only She can make it go up now. You are as high as you can get. You are 50/50 percent, which is lucky considering where we started off." You explained.

Steams of frustration come out of his nostrils. "You could've told me this before we did all this." He's silent for a while but then nods. "Alright. So now what?""

"That's for you to decide now. I can give you anymore advice then I already have. I'm done.... Are you still going to keep me here?"

Huh. He hadn't thought about that. If everything is done, then technically he doesn't need you here anymore. Your usefulness has taken its course. And yet. He didn't want you to leave, but he couldn't think of a good excuse to make you stay.

"I guess you have done your part. Your...free to go."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I've kept you in here long enough. Don't make me repeat myself." he said a little harshly, making you flinch.

'Why did I say it like that?' he asked as he scolded himself for your reaction.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye! Thank you for having me as your teacher. And thank you for the large sum of coins, I'll be able to bunker down somewhere in Toad Town for a while!"

'Bunker down?'

"What do you mean, 'Bunker Down'?" He questions at the bomb you just dropped.

"Huh? Oh, well I'm a traveler. I don't really have a place to call my own yet ever since I ran away. That's why I've been traveling so far to see if anywhere was a good place would be to settle down."

You explain as if it was obvious, but Bowser looks at you in Bewilderment. You didn't have a home? At all!? This is unacceptable!

he grumbles something under his breath.

"Huh?" You didn't quite get that.

"I SAID THAT FROM NOW ON, YOU WILL STAY IN MY CASTLE!!" His voice booms at you while also making the room shake a bit. You stare at him in astonishment.

You both stare at each other for a bit before Bowser clears his throat to calm himself a bit. "Well, if you want to! You've already been here a while and I've grown used to you. The minions seem to like you as well so-"

You cut him off with a hug to his abdomen, making him freeze a bit. Huh, no one has ever willingly given him a hug before. This felt Nice. Really Nice. He almost doesn't want you to let go.

but you do, much to his dismay, but you're smiling at him.

"Thank You! I swear I'll do my best in whatever role you give me!"

He sighs. "Yeah, yeah, worry about that later..." he pets your head softly. But then something comes to mind that he'd never really thought about.

"I've...Never gotten your name."

"Huh?"

"You're name. I can't just keep calling you human and Cupid. What's your name?"

You giggle at this. that's right. You forgot to introduce yourself completely. "My name is (Y/N) (L/N). At your service."

"Well, (Y/n). You're lucky because you're now part of the best kingdom there is!"

"Hehe, Yay." You yawn, feeling sleepiness coming into your body. "I think I should retire for the day. it's getting late. I believe in you, Bowser. You're going to make a princess very happy. I just know it." You exit the room, leaving Bowser by himself, in his thoughts.

Huh. He would've thought he had gotten used to that cheery personality but you still manage to lighten his confidence in ways that his own army couldn't do. He could get used to you having you around. It'll be an adjustment to accommodating a Human, but since he was going to do the same for Peach, doing the same for you wouldn't be a problem. Perhaps even easier.

....

Right the princess. If he really is going to confess to her at the time is right, he might as well do a little practice.

He thinks of ways to compliment Princess Peach. Her Golden hair, the beautiful never moving crown, her beautiful (color) eyes.....wait.

That's not right. he closes his eyes to envision her in his head. Her pink beautiful dress, her elegant posture, the beautiful (color) hair on her, their cute eyelashes, the way they beam at him with no care in the world, their curious nature, the kind eyes when they look deep into his, their cute pout, their soft kissable face, and-

Hold on! Wait a Minute!

Bowser Tries to think of Peach, but the images always become you. You're grace and your smile floods his mind every time he tries to focus.

You! You.You.You.

You.

Bowser's face turns red at a sudden realization he has. Oh no.

'I think...I'm in love with (Y/N).'

[morallyinept]

Summary: Joel Miller comes back into your life unexpectedly after a gap of thirty years, and stirs up all kinds of memories and longing. Now, as you're stationed on an outpost for five days alone with the man you stupidly let go of all those years ago, you have a chance to confront him about your past life together and all the things you wished you’d said and done.

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Chapter word count: 6.5k

Series Masterlist

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: You and Joel face the morning after your shared intimacy, and any consequences that may come with it. Mentions of smut and death/gore/blood. Descriptions of panic attacks.

☝🏻 I WILL NO LONGER BE ADDING NEW TAGS due to some of them not working as they should, despite me tagging, so please ensure you're following me and turn on notifs so you don't miss an update on this story.

Enjoy! 🖤

Previous Chapter

When dawn approaches, Joel stirs first; the intruding light glowing a dull orange behind his eyelids and pulling him out of a broken sleep. 

Everything. Hurts. Like. Hell. 

His back is still pulling tight and unrelenting - screaming at him that he needs to fucking move off this damned cot or be paralysed for life. His face feels raw with the grazes scabbing over in places and his arm is numb. 

He turns to inhale you in and although he can’t feel his fingers where your weight is crushing them, he lays there enjoying the abstract sensation of your body shape nestled against his as you snooze. Something he still can’t quite comprehend in its entirety.

You’re here, you’re here alive. And you're with him, in his arms. You’ve let him inside of you, after all this time. 

He winds his nose into your hairline and just listens to the sounds of you sleeping as he inhales. He can feel the small whooses of your breath against his sternum cooling him. And he thinks this is how it was always supposed to be.

He can smell the sex between you lingering in the air; the scent of sweat from your body, and he never wants to wash you off of his skin.

He replays it over in his mind, that first moment he entered you and how good you felt contracting around him. How good you’d always felt.

He’s swollen again. Aching. Morning wood, a new peculiarity that stirs grizzly between his legs after what feels like a long hiatus. No-one since Tess, and he thought there’d be no-one else. Destined to live in solace and loneliness, waiting until it was his time to check out of the world, growing ever more rickety in the bones and grey and thinning in the hair.

Despite the pain in his back, fof a moment he feels alive again as he feels the blood fill him thick.  

There’s the calming sound of a few birds twittering outside and he’s lying here on the cramped cot, with come stained sheets, eyes closed enjoying just a few more minutes where Joel can pretend that nothing else exists outside of the shack, except for you. 

That he’s back in his home in Austin, in his old bed with the wooden slats that creak each time he rolls over, and your naked body is curled around him in that sleep-warming haze. 

He strokes all the way down your body to the little swollen belly you’ve got and places a kiss on it. You stir through bleary eyes as he looks up at you smiling, and that devilish smirk that he loves so much on your mouth has him trailing his lips lower still. He can feel you finger through his hair as he starts to lap at your pussy, tasting your honey that only gets sweeter each time. 

Then, he can hear Sarah downstairs humming to her favourite song on the radio. She’s calling up and letting him know the pancakes and bacon are ready, and that he’ll be late for work if he doesn’t get a move on and-

Joel’s eyes snap open and he’s mourning the loss of that sweet, haunting reverie already as it sluices out of his ears to die on the threadbare pillow.

And then that voice; that insidious little fucker creeps up the base of his spine again, seemingly out of nowhere, and is heard taunting him. It leans over his shoulder with a sharp claw tapping against it.

She could never love you, Joel. Not after everything you’ve done.    

In that split second of it pouring its words out at him, making him choke on the smoke of its beguiling voice, Joel feels that unmistakable rigidity flood him; like he’s hit freezing cold water face first. 

It strips him of his breath, the enamel on his teeth; his leg muscles coil and pull tight and he tries to suck in oxygen that flaunts itself at him with an evil smirk as it feels so far out of reach as he gasps for it.

His fist comes up to the centre of his chest and he shudders, encased in that spiralling grip once more, sinking and drowning. 

You’re going to die, Joel. All alone. 

He can’t breathe, he can’t see anymore. He’s just cold and shivering and unable to surface, and all rational thought has abandoned him. 

You hear me, Joel? Alone!

“Joel? Do you hear me?”

The sound of your voice is what pulls him back slowly; the small semblance of recognition through the foggy void that reaches in and grabs him, yanking by the ankles.  

He locks eyes with you and instantly the shame devours him; spitting out gristle chunks of him until there is nothing left. He pulls away from you, sitting up on the cot as you reach up and squeeze his thick shoulder affectionately. 

“Joel-” You query carefully. 

“S’nothin’,” he immediately cuts you off, and the jerk of his shoulder makes you drop your hand like you’ve been stung.

You can only watch, confused and concerned as he dresses quickly, despite the hisses between his teeth from the lingering pain, and retreats out of the shack muttering something about the horses.

He stays outside for a long time; most of the morning is swallowed up by his obvious, intruding absence. You’re not sure what he’s doing, and you can only stare at the plate of uneaten food you’ve left for him that has long since turned cold and dried out. 

His back, broad and hunched, was presented to you in the stable when you went to let him know it was ready. He offered you no acknowledgement, no familiar grunt in response.

Just bubonic silence that got under your skin and infected you with doubt and worry until it forced you to retreat.

You’re now sitting in the wicker chair gawking out at the valley while smouldering away inside. 

You stare at the walkie-talkie with a swill of nervousness swashing around your gut. It was only yesterday the crackled warning came through and then you were ambushed by the infected. But all that seems so far away considering it led to you and Joel to physically expressing your requited pining for one another.

The memory sears into your brain; his mouth on yours, his rough, deft hands on your body… the grunting sounds of his pleasure.

You feel it flutter in your gut and between your legs, and you hitch a breath at the recall that you can still taste on your tongue.

The words ink themself on your skin, he loves you. He always has. It’s what you’ve longed to hear for so long.

And now it’s led to him hiding from you like a child facing his scary closet monster for the first time. You can’t help but feel slightly rejected, despite knowing that you haven’t done anything wrong - have you?

You glance at the clocks and they read a little after ten AM. You stand sighing and reach for your handgun. You holster it to your hip and decide to go for a walk - you need to get out of the shack, away from the trussed up sheets of the cot where the ghosts of you both still writhe and moan in ecstacy.

Away from the missing shape of him filling up the air you breathe. The heat is beginning to stifle again and Joel’s behaviour isn’t helping.

You’re not sure if he’s still in the stable. You hear the sound of the mare whinnying gently as you pass, but you don’t check. 

The lumpy constriction in the back of your throat strangles you as you pass and stomp lithely down the path. 

You pass the bodies; flies circling and feasting on the rotting flesh. You’re so mad even the smell doesn't deter you as you step over them. 

��Why don’t ya ever fuckin’ listen to me?” Joel scolds you as you step back into the shack a little while later.

Your body is hot and sticky from sun exposure and the sweat sticks to you, irritating you further.

Joel saw you trail the path back up to the shack, fuming. He was preparing himself to go out looking for you when he saw your body; small and wandering down at the bottom of the hill.

Gritting his teeth, he endured that slow walk you did whilst rooted to the spot at the window, with fists clenched and recalling all the times before, when you were younger, that your free spirit and desire to chase impulse would come between you more often than not.

As much as he loved you, that lingering platitude of your careless wanderings always irked him. 

Leading to passionate, heated debates and arguments he wouldn’t engage in much, which riled you up even more. Then you would take off again in a huff, to spite him and leave him floundering and worried.

You’d always come back though, tail between your legs and kissing him round to fucking you in forgiveness - until you didn’t. 

Joel remembers the last time you left and he waited for you to come back. Waited probably longer than he should have. 

You didn’t come back. 

“Ya could’ve got hurt.” He growls at you.

He’s pissed as he puffs out his chest, hand on slender hip as you pass him and discard your holster onto the cot that’s still a mess. 

“I didn’t.” You simply say, brushing it off. 

“S’not the point.” He snarks. 

“Then what is, Joel? I’ve been taking care of myself long before you showed up back in my life.” You bite back.

He grumbles, words you can’t decipher, as he sighs and frowns at the ground.

“Old habits die hard.” You simply retort and he glances at you with dark eyes and a pout. 

“Ya can’t be doin’ shit like this, not on my watch.” He trails off, losing himself in the dissipating anger, trying to swallow it down fully. 

"Your watch? I'm a grown woman, Joel. You're not my keeper." You growl. 

He rolls his eyes chewing on the inside of his gums. “Where’d y’go?”

“For a walk.” You say bluntly. You lift off your top and swap it out for one that smells less stagnant under the arms. “You’re not the only one who can run away and hide, you know.”

“Is that what ya think I was doin’?”

“Isn’t it?” You lance him a knowing look and he hangs his head, guilty as charged. “What was that this morning, Joel?” You question and he shakes his head. 

You change tactics and approach him gently, reaching for his face, but he bats your hand away and you scoff, annoyed.

“You’re not going to let me in? Not after-”

“I can’t.” Joel reiterates. You can see it pains him to, his eyes pleading with you not to push it. 

You nod, defeated and step back as he passes you and sits himself down on the chair. His hand rubs at his temple - the side with the scar.

“I’m sorry. I was insensitive, brash. Taking off like that. But you have to understand, I've fended for myself for so long. I’ve had to.” You explain. 

“I get it.” He nods gently. “I can’t lose ya,” he says, barely a whisper. 

“You won’t. Promise.”

“No,” he shakes his head and looks up at you. “Ya can’t make that kinda promise, not now.”

“Then,” you sit opposite him. “I promise I’ll always do everything in my power to make sure I come back to you. I promise not to be so reckless. How’s that?”

Joel sighs, his giant palms dropping onto his knees as he massages one gently. “Better,” he gruffs. He tries not to smile, but you can see he’s struggling. 

“I get it too.” You say, after a few minutes pass between you that’s filled with a suffocating silence.

“Get what?” He questions.

“You’re scared of the way I make you feel.” You begin at him. “Because you don’t want to feel anything. You’ve spent so long making sure that you don’t.”

He shakes his head as your nodding increases. 

“And it's terrifying. It is for me, too.” You admit. "It's easier to have nothing then lose something you care about, right?"

Joel frowns. Then sighs. Then wants to strangle you because you used to do this. You used to get into his head with simple ease. Break down his impenetrable walls and sneak in, and he has no fucking idea how you do it. Or how you can still do it after all this time.

“It’s better that way.” He mutters bitterly. 

“For who?” You watch as his back stiffens. His neck disappearing into his shoulders. His serious expression melts away a little. Another chink in his armour. Then he shakes his head again, muttering incoherently under his breath and you can hear some cursing going on.

“Why are you doing this?” You question.

“I lost someone,” Joel drones, reminding you; his tongue turning around his teeth.

“Sarah.” You confirm, accepting his pain and understanding. Or at least trying to; you would never understand that pain he harbours fully as you’re not a parent. 

“No,” Joel shakes his head and looks at you, despite the pain twisting around his scruffy face. “Myself.” 

It comes out as a croak that dies a horrific death on his tongue. You watch as his eyes glisten and you reach for him instinctively. But it’s not enough.

You get up and sit in his lap and he doesn’t resist this time when you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. He buries his face into the crook of your neck as you offer him what he so desperately needs. 

“I don’t deserve any of this,��� Joel begins, a mouthful of your skin.

“What makes you think that?” His brown eyes are red in the whites and you watch as he wipes them with the back of his hand quickly.

“‘Cause, I’ve done so much that I should be punished for. In the old world, I'd be rottin’ in a cell now.”

“We’re not in the old world anymore, Joel.” But he was still there, stuck and forever looping it seems. 

"Ya've no idea what I've done. If ya did, you'd take that rifle n' shoot me between the eyes. N' I wouldn't stop ya."

You scoff. “You think because you did bad things, things to survive, that you’re not deserving of affection now? Of redemption? You’re wrong, Joel.” 

“Ya don’t get it, darlin’.” He shakes his head solemnly.

“No, you don’t get it.” You correct and he looks at you with a quick shift of his eyeballs and nothing else. “We’ve all done bad things, things we had to. Terrible things. The world forced us to. You think we were prepared for it? That this is the curveball life was going to throw at us? Every single one of us has done things that, yeah, sure in the old world, we'd be punished for. But now? If faced with it, we’d do it again. You wanna know why?”

“Why?” He asks softly.

You breathe in, reciting Kelper’s words when you’d needed them the most. “Because in this world you have to have something to fight for. To be reckless for… To kill for. If you don’t have that, you may as well roll over and die now because there is nothing else. It's all gone. It's all fucking gone…" You sniff as your own eyes water. "And something tells me you're not ready to do that.”

Your fingers stroke at the nape of his neck softly, curling his hair around your fingers. 

“Are you?” Joel asks tentatively.

“I was.” You say, glancing down at your scar as your hand rests on your thigh. “But turns out, I still got some fight in me. And so do you.”

Joel sniffs deeply and sighs out; his head falls forward and rests on yours and you stay like that for a little while. 

"How’d ya fuckin' do that?" He asks into your eyelashes in wonderment.

His arms just wrap around you and hold you to him as you kiss the top of his head gently. 

“I just know the subject matter really well.” You smile into his crown. “Better than he knows himself.” 

“Ya do,” he pulls away to look at you; deep browns with a pulling, hypnotic warmth boring into you and heating you up.

You feel his hands sliding up your back, fingers notching over your spine nodules and making you shudder.

He smiles at your reaction, the smile blooming on your lips as you enjoy the feeling of him exploring.

“Know ya really well too, darlin’. I never forgot.” He says, as he latches onto your lips.  

Joel switches the walkie-talkie back on later, and you both wait silently.

He throws a glance at you, one that tells you he can still taste you in his mouth. You squeeze your thighs together at the recall of him laying you back down on the cot after your heart-to-heart, and proving to you again how much love he did have inside him, as he filled you up with it.

But now you both sit silently, waiting for any news.

You can feel your gut weighing down to your feet like concrete blocks, and sure enough a voice comes through over the static that’s more clear to receive today. 

It’s a voice you recognise and Joel grabs it and speaks. “Tommy?”

“Joel. Goddamn. Ya guys hangin’ in there?”

“Just ‘bout.” Joel's eyes dart towards yours and you smile tightly in agreement. Fine, hanging threads.

“What happened yesterday? Had a small pocket of infected pay us a visit.” He speaks into the walkie, his thumb letting go of the receiver when he finishes.

“I figured they’d head ya way. Ya pick up my signal?”

Joel swallows as he glances out the window, his eyes squinting in the light. “Yeah.”

You both know it was a close call and your mind shifts to that strident moment when Joel was yanked backwards by the body and tumbled down the hill with it, and it makes your stomach lurch.

That could have ended very differently and it doesn’t bear thinking about as you swallow it away.

“We handled it. ‘Bout twenty or so. Put ‘em down.” Joel explains.

The walkie crackles. “Horde’s gotten bigger. We had to regroup, weren’t expectin’ it. Was fuckin’ chaos.”

Joel grits his teeth and you sit forward in the chair sighing, your hands fisting together under your chin and listening carefully. Trying not to imagine the guys - Kelper, Max and Sal - out of their depths. But you hold fast and steady. They can handle it, deep down you know it.

They’re fine.

“Second team managed to get the explosives laid down. We’re ready for tomorrow. S’gonna go down as planned.” Tommy continues.

“Good,” Joel replies. 

You nod with some small relief ebbing through your bones.  

“Listen Joel. I gotta tell ya somethin’.”

“M’all ears.” Joel says as he looks at you; his brown eyes softening as he takes you in, sending a small affectionate smile back up at him.

He swears in this moment he's probably never loved you more, and the thought makes him sweat a little. He reaches for your knee and gives it a squeeze, watches with some contented awe as your fingers lock into his. 

“We were ambushed by infected breakin’ off. Chased us down. We had to let ‘em. Couldn’t risk the whole horde noticin’...”

Joel nods even though Tommy can’t see. You swallow thickly as you both listen.

Your heartbeat speeds up, you can hear it start to steamroll in your ears, almost drowning Tommy’s voice out. 

“What happened?” Joel asks with a brewing frown. 

Yesterday...

The sun hangs low in the desolate sky, casting an eerie glow over the barren landscape. Sparse woodlands with resilient trees run parallel, separated by a wide stretching field that’s filled with the moving shuffle of infected bodies en masse. 

Tommy can feel the sweat pooling at the back of his neck, gathering in the jet curls where he rubs listlessly at his sun-beaten nape.

From this position, hidden craftily behind the bushes, he’s got a good view.

Kelper, kneeling beside him, peers through the binoculars and sighs gently; but his face is etched with acute determination, watching the horde move towards the direction of the canyon as planned, that seems to echo with the ominous whispers of impending danger at any moment. 

Tommy adjusts his position carefully, crouched behind the thick brush, with aching knees and thighs; his fingers tightly gripping the worn handle of his weapon should he need it.

His breaths come in shallow bursts, the tension in the air almost suffocating. Kelper, the seasoned survivor, keeps his gaze fixated on the passing horde of death, just a few yards out from them.

“How many do ya think there are?” Tommy whispers.

Kelper shrugs. “More than a thousand now, that’s for sure.”

They've swelled in numbers; strays attaching themselves to the wider congregation as they move, led by the unseen force of the group spread up and down the route ensuring they don’t divert. 

“How is this even possible?”

Kelper turns to look at Tommy and shakes his head at a loss. “Evolution?”

The moans of the infected reverberate, creating an eerie symphony that underscores the gravity of their situation. Tommy shifts uncomfortably, glancing between them and in the far direction of where the explosives are being set to detonate.

“Come on ya bastards…” He mutters. 

Kelper smirks. “We’ll get ‘em there. Plan’s been working well so far. We keep pushing. Last hurdle, right?”

“Don’t be fuckin’ jinxin’ us now, man.” Tommy says, a thin smirk pricking at the corner of his lips. 

“Hold your nerve. We’re almost home. Get you back to your lady and your kid.” Kelper assures.

Tommy smiles and looks at him. “What 'bout you? Ya got any family left?”

Kelper shakes his head. “Just the ones I arrived with.” 

Tommy nods. “Right.”

“They’re all I need.” Kelper nods, smiling to himself. 

“Do ya ever wonder if we're becomin’ as heartless as ‘em?” Tommy asks after a few beats of silence.

He nods out to the horde. His eyes bear the weariness of a thousand battles, yet a glimmer of something unresolved flickers within the darkness of them.

“You start to blur the lines between the living and the dead out here, Tommy. But heartless? No, we're fighting for something more than just breath in our lungs.” Kelper says. 

"Ya think they know? Like they still have some conscious thought or shit?"

Kelper shakes his.head. "Nah. Whoever they were, they're long gone."

"Whatever makes ya sleep at night, right?"

"Maybe." Kelper replies.

“I just don't wanna forget what it means to be human, y’know? My brother… he’s lost his humanity. I see it when I look at him now.” Tommy says, shaking his head despondently. “I love him, but… I can’t be like that.”

“I don’t think anyone ever truly loses their humanity.” Kelper says. “If we did, we’d be exactly like them.”  

“How’d ya know we ain’t? They’re just tryin’ to survive, like we are.”

“You feel bad for them?” Kelper's jaw tightens, his gaze drifting to the distant shadows where the infected still roam. The burden of leadership etching deep lines on his face and casting deeper shadows under his eyes. 

“They were people once, even if they ain't now.” Tommy states. “Hard not to feel some guilt sometimes.”

Kelper smiles. “That’s how you know you’re still human.” 

Tommy glances down at the ground and nods contemplating. 

“Being human means adapting, surviving. Sometimes, it means doing things you never thought you would. But it's also about holding on to a glimmer of who you were. You just need to remind your brother of that sometimes. And yourself.”

Kelper's gaze meets Tommy's, a shared understanding passing between them. The depths of the woodlands seem to amplify the words, carrying them into the void where shadows whisper of both survival and sacrifice.

“What if there's another way? A way to survive without sacrificin’ our humanity all the time?” Tommy queries, his voice a low baritone.

“There isn't room for what-ifs in this world. Every move we make is a gamble. We're just trying to tip the odds in our favour. This world doesn't care about ideals. It cares about survival.”

The weight of Kelper's words settle on Tommy's shoulders, pressing down with the burden of a world gone mad. 

Kelper shoots him a glance, a look with the harsh realism of their existence. “We're all paying a price. Sometimes it's just steeper for some.”

“I just... I need to believe there's somethin’ more than just survivin’. For my son.” Tommy says.

Kelper's gaze softens for a moment, a flicker of sympathy cutting through the grizzled exterior.

“I think ‘bout the world waitin’ for him. If it can ever be like it used to. Sounds fuckin’ dumb, I know.”

Kelper shakes his head. “Not dumb. You survive long enough, you start thinking about living. But first, you've got to make it through the hard nights.”

They both glance at one another again.

“We’re changing the world, for your son; for everyone. One dead parasite at a time.” Kelper says with a sincere smile offered.

Tommy nods, and then jumps as the bleep of his radio sounds on his hip. 

“Fuck!” He scrambles for it. “I said radio silence!” Tommy hisses into the walkie.

He shoots his glance up, muffling the sound of the walkie with his jacket. 

Kelper keeps watch on the horde, who don’t seem to have heard it. 

A voice crackles over the low frequency. It's Max. “We got a problem… there’s… shit! Run!-” 

Kelper scans the horizon with the binoculars. “No, no, no, no…” He murmurs in an increasing tempo shaking his voice.

“What?!” Tommy rushes forward and snatches the binoculars as Kepler stands. 

In the distance he can see bodies breaking off from the rear of the horde and disappearing into the woodlands. 

“Fuck!”

Kelper moves and Tommy follows. 

“Hey!”

“We gotta stop this!" Kelper says, frantic. “We can’t let them change course. We need the others to keep them moving forward.” Kelper pelts as he starts to run. “If the bulk of the horde notices, they’ll all come at them!”

“Fuck!” Tommy paces after him. 

“We have to create a diversion.”

“How?” Tommy pulls Kelper back by the shoulder, yanking him fiercely. "What d'ya mean a diversion?"

Kelper weighs it up and comes up with a desperate blank before a dark realisation settles in over his features. “We have to take them.”

Tommy shakes his head. “Thats fuckin’ suicide.”

“You have another idea? We have to get the others. We can’t do this without them.” 

Tommy’s stumped and shakes his head. “It’s not worth the risk. A few strays-”

“Fuck the risk! I’m not losing anymore people to these bastards!” Kelper spits. 

A few beats exist and pulse around them before the decision is made.

“I’ll draw them back through and join you on the other side of thise trees." He points across the field to a clearing beyond the woodlands there. "Round up the others ready.”

Tommy doesn't have time to protest further. He can only watch as Kelper sprints off towards the small branch of infected that have wandered off into the trees after Max's group. 

“Fuck!” He grits and takes off towards the field. Tommy radios the others, instructing them to meet him, but he’s met with crackled silence as he runs. 

His face batters wayward branches as he dashes forward; the beat of his heart in his throat. Then he stops as though hitting a wall as he hears it.

The echo reverberates through the clearing, and the small swarm of infected, like puppets drawn by an unseen force, turn their attention towards Kelper.

His defiant shout slices through the air; a battle cry tinged with both bravado and desperation.

“Fuckin’ idiot!” Tommy seethes. 

As the infected converge towards Kelper instead, the small group, including Tommy, seize the fleeting opportunity to slip past unscathed and unnoticed into position.

The air thickens with a cocktail of relief and guilt. The clearing seems to close in around them, casting shadows that pulse with the haunting thrum of brutish survival. They can only hope the main horde didn't hear Kelper.

Tommy steals a glance back; the torment of leaving Kelper behind etched across his face.

The sounds of a struggle punctuate, each blow landing on undead flesh as Kelper fights them off bravely. The air feels charged with an unspoken understanding - Kelper's creating the diversion, but at what cost?

As the group distance themselves from the small swarm, the guilt claws at Tommy's chest. A corridor of remorse that resonates with the cries of the infected and the desperate struggle of a man who has willingly put himself in harm's way.

“We can't just leave him!” Max whispers to Tommy.

“He knew the risks. We gotta keep movin’.” Tommy ushers him forward, but hesitates himself. His stance falters, a magnetic pull urging him to turn back. 

“Okay, we take ‘em. All of ‘em. Not one of ‘em lives, ya hear me? Make it snappy, make it quiet. No guns. Just blades.” He instructs.

They all nod at him, eyes wide and ready to go as chaos spills out into the clearing. 

Kelper's eyes flick with a mix of surprise and relief as Tommy and the small group flood in towards him. The reinforcements inject a surge of hope into the struggle, weapons slashing through the infected with calculated precision.

The small swarm, once focused solely on Kelper, now face a united front. They fight with a fierce determination, their movements synchronised in a brutal beat against the encroaching threat of screeches and teeth. 

Kelper, momentarily freed from the relentless assault, locks eyes with Tommy. There’s gratitude in the glance; a recognition of the camaraderie that has driven Tommy to return.

The fight rages on, but in that moment, a silent understanding passes between the two leaders as they resonate about not leaving anyone behind, no matter the stakes.

The commune needs a man like Kelper, Tommy thinks. Perhaps he can spend more time with his son and less time making decisions.

The skirmish continues; the group pushing back the infected with a collective force that speaks of their shared resilience. 

They can do this. Nip it in the bud now.

“Shit!” Tommy cries, as more infected flood through the trees towards them. 

Kelper turns at the commotion as they run out, and he locks eyes with one.

It stops him in his tracks and he feels it like ice in his bones.

It looks like… you.

It has your face, your gait, your hair even.

And he knows it isn’t you; knows somewhere in the back of his head that Joel’s taking care of you at the outpost, or you're taking care of him, but for a split second, it’s enough to render Kelper useless on his feet as the sinking realisation of failing you floods through him. 

He’s frozen to the spot, frozen in fear just watching the infected impersonator run closer towards him. 

You're coming for him.

Somewhere, he hears his name being yelled as it hits the back of his head in a dull fuzz as he stands there, unable to move his limbs, for what feels like an age.

But it’s long enough for him to feel it; that searing burn as teeth clamp down on the side of his neck and his blood spills into its mouth. 

The world has stopped turning, leaving him alone inside his frantic battle with screaming and viscera everywhere. 

The bloodstained face of Tommy holds dark, cold eyes as he works his way through the infected effortlessly. Picking them off one by one with his bare hands it seems and leaving no indication of remorse as he goes and yells frantically at Kelper.

The thuds as the lifeless entities fall to the ground thunders through the clearing, sending vibrations towards Kelper. He can feel it in his toes.

He’s not sure how it happens, but the one who is latched onto him is now dead at his feet as he tries to stem the bleeding.

The noise is deafening and Kelper is lost out of eye sight, somewhere amongst the throes of more bodies ramming against them; their faces mangled with bitter hatred and the determination to slaughter the infected with just cause. 

The infected have gathered their numbers well, and it appears as though Tommy is outnumbered as Kelper glances back at them, stunned and shaking.

A single handful of elite warriors facing off against a swarm of hideous monsters, intent on shedding blood in their ravaging hunger. It's like watching a movie play out in front of him, and he's helpless to intervene.

And like those ancient Spartans from film reels gone by, Tommy commands a small unit of his most relentless soldiers. Determined and hell bent on seeking justice and retribution. Their strength is not in their numbers, for they could stand alone and wield the power of many.

Regular men and women, baptised into the fire of combat, they’re taught from the aftermath of the apocalypse never to retreat, never to surrender. No pain, no mercy. 

Endure and fucking survive! 

A well orchestrated phalanx, breaking off into sections when under threat, but soon chaos ensues, blood is spilt. God’s wrath pouring across the land like hot, bubbling lava.

But still they hold strong. 

Tommy fiercely wields his machete as though it’s fluid; sharp steel thrusting in and out of rotting, fungal skin in mere seconds as he fights his way to Kelper.

His cries of war echo over the field and into the ears of those who are in earshot. Instructions in wrath, commands in murder, and praise in blood.

A fearless leader despite his earlier reservations, and it’s not hard to see why the others admire and follow him so.

Kelper smiles, not burdened anymore with that baton previously held tightly in his grip; he’s happy to hand it over. He never was a leader, not really. Just a determined son of a bitch to not falter and wither. 

But it's time to rest now. He had his moment in the sun; plenty of them as they flash behind his flickering eyelids as his vision starts to water and blur. 

The warmth of his mother's embrace. The first time he smoked weed under the bleachers in high school. His first gay crush on Bobby Denton. Man... Bobby fucking Denton. He smiles as he remembers a pretty face he thought he'd forgotten.

Coming out to his father who looked upon him with scorn and disappointment, while his mother welcomed him with open arms. She never did blame him for their divorce. Not once. But he knew.

His first love; the first time he bared his puny heart to Phillip, who reciprocated. The first man to actually love him back.

Phillip, who was wrenched from his arms on outbreak day, in mass hysteria at the shopping mall - at the fucking Gap of all places. He couldn’t find him. Lost him amongst the crowds running and screaming. 

He never got to give him the ring...

Kelper remembers the small band of survivors he’s called family for the last several years. Remembers when he found you huddled in a dirty, shivering ball and trying to take his head off as he approached tentatively.

Fuck, he can’t leave you. What the fuck is he doing?

He looks down at his hand, covered in his own blood, and already feels lightheaded.

“I’m sorry, Goose…” he chokes out, blood gushing down his front and sticky on his chest. 

Flashes of your hands are on his, nursing him back to health. He can taste the time you kissed him, and then apologised, and it took everything in him to pull away from your lips, questioning everything he’d ever known about himself. Drawn to you somehow. What was it, loneliness? Desperation? 

Love?

Did he love you, more than that?

The hungry, consuming eyes stare down upon him in their millions it seems, and he welcomes the whisper of death with a smile on his face and a middle finger.

A small grunt of satisfaction tears through him and the faint beats of his name are heard somewhere in the distance. 

He knows you’re strong. That you crinkle your nose when you laugh at something he says when you feel bereft, he can see it now. Hear it even; it’s echoing all around him as they tear into him, blocking out the sun.

At the end of a hard day enduring, surviving, seeing you smile at him makes everything alright. He never told you enough.

Never told you everyday that he fucking loved you. 

He hopes you knew. Hopes you knew that in another world, he loved you the way you might have wanted him to.

He should have been the one, in another life he deduces that he probably would have been. You’d both be married with papery skin, sitting on rocking chairs overlooking the ocean with fat grandchildren playing at your feet. 

But in this life, he had you as a friend. A soulmate. And it seemed better somehow. Transcendant.

It was worth it all.

Kelper drops his weapon, his fingers weak and unable to use it now. Unsteady on his feet as they devour. Blurred vision splits the sun in two and hot wetness is felt below his abdomen, searing at first, but soon massaged away by the delight of nausea. 

He’s deluded and sincere. He knows you love him. That Guthrie, Max and Sal love him. That Phillip loves him, wherever he is. Perhaps he’ll see him soon.

He believes it and it will ensure he can pass on happily. Content. At peace.

Fuck, he deserves some peace. He chuckles, hearing it in his ears above the cacophony of their grunts and groans.

He recalls those precious moments; moments where the darkness of the world disappeared for a while. It wasn’t all doom and gloom and fungal bloodshed.

There was always light in the darkness when you were lost, you just had to look for it.

Remembering his smile lost inside of your freshly washed hair that smelt of wild flowers, breathing in the notes as you slumbered peacefully on his chest after he saved your life.

He can smell them now, the clearing has come alive with them, sprouting up everywhere and beautiful from root to petal.

He wishes he could show you them.

It gives him comfort in his last moments where he falters now alone in this barren clearing, where the earth has been cracked and splintered by the creatures that ravage it now. 

Kelper falls backwards against the hard ground, but doesn’t notice the pain. The lights will soon dim, but he can’t take his eyes off of your smile, your resilience.

How strong he knows you’ll be in this world without him.

You’ll be alright, Goose…

He gives into it now, comes quietly despite the sound of teeth around his face. 

And as Kelper slips away from this world into the next one, a single tear flows from the crease of his eye, never to be seen by anyone. 

“... We lost Kelper.” Tommy confirms over the static.

Joel’s eyes immediately flick to yours; his face sinking as you sit forward gripping the chair rests, your eyes filling with water. 

No.

“He didn’t make it.” Tommy says. “They got him. Was pretty bad and-”

“Tommy, stop talkin’!” Joel hisses down the radio cutting him off as he sees your expression changing.

No.

You’re shaking your head, but you don’t feel the physical motion. You’re instantly numb.

No. No. He’s wrong. 

The next thing you know you’re screeching into the walkie, having snatched it from Joel’s hand, and telling Tommy frantically that he’s wrong.

Yelling through to him to stop fucking around and put Kelper on so you can talk to him. You need to hear his voice. Hear him say he’s okay.

Because he is - he has to be! There’s no way that he-

“M'so sorry, sweetheart," Tommy’s voice says, as Joel grapples with you, but you don’t hear it. 

You don’t hear anything else except your own frantic wailing and screams as you sink to the floor, Joel catching you in his arms and crushing you tight against him, as you finally break in two. 

No. 

No.

No.

NO!

To be continued...

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[jayden-writes]

respite

pairing: Lucifer x gn!Reader

wordcount: ~0.8k

genre: fluff

cw: none!

summary: a serene evening with Lucifer

other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // based on this drawing I commissioned from @stulili // AO3 // thanks again to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic!

“Come on now. Don't be shy,” Lucifer said, his hand stretched out towards you expectantly, a soft melody filling his bedroom. It was rather late in the evening and you had spent most of the day with him, taking advantage of the fact that he had taken a day off - for the first time in who knows how long; he was wearing those sweatpants you had gotten him once half as a joke, even if only in the privacy of his room.

“You know I can't dance and I don't want to step on you,” you rebuffed him, but he refused to be deterred by that.

“I am perfectly capable of leading you. Besides, I assure you that I can handle a few missteps here and there,” he pointed out while he watched you, his expression and posture relaxed. A satisfied smile tugged on the corners of his lips when you eventually relented, and he guided your palm up to press a kiss on your skin, causing your cheeks to heat up. He settled his free hand possessively on your waist, and you rested yours on his upper arm, keeping a small, yet comfortable distance. Both of your socked feet were moving silently, and your eyes were fixed on the wooden floor as you struggled to keep up and at the same time not step on him.

“My eyes are up here, dear,” he teased you after a few minutes of silence and slow movements - his were practiced and cadenced, yours were clumsy.

“Well, I don’t want to step on you”, you reiterated, feeling embarrassed by the obvious difference in skill between you and him.

“You won’t,” he reassured you softly, “at least try not to look down so much and relax, just exist in this moment and let go. You will do fine, I promise.”

You huffed quietly and kept staring at the ground, your brow furrowed with the effort of not misstepping. Without a warning, he snaked his arm around your waist until his palm came to rest on your lower back and he carefully, but assertively, pulled you closer to him. For a second, your already unpracticed steps faltered, though miraculously, you didn’t tread on his feet. Out of instinct, you wrapped an arm around his torso to steady yourself and he continued to guide you, unperturbed by your blunder.

“H-Hey!” you stammered. At that, he chuckled affectionately, thoroughly enjoying having caught you off guard. He nuzzled your hair with his nose, his breaths gently tickling the top of your head and you shuddered a little, goosebumps forming on your skin. Being pressed flush against Lucifer allowed you to feel the rise and fall of his chest, the familiar heat of his body seeping into you. With your ear resting right above his steadily beating heart, you finally let yourself relax a bit more and trust in him.

He led you a bit longer until gradually, he became slower, coming to a stop, and the two of you simply stood in the room, holding each other. Lucifer let go of your hand and cupped your cheek instead, tipping your face upward to meet his gaze.

“I love you,” he whispered into the small space between you, his garnet-red eyes brimming with warmth as he regarded you tenderly and you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach. No matter how many times you had heard these words from him, it still made your pulse race and your knees weak.

“And I love you,” you muttered in response, closing the remaining distance. When his warm lips met yours, he tightened his grip on you marginally, pressing you even closer as if he never wanted to let you go and you let him, melting into Lucifer’s all-encompassing embrace.

After a few moments you pulled away, needing to catch your breath, and he used the opportunity to press light kisses on the corner of your mouth, cheek and temple, making you giggle. He laughed faintly, placing his lips on your forehead, then he withdrew, taking your hands in his and kissing your knuckles as well. The flush on your face grew more pronounced and you sheepishly averted your gaze.

“Now, now, none of that,” he murmured, tilting your head back towards him with a delicate grasp on your jaw. “There you go, that’s better.”

Lucifer looked at you, his eyes crinkling as he smiled fondly, pecking your heated cheek once again before pulling you with him to his bed. Lying on the mattress, he tugged on your hand until you laid down next to him, and almost like it was second nature to him, he wrapped his arms around you to draw your body closer to his. You nestled your face into the crook of his neck, the skin cool against your blush.

He hummed contentedly, tucking your head underneath his chin while he held you securely, tangling his legs with yours; there was no way you could move away, even if you wanted to.

There was nowhere else you’d rather be.

[valiantstarlights]

[Fae!Dream and Vampire!Hob AU]

For @gabessquishytum and wing anon 🖤 I've had this in my notes for a couple of weeks, but now seems to be a good time to share it. 😊

Fun fact, this was inspired by these lines from Baby, It's Cold Outside: "I wish I knew how / (Your eyes are like starlight now) / To break this spell"

Don't ask. The weather was 30°C+ outside when I typed this up. 😂

CW: the tiniest amount of spice, and Dream and Hob being insane about each other as usual.

Fae!Dream runs away from home in the middle of winter and ends up on the wrong side of the forest. He has never been here before. The trails are winding and changes directions when he isn't looking, and the trees are indifferent to his plight, refusing to point him towards the fae side of the forest. 'We are too sleepy,' they say. 'Fuck off.'

Soon, though, he comes upon a castle, and he can see that there's light inside. Snow is already falling pretty hard by then, and Dream is so desperate for warmth and shelter that he knocks on the imposing front doors.

It takes a while for someone to answer, but Dream waits. It's a huge castle. He's about to knock again when the door opens and a handsome vampire peeks his head out. When he sees Dream, shivering and hunched over, lips almost blue, he hurriedly opens the door wide and ushers him in.

Dream enters the castle. Despite everything he has learned in his long, long life.

He knows he has to tread carefully. It's common knowledge that fae and vampires don't get along. But he also knows how important inviting someone inside is to vampires, and he doesn't exactly have a choice. He has two options, and they are: 100 percent chance of freezing to death on one hand, and 50 percent chance of being murdered by a vampire on the other.

Although...now that he's looking, he thinks the vampire looks nice, actually. He's currently talking about getting Dream warmed up in front of a fire and getting him some soup, then apologizing right after because there won't be garlic in the soup.

Dream thinks his voice sounds lovely.

The vampire keeps his promises. Soon, Dream is warm in front of a fireplace, eating creamy vegetable soup. The vampire talks about how he made the soup, and Dream can tell that he's just as nervous as having a fae in his home. But Dream senses no falsehood in his words or in his manners.

Dream is so fucking charmed by him that he (unthinkingly) asks him his name. And then realizes his mistake one second later when the vampire's open features shutter close and his muscles tense.

"My name is Dream," Dream offers. He knows he should not give his name. Not his true one, anyway. And yet he does.

If the vampire's goal is to hurt him, he does not need Dream's true name for that. Dream is still weak from running and escaping his bodyguards. If the vampire wants to hurt him, he'll be too weak to fight back.

"Sure," the vampire says, and...yeah, he's right to be suspicious. 'Dream' isn't exactly one of the top 100 baby names for male fae babies. Lord and Lady Endless knew what they were doing when they named their children. "You can call me Hob."

Hob.

His name doesn't taste like a lie, but Dream knows it's not his real name. It's fine. He likes 'Hob.'

"Thank you for offering me shelter," Dream says. He knows he shouldn't show gratitude or else it will bite him in the ass in the future. He does so anyway. "I was running away from home."

He knows he is under no obligation to speak the truth in its purest form. He has learned how to mislead and twist his words in a way that is still true, but volunteers less information. He does so anyway.

Hob is looking at him intensely, like he is also trying to figure Dream out. "May I ask why?"

And so the whole story falls out of Dream's mouth. It's the first time he has ever talked to anyone about how he is being treated at home, but Hob is respectful and lets him talk. Hob is nice and pours him a glass of water when his voice become hoarse.

Hob is lovely because when Dream starts to break down in the end, telling him all about the entire business with the Burgesses, he takes out a handkerchief and wipes Dream's tears away himself.

"I'm so sorry about everything that has ever happened to you," Hob says in the end, when Dream realizes that he is on Hob's lap, being held. It feels nice. He wants to snuggle up further, but his manners prevent him from doing so. "But I'm glad you've left them for good."

That makes Dream pause, and he shakes his head. "I have not. Technically, I am still under their protection." He looks outside to see heavy snowflakes still drifting down, and an occasional wind gusting through. "I still have to go home."

Hob looks out the window and then back to him incredulously. "In this weather?"

"I have to," Dream insists. "If not..."

"If not?"

Dream looks down at his lap. At Hob's handkerchief that was somehow now in his hands. It's a pretty cream color with the initials R.G. embroidered on the corner. Dream does not think what the initials mean because he doesn't want to pry. Hob's true name is his business alone. But he likes the handkerchief. Perhaps he can keep it as a souvenir of his time at the castle of the handsome vampire. It would be his most prized possession. He will not draw attention to it so Hob will forget to ask him to return it. "If not," Dream says, "I will die before the season turns."

Hob inhales sharply, and then he's clasping Dream's arms. "Is that a fae thing?"

Dream nods miserably. It's how they lost Destruction. And how Dream will be lost, if he doesn't get back. He hopes Death will take care of Jessamy for him.

"Is there no loophole for that?" Hob asks, looking frantic. "There must be something. Like...I don't know, like a transfer of protection?"

Hob must be a very young vampire for him not to know the rules. But Dream knows the rules by heart, and all the loopholes as well, from hundreds of years trying to bend them. And the only way...

"Oh."

"Oh?" Hob echoes. "Is there a way to save you after all?"

There is, but--

He could not possibly--

"I have to leave," Dream announces, and regretfully gets off of Hob's lap and starts walking away.

"What? Why?" Hob asks, standing up himself and following him. "Do you have to go on a quest for some item or something? Stay the night. There's literally a blizzard--"

"I cannot!" Dream shouts.

Hob, shocked by Dream's outburst, holds his hands up peaceably. "Alright," he says gently. "May I ask why?"

Dream bites his lip and says nothing.

"Tell me," Hob begs. "Please. I want to help."

Dream shakes his head. Nobody wants to help. Randall had tried to trap him against his will. Alexander was too afraid of his father and brother to help Dream escape and had only pointed him deeper into their house. Dream almost didn't make it.

Hob exhales. Not out of impatience, but out of a decision reached. "Look," he says, hands still open in a gesture of peace. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I really do want to help you. I know a thing or two about being trapped in a situation I do not want to be in, and I wouldn't want anyone else to experience that. So...I would like you to know my name."

Dream gapes at him. A vampire willingly giving his own true name to a fae? It's practically unheard of. It's a trick. It's--

Hob takes a deep breath and says, "My name is Robert Gadling."

'R.G.' The handkerchief is his. Dream's fingers tingle at this new information.

There is a change that happens, when someone tells a fae their true name voluntarily, knowing exactly what they're getting into. It's a different kind of change than when their name is tricked out from them.

If their name is tricked out of them, a thin string, only visible to the fae, connects the being to the fae they gave their name to, as a sign of possession.

But when someone tells a fae their true name the way Hob--Robert Gadling, just did, they will look more real to the fae. More tangible.

And a more tangible Robert Gadling, a kind and handsome vampire who would open his doors to a fae, feed them, keep them warm, and want to help them save their life? All the while smelling of nothing but sincerity?

"Tell me," Hob, Robert, says again. "I want to help you."

Dream suddenly hungers for him. And his sudden yearning to make Hob his is not conducive to the conversation. "You--"

"Please," he says. "Unless there's something preventing you to? More of your fae rules?" He looks contemplatively at the space between them. "Do I have to kneel?"

No. Yes. Lie and make him kneel.

"If I stay," Dream says faintly, the words tumbling out of his mouth without his conscious consent, "my parents' protection will slowly pass to my current host."

Hob looks alarmed at that, probably wondering how many hours it has been since Dream has arrived. "How slowly?"

"A week at most."

The answer, of course, is much more complicated than that. In the case of the Burgesses, Dream still has his parents' protection at the end of Day 5, when he finally escaped. In Unity Kincaid's case, she was so in love with Desire that it only took a day for her parents' protection to fade.

But with the way things are going between him and Hob, and with how fast Dream is prone to falling in love, his parents' protection will most likely fade after three days. At most.

"So stay," Hob says, as if it were that simple. He is still so young. He doesn't know what he is offering. "If you haven't noticed yet, the castle is entirely empty, aside from the castle's spirit itself. It takes care of itself and was kind enough to open its doors for me when I rose from the dead. And if it can offer me, a no-good vampire who used to be a highwayman, a home, then who am I to not offer you my protection as well?"

'Highwayman' is a term that cannot be more than 300 years old. Dream is robbing the cradle.

"I am saying," Dream says slowly, "that if you are to offer me your protection, once my parents' protection has faded, you would be considered my husband. The fae will consider us married."

Hob blinks. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh,'" Dream cannot help but say mockingly. "That is why I must leave."

But Hob just gestures to the windows helplessly, begging him to see sense at the sight of the howling winds that are thankfully muffled by the thick castle walls. "In this weather?"

"I must."

"A night."

"What?"

"Stay for the night," Hob begs. "The weather might be better tomorrow. And if so, I will give you my thickest coat and help you get back to fae land myself. If...if you are afraid of me, I will stay here in the study, and you may choose any room you'd like to stay in for the night."

Dream stares at him, and ignores the way his body is pleasantly tingling all over, but especially between his legs.

Faes are not good. They are greedy creatures who will take the entire dish when presented with a bite.

And in the face of Robert Gadling's kindness and consideration...

Dream walks up to Hob and grabs him by the collar of his dressing gown. If Hob is willing to give him a coat, then Dream will steal all his clothes for himself as well. If Hob is willing to offer him his protection, then Dream will cast his own on him and name him husband without bothering to wait for his parents' protection to fade. If Hob has shown him kindness for an hour, Dream will want him for the rest of their life.

"Kiss me," he says. Demands. Begs. He doesn't know anymore. All he knows is that if Hob does not kiss him, he will cry.

Hob looks baffled. "What...will that accomplish, exactly? If I may ask?"

Dream groans in frustration and stamps his feet. "I will be kissed," he says. "I will know what you taste like, and you will know mine. Our lips will be thoroughly acquainted and we will feel our tongues push wetly against each other. Is that not enough of an accomplishment for you?"

"Sounds like you want more than just a kiss, your highness," Hob says, but his gaze and his voice are lower now, which is exactly what Dream wants.

"I am not a prince," Dream tells him honestly. Always with honesty. "But I do want more than just a kiss from you. With the generosity you have shown me, with you telling me your name, if you do not kiss me, I will simply waste away and perish."

"Well, we can't have that," Hob says. "Not after I just saved you from freezing to death."

"No, we cannot," Dream agrees. "So kiss me, Robert Gadling." His true name on Dream's tongue tastes like sunlight. "Kiss me and protect me and make me yours right now."

Hob's eyes are dancing as he brushes a lock of hair away from Dream's face and tucks it behind his ear. "You're a greedy little fae, aren't you?"

"And you are still not kissing me, you stubborn vampire."

"I can't believe this is how my evening turned out," Hob chuckles, and touches their foreheads together. "I must have gone insane the moment I saw you. I would normally offer to court someone first before the topic of marriage can even be considered."

Dream pecks Hob's dimpled chin, impatient. He has a slight stubble that would feel wonderful against Dream's thighs. "I am not human. Or another vampire. I am a fae. And if you do not kiss me right now, I will go out in that snowstorm and--"

"Alright, you sweet impatient thing," Hob says, "No need for such threats." And finally dips his head down to touch their lips chastely.

Dream would have none of that, however, and surges upwards, intent on devouring him. Their sharp canines clack against each other, but it does not deter them.

"Are we insane?" Hob asks when Dream has to take a breath. It's so unfair that Dream has to breathe when Hob does not. "To do this right after we just met? Tell me truly."

"Yes," Dream answers honestly. "I do not know of anyone who consummated their coming together as one on the very day they met."

"Consummating, hm?" Hob's thumb presses against his hipbone when he pulls Dream closer to him. "We can do that."

"Yes," Dream agrees. "Right now. Please. Everything."

And Hob does just that.

--

His parents' protection fades even before Hob could fuck him, but he's too preoccupied by the feeling of Hob's stubble on his thighs to notice.

--

In the morning, Hob presents him with the most beautiful obsidian ring he has ever seen, and Dream immediately says yes before Hob could even ask the question.

--

"For the record," Hob says one night after they finished fucking in the library, "I was fully intending on lending you all my thick coats that first night. You looked so cold I was hesitant to even take off your clothes."

Dream snuggles up to him and drapes one leg over Hob's deliciously hairy thighs. "That would not have worked," he says, certain. "I would have simply taken off all my clothes and accepted nothing from you except your most translucent nightgowns to cover my nakedness."

"You will seduce a vampire? Didn't you tell me that our kind do not get along?"

Dream bites him gently on the shoulder with his smaller fangs.

"I would not seduce a vampire," he says haughtily. "I have met some before, and found none of them pleasing. It is you I would seduce. The man I have decided would be mine forever as my husband."

Hob kisses his forehead, and Dream could feel the foolish smile on his lips. "Who is a vampire."

"Shush, Robert Gadling," he says, unable to stop himself from smiling as well.

[tarragonthedragon]

so I'm in the office when I hear it. the EIC, in the corner, my manager's manager, lights up the batsignal and voices a cry for aid:

"is anyone here who speaks Welsh?"

immediately, all heads turn to Charles' desk. Charles is Welsh. Charles takes several days to recover from the shock every time someone on a National Trust podcast mispronounces Llanidloes. surely Charles will answer the call.

Charles, the bloody nerve of him, is on Annual Leave to spend the Easter holidays with his son.

at this point I realise that several heads, including my manager's, are turning to me.

I do not speak Welsh.

I was brought up by a Welsh speaker, my grandmother, but given that we live in London and noone else in the family speaks Welsh, I only really picked up the most basic of family pleasantries. I can say cheers and goodnight, I can offer and order hot beverages, and I can answer the six questions people immediately ask when they find out you speak even a little bit of Welsh (the answer to all of these is as far as I can tell, yes but nobody says that. yes but it's baby talk. yes but it was a marketing scam. you know the ones)

I also have a master's degree in, amongst other things, medieval Welsh. as attention turns to me, I weigh up the possibility that the EIC needs someone to urgently translate Culhwch ac Olwen into modern English.

it seems unlikely. however, my CV says I have basic Welsh, and I need this job, so I head to the EICs desk with the thudding tread of someone bound for the gallows

further context-- 90% of my job is combing through business documents for aside phrases indicating business changes. this takes a lot of cross-referencing and close reading. I find this hard in my native language. I find it extremely hard in languages I'm fluent in. the idea of doing it in Welsh, a language where my conversation options are limited to "good morrow sir! the English advance on our left flank!" or "Mr fishy likes to swim", fills me with fathomless dread. in my head, I am writing my application to the next job.

the EIC turns a page around on the desk. "how do you pronounce this?"

I look at the word, relief beginning to sink in. Welsh is phonetic. even if I don't know this word, I can read it.

I do a double take. "Dai?"

"are you sure?" the EIC asks. "should I call Charles on his holidays just to check?"

"it's Dai," I repeat.

"it's not different if it's Welsh?"

I have absolutely no idea what she thinks the Welsh are doing to innocent vowel sounds that the English are not already doing. "it's Dai. like Dai Llewellyn."

"it's the same every time?"

"... yes"

"oh good." the EIC puts away her sheet and lets me go back to my desk.

as I sit down, the news editor at the next desk looks up. "so," he asks. "is it true that the Welsh for jellyfish is