#i feared for that mans LIFE in the first gif lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thelastofhyde · 1 year

Text

i. the likeability paradox.

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing living under bill and frank's roof, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.

warnings. no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, slow burn ( i have several oneshots planned for this couple ), unrequited love ( except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion ), pining, poor communication no communication, no seriously joel is down bad it's actually disgusting and highkey 🚩toxic🚩 but luckily red is your favourite colour, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel ( if you squint ), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap ( reader implied late-20s ), descriptions of canon-typical violence, smut ( oral- f receiving, fingering, degradation, panty stealing, hair pulling, dirty talk, dubcon due to intoxication, joel kinda gives her a wedgie at some point and honestly i don’t know what i was hoping to achieve with that, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse ). reader is a) hinted at being shorter than joel but it’s not central to the plot and b) described as lithe but the meaning intended is graceful, not thin!

word count. 12.9k

hyde’s input. half-way through, the regret of choosing to write this from joel's pov started to settle in but lmao i was too far in to not commit to the bit. don't come at me for the fact the timeline or events may not seem plausible with canon, i just wanna write this silly little depraved fic about joel in peace :( anyway, enjoy my first attempt at writing for tlou, forming a prayer circle rn in hopes that this doesn't flop because i will cry and you will hear about it

taglist. @kayleezra @newavenger + add yourself to the taglist here !

read on ao3 ! ( capitalization available )

distaste is not new in the life of joel miller.

in particular, one that is loaded, aimed and fired directly at him. he is not a likeable guy, often by choice and rarely by accident. the years of pain from a bleeding wound have now scarred over into nothing but an empty shell of the man that once was, from a world that no longer is, and he’s tried little to fill himself back up.

if anything, he’s made himself more empty.

rid himself of feelings, that which saves him the weakness of appearing sympathetic. discarded the need for luxuries, for which he’d scarcely cared for prior to his world ending. lay to rest what was left of the optimist inside him, leaving behind the danger of hope for it to rot with the rest of the infected.

an apocalyptic world brings out all sides of man that one would never dare to engage with in normal civilisation. joel learned swiftly that he was built to endure, quick to evolve and adapt to the new world order. the man who once worked his hardest to keep the peace among his neighbours, smiling that little bit wider on days he’d catch them scowling to themselves in hopes of brightening one part of their day for even a simple moment, would be at odds with the man who wears a heavy layer of enjoyment when met with the scowling glances and the hushed voices, all the watch out for that miller guys passed between cowardly members of fedra and the keep away from mr. miller's lawns spoken harshly from mother to child becoming music to his failing ears.

this plague of fear-driven dislike keeps him alone, how he likes to be, no one to lose and nothing to be taken. somewhere along the years the idea of safety in numbers has morphed into an illusion, something people say and never truly mean, to distract themselves from a reality more bitter than a snowstorm: in times of survival, people become dead-weight.

“so that’s all i am to ya, huh? dead-fucking-weight?” his brother’s voice still echoes in that damned space he calls a home, weeks or months or years since the day he’d departed for something else, somewhere else, leaving joel to do what joel does best: endure.

somehow, silence was easier than telling the man he’d taught to tie a shoelace, to shave his beard, to tune a guitar that he was the dead-weight, doomed to drag all those who remained too close down into his pit of despair.

she was an exception, his tess, buried 5-feet-under in her own swell of darkness, nothing but the tips of her fingers stretched out above her head to feel the sun upon her skin and keep her from going that last foot deeper. they’d made a home for themselves in one another, one where he keeps them fed, and she keeps them safe, and neither of them keeps the place clean.

she never asks for more, and he never offers it, both content to survive without the weight of affection smothering them. contrary to the belief of any misfortunate soul who’s encountered the pair within the quarantine zone, she is the one who holds the leash, tugging joel along close by her heel and keeping him from wandering off into the wild to surrender himself to a feral lifestyle.

which lands him here, sat at a table playing happy family, each time he dares to snark out a few words being met with the sharp kick of tess’ foot against his shin.

“... and then,” frank struggles over a cough, so excited in his story-telling that he fails to separate taking a breath from taking a sip of his wine. with a roll of eyes and a disapproving grunt, bill’s no more than two seconds away from clapping down on his back, urging the other man’s wind-pipes to unblock and welcome back airflow. “otis dragged his muddied self over the whole house. we were finding paw-prints for days!”

joel’s unamused, too keen to think of what a nuisance that would be. as if incapable of feeling the buzzing energy of disinterest, the german shepherd drops its head further up his lap, begging for a morsel of anything that sits atop the table.

“which means i was cleaning paw-prints for days.” bill, the only one at the table besides himself who wears the looks of a cynic, grumbles out before shovelling what remains on his plate into his mouth.

frank is quick to shush him.

“i’m sorry, again, bill,” he doesn’t mean to break eye-contact from the mutt at his thigh, but the voice calls to him like a siren calls to a ship in the night, like a flame dances and seduces a moth into its brightly burning touch of death, a spotlight in the dark which promises- or threatens- more light to come. “i’d no clue there was a storm coming till we were already a good few miles away, and there was nowhere to take cover to wait it out.”

there you sit, parallel to him.

the sun rests lower in the sky as time carries you all into the late noon, its rays a beacon of light bursting out just behind your head, painting you in the glow of the golden hour and staining a mockery of a halo above you. it hurts his eyes, this brightness that you so easily bask in, forcing him to squint and deepen the frown on his face.

you catch him with his sights on you, at some point, and the smile you meet his scowl with has him cursing at the sun, and the moon, and every star that sits between.

the threat of a great war looms in the air as you rush to rise up and help clear the table of the remnants left behind- none of which joel can account for, mouth to keen and body too starved to skip out on enjoying the mundane luxury of a fresh, home-cooked meal. the battle ends swiftly as you surrender to bill’s hardened stare, and frank’s disapproving head-shakes, and tess’ own plan of action to simply force you down back into the seat you’d been sat in- the one you always sit in.

“you, sit. no one should have to clean up the food they made.”

they get no fight out of him when they insist he’d done enough catching the so-called food.

silence casts its shadow over the table, dampening the light and painting you both in a mockery of greyed tones- truthfully, it is the disappearance of the sun hind a large cloud that causes such a thing.

being alone, with you, is something joel’s never mastered. the affliction of your presence is so much greater when there’s no one else to balance out your natural shine- the kind that has his head spinning and his cock aching-, no one but him.

were he not a sick bastard, he’d try harder to not make you sad.

something bumps his hands, ripping him out of his moral self-condemnation. the dog meets his gaze, eyes a widened mess of puppy-dog pleading that punctuates its existence with an impatient whine.

just like your owner, he finds himself thinking and not saying- never saying-, yet to find your bark.

the ball’s a sticky mess of slobber and dirt, and joel touches it all the same, throwing it up in the air once, then twice, before tossing it across the yard. he’s slumped back in his chair by the time he registers the dog’s departure, a ball of dark fluff bouncing its way across the garden, and all the man can think is fuck, he’ll be feeling the effect of that throw on his shoulder come the morning.

the pain is not enough to stop him from tossing the ball again, and once more, and then yet again, sending the dog in a never ending loop of chase, grab, retrieve- a parallel to his life of wake, survive, sleep.

“he likes you,” you never leave things the way he wishes them to be, bursting his bubble with the vocal reminder of your presence.

as if on queue, prompted by your addressing of it, the dog drops its interest in joel, and the ball, and the chasing, tail wagging uncontrollably by the time it reaches your side. standing on its hind legs, it collapses the front of itself into your waiting lap, and joel watches how you wrap your arms so easily around something that could cause you harm.

to envy a creature that licks it own shit off its ass is a new low for joel.

“thinkin’ he might like ya more, sol.” the nickname rolls off his tongue with ease, the safer option than uttering your name, a vice and virtue he’s only permitted himself in idealistic fantasies that play out in his own troubled thoughts.

“most people do,” whether you mean to make it seem like you’re degrading his very existence or not, he’s unsure, but it rouses a chuckle out of him.

he takes note of how you don’t protest the name he’s branded you with, not like how you’d fought tooth and nail against it every other visit he and tess have made.

“you’ve got a whole load in common, you know? i think that’s got something to do with his fascination-”

“how the hell’s a man like me got somethin’ in common with a four-legged mutt?” there he goes again, making that smile slip down your cheeks with a simple use of his voice. it helps as much as it hurts, frown loosening up and eyes no longer strained beneath the bright shine of your visceral optimism.

“well, you’re both... hairy,” he restrains himself from reacting, washing down a laugh with the help of the dregs of wine that lay collecting at the bottom of his glass. he’s let his appearance grow more rugged over the past few months and your noticing of this brings an unwanted warmth to his aching bones. “and have the most kickass women in your lives to stop you from dying.”

he’s interested to know what life would be like under your protection.

discovering the answer brings the threat of pain, and loss, and an openness to vulnerability he can not afford himself, so he takes the safer option: “‘s easy stayin’ safe when you live in this fantasy land. doubt your mutt’d last any longer than a day out in reality.”

with you as its protector.

he doesn’t say it and, still, it somehow hovers in the space between you both, a heavy, syrupy implication that slips down your throats and threatens to suffocate you. he watches you choke on it, coughing on his cruelty and feigning it to be a simple clearing of your throat. your eyes glue themselves on the dog, delicate fingers smoothing over the well-groomed hairs down its back.

survival has turned him into a man who knows when to seize an opportunity, and this is one he takes with both hands, basking in the simplicity of staring, watching, observing you without the crime of being caught.

but i could keep you safe.

he toys with the danger of uttering such a thing aloud. it’s not the first time he’s thought it. truthfully, he’s unsure when it first nestled its way into his mind.

his memory, which ails him more than it aids him these past years, would have him believe it was way before the dog had even appeared, back when it was just bill, frank and you. a few whiskeys in and a campfire lit for you all to gather for warmth around- why you’d all chosen to sit out in the gardens on a winter’s night joel remains unsure of to this day-, it was frank who’d prompted the question. “where were you all when... this started?” tess went first, braver than most people he knows, sharing stories of a version of herself he’ll never meet.

he never imagined her working in a bank.

bill, with reluctance, took the next step, keeping his account factual and to the point. “was shit-faced drunk and getting my stomach pumped.” he’d been quick to skim over the story of the young nurse who’d guided him to safety out the hospital, losing her own life in exchange for his survival. she was barely out of school. “i knew her dad, bit of an asshole, but boy, was he proud of his baby for graduating.” frank couldn’t let him swim too deep in his thoughts, afraid a current of guilt would trap him and drown him in the depths of it, and so he raised his own voice and began his tale.

joel had always been a good listener. being a single parent to a teenage girl required him to be, or so... she would have had him believe, nights at the table set for two spent listening to the playground he-said-she-said gossip. years later and he at last prefers things this way, a rare gem of safety found in the act of saying nothing and hearing everything- that his hearing will allow. all this to say, he’d tried his best to pay attention to frank’s impassioned retelling of his heroic misadventures that had lead him to the unintentional arms of bill.

but you weren’t smiling.

he watched you, you watched the dancing flames, face stoic and drained of that natural shine his eyes had only just started to be able to gaze upon without the threat of being blinded by such light.

the desire crept up on him like a tiger to it’s prey, hiding in the far off bushes until the opportunity to strike presented itself and the feeling lunged for joel’s back, gripping him in its claws and piercing his ribcage with its gnashing teeth. with each bite, it plagued him with the delusions of a wandering mind, imagination left free to run laps around his head with visions of you from another life, another time, another set of people gathered round a dining table. he’d wanted to hear about the ones you’d lost, and comfort you with all the things he hated hearing (“you’ll keep ‘em alive, in spirit and memory!” “those we remember never truly die!”). he’d needed to bend a knee and swear a vow to be the one to stand between you and death, to fight for your survival on your behalf. ‘could keep you safe. there, then, the thought did cross his mind.

he’d washed it down with a swig of lukewarm, flat beer.

“-could fix it, you know. i’m good with my hands.”

he almost chokes on his own breath.

i'm good with my hands, it swims in circles round his mind, replaying and echoing off the walls of his skull. and he knows- oh, how he knows- that he’ll be replaying it in those moments of solitude for the next few nights, weeks, months- however long it may take till he forgets the way such thought-provoking words sound on your lips.

“what?” the question leaves him harsher than he intends, drawing an enemy line between you both with the foul sound of it. in the corner of his eye, he swears he sees you flinch backwards, physically recoiling from the disdain-filled bullet he fires in your direction.

the mutt in your lap retreats, hackles rising as it turns to face joel once more.

he sees it, in the dog’s brutal protectiveness over you, this similarity you claim exists.

“your watch, it’s broken.”

“hadn’t noticed,” he’s retreating into his own space now, mentally and physically, scraping the legs of his chair against the ground as his mind works to strengthen those walls that threaten to crumble so often in your presence. “don’t need ya to fix it.”

you pull a face, brows furrowing and lips pouting. confusion.

“don’t you want to know the time?” you ask, as if time could ever be relevant in a rotten world where down is up, and up is down, and joel miller is not the overprotective father to the most delicate creature the god he’d stopped believing in had gifted him, just to force him to watch as life snatched her away.

“i don’t keep it for the time.”

you smile, and this one’s a killer, piercing straight through the cages of his ribs to carve itself into his withered heart.

the german shepherd relaxes with the rebrightening of your aura, shaking out the tension from its body before sauntering its way back over to joel, ball in mouth and tail wagging excitedly, as if it hadn’t just contemplated having its first taste of human flesh.

he’s throwing the toy in a matter of minutes, enjoying the repeated run and retrieve game, and the renewed silence that comes along with it. nature sings its tune with rustling leaves, cawing crows, and pounding paws. it’s almost so easy to leave your offer, your words, his broken watch in the rearview mirror of this otherwise pleasant afterno-

“ooh, so there’s a story to tell!” you’re blinding him with your excitement, lithe limbs leaning forward in your own chair in an attempt to reach closer, table between you be damned. “i’ve never heard any of the joel miller backstory, this should be-”

“i get that likin’ everyone is your thing, but would’ya give it a rest?”

nature falls silent.

skies grow dull.

you juggle sadness.

there’s a crash that comes from within the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of tess’ sailor mouth, cursing whichever delicate dish she’s broken into smithereens with the help of her accident prone hands. the dog’s lain itself down upon the grass, ball between it’s paws as it begins to bite, and chew, and break it under the pressure of its canines.

joel wonders what the mutt’s practicing for.

“sure,” then, with the return of your voice, all sounds resume, harmony upon planet earth once more. only, the gates have been shut in his face and joel finds himself forced to watch as everything unfolds from the outside, an unwelcome visitor forced out into exile with the fungal freaks and the inhumane. “but you’re wrong. i don’t like everyone.”

“‘s that so.” his eyes roll. the hole he’s dug for himself sinks deeper, casting you higher up on the pedestal joel will always be wiling to place you on.

“yeah,” you’ve risen out your chair, gifting him the view of how the fabric of your dress dances above your knee, a final twist of the knife in his heart that he lets you pierce his flesh with each time he surrenders himself to your existence. “i don’t like you, joel.”

the hours come and go, but your words linger like a bad tattoo, shamefully engraved into his skin and banning him to a life of noticing the horrendous thing each time he passes by his own reflection.

we’re staying, for tonight. tess had called the shots, and he’s been learning not to argue when she gives him one of her stern looks, biting down on the comments he’d wanted to make of the dangers of being out of the qz for too long, which would likely earn him nothing but a shrug and the reminder that they both were off duty the following day

the nights are beginning to grow darker as winter grows nearer, leading bill and frank- mostly frank- to excuse themselves to bed, bidding the two visitors with a final reminder to make themselves comfortable in whichever room they can find. if only joel could remember which door leads to yours.

the two women in his life remain awakened, passing a bottle of wine between each other as you both converse back and forth, catching each other up on one another’s life, satiating that craving for mundane gossip.

tess recounts the scandal of the poor boy who’d been caught sleeping with a fedra agent’s wife, you whisper that frank and bill had been fighting again recently. the memory of being ambushed by raiders- now dead raiders- comes to life once more with the help of tess’ voice, while the promise to uncover what exactly bill and frank were hiding from you as of late is sealed in your words.

at some point, he lays himself to rest atop the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed over his chest, ignoring the squeeze of the fabric over his forearms as the too-small flannel struggles to contain the muscles forged by the need to survive. at another point, he’s lulled to sleep by the lullaby of your mingling voices, a safety blanket draping itself over his tired body and enveloping him in the comforts of having that which he struggles to care so little for, so near him once more.

-n’t tell me you’re a virgin.

the words are muffled as the man slips back into consciousness, a frown coming to rest on his forehead as he battles against the demons urging him awake, the nightmarish memories of car crashes, and soldiers, and so much red chasing him away from the sleep he longs for so badly.

a protest rings true in his head and his ears.

was gonna say. knew you were young, but not that young.

it’s the sound of your laughter that awakens him fully, saving him from the tortures of his own mind.

“god, no! me and my ex, we... a few times. it was alright, i guess. i just, yeah, there’s not much to miss.”

he’s unwilling, unable to reopen his eyes, curling in on himself as he rolls over onto his side. a groan slips past his lips, one he’s hoping tess and you will dismiss as nothing more than the sleep-filled rambles of a dreaming man.

neither of you make any acknowledgement of him.

“not much to miss?! sweet christ, you’re breaking my fuckin’ heart.” he’s learnt over time the common traits of a drunken tess. each word becoming an exclamation, curses becoming more frequent, and that irritating habit she’s picked up of imitating his own accent. there’s no need to bother opening his eyes, joel’s already sure he’ll find his companion with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “i’d give up a hand for some head!”

you must do something, pull a face or shake your head, for the sound of tess’ renewed shock fills the room. he wonders, as the sound bounces off the walls, how late into the night it’s grown.

late enough that the cicadas singing outside the window are now accompanied by the hoots of an owl.

“you’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

“it bores me!”

“it bores you!?”

the couch beneath joel creaks as he shifts once more, turning his back on you both as the ability to contain his laughter grows harder with each word you exchange and each gasp tess gives. the last thing he needs is to be caught eavesdropping on your sex life like some dirty old pervert.

the crueler part of his mind replays your voice, i don’t like you, and the knife twists in his guts this time.

you like tess. love her, even. it’s been that way since the first time you’d met the duo, eyes giving one look over the woman before the smile on your face grew even wider, voice as sweet as honey sighing out finally someone with a pair of boobs, i’m bored of the sight of my own. joel’d gotten caught up in the thought of how he’d never tire of such a sight that he’d failed to acknowledge your greeting towards him, catching just the moment you drew your outstretched hand back to your side and offered him an understanding smile.

maybe that was the moment you decided you didn’t like him.

“must not have been doin’ ya right,” the bottle of southern comfort is working its wonders on the older woman, accent growing further and further from its true nature with each glass she nurses. joel hears the faint sound of ice smacking against glass and knows it must be yours. you’ve always struggled with liquors, slipping as many ice cubes as you can manage into a glass in hopes that they’ll eventually melt and water the alcohol down. it’s oddly endearing, you think no one has noticed. “this fella of yours.”

joel has no right to despise the idea of you and some fella.

he does so, regardless.

“well,” he imagines the shape of your meek smile and the way you shrug your shoulders. “we were each others firsts.”

“that’s no excuse! trust i left mine cryin’ into her pillow the first time i went down.” tess and he have a silent agreement to never speak of the nights joel would take refuge on their beaten-up couch while tess indulges herself between someone’s thighs in the bedroom. no discussing the sounds she pulls from her concubines, no addressing the wet patches left behind to stain their shared sheets, and definitely no speaking on how his hand winds up stained in his own cum.

you scoff and follow it up with a saccharine laced giggle, so sweet its bound to rot your teeth if you even attempt to hold it in. “what, are you offering your services?”

this he likes less than the image of you with some fella, the thought of having to lay upon a mattress on which tess had raised you to heaven while he once again remained locked out in the dark leaving his skin crawling with unwarranted rage.

“‘as sure as i am that you’re sweet all over, ‘fraid to tell you i like my women a little older than you.”

he knows he should do the same, should lust after those women his own age who shoot him carnal looks in the streets of the qz. it should be skin his own age that he longs to taste, and eyes who’ve seen as much as his own he wants to stare into, and lips as cruel as the ones he owns that he fights off the urges to kiss. but he can’t, and he won’t.

and you’re the one to blame.

you, with the glow of a thousand suns. you, with the hands that tend to flowers instead of corpses. you, with the gentle nature he’d have to spend the rest of his days fighting off every other living thing just to protect.

his own self being the first he’d need fight.

joel wonders what he’d missed in his hours- if it had even been so long- of rest, how the playground gossiping dissipated into reminiscing the pleasures of supple flesh and the sins of unfulfilling lovers. sleep steals him away once more before he can find the answers.

the next time he awakens, he’s drowning in a plight of cruel memories, a cold and brutal ocean of faces, places, and traces of the ephemeral sentiment of happiness he’d possessed once upon a time, back when the price of letting one’s guard down was not so high.

he’s learnt, with time, that losing her comes in waves. some small, meaningless little things, that ripple joel’s surface and coast gently over his dirt ridden skin. others, tsunamis. big, angry, all imposing. they’re born in ground-shaking explosions of grief, building speed, and height, and weight the closer they grow to crashing over him.

amidst the passing of time, he’s tried to keep himself busy in his awakened hours, to keep his mind occupied and avoid thinking about her too much. but the waves always come back, no matter how hard he tries to fight them or swim away from them. they catch him off guard, crashing over him when he least expects it. in the middle of a raid, lost in thought and standing ten inches deep in grime, blood, infected, and suddenly the weight of her absence will hit him like a ton of bricks.

the currents grow more violent whenever he closes his eyes.

this evening, it had been a minuscule wave, yet it’s damage still leaves him with sweat slicked skin. he reenters the land of the living choking on his own fear and shooting up-right, hardly registering his surroundings till his feet hit solid ground. the gentle, barely-there croon of a sinatra record punctuates the room alongside the dim glow of a lightbulb which flickers with the threat of expiring and leaving naught but the moonlight to wash over the dark of the night. across from him is tess, nursing a half-emptied cup against her chest and wearing tired eyes. snoring comes from below him, where joel finds he’s a mere foot away from having stepped upon the sleeping dog, curled in on itself and laying soundly by his side.

you take up no space of this room.

neither the dog nor the drunk pay him any mind as he pushes up onto his creaking knees, stretching out his limbs in a fight to undo the tension in his aching bod. languid steps carry him out into the hall, where he freezes under the self-questioning of where he’s going.

there are three answer to this: where he should, where he could, and where he would.

he should find himself a bedroom, perhaps be ostentatious enough to rid himself of those stale clothes and let the warmth of running water wash away the sins he’d committed throughout the day. a good night’s sleep, atop a mattress where springs do not dig into his back and the sheets are clean as could be, it would do him good.

he could head towards the kitchen, quench that thirst that he’s awoken with, cottonmouth and a headache to go with it too. perhaps he’ll find himself something to eat, indulge in the luxury of readily available food just this once, he’s sure frank wouldn’t mind. bill definitely would, but that’s not something he’ll need care about when he’s miles out and heading back to the qz.

he would try find you, open whichever door it is that leads into the haven that must be your bedroom. he imagines its clean, and organised, and smells of some syrupy lavender that is bound to nauseate him as he smothers his face into your bedsheets, eyes shut, and mind relaxed, the threat of those violent waves no concern to him as he anchors himself with an arm around your warm skin. skin he’s never felt, yet he stands firm in his belief it must be the most soothing thing to touch, as gentle and inviting as the heart it keeps safe within it.

i don’t like you, joel.

those words stop him from trying.

he tells himself it’s for the best.

with a mind of their own, his legs have made the choice for him and deliver him outside the opening to the kitchen. he swallows down a gulp of his own saliva at the prospect of a glass of water. the door’s already half-opened, and joel nearly thanks christ for it as the fear of waking anyone with the squeaking of the handle is eliminated. the darkness of the night encompasses the room, even with the moon’s shine reflecting off every surface it touches: the counters, the knife stand, the metal drawer handles, the refrigerator.

the refrigerator.

it’s open, a blue light shining out of it and illuminating anything it its proximity. a subtle beeping noise rings from it, and suddenly joel’s back in his thirties, dead-beat yet well-intentioned brother stealing the food off his own plate as he beckons his pre-teen daughter back into the kitchen.

keep leavin’ this open and it’s a job you’ll be gettin’ this summer, not a dog.

she never lived long enough to get either.

he catches something move beneath the artificial light. cautious at first, it’s all the more startling to find the object of his ire and the embodiment of his desire stood leaning back against the countertop, a glass full of orange liquid pressed to a mouth that parts and welcomes in the sugary sweet delight.

“why aren’t ya sleepin’?” the words rasp out his throat, catching and scratching on the parts of him that still yearn for something to wet his tongue with.

beneath the light, you shrug, “could ask you the same thing, texas.”

he curses tess for teaching you such a nickname.

he curses himself more for the way you saying it twists up his insides.

you’re teasing him, smile a little looser and eyes less focused than he’s used to seeing. whether you’re tipsy or simply delirious with exhaustion, joel remains unaware.

he grunts, daring to take a few steps further into the kitchen. the door behind him closes over and give the illusion of the space becoming smaller, tighter, more compact.

“i asked first.” you laugh, at him. full on chest-rumbling, hand over your belly, head thrown back- so abruptly it nearly crashes against the corner of the opened cabinet door. the corner of his mouth is curling upwards before he can catch himself. he hopes the refrigerator light shows less of him than it shows of you, bare legs, and messed hair, and pointed nipples all on display for his undeserving eyes. “‘s so funny, huh?”

“nothing, nothing,” he successfully fights off the urge to follow the drop of orange juice that spills down the side of your mouth, over your chin, down your neck, disappearing beneath the collar of your dress. perhaps he is not as successful as he believes. “just never heard the joel miller say something so childish. you’ve usually got your panties all in a bunch if someone so much as looks at you for too long.”

you make way as he inches closer, sliding yourself over to rest against the island counter. a fragrance of things he can’t quite pinpoint, but enjoys nonetheless, wafts in his face as he travels down the path to the sink. uncouth and unbothered, joel opens the tap and cups his hands beneath the stream of water.

“you know there’s a cupboard full of glasses right next to you, right?” you call out behind him as the man brings water to his dry lips, splashing and just about guiding his head beneath the stream. the thirst does not budge. he hums an acknowledgement of you, yet continues with his method.

by the time he switches the water off, you’ve made yourself busy, back facing him while you work at something atop the counter, a consistent chop-chop-chop filling the silence that settles between you both.

“i’m making soup,” you state, like there’s nothing quite more logical you could be doing at whatever-o’clock in the morning it is. “make sure you take some with you when you leave. tess said she’s been fighting off a cold the past few days, need you to keep her warm and fed for me.”

would you do the same for him, if you knew he’d been the one to catch that damned cold in the first place? four days of just about coughing up his lungs, and not a single soul- not even his tess- had offered soup, nor warmth, nor sympathy. he’d not needed it, until now, when he hears you gifting it to someone else.

i don’t like you, joel.

of course you would do the same. not because you care, nor because doing otherwise would way heavy on your conscious, but because you’re nice. nice in a way he’ll never be, has never been. patient, welcoming, comforting, warm. all words that spring to mind when one thinks of you. they violently oppose the closed-off, angry, dark cloud that had rolled in years ago and casted it’s shadow over joel’s entire persona.

he straightens his back, weight shifting from one foot to another as he contemplates you from behind. the sway of your dress as you move has him in a trance, beckoning him closer before he can even realise he’s taken a step. his hands drip water onto the floor in a rhythm, and the record player sings in the distance as a reminder of tess, and your sweet out-of-tune humming fills the empty kitchen with a brightness greater than the moon, but that’s not what joel hears.

i don’t like you, joel.

over and over, you taunt him without even trying, nailing the words into his head and heart, impaling him with your sweet condemnation. you’re not the first to say it, to his face or otherwise, yet you’re the first to evoke such a reaction out of him, to leave a lasting impression hours after you’d declared such a thing.

and, suddenly, joel’s angry. at you, at himself, at the sound of that damned knife in your hand slicing down onto the chopping board. the fog of his ire blurs his vision, rendering him to move blindly through the night.

only when he finds himself looming over you from behind does his vision clear.

a hand meets the curve of your hip and you gasp, leaving joel to wonder if it’s because the shock of his cold, damp touch or, simply, because it’s his touch. without a thought spared, he firms his grip, fingers squeezing tight enough he feels your flesh bulge between each one, a bruising promise joel gifts you.

you may leave your marks emotionally, but joel’s will always be physical.

“why,” he pulls in a breath, loading up the will to keep his voice a low rumble, a quiet disturbance in the night for no ears but your own to hear. “don’t ya like me?”

if not for the pause in your practiced movements, knife stilling midway through slicing a carrot, he’d believe you’re unaffected by his proximity. “why do you care?”

he scoffs, “i don’t.”

“hmm,” this hum is far less delightful than the way you’d been following along to whatever melody tess was playing in the living room. “sure sounds like you do.”

“yeah, well, i don’t,” he insists, and he swears he almost feels the way it only digs deeper the hole he’s created for himself.

joel knows he cares. it’s been burning at his skin and itching on his mind since the moment you’d welcomed yourself to a little bit of unfiltered honesty, dropping the perfectly poised and eternally polite mask you’d worn since the moment he’d first met you, an attitude he loathes as much as he anticipates surrounding himself with it each time he’s tugged along for the trek to bill and frank’s.

what joel doesn’t know is why he cares. there’s nothing to be desired about him, no traits to respect and certainly no looks to admire. he’s near crafted his entire being in a way that makes sure of this, the more undesirable his presence is, the less likely he is to be approached, be it by other people or fate itself.

maybe there was a part of him that had wrongfully imagined you being the exception.

instead, you’re stood barefoot in the latest of hours, knife working away the vegetables in front of you, dress sticking to skin beneath his damp hand, and you don’t like him.

not one bit.

joel grabs at your hips harder, his free hand curling round the shape of your left forearm. his feet shuffle forwards, until there comes a point where one would struggle to make out where you end and he begins. his chest pressed to your back, his muscular legs trapping your soft thighs, his forehead digging into the side of your head so intensely it threatens to shatter both your craniums and leave nothing but dust made by bones blown into smithereens.

he inhales, and finds you don’t smell of lavender.

“for the record,” he watches your movements over your shoulder, entranced with the back and forth sawing of the knife through unidentified vegetables. ‘s like how i sliced that raider’s throat, he thinks, and instantly regrets it. no part of him should ever be compared to you. “i don’t like ya either.”

he’s lying through his teeth, hoping you don’t notice.

the knife never ceases its movement. back and forth, back and forth. chop, chop, chop. blurs of greens, and oranges, and more greens cover the counter before you. it’s oddly soothing, this repeated and unbroken pattern, reminding joel of times he’d found comfort in the mundaneness of cooking a meal after an emotionally exhausting day. perhaps, this has the same affect on you, a momentary lifejacket to keep yourself afloat amongst the waves that haunt you awake.

the hand on your forearm travels, mind of its own, drawing up the shape of your shoulder with featherlight touches that contradict the way his nails dig deeper into the the skin you hide beneath the waistline of your dress.

“that’s not news,” you must think he’s blind to the hitch in your breath when his fingers slip over your pulse-point.

it’s his turn to respond with a hum.

“you only like yourself,” words more untrue have never been spoken before the man who’s every moment is spent drowning in his loses. his wandering touch halts. “a little selfish, if you ask me. but, that’s just what i think.”

this strikes a nerve. fury commands his hand into a fist and fingers find themselves tangled in the tresses of your hair. the realisation of how surprisingly soft it feels barely finishes registering when he’s pulling on it, dragging your head along with, till it lays flat on his puffing chest and your eyes stare up at him. “d’ya know what i think?”

even upside down, your beauty is striking.

“no, unlike you i don’t care what you think about-” joel tugs on your hair once more.

“i think you’re a brat. a silly little girl who thinks she can smile and get away with murder.” you could. he’d forgive you as you soak your hands in the blood you draw from him. knife in the heart, bullet through the brain, bat to the face, he’d slip away easily from this life if only to have you smile as he goes.

“you’re hurting me,” you whine, joel growls.

animalistic, beastly, a rabid animal sinking its claws into its defenceless prey. his gaze dances over your features, catching himself before he can sink deep into your captivating eyes, tracing the shape of your mouth, slipping down the peaks of your collarbones.

your dress- red, a colour joel miller will no longer associate with bleeding wounds and stained weapons- sits tight on your chest, squeezing the swell of your chest beneath the fabric, and gives away all your secrets.

“you like it,” he speaks in awe, unable to pull his eyes off the two stiff buds that poke against the red fabric.

“no, i don’-” dampness follows wherever his hand goes, fleeting as he makes the journey around your waist and up your side, crawling higher and higher to where he can feel your heart beating from within your chest. “joel.”

he retightens his grip on your hair, aiding you with the way your curve your spine and force yourself deeper into his uncaring, ungentle, enamoured touch. whoever joel had been in a past life must have moved mountains or performed miracles to grant him the luck to be holding you this way, the fingers he’d gifted with nothing but the cocking of guns and the feel of his own pulsating lust now expertly tweaking at one of your stiff nipples, all thoughts of the fabric scratching at your sensitive skin dissipating into the abyss as he realises you’re enjoying the pain.

“heard ya, earlier, in the living room,” at the time, he’d been mortified to be overhearing such intimate words between you and tess. the blood that insists on rushing to his crotch now wants you to know, to hear the admission of guilt be spoken from his own mouth. “ talkin’ bout your past.”

he doesn’t specify.

he doesn’t need to.

you give away your shock with parted lips, widened eyes, frozen eyelashes, pupils staring up at him like a wounded fawn he’s about to take his first bite out of and, hopefully, it won’t be the last one.

“tess turned you down,” the hand on your chest switches sides, donning your other breast with some much needed attention. his hand must still carry residue of the water, for you gasp and shut your eyes in the shock of his touch, your own fingers shooting up to scratch at his wrist. near convinced you mean to push him away, the pressure against his hand that pushes deeper into his unholy affection has him realising otherwise. “i wouldn’t.”

you say nothing. joel pulls harder.

“too bad i’m-” you cut yourself off as he presses himself closer to you, your poor hips bound to awaken with bruises from the counter he’s got you pressed against. with a distance so small he can hear your teeth grind, joel watches you like a hawk. the twitch in your brow, the flutter of your eyelids, the bobbing of your throat as you silence what he imagines would be an otherworldly kind of moan, a whine he’d let kiss his ears and wind up poisoning himself with the torture of it replaying in his head each waking moment till he kicks the bucket, once and for all. the want to see you fall apart evolves into a need. “too bad i’m not offering you the chance.”

joel miller is a hot blooded man, at his core, weak to emotions and vulnerable to the warmths of flesh. with notches on his bedpost and a tally of lives beneath his belt, he sees little wrong with taking what he needs.

“who said anything about an offer?”

the descent to the floor is far from graceful, with bitten back groans of pain as clicking noises resound throughout the room while his joints bend and break in an effort to get him where he needs to be, where he’s needed to be for far longer than merely this exchange on kitchen grounds: on his knees for you.

a part of him would prefer it if you weren’t wielding a butchers knife.

the other part wishes you were facing him, eyes full of that repressed anger, hatred and discontent you likely harbour for him as you point the blade down at him and threaten to paint the floors with his blood. you’ve yet to do that, and so he takes it as his queue to progress.

smoothing his hands up your legs, he admires the landscapes of your body from this angle, with legs longer than any tree in the amazonian jungle and curves with peaks that resemble the mountains of the himalayas. arriving at the top of your knees, the hem of your dress both welcomes and conceals his touch, inviting him into the wonderful world it hides beneath it yet denying him the privilege of feasting his eyes on your paradise, an island of safety amongst the open ocean of his mind.

your breathing is measured, precise, too rhythmical to be natural, the subconscious action now turned into a practiced routine you mean to maintain nonchalance with. perhaps you’re yet to realise that, while he may remain indifferent to those that surround him, joel knows how to read people. and, right now, you’re a whole novel of lust, awaiting for someone to open up your pages and drink in every lyrical prose you promise to tell.

joel finds purchase mid-way up your thighs, hands sliding around to the front of them to grip the buttery smooth skin and ground himself in the reality he kneels before.

you breathe in, you breathe out.

one knee buckles, ever so slightly, the weight of you collapsing into his welcoming hold. he revels in the feeling of supporting you, in every meaning of the word, thumbs not even waiting on a command from his consciousness to begin soothing your tingling skin with a gentle back and forth movement to match the knife in your hand.

inhale, exhale.

your legs straighten once more, a hand of his winds its way back out from under your skirt and shoots up to grab your free one, dragging it down his pits of desire.

“hold,” he’s parched all over again, mouth drier than the texan wastelands on a hot summer’s day. all he can do to survive is peel up that infuriatingly soft, red fabric of your dress, skin unveiling itself to his hunger struck eyes. with the skirt bunched up, he shoves it into your awaiting palms, pinning your hand against your own waist. “don’t move.”

where he expects protest, he receives more breathing.

lace covers your skin, a delicate shade of a colour his eyes can’t quite distinguish in the dark of the night. one flicker of his sight to the very core of your body and he notices it, that tell-tale sign that you’re enjoying this little display of attention, despite what your measured breaths may have him believe. a wet patch, your wetness. the stickiest, sweetest of honeys that only a woman like you can possess, and a man like him should never bare himself witness to.

curiosity gets the better of him- one day, joel hopes, this will get him killed- and his touch is reaching for the lacy fabric, fingers curling themselves in the waistband of your panties and the fabric that covers your right asscheek before curling his hand into a fist, tugging upwards.

in and out, shaky breathing comes from above.

the lace pulls tight on your delicate skin, no choice but to nestle itself in the slit of your cunt as two pretty soaked lips peak out from each side. a heady smell he can only begin to describe as stiflingly sweet, tongue-tingling tanginess hits his nose. he makes sure to take a deep breath, letting the blood rush straight to his head- the one that sits packed uncomfortably in his tightened trousers.

delectable as sin, you keen back into his fist, back curving ever so slightly. there’s a tremor in the hold you have on the fabric of your dress. joel basks in the visual affect he’s beginning to have on you, no need to doubt if the fabric of your underwear rubs at your likely aching clit. he wonders if the sting of the lace digging into your skin hurts. he thinks it must hurt.

his fist curls tighter, pulls higher.

“ah,” at last, a ripple in your surface. though you still wield a knife, the carrot you’d been failing to chop rolls off the counter and onto the floor, lost somewhere in joel’s peripheral vision.

“shut up,” he grunts, like it doesn’t make his balls throb to hear you whine. “people are tryin’ to sleep.”

you scoff, and for a moment you seem to have rediscovered your composure. “tess is drunk as a sailor, and the old men could sleep through nuclear warfare.”

“‘s that an invitation to see how loud i can get ya,” he’s still caught in the way you mold against the lace, slickened skin carrying a reflection of the moonlight. this, he thinks, is what all them poets were writing about in their prose of love and beauty. “or a challenge?”

“it’s an invitation to stop lecturing me on volume control,-” you catch yourself, he realises, right before you can gift him some nickname a sweet girl like you would never use. asshole, dickhead, bastard, he’s heard them all and, still, he wants them on your tongue, in his mouth, condemning him for all the brutish, oafish ways he masks his obsession for you.

as coquettish as it may be, painting a picture worthy of a front-page on some playboy magazine, the sight of lace becomes a nuisance he no longer holds the patience for. so he strips you of it, hand moving to pull the garment down, down, down the length of you, till it hits your ankles. he awaits no movement of your own, taking it upon himself to lift each of your feet individually out the leg-holes.

it’s merely impulse that has him shoving the soiled lace into his back pocket, though he’s sure he’ll make use of them on lonely nights.

“you’re drippin’” his proclamation is ego-driven, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in the full sight of your bare heat. the view is a little obscured from behind you, but with the right amount of tilting of your hips at a certain angle and the widening of your legs, he’s bound to sit front row and centre for your private show. “‘s actually a little pathetic, sweetheart. is it cause ya like it when men get mean wit’ ya?”

he can imagine the way you’d roll your eyes at his words, and it has him thinking about how you’d look with your eyes rolling back for different reasons, reasons he’s about to gift you.

but first, he curls one hand around your ankle and tugs the limb along as far as he wants it. much better, he now faces no blockage in the path up to your slit, freely letting his wandering hands ascend to his newfound heaven. perhaps he’ll revisit the life of gospel, if you promise to be the altar he prays before.

cool fingers to warm skin, you swallow a gasp a little too late for joel to not notice as he drags the tips of his middle finger up the length of your slit. soft, puffy lips part for him, until he presses against that special button that’s bound to turn on your engines.

rolling his finger over your clit a few times, he refamiliarises himself with the female anatomy, with your anatomy, memorising each soft bump and meaty lump he finds along the way.

it happens so sudden, and unwillingly, the way his mind switches to thinking of tess. he wonders what exactly it is she does to those poor things she sends home on shaky legs, where she even begins to touch them. joel imagines she makes use of what she has and starts with her fingers.

so he does the same.

working over your slippery wetness, he coats the tip of his middle finger with it, till he finds what he’s been searching for: the gateways to your heaven, your entrance. he breaches your walls with that single digit and somehow that’s enough to have you squeezing around him so tightly he wonders if blood still manages to flow to his digit.

two, three, four pumps of his hand and he’s introducing his pointer finger too, pressing them both into you to witness the ways you mould around this wider stretch, the lips of your cunt a pair of cushions his knuckles collide against each time he fucks his fingers in.

“so now you shut up. ‘s the matter, huh?” he’s contradicting himself and he doesn’t even care, too busy focusing on curling his fingers inside you, delighting in the feel of that spongy tissue they press against. “am i too borin’ for ya?”

“you’re the most infuriating man i’ve ever- oh!”

a tongue meets skin.

the knife clatters onto the counter.

you lurch forward.

his hand pulls you back.

“tess was right, ya know?” he can still taste you on his tongue, nothing more than a simple lick over your slit and your salty pleasure already seeps deep into his veins, staining his very being with the memory of his new favourite flavour. he pulls his fingers out, slipping them up to your clit. three little taps to the pulsing bud- tap, tap, tap- and he’s slipping them into his mouth, tongue working overtime to clean up every last drop of you that coats him. “that boy of yours wasn’t doin’ ya right.”

the common sense that screams at him to not feel envy over some ex-lover, someone who was likely barely even an adult at the time and no longer appears to be around, is no match for the green eyed beast that commands him to tell you, without using words, that he can do better- touch you better, protect you better, fuck you better, if you’d just let him.

‘could keep ya satisfied.

that’s a new thought, one he’s never needed before yet never wanted more, a burning ache to be worthy of your trust, affection, lust. he’ll never forget the first time he thinks it, mouth salivating at the sight of you.

“is this the part you say some cheesy line straight out a porno? what ya need is a man, a man like me!” the softness of your giggle is still sharp enough to cut through the tension, god it’s never sounded sweet, and joel finds himself freely smiling into the darkness, yet still too stubborn to laugh at the deep voice you attempt to imitate him with.

“well, was you who said it,” his mouth finds it’s way back onto your soaked heat, taking his time to work his tongue up the length of it, his saliva mixing itself in a nasty cocktail with your wetness. he imagines the air is cold against your skin, and that you like it, memory of those hardened nipples hidden beneath the fabric of your dress. “but if ya insist.”

diving in head first had always been his style, from his first lover to his last, and to now, knees aching on the kitchen floor. the tip of his tongue dances round your clit, tantalising you to grind your hips to the rhythm of his sinful touches.

licking into you, he’s reminded how much he enjoys that swelling in the chest that only comes from bringing another pleasure.

he’d not been a perfect lover, far from it, but he’d liked to believe at one point he’d been trained by only experience that comes with age, years of touching wrong and kissing badly to learn the right ways to make those he shared a bed- or a counter, or a backseat, or a club bathroom- with see angelic white as they writhed and squirmed under his touch. you’re lucky to have him now, matured by past lovers and broadened by age, with all the knowledge he needs to open your eyes to how a man pleasures, kisses, loves.

he’s out of practice, sure, with recent years adding notches to his belt that were merely frantic, unexpected, barely undressed run-ins with strangers, in strange places, cock barely getting a moments affection before he’d be spilling his seed and tucking it, limp, back into the confines of his trousers and locking it away beneath a zip.

what a perfect excuse you are, for joel to remaster the arts of lust.

it’s messy, wet dripping down his chin and staining itself into the stubble of his growing facial hair. it’s noisy, his mouth openly groaning depraved joy into your warmth as you sing him a song of sweet euphoria, slowly building towards that crescendo on the horizon. it’s animalistic, barely human as he revokes all earthly needs such as rest, and food, and socialising, his mind, and soul, and heart, and cock all screaming in unison to spend whatever days he shall possess on his knees before you.

and all the while you writhe and wriggle, some times running away from him touch, other times rutting so far back into him that you threaten to suffocate him somewhere between your warm thighs, and sugar sweet cunt, and the two well-rounded globes of your ass.

his only saving grace is that he can’t see you.

hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.

burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. it does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint, and up the crack of your behind.

“n- ah,” you can’t deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. “no, don’t, not there.”

next time, he thinks, we’ll try that next time.

sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you’ll grace him with. the sound of whatever record tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.

and, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.

his eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within bill and frank’s- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. there’s little that’s remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he’s sure you’ve spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he’s come to anticipate each time tess tells him they’re due a visit.

except, the oven door is made of glass.

glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. you, with hands gripping the island’s counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he’s envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs now bunched up in your tight grip, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he’d be able to bend and break you beneath his touch.

and then there’s him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.

the image will haunt him more than the face of any man he’s killed.

“d’ya touch yourself, sol?” you don’t answer him, but that’s okay. in a sweet change of pace, joel miller’s perfectly fine with talking enough for the both of you. “yeah, bet ya do. late at night, right? once you’re all alone in bed. ya seem like the kind who can make herself scream.”

you back into him, smothering him under the weigh of your body. becoming his holy grail, he drinks from you like it’s the key to eternal life, and what a way of living this would be, time disregarded as nothing but meaningless while your bodies melt together in the heat of passion.

fucking his fingers back inside, he becomes frantic beneath the need to make you cry, fall completely apart with only his hands to hold you together. “let me do the honours this time though.”

you don’t scream, can’t scream, hand over mouth muffling whatever profanities and theatrical proclamations he rips from within you with the stroke of his agile tongue, the only muscle of his that’s yet to develop aches and pains. he imagines that will no longer ring true once he awakens past sunrise.

he’s unsure how much longer he works his tongue over you, slipping and sliding through the liquid pleasure, but it ends with fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him away and tilting his head up.

you’ve never looked more holy, moon casting it’s shine around you, eyes glossed with unshed tears, lips parted and swollen from the pressure your own teeth had bitten down on them with. your expression, he can’t quite read. not sad, not happy, not mad.

your eyes catch on something, abandoning his own for something closer to the floor, to which he follows and finds exactly what you’re staring at: the evidently dark patch that now stains the front of his jeans.

the discomfort of trekking back to the qz will now be tenfolds worse in the stains of his own pleasure.

“joel...” his name is nearly a beg, a prayer, an invitation. hand still in his hair, you tug, pulling him upwards off the ground. legs open wider and back arches deeper, a seductive sight that your body pleas for him with.

he swallows a groan, knees alleviated at last from the floor, and presses himself against you once more. strong arms crush you in an embrace, pulling you back into him as his head slips to rest against your shoulder. he’s capricious with the way he lets himself litter a few wet kisses over your neck, breathing in the smell of you.

“that,” you grind back into him, a torturer who takes his aged body as her victim and toys with his barely recovered cock, the cum in his trousers sticking uncomfortably to his skin. he pulls tighter on your body, grounding himself in the weight of it against his own to find the sanity to finish his sentence. “shouldn’t have happened.”

joel hopes no one awakens as he slams the door on the way out of the kitchen.

people once spoke of how the only certainties in life were death and taxes but, nowadays, the words don’t ring as true and the guarantee of life with taxes has morphed into something else entirely; a reality where death and time go hand in hand. as sure as tomorrow will arrive, death will come too, eventually. not today, however, and joel miller finds himself stood throwing a ball back and forth for a dog.

it chases and retrieves, trailing it’s happy self all the way back to him only to spit the ball down at his feet, siting and waiting to repeat the process once more. there’d been a time where this is all he’d wanted: white picket fence, dog in the yard, home-cooked meals filling a house with warmth.

that dream seems so far away now, even as he stands within it.

he cracks his back, huffing out a groan. “no, not again. my back’s fucked as it is, buddy,” with no one around to witness, joel lets himself crouch down onto his knees- both popping obnoxiously as he does so- and rakes his hand over the german shepherd’s head. it whines and makes an attempt to nudge the ball against him, protesting in the only way it can. a scratch to the ear does the trick to distract the animal, to which it tilts its head and forces itself deeper into his blunt nails. “not so bad, are ya? huh?” never in a million years did joel think he’d be talking to a dog when him and tess had set out for their routinely visit to the bill and frank’s. never would he have thought that would be the least shocking event to unfold on this trip.

he hears you before he sees you.

“you planning to make your knees familiar with every surface of this place, texas?”

he tries to rise, he truly does, but the four-legged foe he’d been petting mere seconds ago betrays him the instant it catches sight of you, charging past him and knocking him over in the process, ass to floor and head to sky.

the world above is a storm of greys, clouds swallowing one another with a looming threat of danger on the horizon and not a lick of the sun’s warmth seems to make its way through.

so instead, it sends you.

peering over him from above, hair a tangled mess, eyes a wreck of under-bags and sleepless tears, the collar of your jumper lowered just enough at this angle that he can see a tease of cleavage, you radiate a brightness like no other, more dangerous to his naked eyes than uv ray could ever be. he’s squinting again, frown etching itself on his forehead with the threat of becoming permanent soon. a few more years and his face will be nothing but frown lines and crows feet. at the very least, he considers, i’ve survived long enough to wrinkle.

the smile above him is worth a million laugh lines, a kindness laced within it that matches perfectly with the hand you hold out. when he does nothing but stare at it, you wriggle your fingers, enticing him to take a hold. he does most of the work, truthfully, but you play a part in pulling him back to his feet. upright once more, he can’t help but bask in the way he’s able to physically look down on you.

“thanks for tiring him out,” you’re the first to talk. you’re always the first to talk, and he curses you for it. “won’t need to walk him as far tonight.”

a queasy feeling overtakes him at the thought of you walking the dog alone at night, nothing but the moon to light your way. he’ll need to remember to tire the dog out next time he visits. “no problem, thanks... for feeding tess and i.”

“no worries!” you’re so kind, so good, smiling at him with a cheerful chirp in your voice. he can’t wrap his head around how you can bring yourself to treat him this way. “oh, actually, that’s why i came out here, i was looking for tess-” of course you were, when would you ever be looking for him? “hold on!”

you shoot off back inside so quickly that otis just reaches the doorway by the time you return. with an idle pet to his head as you pass by, joel once again sees, in the way such little affection can have the dog so elated, that resemblance between them you’d spoke of. in your hands, you carry an array of containers full of food- soup- each filled to the brim.

“i wanted to give you these, before you guys leave,” you’re explaining yourself, and joel wonders if it’s nerves that bring you to need constant babbling to fill any gaps of silence. he can’t imagine how he could make you nervous and therefore that thought is quick to be discarded. “i know the journey up here and back can be long, consider them a token of my appreciation towards you both for-”

“why don’t ya like me?” he cuts you off.

pathetic, he knows, but he can not stop himself, a deer caught in the headlights of your brightly burning, too-good-to-be-true, too-pure-to-be-fake personality.

you show no signs of hearing him, smile unwavering as you continue to hold out the boxes to him, “there should be enough to last you a few days, if you watch your proportions.”

it’s too much for him to handle- the food, the smiles, the sweetly glistening eyes-, and joel just has to know, needs an answer before the heat of his confusion consumes him entirely in its flames and leaves nothing but his smoking remains.

so he tries again, louder.

“why don’t ya like me?”

“and i’d probably say you’re best to heat it up, especially for tess,” you ignore him, again, lips stretching what can only be described as uncomfortably wider. “winter is sure coming in faster than last year, isn’t it?”

he grabs at your arm, fingers curling round the swell of your bicep as he speaks through gritted teeth, "answer me." like a frightened dog backed into a corner, he bares his teeth and yells his bark.

"for someone who doesn't care,” you try his patience, knowingly or not, and his grip tightens. you don’t flinch, welcoming the sting of his blunt and bitten nails against your flesh. “you sure do talk about my opinion a lot."

"answer the damn question, girl.”

“or, what?” you’ve got him there, he’ll admit, holding no real plan as to how to punish your silence. “you gonna give me the same treatment as last night?”

had he known you’d be so unabashed to mention the events on the kitchen floor so flippantly, as casually as one would speak about the weather, he’d never have dared to get on his knees. truthfully, he’d not given things a second thought, disregarding the later for the now, living in the moment with caution thrown to the wind over what the morning would bring. perhaps he’d hoped you’d been intoxicated enough to dismiss the memory as a nightmare, maybe he’d wished you’d keep away from him to free him of the volatile grip you have on his soul.

instead, you stand tall, proud, eyes fiercely staring back at his own as you challenge him to retaliate, mock you with none of those saccharine smiles you hide harsh tones behind.

joel says nothing.

“how about this, let’s make a deal, like the ones you and bill make.” inching closer, crowding in on his space and forcing him to take note of the smell of freshly cleaned clothes mixed in with your own fragrance. clean, warm, inviting, scents he’d never given meaning to before now. “you get me something, i’ll tell you what you want to know.”

he grunts out a response, hands meeting his hips as he juts out one knee, the shifting of weight between feet a perfect distraction to the rising tension in his worn-out jeans. “what d’ya want? ‘cause if it’s somethin’ like a gun, think again. i ain’t messing with none of bill’s strange politics on you havin’-”

“a dress.”

“a dress?” the statement has him quirking his brow, burning questions swimming in the depths of his eyes as he stares back at you.

“yes, and don’t look at me like that!” it’s hypocritical, he believes, for you to berate him for the looks he sends you when all you do is cast stones his way with your gaze yet shake him to his very core each time you smile. “i need a new one, my favourite one got ruined whilst making soup.”

unaware he’d even began to lean closer, joel’s quick to recoil, as if your words are bullets and his skin the target you hit on the bullseye every time.

“joel!” his name resonates from somewhere in the house.

neither of you dare to break eye contact. again, his name is yelled. this time, he manages to identify tess as the owner of the voice. habits have him used to running to her whenever she calls, but habits have never been caught between the choice of tess or you.

his feet remain glued to the ground.

tess yells once more and, though you speak up, you don’t dare look away. “think you might be needed inside, macho man. your missus is calling.”

“she ain’t my-”

“you two just gonna stand and stare at each other all day, or will you help a woman out already?” tess enters the scene somewhere behind you, a blur of her familiar shape standing out the front door.

only when your head spins and he no longer finds himself lost in the black of your eyes does joel take her in completely, hair clearly damp and complexion a little paled by her hungover body. in her arms, she struggles with the weight of a folded table. you approach first, he follows, his two hands aiding in carrying it out into the front yard as you retighten your grip on the boxes of soup in your arms.

“i should probably,” laying the containers down on the now unfolded table, you fidget with the sleeves in your hands, eyes downcast with something he can only read as guilt. he decides he much prefers the fire they hold when you berate him. “go check on the food, before it burns.”

you’re in the door and out his sight before he can so much as ask you to stay.

tess and him hit the road by noon. earlier than predicted, later than he’d wished for. the bite of cold already marks the air, despite the sun heating the world with its rays. he walks a little ahead, feigning ignorance to the repeated coughing coming from tess and racking his brain for answers.

answers to why he’d never noticed how hoarse she’d been sounding till you pointed it out. answers to what awaited them both upon returning to the qz. answers to when will be their next chance to visit the safe haven bill’s created. answers to why you don’t like him.

i don’t like you, joel.

it motivates him to walk quicker, faster, racing to put as much distance between himself and that damn kitchen floor, miles upon miles not enough to rid him of the dull ache in his knees that goes hand in hand with the throb within his too-tight-jeans. if he were alone, he’d break out in a sprint. but tess is here, he’s not alone, and home will simply have to wait on the passing of time to drag him back to it.

till then, he needs to find a dress.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller oneshot #joel miller fic #pedro pascal smut

3K notes · View notes

stargirlrchive · 1 year

Text

song chord ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: jake sully x female!reader but no use of y/n, arranged marriage, sunshine!jake x grumpy!reader, kind of lmao. angst, jealousy, mentions of death, feelings of insecurities. fluff. <3 i think that is all, pls lmk if i missed anything

word count: 5,112

tìyawn (n) - love

comments: first fic in a few months, first avatar fic ever <3 i really loved writing this, so i hope you all love it too, okay mwah mwah bye ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You had not wanted your night to end like this, angrily picking at your song chord as your mother whispered to the elders of her desire to have you wed, and to the Olo’eyktan none the less. Every stone, every achievement, you had earned felt as though it was taken from you. Ripped from your fingers just as you were starting to enjoy the fruits of your labors.

Toruk Makto sat across from your mother, listening closely as the elders proposed the idea of uniting your family. Joining forces to strengthen the clan, providing security and faith to the people he led.

You had wished so much more for yourself, to have your accomplishments be only your own. Not tied to a man you would never be equal to. All your life you had fought to be perfect, to be an accomplished warrior and fight for your people. Your eyes welled with tears as your fingers ran across the newest bead on your song chord. An iridescent pearl that your father had picked for you, that you held so dearly and were waiting for the perfect culminating moment in your life to add to your chord. Your Iknimaya was given the grace of bearing the pearl.

Your mind swirled with the prospect of being wed, being mated to a man you knew very little about, a man you had only met in passing. As much as you tried to find a way to fix this you couldn't, it felt like your thoughts were running a millions miles a minute and getting no answer. It was very clear that you had no way to object, your family would be so disappointed and the fear that nestled into your chest far outweighed the fear of sacrificing your future, it was almost debilitating. Either way you ended up losing.

You roughly wiped at your eyes and tried to calm your breathing, quietly counting to ten as you willed yourself to object, to tell them your future was yours and no one else's. You had lost so much due to the war with the sky-people, you did not want to lose this too. The words were on the tip of your tongue but your eyes locked onto Jake’s and his fear was clear as day within his eyes. It comforted you, a bit. Knowing you were not the only one silently suffering, but he was the last person you wanted to find comfort in.

He cleared his throat and the room was silenced instantly, causing a lump to form at your throat. “Before I agree I would like us to speak, privately.”

You nodded as he stood, following after him outside of the tent. He walked outside of the camp, towards the dark forest that was only illuminated by the fluorescent lights of the plants and small insects native to the land. Normally you would question why he was leading you away from everyone, but it felt as though all the energy was taken from you.

Not too far into the forest there was a clearing, a small pond with glowing fish. He grunted quietly as he lowered himself to sit, dipping his feet into the pond as he sighed quietly. None of you said anything for a while, you had stayed standing by the trees and looking up into the sky. Silently praying to Eywa to give you the strength to fulfill your duty with an open mind, and even an open heart.

He turned to look at you, watching as your brows furrowed even more as a shooting star passed by, “Do you mind sitting with me?”

A small huff left your lips but you did as he asked, slowly approaching him and keeping a sizeable distance between the two of you, dipping your feet into the water just as he had. “I did not expect to be mated, the thought had never really crossed my mind.”

You kept quiet, trying to focus on his words as you fought the tears trying to fall from your eyes, he took your silence as a sign to keep speaking. “I know a lot of the Na’vi still blame me for what happened, I do too.” His throat tightened, gruff with guilt and unshed tears balling up, and for the second time tonight you found comfort that you were both suffering. “I am trying to be better, and I will prove to you everyday that I am no longer loyal to the sky-people. Believe me, the Clan’s best interest is my main priority and I would never again willingly do something to harm them.”

Silence.

“I know it is not ideal, having to marry a skxawng like me, but I would like to continue the engagement if you wish.”

You sighed quietly and tucked your knees in, resting your arms on them to lay your head gently, “I do not blame you.”

He nodded and averted his eyes to the pond, not believing your words, “I-I just did not picture my life to be this way. After my father died I tried so hard to accomplish everything he wanted for me, that is why it took me time to complete my Iknimaya, I wanted everything to be perfect.” His ears twitched as he listened to you.

“I just do not know if this is what he would have wanted for me.” Your last words were whispered quietly, almost as if you did not want him to hear.

“I fear everything I have ever accomplished will be stripped from me, and I will just be seen as Toruk Makto’s wife. Expected to be the next Tsahik and I can barely interpret the will of Eywa for myself, how am I expected to do so for the rest of the clan?”

He laughed loudly, as if what you said was the funniest thing in the world. As if your worries were comical and before you could stop yourself you hissed in his direction, making your way to stand up. “I’m sorry-wait I’m sorry-you made me laugh but I did not mean to offend you.”

You stopped yourself from leaving, “See what I mean? Skxawng.”

Your lips barely twitched at the end and you hoped he hadn’t caught it. He did.

“I am a warrior JakeSully, I will not sit back and watch the people fight. I will be front line.”

He smiled at your words, “I would also like to get to know you better, no wedding within the next two-three weeks, yes?”

He leaned back on his arms and looked up at the night sky, millions of tiny stars scattered all across you. “Ok, no wedding soon.”

He sent you a warm smile and it eased the gnawing feeling in your chest, “One final request, I wish to be seen as your equal, taken into consideration when it comes to decisions of the clan, not just your wife but your partner.”

His silence scared you, fearful of what would leave his mouth, “That is all I want.”

A small smile made its way onto your features, feeling far more content then how you expected this night to go.

You were both silent for a long time, just enjoying the beautiful forest of Pandora, “I must go, it is well past Eclipse and my mother will be worried.”

Jake nodded and stood up, leaning his arm forward to help you too. You both silently made your way through the short distance back to the camp, quickly making your way to your tent. You were about to go in, without sparing him another look but his hand reached for your forearm to stop you from walking, “We are in this together, from here on out it is you and me. I am not taking this lightly and-and I will be your friend through all of this.”

Your eyes welled with tears again, having to come to terms with your future in those few seconds as you looked up into his golden eyes. “Thank you, I will try my best too.”

You sent him a small smile before moving into your tent, hoping to sleep away the still overwhelming fear of having no control of your life.

You blinked the sleep away from the night before, trying to relax the nauseating feeling that nestled in your stomach as you recalled the events of last night. Why had you so willingly opened up to JakeSully, why?

You did not know him, and from the whispers that followed him around you were one of the few Na’vi women that did not want to. You had opened up some of your deepest concerns last night, and for the life of you, you didn’t know why. You soothingly rubbed the beads of your song chord, trying to ground yourself and push the tears down that seemed to flow like a never ending river.

Your ears twitched gently as you heard movement outside of your tent, “Who is there?”

Someone cleared their throat as you sat up, fixing your chest beads and loin cloth on your way to stand up. “It’s Jake, um-I wanted to spend some time with you. As friends do.”

You tsk’ed lowly, slowly making your way towards the opening of the tent, head peeking out only to be met with a gentle smile on the Toruk Makto’s face. You refrained from rolling your eyes at the tall man, going back into your tent but leaving it open so he could follow. “Give me a few minutes and I will be ready.”

He hummed quietly as he stepped in, eyes jumping from corner to corner of your tent. Curiously walking towards a make-shift shelf, filled from top to bottom with your trinkets. From your first arrow, to dried flowers and pretty stones you had collected since you were a child. You observed him, feeling your heart jump to your throat as he reached to pick something up. Feeling exposed to him in a way you couldn’t describe.

Your mind eased as he gently picked up the only picture you had on there, one that Grace had taken of your mother and father that she gifted you on a random day during her classes. “My condolences for your father, I never got to meet him.”

You said nothing as you continued to ready yourself, turning your back to him and making sure he was still occupied with the shelf before changing quickly, adjusting the straps on the cloth that fell on your hips as he turned towards you. “What will we be doing, JakeSully?”

His nose twitched softly at his full name.

“Is it your hunting or training day?”

You shook your head no, “Perfect, let’s go for a ride.”

Your eyes lit up softly, anytime you got to spend with your Ikran was so special to you, your sweet Pey’lal. Following behind him happily as he threaded through the forest where the claimed Ikran’s rested. Your tongue instinctively started clicking once you made it to the large tree, looking towards the sky for a large blur of purple and blue.

There was a large gust of wind and a powerful thud as Pey’lal landed gracefully in front of you, nuzzling her head against your cheek as you laughed happily. “My sweet girl, I have missed you.”

You cooed happily as she made happy clicking noises at the attention you were giving her, Jake clearing his throat made you snap out of your happy bubble. Pey’lal looked up as if just noticing him for the first time, moving her head to the side in question, flapping her wings as a warning sign. Your hand reached out to soothe her, letting her know to stand down. She relaxed instantly. “This is Pey’lal, my Ikran. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Your smile reached your eyes for the first time and Jake nodded, “This is Bob.” He patted his Ikran’s head who huffed in slight annoyance and it caused a laugh to ripple from your throat, “Bob?”

Jake’s face flared as his ears twitched, “I think it fits him, he is quite goofy.”

“If you say so, JakeSully.”

There was a beat of silence before you connected your queue to Pey’lal’s, jumping smoothly onto her back, “Well, let’s get to flying.”

In the next instant you were off, looking back momentarily only to see Jake jumping onto his Ikran to catch up.

It had been several weeks since Jake had taken you out to fly, or out on a date as he called it. But ever since then it was as if he was glued to your hip, accompanying you even when it was not necessary. Like when you went to pick fruit or went hunting, Pey’lal was even growing accustomed to him being around. Just yesterday she nuzzled her head against his chest as he called out for Bob, something she had only ever done with you.

You had tried to be annoyed with him, wanting to keep him as far away from you as possible but he had slowly, very slowly, started to crack the walls you had built up and began staking claim.

Like even now, as he sat across from you and smiled at your annoyance towards him, your tail swishing in frustration. “You are Olo'eyktan and cannot even pronounce basic words.”

You tsk’ed quietly as he leaned back on his arms, not focusing on what you were saying. He laughed deeply, one that you could tell started in his chest, “I cannot focus today.”

“You can never focus.”

“You are distracting me.”

Your brows furrowed together, confusion evident on your face. Another laugh left his throat, “I do not like being laughed at, JakeSully.”

“I am not laughing at you.” It continued, the sound warming your chest as you feigned being offended, purposely dropping your ears, “I just think you are so-so-interesting.”

You huffed and moved away from him, “You really know how to woo me.”

His face dropped and you bit back the smile that threatened to crack across your face, tucking your tail away as he scooted closer to you, “I meant that in a good way-I did not want to offend you.”

You turned your face to him, the laugh escaped you as soon as your eyes locked onto his, face full of concern, “I was only kidding you Skxawng. I think you are interesting too.”

He pushed your shoulder with his own, smiling so hard his cheeks felt sore.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, and in the next instant it hit you just how close he was, the side of his thigh pressed against yours and you flushed deeply. Ears twitching as you tried to stop your body from going rigid against his.

Jake's finger twitched softly as he contemplated reaching for your hand, he wouldn’t put it past you to flick him with your tail if he tried to, but even still he wanted to know how your hands would feel against his.

Your face was turned away from him, clearly trying not to face him and he swore you knew what he was up to, your fingers twitched softly as it rested on your leg. Before he could think about it too much he slipped his hand under your own, tangling his fingers with yours and closing, rubbing gently along your knuckles.

Your hand had tensed as he held it, still avoiding his gaze and he almost retracted but slowly your fingers relaxed into his, his tail swished softly in excitement as you folded your fingers to hold his hand.

“Your hands are sweaty, Toruk Makto.”

He refrained from laughing, “Yeah well-you make me nervous. One wrong move and I know it will earn me a tail flick to the head.”

You laughed at his words and turned to him, cheeks still blazing as he got a good look at you. Your cheeks were a soft purple and a smile that reached all the way to your eyes.

“Do not tempt me.”

Your tail gently flicked against his arm and he felt a warm sensation start in his belly and make its way up to his chest, causing goosebumps to rise all across his arms.

After a beat of silence he began speaking again, “So, how do you say it? Kalultal?”

“No-no! Kelutral!”

The weeks had started to bleed into each other the more time you spent with Jake. Your eyes instinctively looked through the sea of Na’vi as you searched for him, a proud smile on your face as you lugged around the Hexapede you had hunted not too long ago.

You had noticed him a couple of feet away, his back towards you and there was an instant smile that made its way to your face, trying to get to him faster. Your eyes were taking in his back, a small heat rising to your cheeks as you let your stare run across his shoulders and down to his arms.

You opened your mouth to call out for him but you clamped up almost instantly, ears twitching in question as his head was thrown back and a loud laugh left his lips. Your eyes finally shifted to who was in front of him and felt a sting begin to settle in your stomach. It was Neytiri.

They were talking animatedly between each other, laughing and you were not sure why it left such a bitter taste in your mouth. Cheeks now flushed but for an entirely different reason, anger bubbled in your chest. You tried to wrack your brain for what it could be, you had always gotten along with Neytiri so why had you started to feel a sense of insecurity in yourself as you noticed how easy it was for them to get along? How easy it had been for them since the beginning.

The realization scared you even more so when you came to the conclusion that it was jealousy, you had started to feel some sort of claim to the Toruk Makto and it hurt. You felt so stupid, how could you think he wanted you when Neytiri had been a part of his life from the moment he was introduced to the clan? She had shown him the in’s and out’s, he had fallen in love with your people, with your home, through her.

You felt a lump rise to your throat as you handed off the Hexapede to be skinned for the feast later in the evening, rushing past the crowd of people behind you. You wanted to be far away from him, from her, from everyone. Your ears had turned inward and all you could hear was the beating of your heart. It came in loud thuds, deep and sorrowful.

You had made it towards your tent, not noticing that Jake had clocked you dropping the animal off. He had called you several times which you had not heard. He had noticed how your shoulders were tensed, a look so unfamiliar to him on your face and he knew something was wrong. His fingers tangled around your forearm before you slipped into your tent, you jolted back against his chest showing him just how distracted you were.

Jake called your name softly and his brows furrowed together as you refused to look at him. “Is everything alright?”

You hissed in his direction and yanked your forearm from his grip, Jake stepped back in astonishment as he took in the anger swirling in your eyes. “Leave me alone, JakeSully.”

“Woah-what? Did I-what’s wrong?”

You ignored him and walked into your tent, pacing the perimeters as you tried to keep the emotions from erupting into something uglier. You felt like an open wound and hated that it was caused by the man who only a few months ago you wanted nothing to do with. Your tent was opened as Jake stepped in, confusion evident in his face.

Your angry haze landed on him, his hands up in surrender trying to not overwhelm you as he neared you, “I do not want you near me, Toruk Makto. Just go!”

“I am just trying to figure out what’s wrong, yeah? Let me help.”

“You are the last person I would want help from, get out!”

Your hands had reached up to push at his chest and even Jake knew you were going easy on him, but the pushes were persistent. The frustration more evident each time your palms landed on his chest.

His hands reached out to grab at your wrist, the beads of your song chord digging gently into your skin. Your wrist felt like they were on fire at his touch and felt the anger surge through your body all over again. Hands wriggling angrily against his as he stepped closer, concern clear as day on his features but you could not bring yourself to care. All your deepest insecurities rearing their ugly head at you, a sob threatening to escape from your throat as an uncomfortable feeling settled into your stomach. A feeling that you would not be enough, not for your family, not for Jake, not for the clan.

Your anger peaked, a scream was ready to erupt from your throat as Jake was not letting your wrist go, he was still trying to calm you down. You ripped your wrist from his grip in a whip of anger and felt all the air leave you at once. Your song chord had tangled along the leather braided clasps on Jake's wrist and ripped from yours, the beads falling like a waterfall all around the two of you. “No-no-no!”

Your eyes and hands frantically searched around for the pearl your father had given you, not locating it anywhere and a small whimper left your mouth as the tears flowed from your eyes and down to your neck.

Jake was on his hands and knees instantly as you wept, helping you gather the stones that had been placed on your chord, “Please just leave, Jake! Go with Neytiri and leave me alone.”

Your voice was raw with emotion and it made his heart clench, his ears twitched in confusion but he said nothing as he continued to gather all the beads he saw, an uncomfortable sting making its way to his wrist.

He could tell your holding back from sobbing, you had folded into yourself after all the stones were gathered, your back shaking from your tears. “I will help you build it back, I will weave the chord with you. I am so sorry.”

His hand had reached out to your shoulders pulling you up against him and into his chest, there was a strain on his wrist at the awkward way it bent causing a low hiss to fall from his lips. His hand settled on your head, rubbing soothingly as he felt you calm in his arms, a pinch each time his hand dragged forward but he didn’t care. “Will you let me help you?”

You whimpered quietly as you melted into his embrace, “There is no point.”

“What do you mean, tìyawn?”

You felt your heart flutter at the affectionate name, but your heart felt heavy as you realized you had lost the pearl your father had gifted you, “I lost the pearl for my Iknimaya. It was a pearl my father had gifted me, it meant so much to me and-and I waited for something that felt worthy of carrying the stone and now I have lost it. I no longer want a song chord.”

You broke out into another fit of tears, only this time wrapping your arms around Jake’s neck to find solace in him, and he comforted as best he could, wrapping his arms around you as his fingers traced your back to calm you down once again.

He felt the pinch against his wrist again, an irritation settling softly in his chest at the persistent sting. He pulled his arms closer to you so one rested on your hip while the other tried to unclamp the leather bracelets that sat on his wrist. When the bracelet was off he felt instant relief, his ears twitching at the sound of a pebble landing on the floor. He swore a silent prayer to Eywa fell from his lips as his eyes locked onto the pearl. It was iridescent and had small scratches since you wore your song chord almost everywhere. His fingers reached for the stone, picking it up gently as if he feared it would break under the weight of his fingers. “Is this it?”

Your head lifted from his chest, looking into his palm and a watery laugh left your throat, still thick with emotion as you reached out for it. You looked up into Jake’s eyes and it seemed like hundreds of tears kept flowing from your eyes, Jake's lips were turned downwards as he rubbed at your cheeks, trying to erase the evidence of your sadness. He hated it, he hated seeing you hurting and in that instant swore that he would spend the rest of his life trying to keep you happy.

“I do not like knowing you are sad.”

Your emotions consumed you once again as you stared up at him, eyes flickering to his lips for a brief second. Sniffling softly you leaned your face closer to him, pressing your forehead against his and you let your eyes flutter closed. You could not bear to look at him, he consumed you in every way and the clarity hit you like a ton of bricks. You were in love.

You let your lips fall against his in a quick motion, it was soft even though it only lasted a few seconds. When you pulled back his eyes were closed, cheeks a deep purple, ears twinging pink as he reeled from having your lips on his. “I am no longer sad, Jake. Just sorry, and embarrassed for how I behaved.”

He was all over you in the next instant, lips pressing into yours almost bruisingly as if he tried to forever engrain the feeling of your lips on his. Hands gripped at your hips tightly, pulling you flush against him and a small whine left your mouth. He used the gap between your lips to his advantage as he gently slipped his tongue, almost as if asking for permission. Your teeth softly bit down on the tip of his tongue, soothing it by sliding your own across his. He felt the groan come from the center of his chest, he felt all of you as he wrapped pulled you in closer.

You were the first to pull away, Jake’s lips chasing after your own as you sucked in a long breath, trying to fill your lungs with as much air as possible. You turned from him slightly and placed the pearl with your other stones, turning back to him as your eyes scanned all across his face. “I only want you, my tìyawn. No one else, do you understand me?”

You nodded and let your forehead fall against his again, whispering the words that told him just how you felt, “Oel ngati kameie.”

A laugh rippled from his throat and he placed a kiss to your cheek, “Oel”, a kiss to your nose, “Ngati”, a kiss to your lips, “Kameie”.

You finally pulled away from him, looking at the beads that Jake had gathered for you. “So you will help me?”

He nodded happily, watching your every move as you stood up, picking up a small box that was on your shelf. He couldn't stop the smile that fell on his lips as your tail switched softly, contemplating what material you wanted to hold your beads. You settled on a weaved tan thread, sitting back down next to Jake and you hummed quietly, “You do not have one right, Ma’Jake?”

Jake swore his heart was going to fall out of his chest, “No I do not-no one ever told me to make it so I did not think to do it.”

“You must make one now, we sing the song chord to remember. Each bead is a story in our life.”

Your fingers brushed Jake’s as you handed over the extra piece of string for him to use, placing the box in between the two of you, full of beads, some simpler than others but just as beautiful. The two of you settled into a comfort silence, Jake pausing on occasion to think on certain events that were important enough to add to his chord, digging his fingers into the box.

You had finished your chord quickly, knowing it by memory and Jake noticed you had not added any new beads, until the last one, that one was new.

It was a soft shade of blue, it stood out beautifully against the majority of white and brown of it. “That is new.”

His fingers ran across your song chord, it was so much more intricate than his, showing just how proud you should be of yourself, now a constant reminder how he will always be proud of you. “It is for you, Toruk Makto.”

You flushed and shied away from him as his ears twitched, pulling his own chord out to share it with you, explaining what each one meant. When he reached the last stone, it was a deep red, one that shined if light reflected on, “This one-It’s for you. My tìyawn.”

You reached for his hand and wrapped the chord twice around his wrist, “I am ready, to be mated.”

He let his fingers trace your palm, going over each line and scar, even tracing over the small callouses the tips of your finger had accumulated from training with your arrow. He was smiling so hard, cheeks hurting as he leaned over to pick up your own chord and wrap it around your wrist, it looped three times. “I want a huge ceremony, with a huge feast and lots of music and dancing.”

Your hand flew to your mouth as you tried to stop the laughter that bubbled at your throat, “I do not need such a big fuss over me, Ma’Jake.”

He brought you even closer to him, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he announced, “But I do, I want all of the Omaticaya clan to know I am mated to you. Forever you and me.”

Another burst of warmth fell over you, pressing a kiss to his lips before you moved to sit against him, your back pressed firmly to his chest as his arms wrapped around your frame, “Now tell me, what do the other beads represent?”

4K notes · View notes

lxstfathier · 9 months

Note

Dom!William Afton with a breeding kink x an inexperienced and shy F!Reader? Maybe even their first time 🫣

You have no idea how much i love breeding kink, so it was a pleasure to write this, hope you like it! 💗

Innocence

William Afton x Reader

Warnings: blood, breeding kink, loss of virginity, wiliam just killed someone and now he wants to fuck lmao.

As soon as you hear the front door open, you drop whatever you were doing and run all the way there, just to greet your boyfriend with a big hug as you always do.

But tonight is different. When you see William with dried blood all over his hands and his purple shirt, you stop dead in your tracks a few meters away, admiring the horrible scene, not sure of what happened to him. Maybe he had an accident? you don’t know, but it makes you feel really worried.

“Will?” you say his name softly, slowly walking up to him. “Why are you covered in blood? what happened?”.

“I’m fine, bunny, don’t worry about it” he shrugs it off, as if it wasn’t a big deal to be a bloody mess.

“Obviously you’re not fine, you have blood everywhere!”.

You try to touch his stained shirt, but he stops right you before you do it, wrapping his right hand around your wrist.

“It’s not mine” he says, with a deep low voice that makes you feel shivers down your spine. “Now why don’t you stop worrying and give me a little kiss, hm?”

When you look up at him, you can clearly see that something is a bit… odd. His eyes are dilated, leaving little space for his blue irises, small droplets of blood are barely visible on his glasses, and he’s breathing heavy. Something unusual. But you find it strangely hot, so you don’t care, you obey and get on your tiptoes to give him a soft kiss on the lips.

However, William is not in the mood for a simple innocent kiss. He just took the life of someone less than an hour ago, he can still feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and there’s nothing he craves more than to ruin your innocence and take all of his stress out on you.

So he corners you against the wall, deepening the kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth as he puts his knee between your legs, pressing it slightly to your clothed heat.

“You’re gonna be mine tonight” William growls between kisses, more as a declaration than a question, gripping your jaw with his bloody hand, intoxicating all your senses with the intense iron smell. “There’s no escape this time”.

And you would be lying if you said that you don’t feel a little bit of fear. You’ve never been with a man before, you don’t know what to do, and he seems to be out of his mind for some reason. But you try your best to stay calm, just letting it happen, unbuttoning his shirt with shaky hands.

William moves his lips from your mouth to your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin while his big hands find its way under your shirt, playing with your soft tits, making you feel butterflies in your lower belly.

“Will” you whimper, not sure of what else to say, but clearly begging for more than just kisses and lingering touches.

“What, bunny?” he asks, pinching your hard nipples. “Want me to fuck you already?”

“Y-Yes. Please.”

When he hears those sweet words come out of your lips, he takes you to the couch, not even bothering in going to the bedroom. So desperate to finally break you and ruin you for any other man, stripping you naked as fast as he can, admiring your beautiful body for a second before pushing you to the comfy sofa.

But you feel exposed, and really nervous, so you close your legs as you lay on your back, too shy to fully reveal yourself to him.

“C’mon, don’t hide now. Let me see that pretty pussy” William says, prying your legs open with his hands, watching with a hungry gaze at you perfectly untouched cunt, all ready for him.

He runs a thumb over your slick folds, and then rubs your clit in fast circular motions, causing you to squirm and whine at the sudden pleasure.

“So fucking wet already” he grunts. “You want this as much as i do, don’t you, bunny?.”

“Mhm” is all you manage to say, too lost in the way he’s touching you so deliciously.

But, when you feel your orgasm start to build up, William stops his movements, taking his hand up to lick his thumb, enjoying the sweet taste of your juices mixed with the innocent blood.

You should feel grossed out, but there’s something in the sickness of it that makes you feel even more aroused, biting your lower lip in anticipation as you see him take off his shirt and unbuckle his belt.

Finally, his cock springs free, and your heart beats faster when you see the size of it. It’s big, way more than you thought, how are you supposed to take that if you can barely take one of your fingers?.

“I- It’s not gonna fit” you say, shaking your head as he lines the pink tip of his cock to your tiny hole.

“I’ll make it fit.”

Without a warning, William starts sliding inside your wet cunt, and you can’t help but whine at the painful stretch, digging your nails into his arms, toughing it out like a good girl.

“So fucking tight” William growls once he’s fully sheathed in your walls, looking down at the bulge he’s creating in your tummy. “You’re taking me so well, fuck-“

He gives you few seconds to adjust to his cock, and then starts thrusting at a slow pace, so deep that you can almost feel him in your guts, making you roll your eyes back in pleasure.

But William can’t hold back anymore, he speeds his movements, soon fucking you at a brutal pace, pounding your tight pussy as if there was no tomorrow, while you just moan and squirm under him.

“You feel so good, bunny” he grunts, hitting that soft spot inside you that has you seeing stars. “This pussy was made for me, fuck-“

You scratch his back, so lost in the delicious sensation of his cock dragging against your walls, feeling the knot in your stomach grow tighter.

“Cum in me, Will, please” you whine, wanting nothing more than to feel his load inside you.

“Yeah? you want me to fill you up?” He groans, reaching down to play with your clit again. “You want me to breed this little pussy? Get you pregnant just for everyone to see that i ruined your innocence?”

His words, mixed with the fast movements on you bundle of nerves is enough to drive you over te edge, clenching hard around him as you writhe in pure bliss, letting the orgasm flow through every part of your body.

William follows right after you, grunting as he thrusts hard a few times, finally spilling all of his hot cum into your fertile womb, almost crushing you under his weight as he comes down from his high.

After you’re both done, he doesn’t pull out, he stays inside you for a while as you catch your breath, just sharing a tender moment, with your sweaty bodies still intertwined.

“Can’t wait to see you all round with my child” he says, looking down at you with his pretty blue eyes, giving you a soft kiss on the lips as you play with his beard. “You’re gonna be the best mom ever, i know it…”

#william afton smut #william afton x reader #william afton fanfic #fnaf fanfic

798 notes · View notes

chelseachilly · 2 months

Text

tired of loving from afar

pairing: mason mount x reader warnings: none, mostly fluff with a tiny bit of angst! word count: 5.3k

a/n: not me writing for someone other than ben lmao?? been really in my mase feels lately so here's a fluffy little long distance relationship fic (also was very happy to read this morning that he's likely going to be back after the international break! my heart has been hurting for him this season 🥺) have a great weekend loves 💓

Of the three years you’ve been with Mason, the past six months have been the hardest by far.

You’d overcome other hurdles in your relationship, like adjusting to the exposure and demanding schedule of a professional footballer, learning to cope with your life being somewhat public and thousands of girls being in love with your boyfriend. None of this was nearly as challenging as having to adjust to him living 200 miles away from you.

His move to Manchester was bittersweet - you were so proud of him for getting a spot at such a massive club and finally receiving the appreciation and recognition he deserves. You knew he was happy to have a fresh start and a chance to prove himself as a player.

At the same time, it was incredibly emotional for him to leave his boyhood club, his friends, his family, and you all at the same time. You would’ve given anything to go with him, even if it meant leaving your own friends and family in London, but you were about to start your final year of uni there. You couldn’t just pack up and go, no matter how much you wanted to do so.

You’re passionate about your studies, and you knew it would all be worth it when you graduate and get a job in your chosen field - and in the same city as the man you love. You knew it was only a year.

That didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye.

You’ve both made a massive effort to see each other as much as humanly possible, going up to Manchester every time you have a break from classes or a weekend without an exam or assignment due. Mason has also come back to London any time he gets the chance, sometimes flying out just to see you for the day. You’ve been making it work, but it’s not nearly the same as living in the same house as him. Even when you were both super busy, you at least got to see each other when you woke up and before bed, and now all you have are texts and FaceTime calls.

On a night like tonight, when you’re exhausted from the week and you just want to be wrapped in his arms watching a film, FaceTime really feels like a poor replacement for the real thing.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Mason says, a sleepy smile on his face as he answers your call. “How was your day?”

“Hey, Mase,” you say, curling up with a blanket and admiring his face in the soft glow of his bedroom lamp. Judging by the fact that he’s in bed by quarter to nine, you figure he’s as worn out as you are. “It was okay, felt long. I finally turned in my essay, though.”

“Good work, babe, I’m sure you aced it like always.”

You blush a little, never growing tired of how he takes every opportunity to praise your intelligence. Any time someone asks about your studies, he does a full spiel about how smart you are.

“We’ll see,” you say. “How was your day, love? Any updates at physio?”

The way his smile instantly fades makes your heart drop to your stomach, fearing the worst.

“Yeah, um-it’s looking like a bit longer,” Mason says, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice steady so you don’t worry too much. “Maybe another few weeks. They’re not sure.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you sigh. “I’m sorry. I know how frustrating this is.”

The hardest part about being away from Mason has unquestionably been watching him struggle from afar without being able to properly support him. From the rocky start to the season, to being out due to injuries basically ever since, it’s been torture not being there for him.

You went up straight away when he first injured his calf in November, needing to both emotionally and physically care for him, but you couldn’t stay long before your exams started. Since then, you’ve done your best to help from London - sending him care packages, calling him as much as your schedule allows, asking Luke and Anouska to keep an eye on him and let you know how he’s holding up.

In moments like these, though, what you really need is to hug him and tell him everything is going to be alright.

“Yeah, it’s a bit tough,” Mason admits, fiddling with his hoodie string. “But at least I’m back in partial training, it could be worse. I could’ve done my ACL or something, you know? I’ve been pretty lucky in my career so far.”

One of the many things you love about him is his infectious optimism, how he always sees the best in situations and in people.

Right now, though, you’re not sure you fully believe the words leaving his mouth. He looks so disheartened and downtrodden.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, frowning. “I know it’s not the news you’re expecting, you’re allowed to be disappointed.”

“I’ll be fine, angel, don’t worry about me,” Mason reassures you. “Just missing you a little extra today.”

“Me too,” you murmur, touching the screen and wishing it were his face. “I’m sorry I can’t make it up this weekend, but this group assignment-“

“Don’t apologize, baby, I know how busy you are this term,” Mason cuts you off, just as he always does when you try to apologize for being so far away.

You do the same to him when he tries to say he’s sorry for uprooting your life together, for not being there when you’re stressed about school or just having a bad day. Truthfully, neither of you are at fault, it’s just life. But it still sucks sometimes.

“We’ll see each other in a few weeks when I have my reading break,” you remind him. “Just a while longer.”

“I know, I’m counting down the minutes,” Mason smiles.

You talk for a little while longer before you reluctantly have to go so you can get ready for bed, and you promise to call him again tomorrow night.

The sad look on his face when you say goodnight lingers in your mind as you shower and do your skincare routine, and by the time you climb into bed, you’ve made a decision.

First, you message your group for the assignment you’re working on and ask if you can push your planned meeting to Monday rather than Saturday. Next, you text Luke and ask him to make sure Mason doesn’t have plans tomorrow night.

Lastly, you book a train to Manchester, because you’ll be damned if you don’t go cheer up your man when he needs you.

The moment you arrive at the train station in Manchester the next day, you hop in an Uber and make your way straight to Mason’s.

You know that he’s still at training and will be for at least another hour or so, as you’ve been texting Luke for updates so Mason doesn’t get suspicious. It’s not unusual for you to ask how his day is going, but you don’t typically ask for the exact time he plans on leaving Carrington or instruct him to go straight home after training.

Using the key that Mason gave you when he moved in, insisting that it was still your home even if you don’t live there the majority of the time, you let yourself into his house.

You drop your bags and immediately get to work on creating the perfect cozy, romantic Friday night in.

By the time you get the text from Luke that he’s on his way back with Mason, having devised a fake plan of coming over to play FIFA after training to ensure Mason didn’t make other plans, you’re just finishing up.

You’ve successfully transformed his house, which he bought furnished and has put very little effort into making homey, into a much more welcoming environment.

You ordered flowers for the kitchen table, as well as enough groceries to make dinner for him tonight and to replenish his far too empty fridge. You did a bit of tidying, deciding to do a few loads of laundry for him when you noticed there was quite a pile forming, and it must have been a week or so since the cleaning service he pays for came.

You put some soft music on his speakers and lit a few candles in the kitchen as well, popping a bottle of white wine into the fridge so it’s ready for your dinner.

You’ve just started chopping a few veggies to get a head start on dinner when you hear the sound of the front door opening followed by distant voices, one of which you immediately recognize as Mason.

“Do you hear that music?”

The sound of your boyfriend’s voice after weeks apart fills your stomach with butterflies - you’re just as giddy to see him as you were in your early days of dating.

“Probably the neighbours, mate,” Luke responds, still playing along with your ruse.

“I don’t think-“

Finally, the guys turn the corner into the kitchen, and you see Mason come into view with Luke trailing behind him. His eyes widen in surprise for a moment, slightly startled by there being someone in his house, and then he realizes it’s you and his mouth falls open in shock.

“Surprise,” you say shyly, while Mason is still at a loss for words.

He immediately drops his training bag to the floor and makes a beeline for you, pulling you into a tight hug and lifting you off your feet before you can even hug him back properly.

You relax into his arms right away, squeezing him just as tightly as he’s squeezing you and breathing in the familiar scent of his soap and aftershave, freshly showered after training. It’s the same scent that lingers on the t-shirts and hoodies that you steal from him every time you come up, wearing them until you regrettably have to put them through the wash.

“Baby,” Mason mumbles into your neck, pressing little kisses there. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I’m here,” you confirm, wrapping your legs around his waist as he refuses to set you down or let you go. “I missed you way too much to wait another three weeks.”

He pulls back far enough to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, his hands sliding down to your thighs to support your weight as you kiss him back. You can feel the pieces of your world shifting back into place, your heart settling in your chest as you sink into his warmth.

Mason presses a few more quick pecks to your lips before reluctantly setting you down, arms still wrapped around you. It’s only then that you realize Luke is still here, shuffling awkwardly in the corner.

“Thanks for your help, Luke,” you say with a shy smile, moving to Mason’s side.

“Of course, the man never shuts up about how much he misses you, so it’s really a favour for me as well,” Luke jokes. “I’ll leave you guys. Enjoy your evening.”

“Thanks, mate,” Mason says with an eye roll and a grin before turning his attention back to you, pressing kisses to your head.

“Night, Luke! Give my love to Anouska and the kids,” you call out, though you’ve also turned back to face Mason and bury your face in his chest.

You remain in each other’s arms, just holding one another and breathing in and out for a minute or two.

You knew you missed him, but you don’t think you realized quite how much until right now. It’s taken such a toll on both of you being apart for so long.

“How long are you staying?” Mason asks quietly, almost like he’s afraid of the answer, as he lightly rubs your lower back.

“Until Monday morning,” you say. You wish it were longer, but three nights together is the best you’ve gotten in a long time.

“Really?” Mason asks, pulling back and looking at you with bright eyes. “I thought you had to do your group assignment tomorrow?”

“I pushed it to Monday, I had to come see you after we spoke last night.”

You reach up to cup Mason’s face with one hand, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. Judging by the way he’s avoiding eye contact with you, you know you were right to come. He’s obviously been struggling with the disappointment of the never-ending injuries, all the uncertainty it’s brought.

“I’m okay,” he says softly, turning his face to press a kiss to your palm. “Now that you’re here, everything’s okay.”

You melt at his gentle words, but they don’t do much to ease your worries about his emotional wellbeing.

Mason gives you a quick peck on the forehead before looking around the room, noticing the food you’re preparing and the cozy, romantic vibe you created for your evening.

“What’s all this?” he asks, a small smile on his face.

You’re not keen to drop the subject, but you don’t want to ruin your rare weekend together by bombarding him with questions either. You know he’ll talk about it when he’s ready.

“I just ordered some food for dinner and restocked your fridge a bit,” you explain. “I figured you would be happy to stay in tonight, so I got stuff to make your favourite pasta.”

Before he can respond, the dryer beeps, signalling that the load is done. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you doing laundry?”

“I just threw a couple loads of your clothes in, I noticed you were running behind,” you shrug.

Mason looks at you with complete awe, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he says softly. “You being here is enough. It’s more than enough.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck once more.

“I know, but I wanted tonight to be perfect and relaxing,” you explain, pecking his lips. “No stressing about football or school or anything else. Just you and me.”

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” Mason sighs, squeezing your waist. “Can I help you cook?”

“No, but you can pour us both a glass of wine from the bottle in the fridge and sit down and tell me about your day,” you smile, kissing him one more time before pulling away to return to your meal preparations.

Mason does as told, sneaking another few kisses when he brings you over your glass, then sitting at one of the stools at the kitchen island.

You treasure this domesticity more than almost anything with him - the simple act of chatting about your days while making dinner is something you’ve missed terribly.

When the pasta is ready, you dish it out into two bowls and bring them over to the table.

“God, I missed your cooking,” Mason grins as he dives into his portion, obviously starving after a day of training. “It’s delicious, babe.”

“Thanks, Mase,” you reply, pouring yourself a little bit more wine. “You want some more?”

“Might as well, it’s not like I’m playing tomorrow,” Mason says, the offhand comment hurting your heart much more than he intended.

He’s still smiling at you as you pour his drink, but you don’t believe for a second that it’s real.

“Do you want to go tomorrow?” you ask after a minute of silence while you both eat. “I know you usually go to the home games, right?”

Mason shrugs. “Yeah, we can if you want.”

Once again, you don’t press him further, listening as he changes the subject and starts updating you on Ben’s latest girl troubles.

After you’ve finished and cleaned up, you head into the living room to catch up on the new episodes of Drive to Survive. You always save your favourite shows for when you’re together, sometimes dodging spoilers for weeks just so you can enjoy it properly with Mason.

The moment you sit down on the couch, Mason pulls you into his arms for the first real cuddle you’ve had in weeks. You very contently lean into him, resting your head on his chest and humming in delight as Mason slides his hand under your hoodie and begins to gently stroke your lower back. It’s not with the intention of anything sexual, though you’re sure that will come later, it’s just an innate need to be as close to you as possible.

It’s the most relaxed you’ve felt since he left your flat in London three weeks ago, your body and mind decompressing with every moment spent in his arms.

A few hours pass, and you can feel yourself growing tired, but you’re enjoying Mason’s commentary on the Alpine rivalry far too much to interrupt and suggest you go to bed. Your yawns are betraying you, though, and Mason begins to gently run his hand through your hair.

“You ready for bed, sweetheart?” he asks softly, kissing your forehead.

“It’s so early,” you murmur as you glance at the time on your phone, barely past 9PM, yet you can’t contain another small yawn which makes Mason chuckle. “Sorry, I guess I’m tired out from the week.”

“No worries, we have the whole weekend,” Mason smiles. “Honestly, I’m a bit worn out too. Wanna go upstairs and I’ll get us some water?”

You nod as he stands and helps you to your feet, pressing one more gentle kiss to your forehead before heading into the kitchen. You make your way up the stairs to his bedroom and head into his ensuite bathroom.

It occurs to you as you’re flicking the light on that you forgot to grab your toiletry bag from your suitcase in his room, and you’re just about to turn back for it when something catches your eye. On one of the shelves above the toilet, there’s an array of products that wasn’t here last time you visited. More specifically, there’s a version of just about every hair and skincare product you use on a regular basis, and you really doubt that Mason has taken up doing hair treatments or using Drunk Elephant serums.

Maybe it shouldn’t mean as much to you as it does - he’s always been thoughtful, and you know the expense of buying all this is nothing to him - but for some reason, the simple gesture nearly brings you to tears.

Mason appears in the doorway a moment later, smiling softly at you.

“You okay, love?”

“When did you buy all this stuff?” you ask, gesturing to the shelf.

“Oh, uh, a couple days after the last time I came to London,” Mason says casually. “I took pictures of everything in your bathroom to make sure I got the right stuff, I just wanted to make it easier for you when you visit.”

As you look into his soft, sincere gaze, your love for him feels more overwhelming than ever.

Which means your guilt does, too.

“Mase, I’m so sorry I haven’t been up to visit more lately,” you say, your voice unsteady. “I know you’ve been struggling, and I know you’ve been keeping a lot of it from me because I’m busy with uni, but you’re my priority and I should’ve-“

“Hey,” Mason says gently, interrupting you with a hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “Don’t ever apologize for focusing on your studies. I know how hard you’ve been working, and I’m so proud of you. You don’t need to worry about me, I’m gonna be fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you shake your head, tears now streaming down your face. “You’ve always been there for me, and now you’re in a new city and a new club and you’ve been dealing with injuries and I’m all the way across the country.”

“Y/N, we knew this would be hard, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t,” Mason says, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “But it’s not your fault I moved clubs while you still had a degree to finish, or that I’ve had a tough season. Some things are out of our control.”

You know he’s right, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Hearing his sad, defeated voice on the phone after a disappointing medical assessment or bad game and not being able to hold him has been one of the hardest things you’ve ever done.

“I just worry about you being here all alone,” you say quietly. “I know you have your teammates and you spend a lot of time with Luke, but in London you had me and all your friends and your family was closer and - I just hate that I’m not with you.”

“You’re here right now,” Mason says, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment. “You dropped everything to come see me today, babe. You have no idea how much that meant.”

“I would do it every weekend if I could.”

“I know,” he says with a sad smile. “And I would leave all of this and spend my time helping you study and supporting you if I could, but this is our reality for a little while longer, angel.”

You sigh, nodding in agreement and staring into his big brown eyes that bring you so much comfort.

“I’ve just missed you so much,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tight hug.

His own arms circle your waist and tug you impossibly closer, his nose buried in your hair so he can breathe you in.

“I know, baby, I’ve missed you too,” he exhales. “So, so much.”

You hold him for a while longer, cherishing every brush of his hand against your back and every kiss he presses to your temple. You want to memorize the feeling of his touch, so when you’re back in your bed in London a few days from now you can close your eyes and try to imagine you’re still in his arms.

After a few minutes, you break apart to finish preparing for bed. You brush your teeth together then go through your skincare routine while Mason watches fondly, letting you put some moisturizer on him when you’re done with it. Then he strips down to just his boxers, teasing you lovingly when you obviously check him out, and passes you a comfy t-shirt from his drawer to change into. You make a mental note to fill up your suitcase with a few of his hoodies before you leave - the ones you have at home no longer smell like him.

You climb into the bed together, noticing that the side you usually sleep on has all of its pillows in place and that the nightstand is almost empty except for the glass of water he set down for you. Like he’s still been leaving that space for you even when you’re not there to fill it.

“C’mere,” Mason says immediately, tugging you into his chest.

You relax against him, laying your head over his heartbeat and tracing his tattoos with your finger.

“Will you tell me how you’ve really been feeling lately?” you ask in a gentle voice. He immediately tenses, and you know he still doesn’t want to discuss it, but you’re not leaving Manchester without talking to him about this. “I saw the look on your face when I asked about the game tomorrow, babe. Please just talk to me.”

“I don’t want to burden you with all this,” Mason says, refusing to meet your gaze. “I know how busy you are-“

“I told you, you’re my priority, Mase,” you insist. “And it’s actually more concerning when I don’t know what’s going on with you. If you talk to me, then maybe I can help.”

Mason sighs and moves into a more upright position, still holding your hand and playing with your fingers as a way of grounding himself as he gathers his thoughts.

“I just never thought it would be like this, you know?” he mutters. “I thought that coming here would solve everything I was going through at Chelsea, but in a lot of ways it’s been even harder.”

You nod for him to continue, gently squeezing his hand.

“I thought when all the contract stuff was resolved and I was at a new club everything would be fine, but then it’s just been constant injuries and trying to adjust to a whole new life without actually being able to do the thing I love most,” he goes on, making your heart splinter even more. “Fifty-five million pounds and I don’t have a single goal to show for it.”

“You can’t help that you’ve been injured, baby,” you say softly, though you know he already knows that. “If you were in top form, you’d be scoring goals all over the place. I know it.”

He smiles slightly, always grateful for your neverending confidence in him. You’ve been his biggest fan from the moment you met, cheering him on through every high and low of his career.

“Maybe, but I haven’t had the chance to try,” he mutters. “I’m just stuck here, being useless to the club and hours away from you. I basically upended our lives just to end up not playing for months.”

“Mase, if I’m not allowed to feel guilty for us being apart, neither are you,” you say firmly. “Coming to United was the right decision. It may not feel like it now, but I promise it will in the long run. And if not, we’ll find a new place for you to show everyone how amazing of a footballer you are. Even if it’s in a different city or another country, we’ll figure it out.”

“Babe, I feel bad enough that you’re moving away from London to be here next year, I’m not gonna ask you to move again,” Mason says, still fiddling with your fingers. “I have to make it work here.”

“And I’m sure you will as soon as you’re better,” you tell him, bringing your joined hands to your lips. “But if it ends up not being a good fit, I will happily follow you anywhere you want to go.”

“Even the States?” Mason jokes, making you roll your eyes and poke him the ribs. “It would be cool to play with Messi.”

“You are not going to the MLS any time soon,” you reprimand him. “But yes, I would go to Florida for you, babe. That is how much I love you.”

Mason laughs, moving your joined hands so it’s his turn to lay kisses on your knuckles.

“Wouldn’t be so bad. The weather’s good, and we could hang out with the Beckhams,” he says, smiling against your skin. “We could take our kids to the beach-“

“Oh, our kids, huh?” you remark, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, by the time I’m actually ready to play in the MLS…”

“Alright, we’ll move to Florida with our hypothetical children in ten years,” you say decisively. “Then you can retire and stay home with them while I work.”

“I could take them to Disney World every day,” Mason sighs happily. “Oh, and the Harry Potter thing! Our kids would love that.”

As much as you’re both joking, the thought of a time in the future when you’re settled with a family and not having to deal with all the separation and uncertainty makes your heart feel warm and fuzzy. You can’t wait to have a family with him someday.

“In all seriousness, babe, you’ve already accomplished so much in your career and I know you’re going to do so many more amazing things,” you tell him, reaching out to cup his cheek. “And even more importantly, you are such an incredible person off the pitch.“

Mason blushes, leaning into your palm and holding it to his face so you don’t withdraw your touch. You know he struggles to take compliments sometimes, but you also know that this is something he needs to hear.

“Which is why I refuse to listen to you call yourself useless when you do so much for your family, the community, for me - you make everything better, Mase,” you say softly. “That’s why are so loved. It’s why I fell in love with you, not because of your job.”

He takes a moment to soak up what you’re saying, still holding your hand to his face and pressing a few kisses to your palm.

“You mean you’re not in it for the money?” he says after a minute, eliciting an eye roll from you.

“It’s mostly for the money, but the abs don’t hurt either,” you tease, poking his stomach and making him laugh out loud for the first time in as long as you can remember.

Mason pulls you into his arms again, leaning back and tucking you into his chest so your nose is pressed to his neck. You give him another tight squeeze, unable to get enough of his cuddles.

“Thank you so much, baby,” he mumbles into your hair as he slowly rubs his hand over your back. “For coming and for making me talk about this stuff. You always know exactly what I need.”

“Of course, my love,” you murmur. “Just promise me you’ll keep talking to me, okay? I don’t care how busy I am, I want to know what’s going on with you.”

“I promise,” Mason swears, squeezing your hand that rests over his heart. “And the same goes for you. I know how stressful this term has been, but I’m always here even if I can’t physically be there to help.”

“I know you are,” you smile. “And I know you’re the reason Ben or Woody brought me dinner or care packages before every midterm. They wouldn’t admit it, but I suspected they were under orders to check in on me.”

Mason chuckles. “Yeah, well, gotta send in the subs when I can’t do it myself.”

You hug him even tighter, throwing a leg over his and letting him shift you back into a more comfortable position for sleep. You’re yawning again, the exhaustion finally catching up to you now that the worry gnawing at your mind over Mason has been relieved.

“So, for tomorrow,” you say, your voice lower now that you’re both getting sleepy. “I think we should go to the game with Luke and Anouska, she already texted me and asked us to come over for dinner afterward. That way you and Luke can show your faces at Old Trafford and we can spend some time with them and the kids. Then, you and I can come back home and have a bit of a romantic night in.”

Mason doesn’t respond right away, and you give him a moment before you look up at him to see if something’s wrong. But when you do, you see only an adoring gaze and gentle smile on his face.

“Is that plan good with you?” you ask, “we don’t have to do any of it, I just thought-“

“No, no, it sounds perfect,” Mason cuts you off. “You’re perfect. I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

Your heart melts even more for him, if that’s possible, and you can’t resist leaning in to press another lingering kiss to his lips.

“I love you too,” you say, pressing a few more kisses to his cheeks and nose for good measure. “Now, let’s get a good night’s sleep so I can show you how much I love you in the morning, yeah?”

Mason nods with childlike enthusiasm, making you giggle again as you lay your head back on his chest.

You can’t wait for the time to come that all of your nights end like this, curled up next to the love of your life, but for now, you’re grateful for this one.

No matter how many miles are between you, your heart is always gonna be wherever Mason is. He’s your home, whether you’re on opposite ends of the globe or in the same bed.

You sleep better than you have in months.

please leave me a comment if you enjoyed this or send me an ask just to chat, love hearing from all of you xx

#mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #mason mount imagine #mason mount #manchester united imagine #my fics

331 notes · View notes

gatorbites-imagines · 1 year

Note

Male Reader X 141 boyfriends (individually) where he has a pet wolf and the rest of 141 reacts to it on and off the field

Also can it be a BIG ass wolf too plzzzz?

(Super simple really lol)

141 x male reader

Headcanons

You said big wolf, so I made it a big wolf, big enough to ride on. I know this isn’t realistically possible, but I don’t care :)

You callsign in this is Lycan, because of the wolf lmao. It isn’t really mentioned but yeah.

John Price

- Now Price added you to the 141 he had read in your file that you had a canine with you. He just assumed it was like any other dog that was in the military, imagine his surprise when you pull up with a wolf big enough to ride on.

- It takes a good while to get used to the big wolf, which he learned it was and not a dog, especially when he sees it walking around on base at night, it almost gives the poor guy a heart attack.

- At first, he would think it would be a disadvantage to have such a big animal with you on missions, but when the wolf turns out to be super useful during missions, he will change his mind.

- He acts all tough, but you’ve caught him petting and cuddling your wolf more and once, but you have a mutual agreement to never mention what you saw to anyone.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

- Gaz had no idea how to react to the huge wolf you brought along, and he’s kinda nervous around it in the beginning but its mouth it big enough to rip someone’s head off. When he learns the wolf is friendly outside of missions though, he becomes close friends with your wolf.

- He half heartedly complains about the dog hair everywhere, even though he’s the one cuddling your wolf and getting covered in the stuff.

- Gaz would be kinda on edge for a little bit after the first time he sees your wolf rip a poor enemy soldier apart as if they were a chew toy. The cautiousness stays for a while though your wolf searching for cuddles with Gaz helps warm the man up to the canine again.

- He takes pictures of your wolf all the time, he’s also the one who started calling you Lycan when you joined the team.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

- Ghost gives the vibe of the kind of guy who likes animals more than people, so he wouldn’t outwardly show it but he’s ecstatic when you show up with your wolf.

- He would of course be cautious in the beginning because that’s a big animal that can easily kill a man and has military training, but when your wolf turns out to be pretty much harmless, he would allow himself to pet it when no one was looking.

- At some point you notice how Ghost sticks around your wolf and finds comfort in its presence, so you offer to teach him the commands and how to fight closer alongside the wolf. In exchange he teaches you some of his moves too.

- It becomes a thing that if your wolf isn’t with you, it’s with ghost during missions and outside missions. Ghost makes a horrifying picture walking around with your wolf, it only makes the legend of Ghost even greater.

- He secretly carries treats for your wolf in his gear, not that he would ever tell anyone.

John “Soap” MacTavish

- I headcanon that soap hates dogs, this stems from him being attacked by dogs when he was younger and the fear just kinda stuck. So, when you rock up with a wolf the size of a horse, he doesn’t know what to do and almost just keels over right then and there.

- Soap would avoid your wolf most of the time because of him not being super comfortable around them, so this would also mean the two of you wouldn’t bond as quickly as normal since you are typically around your wolf.

- After your wolf saves his life during a mission, he grows a little more comfortable with your animal partner, though he still isn’t the biggest fan of being too close or touching.

- As time goes on, he grows more comfortable and might even pet your wolf every now and then, though he isn’t all over their fur like some of the others are.

- Soap sketches your wolf in his notebook every now and then since it’s a great reference.

2K notes · View notes

voltronisanobsession · 1 year

Text

Keith's Glowing Eyes Headcanons

I always liked the idea of Keith having like glowing yellow eyes in the dark because of his galra genes. I’ve seen a couple of posts and fan art of it and I just find it so SILLY💔💔 so I decided imma make my own headcanons of how life would be around the castle with his eyes

First of all, Keith forgets that his eyes tend to 'change' during the night time, specifically when it's dark

During the night when the lights are out, everyone usually stays in their rooms so they have no idea of Keith's little weird galra thing

So imagine Hunk's absolute fear when he decides to go to the kitchen for a late night snack when he sees two yellow eyes staring at him from the darkness of the room

Keith is literally so confused when Hunk starts yelling LMAO

"WHAT ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY KITCHEN?!"

Cue Hunk switching on the lights only to see Keith staring at him in shock

He turns them off and sees yellow eyes where he saw Keith, and then switches the lights back on to see him still staring at him

Hunk does this a few more times before stepping out of the room, deciding food was not worth him almost having a heart attack

Poor Keith had no idea what just happened, homie only wanted a cup of water

Another time this happens is when you spent the night cuddling with him and suddenly woke up

Groggily you wake him, moving to get up and hearing him shuffling awake, you turn around only to be met with yellow eyes looking at you

"OH MY GOSH!"

You're shoving yourself off the bed and stumbling onto the floor because what the HELL was that?!

"Are you ok??"

You watch as the yellow orbs move around and get closer to you

"Keith is that you?? What the hell!"

Cue this dude being confused again cuz he literally has no idea what you were talking about (my clueless man)

"What are you talking about?"

"Your EYES! They're yellow! Are they normally like that?"

It finally hit him on why you and Hunk both reacted the same way when looking at him

"Oh! That makes sense now. Yeah this is normal, my eyes have always been like this since I was little."

"Do you like uh, switch them on?"

"No."

Now that you and Hunk both know about Keith's glow in the dark eyes, you guys definitely share your stories on how you found out

Shiro walks by and hears your conversation and just jumps in too because he understands that jumpscare Keith unknowingly did too!

Pretty soon the others would have their own stories about finding Keith's yellow eyes in the dark

Lance on the other hand fully believes that a ghost is haunting the castle when he sees two glowing eyes in the hallways one night

I can imagine him screaming the whole way back to his room😭😭

I’m just gonna say that Keith can see better in the dark than normal people can😻

#keith kogane #voltron legendary defender #galra keith #keith x reader #voltron x reader #vld x reader #vld #vld Keith #voltron

963 notes · View notes

localemofreak · 2 months

Text

There’s Just No Time To Die.

(AQP Eric x fem!reader)

Based on this song:

No Time To Die - Billie Eilish

—————————————

(Just a little heads up- I made this fic before the trailer or anything about AQP Day One came out- literally I found out Joe’s characters name and that was it- but please enjoy lmao)

‼️Warnings‼️: HEAVY ANGST, a little bit of fluff but mostly angst, major character death, pure sad shit, no happy ending, etc. (if I forgot anything please tell me)

—————————————

You never expected this to happen.

Yeah that random shower thought has come up before- ‘what would happen if something invaded earth??’

But you never expected it to happen..

It had been a few days since those ‘creatures’ crashed onto earth- and you were doing your best to survive with the small group of people you were with.

One of those people in that group was a man named Eric, he had saved your life the day those things came- even though you couldn't talk, you had gotten to know each other well over the past few days.

And the more you got to know each other, the more it was obvious that your relationship was more than just some people working together to survive- or possibly even more than friends..

-FLASHBACK-

It was the day those aliens came to earth, you had just gotten off work and you were walking down the busy sidewalks of New York, just like any other boring day.

As you were walking, there was a sound in the sky, the city just seemed to just freeze for a moment- it confused you at first, but then you glanced up at the sky.

Something was shooting through the sky- and it wasn't a meteor.

Without even another second of thought being able to come through your mind, everything just seemed to turn into terror.

Floods of people had started screaming and running as this disturbing creature started ripping through cars and people, causing full chaos to blow out.

You just froze for a second, watching all these people and objects getting ripped apart- which only caused more people to scream.

It just seemed to be going after any sound.

Finally after just standing there frozen in shock- you seemed to snap out of it and started running like everyone else, you were just in too much shock to even make a noise, right now you just had to get out of there.

While you were running, trying to get away from those strange creatures- you felt someone grab onto your arm and yank you towards them, their hand automatically going over your mouth which instantly caused you to stark panicking.

Your screams were muffled thanks to the hand over your mouth, silencing you while you were quickly dragged you into a building.

Everything just seemed to happen so quickly, but you had managed to glance around your surroundings- it looked like a little book shop you were dragged in, books and other random shit scattered on the floor slightly from the instant chaos and panic.

You just continued to try and break out of the strangers arms while humming into their hand, which didn’t do anything at all.

Soon enough you were quickly dragged behind a counter- your breathing was heavy and quick into the strangers hand as you looked up at them in panic, noticing how they brought their finger to their lips, signaling for you to be quiet.

After a second you had finally stopped humming into the person’s hand, your breathing still quick as you glanced around, adrenaline just running through your veins.

You had slowly turned your gaze back to the person who practically saved your life after a moment.

It was a man- he had short curly hair, beautiful brown doe eyes that were filled with fear and panic as well and he was wearing a brown suit.

As you continued to look up at the random man who was glancing around the store, your ears were filled with the sound of screams and crashing from outside the building and on the street.

You glanced around once again, seeing people quietly hiding under tables in panic as these strange ‘creatures’ seems to rip the city apart.

Soon- all the sudden, there was silence.

For the first time in forever, New York City was quiet.

You could hear the quiet, shaky sigh of relief fall from the man’s lips- causing you to quickly shoot your wide eyes back to look at him, his hand still over your mouth as he crouched hidden in front of you.

"What the hell was that?!" One person yelled in the shop, causing your eyes to quickly move over to the person.

Before anyone could actually react- one of those creatures came bursting in, breaking the front wall of the building as it started ripping up the place.

Out of instinct, you just quickly shut your wide eyes and put your hands over your ears as the man's hand on your mouth got rougher- trying to make sure you didn’t make any sounds.

As the little shop continued to basically get ripped apart- you felt the random man’s strong arm pull you into his side, pulling you into the corner of the counter with him.

His body basically covered yours, using himself as a human shield to try and protect you- as well as himself as this monster just continued to cause terror.

You just wanted to scream, but you couldn't- you couldn’t get yourself to let out a single noise.

Finally, after a moment you suddenly felt yourself getting pulled up from the ground, which caused you to finally open your eyes.

The man moved his hand on your mouth to your hand as he quickly dragged you out of the store, running into the street to get away.

While running with the man you glanced around, there was more creatures- you couldn't even count how many, it didn't matter at that moment, you had to get shelter.

Soon enough, the man quickly yanked you into another small shop with you, quickly closing the door behind him and locking it so nobody could come in.

As you and the stranger glanced around, you noticed there was only two other people in that small shop and they were hidden behind tables, their eyes also wide with fear.

The man who saved your life was still holding your hand as he looked over at them- his breathing heavy as he just stood them for a moment staring at them, before finally putting his shaking finger up to his lips.

As he quickly pulled you to hide behind something with him- you were all were dead quiet, just waiting for the chaos to go down.

You were all strangers to each other, but at that moment, without saying a single word you all knew you guys had to work together- to survive whatever this was.

-FLASHBACK OVER-

It had been a few days, New York was still quiet and it honestly looked apocalyptic at this point.

Everybody had either fled the city or died when the creatures attacked- and you guys were planning on fleeing soon as well.

While you and the rest of your small group had started working together to survive and escape the city- you had managed to find out the stranger’s name who saved your life.

His name was Eric.

Right now, you and Eric had decided to go out, to try and get some more materials- you had both been walking the streets for a little bit before you ended up in the middle of a little shopping center.

It was obviously abandoned, nobody seen in sight- you and Eric were in the middle of the little center, walking around a dried up fountain.

Eric had his eyes open, glancing around inside empty abandoned stores while you decided to take a seat on the fountain’s edge- your legs tired from all the walking.

You both were just there, staying quiet when all the sudden you both heard something.

It was almost like a clicking/quiet screeching sound.

In panic you and Eric both froze, your wide eyes looking into his- you and him instantly knew what it was, and you both knew you had to get out immediately.

Eric had quietly motioned for you to follow him, causing you to stand up slowly before you both started quietly but quickly making your way to the large entrance of a Macy's since it was the only exit, away from the area that the sound obviously came from.

Everything seemed to be alright, you both weren’t making any noises- but as you took another step, your foot tripped over a wire- it was a trap.

You instantly both looked at each other with wide, panicked eyes.

A loud clatter was made by cans that fell from the trap- you both seemed like you were both just frozen in fear.

"Run.." Eric whispered out with wide eyes, grabbing onto your hand.

Before you even knew it, you both were sprinting down the hall of the mall, the strange creature quickly following behind while tearing apart and throwing everything in its way to the side

You mind started racing as you ran, you instantly knew there was no way out without making it out alive, but your mind also just forced you to think you could- you and Eric both could just quickly make it out of there.

As you continued to sprint hand in hand with him, monster was catching up- but you were so close to an exit.

Right as you were about to hit the exit, the creature just seemed to appear besides you and Eric out of nowhere, quickly jumping up to get at you.

Eric’s reflexes were quick enough to save you because he instantly just tackled you down to the side, pushing you and him out of the way and onto the ground with quiet little grunts.

You were on the ground for a second, Eric on top of you as you both let out quiet but heavy breaths.

Your wide eyes glanced up at him as he hovered over you, both your chest heaving up and down from the adrenaline as his wide eyes looked down into yours.

Soon enough, Eric had managed to quickly pull you behind a glass counter- the creature lurking and blocking the only exit nearby.

You slowly turned your gaze to look over at Eric, your breathing still heavy- but he was already looking at you, and there was a soft look in his eyes.. you instantly knew the look.

You just instantly started shaking your head, your eyes already filling up with tears as you tried to stay as quiet as possible.

"Please- no..." You mouthed to him, but he just nodded his head, the soft look still in his eyes while you brought your gaze down.

Tears were already starting to slowly spill down your cheeks, his hand slowly moved up to cup the side of your face as he gently made you look back up at him, his thumb wiping away the tears as you both made eye contact

"You need to run okay.." he mouthed- you just shook your head once again, letting out silent sobs while he continued to hold your face.

You were refusing to let him sacrifice himself for you, you couldn’t live on knowing that without the guilt eating you alive.

As you sat there with Eric, both looking into each other’s eyes- you had finally realized how close both your faces have gotten, so close to the point you could feel his shaky breath over your lips.

Soon enough, his lips were on yours in a soft but also passionate kiss.

You instantly kissed back, his hand still holding onto the side of your head as your hand moved up to gently grasp onto his wrist while he held your face.

Even though both of your eyes were closed, your tears were starting to slowly fall onto his cheeks, mixing with his small tears as he had started to cry as well.

After a moment, he finally slowly pulled away, continuing to cup your face as he looked into your eyes, giving a sad reassuring smile.

You already missed the feeling of his lips as soon as he pulled away, your tear filled eyes looking up into his as you continued to hold onto his wrist.

"I love you.." He mouthed, looking into your eyes as he wiped more tears from your face before slowly pulling his hand away, causing your light grip on his wrist to slowly fall.

"I love you too.." you mouthed back, both of your hands moving to hold onto his face- just not wanting him to leave you.

But Eric shook his head and slowly pulled your hands away slowly, holding onto both of your wrists as he placed small kisses in the palm of your hand while sitting there with you.

It all seemed to happen in slow mo as you quickly shook your head while he started slowly letting go of your hands, moving them onto your lap as he started standing up.

Silent sobs started escaping from you once again as he quickly ran out from behind the glass counter, running out of the department store and back into the mall.

"Hey- come get me you son of a bitch! Come on!!" He yelled out, causing the creature to instantly sprint out of the area you were hiding in.

You had slowly stood up from behind the counter, your eyes wider than they have ever been as you watched as the creature quickly run after Eric.

You just froze as you watched it basically start ripping him into shreds in front of your eyes, his screams of pain filling your ringing ears before it went silent- the only sound being the creature and the ringing in your ears

Your heart just dropped into your stomach right there- you didn’t even know what you were feeling, it was worst than any pain you ever felt- it just felt like everything inside of you collapsed, your brain felt numb and everything stung inside and outside of you.

Tears streamed down your face before finally- you had gotten yourself to move and made a run for it, running out of the exit even though your legs felt like they just wanted to give out.

You just wanted to scream at that moment, you didn’t find a purpose in trying to survive anymore without Eric- but you knew you had too, it was what he would have wanted, it IS what he wanted.

You just continued running away, leaving behind the man who not only saved your life, but sacrificed himself for you.

60 notes · View notes

bunwritesss · 8 months

Text

Real Life Disney Princess

Summary: You have always been good with animals, and this is why Daryl finds you, surrounded by wild friends, in the forest. You teach him how to befriend them, and become friends with him in the process.

Genre: Fluff 💕

A/N: Hi everyone! 💕 This oneshot is basically me fulfilling my dream of being a Disney Princess and having animal friends and everything! i love writing Daryl being soft with Reader, but still gruff and everything, I think it's just so cute! Also, early seasons Daryl has my whole heart 💕 Anyway, as always I apologize for the possible english mistakes, writing in english is hard ahah! Have a lovely day/night, and feel free to reblog this, or comment, it encourages me so much! Also my ask box is now open because I completely forgot to do it before lmao😭

Things at the Quarry tended to get a little too overwhelming for you. The other adults were always shouting at each other, and it seemed like nobody could ever get along with anyone, which made everyone mean. So when things got a little too heated for your taste, you went to the one place where no one would ever bother you. The forest.

As you were growing up, you came to realize you had a gift, something that made you truly unique: animals loved you.

They didn't just like you, they put their full trust into you. It was as if you were one of them. Deers had always let you caress their fur without being scared you would hurt them, and you had slept with wolves without any fear before, knowing they would have your back. And they had. You had woken up after a few hours, one of them licking your cheek. God, you loved animals.

So as Shane started yelling on Merle, Lori backing her boyfriend and Daryl backing his brother, you simply retreated to the woods. You had brought a knife with you, because your gift unfortunately had no effect on walkers, and a good book, planning on spending the afternoon in a calm environment. You advanced, a slight smile on your face, breathing slowly as the rays of the sun pierced through the leaves surrounding you. Everything felt better already. Soon enough, you found a log good enough to sit on, and opened your book.

It took a few pages for your first friend to arrive. A curious fox cautiously approached you, and you waited a minute before giving him your hand. He sniffed it, before leaning into your touch as you started petting him. You gave up on the idea of advancing on your book, knowing he wouldn't be the only one to come to you. So you gave him your full attention.

'Hi, baby!' You cooed at him, cupping his face between your hands.

You did not kiss his forehead, although you would have loved to. You had learned this the hard way, forest animals were full of things you did not want to catch. He looked at you with soft eyes, and you knew he would have started purring if he was a cat.

The fox didn't take long to sit on your lap, falling asleep. You petted him mindlessly, letting your mind wander around. As you thought about your friends at the Quarry, about Shane as a leader, and about how ungrateful everyone seemed to be with Daryl, who went on hunts almost everyday to make sure everyone was well fed, a few other animals started surrounding you. A full family of rabbits came to your feet, some squirrels went and said hello, and you could hear a few birds singing behind your back. With an asleep fox on your lap, it was hard to pet them all, but you managed to prompt them to come to you instead. As always, you thanked the Universe the carnivorous animals stayed calm when you were with them, because a fight was the last thing you needed at the moment.

As the minutes passed, some animals left and some arrived. You were focused on giving attention to the sleeping fox when you heard a voice behind your back.

'Yer like a real life Disney princess or what?'

You had not heard the hunter approach you. If your gift was impressing, his was even more: the man had managed approaching a dozen wild animals in silence without making his presence known. His voice startled you and your new friends, and you heard some birds fly away quickly, in panic. The rabbits left as well, and you were left with your sleeping rabbit, and a squirrel on your shoulder. You did not bother turning back, Daryl walking to you anyway, slowly and silently, as to avoid scaring the rest of your friends. It was truly astonishing. You did not hear any dried leave or twig crack under his heavy boots, he was in total control. You promised yourself you would ask him to teach you, one day.

'How'd'you do that?' He asked.

He had always seemed more talkative with you, which you appreciated a lot. He sat in front of you, his crossbow on his shoulder. You shrugged, a shy smile making its way to your lips. While talking to your forest friends was easy, talking to actual people was more complicated.

'I don't know, animals have always been nice to me.'

He nodded thoughtfully.

'Are things better at camp?' You asked, hopefully.

'Dunno, I left soon after ya. Wanted to bring some food. Didn't meet any animals, I guess they were all with ya.'

The remark made you smile. The squirrel left your shoulders, and you were alone with the fox. And Daryl. You would have loved to join the man on the ground, but the fox sleeped too well for you to wake him up. So you ignored your discomfort on the hard log, and Daryl spoke again.

'Is that why ya left? The fights?'

You nodded, the fox stirring on your thighs.

His eyes went from the fox to yours, a confused expression on his face, and you smiled.

'I hate seeing you all fight.'

'Don't like that either.' He admitted.

'You know, I don't think they thank you enough for what you do for us.' You said without thinking.

He shrugged again, as if he hadn't been the one keeping your group alive for the last few months. Without him, you would all have died of starvation weeks ago.

'You spend hours in the forest, everyday, to bring us food. And they're always mean to you anyway.'

'It ain't a big deal.'

'It is a big deal.' You simply said, and he dropped the subject.

You stayed in comfortable silence for a while, with you petting the fox, and him making sure all of his arrows were sharp, a knife in his hand. And as you were both concentrated, a raccoon made himself known by rubbing his tiny head against your knee.

'Hi!' You exclaimed fondly, carrying him against you as if he was a cat.

Daryl was astonished, seeing you in action. You were a natural, making sure both animals were comfortable on you and talking to them as if they were human babies. He did not dare talk, nor make any sudden move, scared he would make the raccoon afraid, and that he would hurt you while escaping. You noticed how cautious he was.

'You know, if he sees you don't mean any harm, he will probably let you pet him.' You informed him. 'You're with me. You're a friend.'

You smiled and watched as he approched his hand, the raccoon looking at it with curiosity. You put a finger on Daryl's hand, showing your friend that he was harmless. And somehow, after a few seconds, it worked. The raccoon let himself be pet.

He snorted, clearly not believing you.

'Try.' You insisted, sure of yourself.

'Yer gonna get scratched.'

'I won't. Try.'

And Daryl was absolutely bewildered. After years of hunting, he thought he knew how to understand animals better than anyone. You were the living proof he was wrong. He rubbed the raccoon's fur, and you beamed at them both.

You both spent hours petting the animals visiting you, and exchanging a bit about the whole flesh eaters monsters situation. And as the sun started to settled down, you both agreed on returning to the Quarry. You said goodbye to the animals, and walked home.

He looked like he was joking, and you hoped he was as you feigned indignation, swatting him lightly on the forearm.

'Hey?' Daryl asked with a teasing smile, as you were only a few meters from the camp.

'Yes?'

'D'ya think we could use your gift to find tomorrow's dinner?'

'No!'

He snorted, and entered first as you followed, happy as you were almost sure you just had made a human friend. Maybe your gift worked better than you thought...

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd #daryl fluff

224 notes · View notes

queenofallimagines · 9 months

Note

oh good gods pls your luciferian hcs made me YELL they’re so good lmao i was side eyeing my altar and space for lucifer the WHOLE TIME

do you think you could do a part two? and if possible, nsfw? if not thats more than okay!! thank you and i hope you’re doing so good!!!

🕷️anon

Absolutely 🕷anon! AND LMAO YEAH I COULD FEEL HIM SIDE EYEING ME ACROSS THE ROOM AS I WROTE THESESGSHSJS asking the old man “why are you like this” whenever lucifer in game does something corny😭 ik he’s sick of me

Lucifer:

- Okay so since part 1 was when you arrived this will be more about day to day life in the next term

- Right off the bat I’m imagining minor petty spats that the other brothers are like…. Wtf is going on here

- Like y’all have been glaring across the table at one another for 30 mins and haven’t spoken a word

- WAY more picky w offerings lmao

- Is literally going to be super extra about it for no reason other than to bother you

- For example! When you give an offering to oshun( African orisha they’re like the HR in the heaven department just above the angel hierarchy) you have to eat a little first bc she was poisoned once so it’s like to show you’re in good faith

- Lucifer will ask you to do that w food you don’t like

- “Eat some”

- “I got this for you-“

- “And I want you to taste some😌”

- “….. do I really I have to???”

- “Are you telling me what to do w MY offering🤨”

- MAKE FUN OF HIM PLEASE ITS SO FUNNY!!

- A lot of people ( white peoples I fear😔) be talking about he only accepts blood offerings and you have to sell your soul or whatever and stuff but literally this man will be giddy over a red candle w gold glitter

- Write all your assignments in sparky pen so when he looks at them he can’t hold back a smile

- As a joke you leave crystals associated with him in his coat pockets but he will never take them out

- Congratulations you played ya self

- You doing the stuff you do for him out of habit will fluster him if you say it

- “Why are you waking up so early to get ready?”

- “Hm? For Lucifer”

- “No im not gunna drink this tea it’s an offering🙄”

- Please don’t tell his brothers he will lock himself in his office💀

- Whenever you google “what can I do for Lucifer” 9/10 the first thing will be taking care of yourself

- So when your self caring w asmo and you go “oh I do this bc Lucifer likes it”

- The house will expose in chaos

- Mammon demanding you tell him your card numbers “for him” LMAO

- They’re all super jealous

- Gotta tell em its nothing personal he’s just always been there for you

- Whew if he reached out to YOU?

- The silence in the house REAL LOUD😭

- Belphegor waking up and going “ik you fucking lying!!!”

- You’re all confused like???

- “…..you said Lucifer… reached out to YOU?”

- “??????yeah????”

- “As in… he ASKED you to work with him?”

- “Yeah, I couldn’t stop thinking about his name and he showed up on my door one day”

- Lmao belphie and mammon are the LOUDEST FR

- “YOU CHOSE A HUMAN?? MR I HATE HUMANS BECAUSE THEYRE WEAK??📸”

- OH SO THERES MORE THAN ONE FAKE BITCH IN THIS HOUSE HUH?”

- lmao he’s sitting there red faced clenching his fist like

- “Listen I can explain”

- He cannot explain😭

- Can’t even say he did it on a whim

- “He really picked me up like a wet cat lmao”

- “Mc I am literally begging you to shut the FUCK up”

- Oh maaaaan diavolo will get a Kick out of this!!

- Solomon is very salty

- “But I can’t get a pact😒😒”

- He’s literally going to double down and bother him more

- “Lucifer you never told me you were taking on disciples🥺”

- “I didn’t think it was that important lord diavolo simply to pass the time”

- Simeon is laughing but internally having the feels bc he’s like 🥹 “even after all this time you still choose to be a guardian angel”

- Will tell you embarrassing stories about him he is now super close to you

- “Lucifer being the lords favorite was also the best one at singing👀 he loved music”

- That’s tru btw lmao Lucifer was like one of the angels who liked singing the most thats what makes humans and angels so alike- love for music and dancing-

- Call him your morning star and he MELTS

- Back to why were really here😌

- Call him that during sex or when you first wake up and he’s on cloud nine

- FUCK HIM DURING GOLDEN HOUR🗣🗣

- He’s literally he rises in the morning for a reason!!

- He will deadass purpose bc imagine riding him as the sun stars peaking over the horizon

- He’s under you moaning looking up at you w the most glazed over love struck eyes

- The sun filtering through the window and hitting him juuuuuuuust right

- That it looks like he has a halo again

- Breathlessly calling your name as you grind down on him

- He barely manages to get out that he’s close before you caress some of his hair out of his face

- “Cum for me then my Morningstar”

- Time freezes for like 16 seconds and his eyes are getting teary

- He hugs you close as he starts rutting his hips into you harder

- Will cum and keep going until he’s about to pass out

- Holding you like a lifeline

- When you can finally breathe and think straight he pulls you in for a kiss

- Literally stealing your breath away

- Will say I love you in the most honest voice ever while smiling at you with teary eyes

- probably won’t stop touching you all day might as well just spend it in bed

-is embarrassed by body worship calling it now

- be HE can do that but if YOU sink to your knees behind his desk and hold eye contact he’s getting nervous

-“just showing my devout gratitude💕”

- embarrassed how fast he finishes

- if you keep doing to overstimulate him he’s putty in your hands

- this man is very soft he will crack at the slightest sign of domestic romance

- bring him coffee when he wakes up?

- he’s already selected a wedding venue

- I always thought it would be cute if he gave you his ring

- HILARIOUS IF HE DOSENT TELL YOU LMAO

- You swing by the celestial realm and it’s crickets and you’re like ??? Fuck is y’all starring at??🤨

- Simeon hums and says that nobody expected lucifer to get married much less to a human. How he was never one to put anything above his responsibilities

- Excuse me?

- “You’re wearing the right of light,yes? He doesn’t just give that to anyone dear. You two are bonded for life now🥰”

- “HELLO????”

163 notes · View notes

bibbykins · 1 year

Text

Moonlight Reign Ch. 4

A/N: Here she is! Another heavy chapter LMAO pls heed all the warnings and put yourself first always! Also pls give me asks I am a rabid dog without them and will rattle my cage without them. I need the interaction or else I will frown. As always, everyone say thank you to my amazing beta reader and loml B @rapline-heaux

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yandere! Mafia! BTS x Reader

Words: 5.4k

Warnings: crime, sensory flashbacks, trauma, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior, pining, violence, past abuse, past neglect, crying, familial issues, abandonment issues, blood from biting own lip, covering ears, pinning someone down, mention of open relationship, threat of suicide but as a form of reassurance(?), allusion to possible past addiction, delusional thoughts and manipulation kinda, the yandere-ness has begun

You scrolled mindlessly through your phone, looking for any kind of distraction as the elevator ticked up at a maddening pace. You just wanted to be home without having to worry about what Jungkook was going to do–

And of course, he was slumped against your door.

You heaved a sigh, swallowing down the pain of seeing him so dejected. Not that you had to try very hard as fear quickly replaced the emotion when you saw another man standing there next to him. You didn’t recognize the figure with an expensive suit, but you certainly had no desire to as he tried tugging Jungkook up.

The two men’s eyes snapped to you the moment the elevator dinged, making your presence painfully known. Meekly stepping out of it, you gave the men a tight smile that you neglected to remember they couldn’t even see since it was far from reaching your eyes and you still had the mask on. The man standing regarded you lazily, looking you up and down for a moment before his gaze morphed into an emotion you did know quite well: hatred. Pure, unbridled, hatred burned in his gaze, making you feel warm beneath your mask.

But what the hell did you do to this guy? You don’t remember seeing him ever, especially not in your past. Almost everyone who’s seen your face is dead, trusted, or in hiding themselves, so it wouldn’t make sense for him to recognize you, at least not enough to hate you.

“Is this her?” His voice was deep and filled with a venom you were sure wasn’t warranted, but you had little interest in engaging. It did irk you when his eyes looked over your form and his snarl deepened. You just got off work, can’t he give your looks a damn break?

“Can I help you?” You responded with an equal amount of venom, internally cursing yourself. So much for not engaging, dumbass. Your pride was getting the better of you.

The man before you cocked a brow, “Yeah, you could tell me why my boyfriend refuses to go back to his place until he speaks to you.” Jungkook did his boyfriend no favors in satiating his evident jealousy, his gaze only fixed on you with an emotion you knew nothing of.

Fuck.

That was a good question. A question that could cost your life, so you decided to tread lightly– or as lightly as you could considering how shitty of a job you were doing already. If this guy was one of Jungkook’s boyfriends, that meant there was a pretty good chance he was also a part of Bangtan, and you’ve poked that hornet’s nest more than enough.

You cleared your throat, “Jungkook.” He nearly keened forward at your voice saying his name, and it made you sigh, “Go home, yeah?” He frowned, slumping back against your door childishly, making his boyfriend glare at you even harsher somehow.

“This is ridiculous.” He spat, eyes never leaving you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d take that as him calling you ridiculous and say something stupid.

“Yeah? Imagine how I feel.” You sneered back. Obviously, you didn’t know any better right now. But goodness graciousness, this guy was shortening your temper at mach speed. You evidently had the same effect as he scoffed, “Look, what do you want from me?”

“I want my boyfriend to get up from your doorstep.” He hissed.

“Great.” You gritted your teeth, “Me too.” You stepped closer to them, “So why are you being such an asshole about it to me?”

He rolled his eyes, and you wanted to badly to see him try to do that with a black eye, “Becuase obviously you did something to upset him.” It was your turn to scoff, “So fix it.”

“Right, 'cause I’m the problem.” You muttered sarcastically. You were pretty used to being blamed your whole life for a whole number of things, but you took that shit because you had to. You didn’t know this guy, and you didn’t have it in you to care right now.

“You saying he’s the problem?” He snarled, obviously protective of the man. The jealousy at the fact that Jungkook had someone who loved him so much when you didn’t even have a pet was quickly outweighed by your anger and a twinge of fear at this man getting in your face.

“Hyung, you’re making it worse.” Jungkook groaned, and you were a little surprised at how sober he sounded. You thought if he was leaning against your door he was trashed, or at least semi-drunk, but he was speaking clearly, “Just wait for me at my place, okay?” The older man ignored him, crossing his arms and keeping his hatred trained at you.

“I’m saying no such thing, fuck.” You huffed, “If anything, I’m saying you’re acting like a real dick right now, and I’m not in the mood.” You explained harshly, “Take your jealousy or whatever the hell your problem is with me somewhere else.”

“Jealousy?!” He guffawed, “Me? Jealous of you?!” Ouch, damn. The way he could knock down your self-perception with three words was almost a talent. The power of tone never ceased to amaze, and especially at this moment, wound you. You knew he was more attractive than you. You had eyes after all, but evidently you struck a nerve with him to warrant that response.

“Oh, my bad.” You sarcastically mocked, “You’re seeming real secure right now. I must be mistaken.” You could hear Jungkook sigh, undoubtedly regretting helping you with your sarcastic tone years ago.

“Do you think I’m enjoying this? He looks miserable.” He grunted, pointing to his dejected lover.

“So leave then.” You challenged.

“Is that what you do to people you care about?” He spat, “Leave?”

Okay, that struck a nerve with you, “You don’t know a thing about me.” You fumed. You didn’t want to leave anyone, least of all Jungkook, but you also weren’t too keen on sticking around and getting yourself killed. You didn’t anticipate Jungkook not giving you the choice.

“Well from what I’ve seen, I can’t say I see the appeal.” He retorted. Is this guy calling you ugly or a bitch? Or is it both?

“Taeyung!” Jungkook scolded his boyfriend.

Your eyebrow twitched at the thought. Fuck this stranger to all hell, “You’re not doing yourself any favors either, I can promise you that.” You looked him up and down, forcing an unimpressed look on your face, and you could see him bristle at your actions.

“Y/n, come on.” He sighed. Great, now you both know each other’s names. Just what you needed right now. More fucking knowledge.

You sighed, not wanting to upset Jungkook anymore than you were about to by fighting with his boyfriend, “If I talk to him, will you get the fuck out of my face?” You prodded.

Taehyung clenched his jaw. God, you were the worst, even worst than he and Jimin thought. You had the worst personality and your face… It would only be fair for you to be as ugly as your attitude, and the fact that you weren’t only pissed him off more. Even worse, you were stunning with a mask on. He swallowed hard, “Fine.”

“Yipee.” You deadpanned, turning to Jungkook, “Ready?” You asked and he scrambled to get up, taking your bag of takeout from you so you could fish out your keys.

“Is that a routine you have or something?” Taehyung seethed quietly.

“I’m just being considerate, hyung.” Jungkook shot back, “Especially when her guest is being so mean.”

“The last thing I’d consider him is a guest, Kook, don’t worry.” You rolled your eyes, taking off your mask so you could put it away before you forgot. Taehyung already had your first name, address, and how your eyes looked, Showing him the rest of your face wouldn’t make you any more in danger than you already were.

Taehyung wanted to punch a goddamn wall when he saw your the rest of your face. You were stunning and instead of shrinking away from him and out of his lover’s life, Jungkook was clinging to you, and you were more than holding your own. You matched his energy, calling attention to how much of a dick he was being, and he didn’t care for the mirror you proved to be. Even with that stupid piece of tissue clinging to your lip, saturated with blood, you looked beautiful, and it pissed him off.

“What happened to your lip?” Jungkook asked worriedly, making Taehyung fume even further.

It took you a couple seconds before you remembered, and you sighed, “Just bit it earlier, that’s all.” You explained, taking the tissue off before flicking your gaze to Taehyung, snapping him out his angry hypnosis with your face, “Bye.” You urged him.

“Watch yourself.” He warned, making you scoff.

“Thanks for the concern.” You quipped back as you unlocked your door, walking in to let Jungkook bid his stupid boyfriend adieu.

Jungkook watched you retreat into your room before looking back at his boyfriend, “You know better than anyone you catch more flies with honey.” He remarked, making Taehyung huff.

“She’s mean.” He simply said, and this made the miserable man snort. You were anything but mean, your kindness was one of the many things he admired about you. It was effortless, you weren’t even trying to be good. You just were. It scared and enticed him so.

“She’s really not.” The younger man said, “You were really mean, and I’m literally the one who taught her how to be mean back, a little too well obviously.”

“Taught her?” The man echoed his lover. What, were you a child? Why did his boyfriend need to “teach” you anything? And why the hell did it bother him so much?

Jungkook shook his head, “Nevermind. What I mean is she would’ve been way more receptive had you just been a bit more polite. Then you’d have something to report to Yoongi.” He sighed, irked at the fact that his boyfriend’s kept prying about you since his mood has been sour these days.

Taehyung chewed his lip, obviously guilty, “We’re just worried–”

“Sure.” He cut Taehyung off, making the older man scowl, “Just go wait for me, alright? Let me handle my own things.”

“So she’s yours now?” Taehyung bitterly remarked.

“Tae, please.” Jungkook sighed, “You’ve never been the jealous type like this, so I have no idea where this is coming from.” He grit out, and Taehyung bristled at this, the words on the tip of his tongue but before he can even think to say them, Jungkook spoke, "Just go, okay?” The older man rolled his eyes but followed his orders, the doors to both apartments closing at the same time.

—

You had changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt the moment you got in. Not only was it because you didn’t want to overhear what Jungkook and Taehyung were talking about, but you also knew this conversation was going to drain you beyond belief so you wanted to be prepared to go straight to be afterwards.

You entered your living room right as Jungkook closed your door, and you plopped onto the couch, already tired of this, “I don’t know what you want me to say.” You huffed, sending a glare to your turned-off TV. Should’ve never gotten the damn thing if it was going to be the catalyst for this much grief.

“You know what I want you to say.” He sighed. All the desperation from earlier in the day seemed to have tapered off and now you were both just left tired. Part of you was thankful he wasn’t freaking out like that right now, you rarely saw him like that. In your years of friendship, Jungkook and you basically never fought. You could count the number of times on one hand. Most often, the moment a disagreement arose, you dealt with it then and there. Keeping distance and being dismissive was new between the two of you, and it drained you both, “Tell me why, and I’ll let it go.” He professed and you scoffed. You weren’t sure how much you believed him judging by the dark circles blooming beneath his barely subdued crazed eyes.

“What difference does it make?” You refused to meet his eyes even as they burned holes in your cheek.

“You said you weren’t scared of syndicates or mafias.” He blurted, and you stiffened, “So tell me why.”

You shrugged, “I lied.” It was a half-truth, but you knew it wasn’t enough. Gone were the days when cagey lies and half-truths were sufficient between the two of you.

"We've both lied to each other enough, but it's time to stop, yeah?" He asked, and you could tell his sanity was toeing a very thin line but you simply huffed, “Come on.” He groaned, “Why won’t you tell me?”

You remained staring at the TV, “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t–”

“Both.” You crossed your arms, “The more we talk about this, the worse it’ll be for me.” You added, “And you, probably.”

“Fine.” He hissed, and for a moment you thought he was going to leave, “Then I’ll tell you what I know.” He pushed off of your door and walked to stand in front of the TV. It sounded like a threat, and in a way, you knew it was.

You swallowed hard, “Don’t you dare tell me a thing.” You warned. Knowledge is almost everything when it comes to risk assessment. If you knew too much, there would be no running away, there would be a chase. You could not afford to be chased. Hell, you couldn't afford to even be having this conversation in the first place.

“Why?” He challenged, eyes colder than you’ve ever seen. You pressed your lips together, not wanting to entertain this, "What's the harm in knowing things?" He was prodding you to show your understanding. He was baiting you and when you remained silent, he flashed a bitter half-smile before speaking, “Very well. I know that I am Jeon Jungkook, cyber specialist of the Bangtan syndicate, one of seven leaders.”

You dug your nails into your palms and fought the bile that rose up in your throat. One of your worst nightmares come true, and yet, you were stuck. Your body was rigid and your mind could barely process the million ways the reality of the fact could and was actively ruining you.

His words made your chest seize, and you wanted to throw up. The fucking cyber specialist, a whole leader, of the most powerful syndicate in the country had been coming to your apartment every week? How stupid could you be? “Stop.” You seethed.

“I know that you acted weird when the camera panned to the audience during the fight on Friday.” He took a step forward and you pressed yourself further into the couch, “I know that you said it was because you saw a teacher in the crowd, but that wasn’t true.”

“Enough.” Each word was like a stab to the chest. In more ways than one, you were sure nothing would be left of you by the time this conversation was over.

He wore that bitter smile so seamlessly, “I know it wasn’t true because I checked every single person in that fucking crowd, not just teachers.”

“Please.” You pleaded, pressing your nails so deep you could almost feel the acrylic snap.

“The only one who called into work that day doesn’t know you.” He spat, and you felt utterly ill.

“Jungkook.” You croaked.

He pressed on without a care in the world, eyes trained on you, “You wanna know who was in that crowd?”

“No.” You protested.

He clicked his tongue, “Too bad, it–”

You shook your head, covering your ears, “Shut up, shut up!” You exclaimed, palms pressing to muffle him.

In no time, he pinned your hands to your side, hovering over you with a fierce glare, “I can’t let you run away from this.” He snapped, “Not from me.”

“Why not?” You hissed.

“You mean too much to me.” The vulnerability and the sheer honesty in his voice, made you regret asking. Your heart cried out for more as your mind begged to run and never look back.

You struggled against him, significantly harder to hold your own against him when he was sober, “Let go of me.” You pleaded, your words having a double meaning that he didn’t care to listen to.

“Never.” He huffed like it was a promise, plucking at your heartstrings, “I can’t.” He said quietly, making your hairs stand on end, dropping his head to rest on your head, “I just can’t.” He breathed, lips moving along your crown.

“Can’t or won’t?” You mocked him, tears stinging you at the affection while he let out a humorless laugh.

He slid his hands from your wrists to interlace his finger with yours, still holding your hands down in a fierce grip, “Both.” He breathed. You hated your body for wanting to relax against his touch.

“You’re making a mistake.” You admitted solemnly, “You shouldn’t–”

“Enough of that.” He snarled, stunning you silent, “As I was saying,” He continued, pulling back but hovering over you still, “There was a certain Moon Byungjoo in the crowd.” Your uncle’s name made your stomach tighten and you internally begged Jungkook not to notice. The man in question quirked a brow at you, “That name mean anything to you?” You opened your mouth to deny it, but he shook his head, “Just stay quiet if you’re going to lie.” The venom in his tone hit your heart, the pain radiating to your throat.

“That’s not fair.” You whispered, “Like you’ve never lied to me.” You spit out, glaring at him, trying to look anything but how petrified you are.

“I’m not anymore.” He shot back, and you rolled your eyes, but he remained headstrong, “I’ll ask again, does that name mean anything to you?”

A mix of anger and betrayal filled you, “You know the answer already, don’t you?” You hissed and he flashed you that sickening smile again.

“He called you that day I was here, didn’t he?” He asked, and you kept your mouth shut, blinking the tears back as your carefully woven mundane life began to unravel, “Now, I didn’t know what you could possibly have to do with Byungjoo. I even went as far as researching you, and you know what I found?” You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as he spoke, but his eyes never broke contact with yours, “Nothing.” He sighed, “You basically didn’t exist until you enrolled in school.”

“That wasn’t fair.” You whimpered, trying to keep your tears in, “We promised we would stay out of each other’s business–”

“I can’t lose you.” He quickly interjected, his shield cracking for a moment to show you the desperation in his gaze, “So I did what I had to do, for us.”

You swallowed thickly, “What us, Kook?”You hissed, trying to hurt him even if it tore you down too, “We’re just friends is all.” You fixed a cold gaze on him, “Just study buddies who stuck around too long.” However, his grip only tightened on your hands.

“Friends?” He spit the word bitterly. He gave you an incredulous look, “Be honest with yourself for once, and then try to tell me that again.” He breathed, mere inches from your face now, and you had nowhere to sink into any further.

You wanted to protest again, tell him that he was being crazy. You wanted to say that he was looking for more in the relationship you shared than what was there, but he was no fool. It didn't take a genius to know that the feelings you held, the bond you both shared, the feelings you had wasn't mere friendship. The trouble was you didn't know what the hell it was. It was the deepest connection you'd ever had and yet, you had no idea where to place it.

He sighed, eyes cast down for a moment, “I didn’t want to do that, you know?” He admitted, pulling back a little, “When the guys found out I made a friend they insisted on doing a full background check, a week of tailing, and even random bout of tailing, but I told them to stay out of it.” He admitted, and your body shivered at his protective tone, “Our relationship was too important to jeopardize.” This made you grind your teeth in frustration. Maybe he should've let them dig into you or drive you away, save you both this grief.

“And now?” You pressed.

“Now,” He echoed, “It’s too important to lose.” You didn't get it. You knew why Jungkook’s friendship was so important to you, he was essentially all you had, but he had much more than you.

“What if it’s lost already?” You glared at him, but he didn’t seem shaken.

“It’s not.” He affirmed, and you didn't get how he was so sure, “We can rebuild, stronger than ever.”

You shook your head. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Something had to be wrong with him with the way he was talking like your relationship was so profound and… Your own lies tasted bitter on your tongue. It was hard to think clearly with him this close and with this much fear coursing through your veins, but even with all that, you knew. You knew he was right, and it made you sick to your stomach.

“I searched and I searched for any connection to Byungjoo and you and then…” You started squirming, wanting a head start before being viciously hunted, but he only pressed his arms into your legs, hands still holding yours, “Did you know that the first record of you started almost exactly five years ago?” He trailed off, eyes scrutinizing yours, “And I mean actual record, not the fake ones that were made also exactly five years ago.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. It was over. Truly, madly, deeply, over, “You know what five-year anniversary is coming up?” He asked and you tried to stand, tried to run, but it was no use. None of it was ever any use, and you knew it.

In the blink of an eye you were pinned to the floor, his legs locking yours in place as his hands stay intertwined with yours, “Don’t do this!” You cried, and the tears finally fell, “You don’t understand–”

"I couldn't believe it at first." His face was stone as you tried to look away from him, unable to face him now that he knew who you really were, "My y/n? The girl who I had to teach sarcasm to? The girl who needed me to show her how to use a coffee maker?" You struggled against him, wanting more than anything to cover your ears and just fade away, “Originally I thought you were amish or something, but a cold-blooded killer? A child progidy asassin?” His words were like fire, and you wanted to be swallowed whole by it, “How could that be when you were scared of your ice maker for almost a year?” What was once funny memories turned into stark reminders that this life had never really been yours to begin with. Your life would never be your own.

"Stop it, please." You sobbed, embarrassment crushing your chest as you squeezed your eyes shut. In your childhood it was all about the mission, and any other knowledge would just get in the way. You didn't learn how to properly write until you were a teenager, let alone interact with people your age. It was Jungkook who painstakingly helped you learn the most basic tasks and subtle inflections. He never once got frustrated or gave up on you and here he was, his palms pressing against yours as he tore your walls to shreds.

“And then… he said your name.” Your whole body froze, your thrashing coming to an end, but the tears never stopped. “He said it to me, and only me, but it’ll be no time before the other guys question him.” He explained, eyes still unbelievably cold as he regarded you. Byungjoo, that fucking rat. You should’ve known, but what made it worse was that if you never befriended Jungkook, your name wouldn't matter that much. They wouldn't know your birthday or your address or anything, but you put a target on your back the moment you let him into your apartment all those years ago.

"I'm dead." Tears kept falling, but your body was stone now, and it would be soon. All those years of trying to survive and be somebody outside of your father, would be for nothing. You couldn’t outrun your past, and you felt stupid for ever trying.

He ignored your words, but you felt him squeeze your hands a bit harder, “At first I thought you were playing me," He grit his teeth, making you shiver. You wanted to protest, but he just pressed on, "but then I understood.” You finally looked at him, confusion filling your eyes with the tears as his gaze softened. He leaned down to your ear, “It was fate.” The way he said it nearly made you teares freeze on your face. Something about it sounded almost sinister, but what was worse is you could tell he genuinely meant it.

“What?” You squeaked out, and he chuckled darkly. You could hardly recognize him like this, and you wondered if the Jungkook you knew was nothing but a facade or if this was just another part of him.

“Come on, two mafia darlings finding each other against all odds and genuinedly not knowing who the other was.” He pulled back to look at you, eyes transparent now as his pupils dilated, “We’re perfect.” He breathed. You could see he wasn’t angry, but you couldn’t recognize that look in his eyes, “No more running, green girl.” The nickname made your body tremble beneath him.

“Just let me–”

He quickly cut in, “I’’ll protect you.” He kissed softly at the tear running down your cheek.

You shook harder, “They’ll kill me.” You cried softly, “I don’t have anything to offer. I don’t know where my father is and–”

“Shh, shh.” He soothed you, but it did little to help, “I won’t let them kill you.” He promised, and you weren’t sure how much he could keep the promise, “If they do, I’m going with you.” Your eyes bulged at this.

“You can’t mean that.” You tried to reason with him, but he simply shook his head.

“I mean everything I say to you.” He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing you in deeply, “You’d do well to remember that, okay?” He pressed another kiss to your forehead, “I’m gonna go talk to them in a bit.” He sighed, not looking forward to it.

“T-Tonight?” You asked.

He hummed in agreement, “No time like the present, huh?” He sat up, finally releasing your hands, but keeping your legs still as he sent you a sharp look, “No running, okay?”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” You ruefully responded, nerves running on overdrive.

“Oh come on, I know Eunhwa worked for your father.” He tsked, and you flinched, not noticing the way he softened at your fear.

“Not even she is willing to risk her life to help me right now.” You snapped,looking away from him in shame. You had no one, no one except him. Even if you did try to run on your own, it would be two seconds before a bounty the size of Seoul was on your head. You’d be found by someone else, but you couldn’t help but feel like Jungkook would stop at nothing to find you first regardless, “We originally agreed to wait a few weeks since anniversary week is kind of…”

He snorted, already knowing the situation. He was one of the men that helped craft it. Nothing involving your family happened during that time, which made you all so hard to find, but obviously not hard enough, “Lucky me then.” He finally released your legs and you scrambled away from him. A flash of hurt came and was gone from his pupils before he extended his hand to you, “I never wanted to do any of this.” He reminded you, finally sounding like the Jungkook you knew but it did nothing to ease you, “I never wanted to scare you like that, but it was the only way to–”

You hugged your knees curling into yourself, "But you did." You sighed, feeling so unbelievably empty, as you struggled to take in a breath, “Just go.” Your voice cracked, and he recognied the tone immediately.

“No, I’m not going to leave you like–” He tried to offer to help but you just covered your ears as you cried into your knees.

“Leave, please!” You rasped, and that’s when it hit him. Regardless of the affection you both felt for each other, your relationship was fundamentally changed. You were no longer each other’s escape, you were the grizzly reality.

“No.” He seethed before crumbling down next to you. Despair washed over him at the reality of your relationship, but not even that could get in the way of his need to be close to you. What he had with you transcended wrong and right. You were tattooed into his psyche.

“Haven’t you done enough?” You croaked before his body covered yours. Even if you had the energy, you weren��t planning to fight his embrace, not when your traitorous body managed to relax as his mahogany and rain scented cologne invaded your senses, allowing you to take your first real breath since this whole ordeal.

“I won’t leave you like this.” His voice was muffled as he pressed his palms over yours to quiet the outside world, “Even if it’s my fault.” His breath hit your forehead as he kissed the skin, “Even if it makes you hate me.” He promised, “I’ll never leave you like this.” He began his rhythmic tapping, just like he always did, and the familiarity brought you both comfort, even if just for a moment.

“I hate this.” He let out a small sigh of relief when your hate wasn’t explicitly directed at him, “I’m scared, and I never wanted to be that girl again.” For the first time, Jungkook found himself wondering what exactly happened those five years ago. He wanted to know every little thing about your life before him. He wanted to know why you were alone, if you were loved, if someone hurt you, and most importantly, he wanted to know who, “I’m dead.” You cried into his chest.

“No, you’re not.” He all but promised, “I won’t let them.” He pressed a too-sweet kiss to your forehead.

“Why?” You asked again, even though you knew you weren’t ready for the answer.

“Because…” He trailed off, trying to think of what to say, never letting up on his taps, “You’re mine.” He mused, and you succumbed to your despair even further as your body shook violently.

“And what do I have then?” You sobbed, “What’s mine then?” Your life had never been yours, and you suddenly felt so foolish to think it ever would be. Made to be a puppet and cursed to never cut the strings.

“I am.” He immediately responded and you shook your head, but he only held you tighter, “Don’t be scared.” He breathed, “No matter what happens, I’ll always be here.” He promised, and it broke your heart that the notion both scared and eased you. You simply nodded as you both stayed that way and then once your breathing stabilized, he let you be alone.

“I don’t know how I’m going to forgive you for this.” You admitted, the both of you hurting from your statement.

“I know.” He looked to you with a soft smile, “But you will eventually, and that’s all I care about.”

He set his jaw before taking his leave, and he could hear your breathing trying to steady even as he closed the door. He leaned against the wood, sighing as he closed his eyes. It was just a rough patch. You just couldn’t see how good this was for both of you. Even if he had to rebuild your relationship all by himself, he would. He’d do anything if it meant keeping you. Maybe he was an addict down to his core, trading one vice for another. He didn’t care either way.

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

If you enjoy my work, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi (also pls send me an ask, I love to hear from y'all!)

Masterlist

#bts mafia au #bts fanfic #bts series #bts poly au #ot7 x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #bts x reader #mafia bts #yandere mafia bts

398 notes · View notes

stargirlrchive · 1 year

Text

ocean eyes: chapter two ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ocean eyes masterlist

summary: widow!jake sully x female!reader, 10 year age-gap. jake is lowkey sunshine <3 reader is grumpy! arranged marriage/marriage of convenience, eventual smut + wc - 1,753

comments: part two lovers, i love reader, she's is slay girl boss fr ! idk what to say lmao but tysm for the love on part one, i hope you love this just as much! also omg pls check this out, @saltsacc drew what they think reader looks like and she's gorg! i litch cried ! but okay bye lovers <3 part three should be up on thursday <3

previous ✩ next

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The morning time had come quickly, the bright sun hitting your features and it disrupted your wonderful slumber. But if the sun hadn't woken you up, your sister's voice certainly would have. “Tsmuke! You need to be ready by now. Oh Great Mother, give me strength!”

You rubbed at your sleepy eyes, throwing her an annoyed glance, “Why are you being so strange? They are just other Na’vi. Or let me guess, Eywa has let you know they are of importance?”

Ronal pinched at her nose, “If you must know, he is Toruk Makto. He was the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. He is important, more than you know!”

You laughed quietly, “Do not let Tonowari hear you, you sound enamored.”

“Stupid girl!”

You laughed louder, shaking your head as you stretched before getting up. “Make haste!”

You hissed at her lightly, your good-hearted nature wearing thin as she rushed you. You quickly washed your face, Ronal helping you by fixing up your hair. “Oh Eywa, you are preparing me like I am going to marry the man!”

She said nothing, her nervous fingers quickly braiding a few pearls into your hair. “What is so special about him anyway?”

“Did you not hear what I said? He is Toruk Makto.”

You huffed in annoyance, “Of course I heard you sister, but-” Your shoulders shrugged, “How mighty can he be if he left his whole clan behind?”

She smacked your shoulder roughly, “Ow! Ronal-”

“Must you always be so crass? His mate died a few years back.”

“How did she die?”

“Protecting her children, in the battle field. I do not know much else.”

You bit down on your bottom lip, instantly feeling guilty, “Oh.”

“Yes, oh. So be kind to him, to all of them.”

“You may think poorly of me sister, but I am not mean.”

Ronal’s fingers stilled in her movements, face scrunching up as she mulled over what you said, “I do not think poorly of you.”

You didn't say anything else, toying with your fingers as you sat in front of Ronal, “Tsmuke, I do not think poorly of you.”

You grumbled out quietly, “You already said that.”

“I-I just want what is best for you, and at times I do not think you know how to find that for yourself.”

“Ronal, I am happy.”

“You are reckless! You think I do not know why you behave the way you do? You want the attention you lacked as a child, but you are grown now. There are responsibilities and duties you must fulfill.”

Her harsh words caused tears to well to your eyes, pulling away from her, “You do not listen!”

“And you do not obey!”

“Why should I? You are my sister, not my mother! Just because you ended up happy with Tonowari does not mean I will end up happy with whoever you stick me with. I love my freedom far too much to give it up.”

She sighed in exasperation, “Well that is not your decision. It is the Great Mother’s and she has spoken to me.”

It dawned upon you then, what all this was about. The enthusiasm to have you meet the Toruk Makto, dressing you up. “You are planning to mate me with that man?”

There was a glimmer of guilt in her eyes, but it was shaken away as she nodded her head. “He is a good man, with a strong heart. He will be good for you.”

Your words were low, quite with disbelief, “I cannot believe you.”

Ronal said nothing, “I always knew you wanted me out of your life, too much of a burden for you and Tonowari but I did not expect you to push me into the arms of the first man you saw!”

A spike of pain ran through Ronal, this is exactly what she feared. She made her way to you, the apology already starting to fall from her mouth but your shaky finger pointing at her stopped her movements. “Stop! Don’t-do not come near me!”

Your ears flattened against your head, the words getting caught in Ronal’s throat as she watched your eyes pool with tears. “Please get out so I can change.”

Ronal’s fear of hurting you even more had her walking out of the marui, leaving you to wallow in your own pity as you dressed yourself.

Tonowari instantly wrapped Ronal into his arms, rubbing against her back to soothe her, “Wari, she is going to hate me for the rest of her life.”

He shushed her quietly, having heard everything that happened, “No she will not, Yawne. You know how nervous you were before we actually mated. It is a big step in our lives, we just need to let her be.”

Ronal let herself bask in the warmth Tonowari provided, pulling away just a few seconds before you stepped out. Ronal’s eyes scanned over you, you looked so beautiful. She wanted to compliment you but knew you'd take it as mockery, some sort of jab to make you feel worse. So she said nothing, walking besides Tonowari and you followed quickly behind the two.

You were far more quiet than normal, and it hit Ronal just how much she actually enjoyed your inability to remain quiet. Tonowari called your name, “Did you hear me?”

“No-I did not.”

“I said I think he will be good for you.”

“If you say so.”

The pair shared a look, your tame behavior caused a sense of worry to nestle into Ronal. They entered the marui of Jake Sully, the Na’vi was sharpening his knives but other than that, it was empty. Tonowari cleared his throat, Jake’s head snapped up and was greeted with the three of you. “Tonowari, Ronal-oel ngati kameie.”

His eyes shifted to you, your eyes were already locked on him and Jake felt his ears twitch. Ronal uttered your name out, “This is my Tsmuke.”

“Oel ngati kameie, Jake Sully.”

“Oel ngati kameie.”

He noticed your intricate top, your pretty hair and how your skin glowed beautifully against the sun. He felt his throat instantly dry up the more he took you in. “We spoke briefly yesterday of your stay here.”

“Oh, yes.”

“The Tsahik and I have discussed what we wish for you to be able to stay. We know you have come seeking Uturu, a fresh start but we must also ensure this is safe for the clan. Beneficial to our people. You understand?”

Jake nodded his head, he more than most understood what it was like to make decisions that he did not entirely want for the prosperity of the clan. “Well, we can allow you and your family to stay if you mate with a woman of the Metkayina Clan. More specifically, with her.”

Your ears turned downwards slightly, but still you held his gaze. That was certainly not what he expected. “We understand that it may be hard to just thrust this upon you, so we will give you both time to adjust. She will be the one to train you, help you adjust to life near the water.”

A swift flicker of anger made its way to your eyes, turning towards Tonowari, “I do not have time to train him.”

“Well then you will make time.”

Your eyes rolled back, anger seeping into his family home from you alone. Jake would be lying if he said he did not enjoy seeing you so agitated, especially when it came to him. He fought the smile that was trying to make its way to his face the more he watched you. “What do you say, JakeSully?”

Your eyes jumped back to him, there was a look in your eyes that he could not quite place but it excited him beyond belief, “If that is what you wish. I only hope I can speak to my children about this before the clan is made aware?”

Your mouth dropped slightly in disbelief, confusion webbing its way into your mind as to why he would agree to this so willingly. You thought you'd have time, time to be on your worst behavior around him so he can back out before he even agreed. But no, he had already said yes to you.

Your arms crossed over your chest stubbornly, huffing out a breath of annoyance as you watched the smallest of smiles fall across his features. Ronal was trying her best to contain her excitement, she had always wanted you to mate with someone, and it appeared that the time was soon.

She turned to look at you and was unsurprised to find you glaring at the Toruk Makto, your lip jutting out in an angry pout. “Very well, JakeSully. Make your preparations and we will announce it during a feast a few weeks down the line, yes?”

He only hummed, eyes still locked onto yours. You rolled your eyes at him, he was clearly enjoying himself, “Can I leave now?”

Ronal called your name but you ignored her, walking fast out of the home and towards the beach.

Tonowari’s mouth turned into a thin line as he sent an awkward look towards Jake. “She is very kind, just-strong willed.”

A quiet laugh left Jake’s mouth, “I can see that.”

He walked with the two out of his mauri, his eyes scanning the waters and he locked onto your form, jumping head first into the water as an ilu swam towards you. Ronal tsk’ed quietly, “She is going to ruin her clothes.”

Jake watched you retreat further into the water, your animal easily gliding along as you got smaller and smaller. “Are you sure she will show up to train me?”

Jake’s eyes moved over to Tonowari, “Yes, I will make sure of it.”

Jake’s fingers reached his forehead, signing them goodbye as they walked away. He let out a quiet breath, his thoughts consumed with excitement and wonderment at just how these next few weeks may play out.

Your feelings on the matter were entirely different, anger coursing through your veins as you swam out past the reef.

Ao’nung and Tsireya shared a look, noticing the angry glare on your face when you didn’t even bother to stop and talk to them. “Should we tell Sa’nok and Sempul?”

Ao’nung shook his head at his younger sister, “Ma’ will pluck her eyes out for real this time.”

Tsireya fumbled with her fingers nervously, “Ao’nung, it is going to storm, she didn’t look to be thinking clearly-”

He watched your form retreating farther and farther, heading towards the Three Brothers rocks. “If she does not return in an hour we will call for father.”

Tsireya sighed quietly but listened all the same, returning back to her task at hand. “So, you must learn to breathe from here.” She pointed to her stomach, “Take deep breaths, fill your lungs and slow your heart. It will assist with staying underwater longer.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Three hours had passed by and you were still out past the reef, finding refuge in the mountains as the waters turned violent, your ilu having swam away as it noticed the dangers of the water. You huffed out in frustration, Ronal was truly going to kill you now.

Ao’nung was the first to notice just how late it had become. By the way the sun was hitting just a few moments ago, he could tell that well more than an hour's time had passed, and you were still not back. The water rocked them violently, and Tsireya’s sharp gasp of air at seeing a lone ilu swimming back only furthered his fear for you. His parents were going to kill you.

“Tsireya-”

“We must cut the training short, we will see you all tomorrow.”

Both Ao’nung and Tsireya swam quickly back to shore, leaving behind four confused Omatikaya Na’vi. “Their aunt, she’s-how do I put this nicely-rebellious?”

Rotxo laughed quietly, shaking his head as he watched his two friends swim as fast they could back to the beach. “Lets head back, no point in training with the waters like this.”

The two siblings entered their marui, surprised to find Jake sitting with their parents, they both dipped their heads to the former Olo’eyktan before turning to their parents, “Have you seen Tanhí?”

“That is why we are here, Sa’nok.”

Ronal’s brows raised in question, noticing the tremble of worry in her daughter's voice, “She-she left past the reef a few hours ago.”

Ronal swore she felt her blood pressure go up, feeling woozy at her sister's complete disregard for rules. “But-”

“But what?”

Ao’nung watched his younger sister's ears pin to her head, losing her voice, “But she has not returned, and the ilu she rode on did. She rode in the direction of the Three Brothers.”

Tonowari let out a deep breath, his head throbbed roughly as he looked out to see how violent the waters were. “I will be back shortly.”

“Sempul-the water is dangerous.”

“Yes, but knowing your Aunt the trouble she is in is more volatile than the waters.”

Jake noticed how calm the breeze was despite the rain, it was perfect weather to take flight. “I know where Three Brother’s rocks are. I can fly on my Ikran, it is safer than you riding out on a Tsurak.”

Ronal protested quickly, knowing her sister, “I do not think that is a good idea, JakeSully.”

He felt a bit of disappointment settle into his chest, he couldn’t help it, he was so intrigued by you. And truth be told, maybe it was a stupid part of him, but he liked the idea of saving you. Or at least helping you. From what he had heard, you were more than capable to fend for yourself. “It really is no big deal, I will be back quickly.”

He was hoping his eagerness was not evident in his voice, and with the worried look Ronal shared with Tonowari he was sure it wasn’t. “We should let him? Yes-might ease your sister's resistance if he’s the one to go for her?”

Tonowari was asking, but Ronal knew he had already made up his mind. She sighed quietly, “Fine-sure. Just-I cannot guarantee she will greet you with a warm smile.”

Jake refrained from thumping his tail in excitement, “It’s fine. I will not take it to heart.”

Jake quickly made his way outside, calling for Bob just as his children made their way towards the beach. “Sir?”

Neteyam, his oldest, was looking at him in confusion. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I will be back shortly.”

He sent all of them a smile, instructing his Ikran to take flight. The air got colder the further he was from the beach and it caused a shiver to run down his spine. He was well past the reef, and searching for you within ten minutes. As his Ikran gently flew around he caught the blur of teal blue amongst one of the tall rocks. His head shook, a laugh threatening to fall from his mouth, as even from this far away you looked upset.

He did not know you, but he was curious, beyond interested in knowing you. There was a deep itch in the back of his brain that seemed to only simmer at the thought of you. Call him stupid, he had only caught a few glimpses of you, but he felt the pull. He hoped you felt it too.

With quick glides he was by your side, dismounting Bob with ease as he sent you a smile. Your eyes narrowed in on him, annoyance clear as day on your features. Jake’s lips tugged gently, refraining from cracking you a toothy smile. “Why are you here?”

“Hello to you too.”

You grumbled out angrily, arms crossing along your chest as you looked away from him. “I am here to take you back.”

Your thick tail swayed behind you in annoyance, “I was perfectly fine here. Waiting for the storm to pass.”

“I am sure you were, but I am here now. So let me take you back.”

You did not like the tone he had with you, his accent thick with humor as he watched you. It only caused your irritation to spike up. “I do not know you. Plus I am not used to riding on-those bird things. I rather not.”

Bob huffed at your words, clacking loudly at you. “They’re Ikrans, and very smart.”

Jake was sure his voice was dripping with his amusement, he couldn’t help it. You made him laugh. “I know what they are!” You all but shrieked, “Does not make me trust them anymore so.”

Jake laughed, shaking his head at you. Your eyes narrowed in on him, irritation flowing through you so deeply you refrained from yelling at him. You hissed at him, and it caused a harder laugh to leave his lips.

“If you keep me here for any longer, Tonowari will come searching for us. You are already in trouble with your sister. Do you wish to make it worse?”

“I am not a child!”

“That is very obvious, so why make this harder than it needs to be?”

Jake quickly mounted his Ikran, he was almost positive you would follow after him. You weighed your options, you knew Ronal would be angry with you, should you really test your luck?

You groaned out in frustration, walking towards Jake and his Ikran. This was far scarier than taming a Tsurak, you would have no control on the animal. His five fingered hand extended to you, and you could not help but stare. His fingers were scarred, and calloused, slipping your fingers together as he pulled you up.

You swiftly threw a leg over the Ikran, shifting farther back on the animal as you were pressed too close to him. “Hold on.”

“I am fine as I am.”

He shook his head, creating Tsaheylu with his Ikran and the animal instantly jolted forward. You were thrown back lightly, hands instinctively wrapping around his waist to keep you steady. If you could see Jake’s face he was sure you’d hiss at him once again. The smallest of smirks fell onto his features.

The cool wind caused a shiver to run down your back, admiring how beautiful the island looked even in the darkness of the storm. You peaked your head to look ahead, frowning deeper the closer you arrived to the beach. “I hope you know I could have made my way back without you.”

“And I do not doubt that.”

“Good.”

As you both landed, you could see Ronal’s angry face as she stomped towards you. “Here we go.”

Jake helped you dismount, jumping quickly down after you. “See what I mean! Reckless!”

You rolled your eyes at your sister, walking straight past her and towards your home. Jake could see the exhaustion on Ronal’s face. He would be lying if he said he did not sympathize with her. It was clear that she cared for you deeply, but there were some lines blurred between the two of you. “Thank you, JakeSully.”

Jake only dipped his head down at the Tsahik, watching your figure retreat farther away.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

🏷️; @mashiromochi @midhito @neteyamforlife @adaiasafira @ambria @sillyfreakfanparty @fanboyluvr @jakescumdump @itscheybaby @iwanttohitmyself @janeety @haitanismainhoe @daribakugo @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @lemonmoonmochi @dazedshoon @amanda-678 @randxmthxughts @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @wekiamo @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @theroyalbrownbarbie @1ntefly @nyylovestowrite @rianapntn @crazy4books1 @jakesullylongjuicyshlong @kikookii @ducks118 @bucky12345 @elegantkidfansoul @bold-writing @1-800-fandomsdestroyedme @graysonmalik2550 @milequaritchsslut @23victoria @kamcrazy123 @annamarieisbae @k----a27s @tojigirl @lynbubble @outspokenmatters @amanda-678 @alexandra-001

2K notes · View notes

thetransartguy · 17 days

Note

PLEASE MAKE A PART TWO OF YOUR HEART LIES WITH ME MY DEAR

Your heart Lies with me my dear pt 2

So, im sorry this took so long to write i got busy with school (end of a grading period), then i got (still have) a UTI, im in a lot of pain rn mainly my lower back so as i am writing this im laying on a heating pad.

CW: just sad, trust issues, bad writing lmao also not my gif

Seeing Hotchner for the first time in 5 years was shocking, but seeing him like this was even more shocking. He had a look in his eyes he'd never seen before. It's not worry, it's not fear. ….. is it hurt? You think to yourself as you sit on your sofa talking to JJ.

How can he be hurt if he leaves? You didn't leave him, and he had no right to be upset at you. Clearly, he didn't want you, so what was the point in telling him that you had a child? Jack had never mentioned wanting anymore kids, so that would be one less thing for him to worry about.

The other agents were gone, leaving you alone with your ex. Could you even call him that? You two never made it official. And yet you still viewed him as your boyfriend,Was that stupid of you? probably. Did you care? not really.

It was quiet, not the comfortable quiet, but the uncomfortable kind—the kind that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up—kind of quiet. He looked at you; his eyes were ice cold. This hurt your heart more than it should have. It had been 5 years, and yet you still went over him.

Eliza was put down for a nap, so you didn't have to worry about her seeing this side of him. She didn't know that Hotchner was her dad because she never asked, but if he had, you would have told her.

“Why didn't you call me..." The old man asks quietly. You don't look at him; you don't dare fucking look at him, not because he would do anything bad, but because you knew you would fall for him all over again.

“You left. I didn't think you wanted anything to do with me." You respond plainly but quietly so as not to make the situation worse. Hotchner sighs and rests his face in his hands.

It was quiet for a long moment, and neither of you said, “Listen." I did what I thought was best," Aaron said in a stern tone, making you laugh. "I did what you thought was best." You pause for a moment. "Aaron, you left without any reason and didn't even give me time to fucking process everything, and as for my baby, which I know you're going to ask about,” you snapped. “I didn't think you would want to see her considering how fast you fucking left.”

Aaron was taken aback by your behavior; he's never seen you mad before. A look of shock on his face made him more shocked than before. “(Y/N)...." Before he could finish, you cut him off. “No. I found out I was pregnant three months after you left. You left, not me," the younger woman couldn't help but have her eyes filled with tears.

She was mad rightfully, so the man she loved left out of nowhere. How was she supposed to react, and the fact that he felt so entitled in this moment didn't make it any better?

“(Y/N)... listen to me, I want to be in her life. I want to be in your life." He sounded broken.. so broken.. so sad.. you let out a shaky breath. “You're just going to leave again." This broke Hotchner's heart. He knew you would have to gain your trust back, which was going to take a while, and he knew that until he gave your trust, he wouldn't be able to see his daughter. This was going to be a long day the rest of the year, Hotchner thought to himself as he got ready to speak again.

#hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x plus size reader #criminal minds #jj criminal minds #jack hotchner #i’m so sorry #in pain #sad thoughts

25 notes · View notes

moonxmagix · 1 year

Text

Daddy's Girl NSFW

Pairing: Frank Iero x Fem Reader

CW: Age gap, teacher frank, student reader, light smut, daddy issues, soft frank, underage drinking, mentions of the word daddy, def sexual tension

Summary: Frank is your teacher and you two hit it off. Y/N has heavy daddy issues and Frank takes you in. He treats you like what your childhood self deserved, safety and love.

A/N: This is VERY long. I wrote 11 pages on Google Docs so I'm very sorry LMAO. It might be a bit wordy and not super smutty if thats okay. I wanted to write something softer in nature. Also apologize if there are any grammar mistakes. :)

Reblogs appreciated!

~^~^~^~^

As I sat there in an uncomfortable school chair, surrounded by the ghosts of my past, I stared out the window that was covered in rain. The day was gloomy, constant thundering and on and off downpour. I tapped my foot up and down while playing with my bunny keychain as my anxiety washes over me. School always made me anxious and hate myself, constantly feeling at battle with myself and others.

It was my senior year and I just turned 18, so all I had to do was wait to get out of here. Kinda like prison if you think about it. Our school had uniforms and if anything that was the best part about this place, not to mention it looked like some old money school for rich kids. Which was funny because a lot of the kids here come from nothing, like me.

My drug addicted mother raised me semi alone, meaning that she constantly had men in and out of her life. My real father left when I was only a few months old so I never had that strong, protective father figure in my life. I craved someone to love me, hold me tight, whatever fathers do with their daughters. My moms boyfriends that were long term, aka 6 months, would try their best to be there for me but as soon as I got comfortable with them they were gone.

I tried to stay out of relationships out of fear that the same cycle would happen to me.

“Y/N? Are you listening?” Mr. Iero said, pulling me out of my daze. My head quickly turned to him, almost embarrassed, “Yes sir, sorry.” He turned back to board, continuing the lesson. Mr. Iero was my english/music teacher, he taught both. The first day I walked into his class I had a massive crush on, like journaling and daydreaming about him crush. I never made advances to him because what would he think?

I can’t get him in trouble and I can’t jeopardize my education for some man. I once again zoned out heavily, staring out the window. I watched as a father checked out his daughter early for school it seems, hugging each other under the umbrella as they smiled together. I sighed, rolling my eyes at the sight. Almost disgusting to me but that's just the jealousy getting to me.

“Y/N? Please pay attention, we have an important test coming up and you can’t miss this,” he sighed, putting a hand on his hip. Everyone turned to stare at me as I got smaller in my seat. When I looked back at everyone else to me they had dark eyes, something evil brewing but also something dead. I know realistically that a lot of the people here never paid attention but were much better at hiding it I think.

“Please see me at the end of school,” he said and a few people let “Ooo” escape their mouths. Thanks Mr. Iero for embarrassing me. I wanted to hate him for that but another part of my brain desired to have that alone time with him. Even a hug from him would suffice my animalistic hunger for him. Just, “I’m proud of you,” would motivate me for the rest of the year.

Class was dismissed and I quickly got out of there but he caught my wrist before I could, “Promise me you’ll be here after school. You can’t ditch like the last time.” I nodded and promised him that I would be back. The last time that happened I left out of pure anxiety, I threw up in the hallway on my way to his class. But safe to say this time I could get myself through it.

I went to my locker to change out books and my best friend Livvy came up to me, “Wanna hang out after school? I wanna get coffee,” she said excitedly. “Maybe, Mr. Iero wants to see me after my last class,” I said, I didn’t want to disappoint her. “Omg again? Did you space out again (nickname)?” she said, lightly punching my arm.

“Yeah, I just hope it’s quick. If so, I’ll make sure to call you when I’m done,” I said with a smile. We said our goodbyes as I went to all of my other classes. I watched the clock as it quickly rang, I took a few deep breaths as I prepared myself to see Mr. Iero. I know it couldn’t be that bad but my anxiety tried to convince me otherwise.

I looked through the glass of the door and saw no one inside so I thought maybe this could be my excuse as to why I didn’t show. “Right on time!” a voice behind me said. It startled me so I turned to see that it was Mr. Iero. I softly smiled as he unlocked the door to let us in. I didn’t see it but I heard him lock the door behind me.

I stood in front of his desk leaning against a student's desk. He stood in front of me also leaning against his desk. I kept my eyes to the ground for the most part, “Are you okay? You’ve been very quiet and dazed in almost every class,” he said in a soft voice. My tense shoulders relaxed, still not sure how to respond, “You can tell me, Y/N.” He took a couple steps closer.

“Look at me,” he said in a more demanding tone. I looked at him and he smirked, I wanted to fall to my knees right then and there. He rolled up his sleeves to reveal his tattoos, “I..I’ve just been going through a lot at home,” I said to put it simply. “Sit, let’s talk about it,” he said sitting in the students chair next to me. I sat down hesitantly, I don’t know if he actually cared about me or what. I guess we’ll find out.

I told him about my mom and everything that I’ve been struggling with. I didn’t outright tell him about my struggles with men and not having a father figure of sorts. But he’s smart, so he could probably piece things together based on how I answered some of his questions. At the end of my story I let a few tears escape from my eyes, he reached his hand up and gently wiped them.

He placed his other hand on my knee, rubbing his thumb on it. “You have nothing to worry about with me hun,” he said sweetly, maintaining tense eye contact. He was such a good listener and never interrupted me. “Your secrets are safe with me, I’m so glad you’re finally opening up to me. Since the beginning of the year I’ve had my eye on you, there’s something special about you, Y/N,” he said, whispering the last sentence.

He grabbed my hand and held it tightly in his. I felt my face heat up like a thousand suns and my heart rate picked up. I couldn’t help but let a smile form on my face, “That’s my girl. No need to be sad when you’re around me. Hey, I’ll even move your desk closer up to mine, yeah?” I nodded, feeling like such a typical schoolgirl.

He looked at the clock, “I should probably let you go now. Here,’ he said, handing me a little piece of paper. I pocketed it in my bag and before I left he gave me a big, warm hug. The smell of cigarettes and cologne hit my nostrils, it was a smell so intoxicating that it would stay with me throughout the rest of the day. I left and ran out of there to my house, it downpoured on me though. It made me feel like I was in a movie of sorts, I let the rain fall and drench my uniform and hair.

I ran inside and went straight to my room to text Livvy, it was Friday so I told her to come spend the night with me. I really didn’t want to tell anyone about what happened but she was the only person I could trust with this information, she understood. She literally has a sugar daddy, she has no room to judge me!

Livvy came over and got settled right in with snacks and cute pajamas. “Tell me everything!” she said excitedly. I giggled, “He asked me if anything was wrong, I avoided but he pried so I spilled everything. And now he’s moving my desk up to his, he touched my leg and hugged me!” We were both laughing and blushing over this.

“Oh! I think he gave me his number,” I told her, remembering the paper he gave me that I still haven’t opened yet. “Bitch show me!” she said excitedly. I got the paper from my bag and counted down from 3, I opened it and it had his number inside. “Text him now!” she said getting my phone from my nightstand.

I input his number into my phone, “What do I say though?” I bit my nails. “Something flirty for sure,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. I started to type: hii its Y/N, miss our time together already xo

“Bitch that's good!! He’s bound to fall in love with you now,” she joked.

Hours went by without checking my phone and it was around 8pm. I checked my phone during our movie and he asked to call me, I sat up straight with my eyes wide. “He wants to call,” I said suddenly. “Oh shit! I’ll turn the tv down and I’ll stay quiet,” she shushed herself.

I gave the phone a ring and he picked it up almost instantly, I put it on speaker phone.

Frank: Doing okay?

Me: yeah, thanks for letting me vent. Made me feel a lot better

Frank: I’m glad, honey.

Livvy looked at me with shock, “Honey?!” she mouthed covering it with her hand.

Frank: Um, I wanted to ask if you wanna hang out tomorrow? You don't have-

Me: Yes. I’d love to!

Frank: What time are you free then?

Me: Umm maybe around 12?

Frank: Sounds like a date then

We both hung up and we’re screaming with joy, I never thought this day would come. Hanging out with a teacher outside of school? Is that legal? I couldn’t back out now, my fate was decided. “What am I gonna wear?” I said, asking Livvy for help. She’s always been the cooler one in terms of fashion, so I can trust her to dress me.

~^~^~^~^

It was 10 am and I had just the right amount of time to get ready. I checked my phone and he said he’d be picking me up at my place. Livvy left already and I sat down in front of my floor length mirror and put on light makeup. I got dressed in a black skirt, sheer black leggings, doc martens, and a white and black striped sweater.

The clock finally turned 12 and I looked out my window to not see a car yet. I sighed with relief because in reality I definitely didn't feel ready. I checked my phone and Mr. Iero said he would be there in 5. I went ahead and stood out front to wait for him.

His car pulled up and he got out to greet me, “Wow, you look great!” he said with a smile. He had on sunglasses and chewed his gum kinda obnoxiously but hot. He gave me a big hug and opened the door for me, his car was super clean surprisingly. “Where are we going?” I ask timidly.

“Downtown, get some coffee and donuts,” he smiled, placing his hand on my thigh. “How’d you know where my house was?” I asked. “Teachers have access to those kinds of things,” I just nodded in response staring out the window. It was pretty cloudy and I was kinda hoping it’d rain.

We got to the coffee place downtown, “This is my special spot, for a special girl,” he smirked. I felt my stomach overfill with butterflies and a sparked joy I didn’t know I could feel around somebody. He got out the umbrella and interlocked arms with me, I looked at him with such content but confusion. I felt like I didn’t deserve any of this, none of the kindness, none of the listening, nothing.

He told me to sit down at a booth while he ordered us stuff. I texted Livvy while sitting there:

Me: Liv i think im in love no joke

Liv: i would be too

Me: were getting coffee rn ill update soon

He came back and sat a delicious smelling coffee in front of me, “Thank you Mr. Iero,” I said. “Call me Frank, no need for that outside of school,” he said, he grabbed my hand that was on top of the table. I looked at him, blushing hard, what if someone saw us?

We talked about the things we both liked and hated, we actually had a lot in common. “You like Elvis?!” he said, shocked. “Yeah and?! It’s a comfort thing,” I defended. “Explain,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Sometimes when my mom was out I’d spend the night with my grandfather and in the morning while cooking breakfast he’d play Elvis,” I said, reminiscing when I actually had a somewhat stable relationship with a man.

I think Frank noticed my mood diminish into something solemn. “Let's grab those donuts, I have somewhere else I wanna show you,” he said, grabbing my hand. He showed me off proudly, it felt like he was telling everyone around him to look at me but not in the way I’m used to. He put his mouth close to my ear, “We’ll have to share a donut, they’re almost out of everything,” he said, placing a kiss on my cheek.

We walked under the umbrella together as we started to share the donut, “Don’t lift a finger princess,” he said while holding the donut up to my mouth. He basically gave me the whole thing while he only had a couple bites. “Why do you treat me like this?” I asked him, curious as to why he is so fond of treating me like…a girlfriend?

“I think you deserve it, Y/N. I’ll explain more later,” he said with such sincerity, gripping my hand tighter. Was this going to be a whole day affair? My mom hasn’t been home for a few days so I didn’t feel the need to tell her where I was, it wasn’t like she was answering my messages anyway!

“What’s wrong hun?” he said, taking down the umbrella as the rain had stopped and the sun came out. “My mom hasn't answered my messages, it's been days,” I said, a little disappointed. “I’ll look after you, don't worry about it,” he said as we showed up to a record store. I gasped as I could never afford to buy my own records, it felt like a dream.

We went inside and looked around, I looked around for a ‘The Cure’ album. As I kept looking I felt a body press up behind me and place their arms around my waist and a head on my shoulder. He placed soft kisses on my neck causing me to giggle, I felt him do the same in my neck. “Find what you need?” he asked. “Yeah, did you?” his hands were empty. “Yeah,” he smiled playfully like he was up to something but not sure what.

“Bullshit. You need to get something or else I’ll feel bad that you spent all your money on me,” I said feeling slight guilt about him buying things for me. “I have you, that’s all I need,” he said, pulling me to the register and pulls out his card faster than I can reach for my purse zipper.

He handed me the bag of my records and we left. We didn’t do anything much except go thrifting and it was already 7 PM. “I have one place left to go,” he smiled, pulling out of the spot. “I feel like we’ve been everywhere already,” I said, whining. “Be a good girl and don’t whine for me, okay?” that immediately put me in my place and I complied. I could see a smirk on his face, he knew what he did to me.

I heard a song on the radio that I liked and immediately turned it up, it was You Get Me So High by The Neighbourhood. “You like them?” he asked. “Love them! I’ve seen them in concert twice already,” I said proudly. Livvy knew I couldn’t afford it but she ever so kindly bought them for me.

After a short drive we made it to our destination, a bar. It was quite crowded, I wasn't even old enough to drink yet. I looked at him worried, “I’m not 21..” I said. “I can get you in darling, don’t worry,” he said reassuringly. I trusted him but I tightened my lips anxiously. He was able to get me in because he was close friends with the guy at the front.

We got in and the music was at a comfortably loud volume. He dragged me to the bar and ordered me a drink but I couldn’t tell you what it was. Tasted great though!

I downed a couple drinks and I basically became a melting mess in Frank's hands. I held onto him for dear life like someone was trying to pull me away from him. I dragged him outside for a cigarette break, I pulled them out of bag and I forgot my lighter, “I forgot my fuckin lighter.” He laughed at my tone and lit my cigarette for me.

We stood inches apart, he held my waist with his tattooed hand. I took a huff of my cig and blew it in his face, “Naughty girl,” he chuckled. He pulled me in to kiss him and our lips collided. The taste of cigarettes and alcohol mixed perfectly with each other. I wrapped my arms around his neck, not wanting to release.

I shared my cigarette with him and he whispered in my ear, “How about you come over to my place for the night?” My heart was beating out of its chest, “Are you sure that's okay? I would need to get my stuff at home,” I said. “We can stop by your place first baby, I do have a few room-mates if that’s okay,” he said looking away embarrassed. “More the merrier!” I joked.

We drove back to my place and I led him up to my room, he sat on my bed and I packed up a couple things. I turned around putting my hands on my hips, “All packed,” I smiled. He patted his hand insinuating for me to sit on his lap, so I did. I wrapped my arms around his neck, “My pretty girl,” he whispered while pushing my hair out of my face.

“I really don’t understand why you like me, Frank,” I said, that feeling of undeservingness washing over me. “Look at you Y/N!. What is there not to like about you? We have so much in common and I can’t get over how beautiful you are,” I need all the reassurance I can get. What if he leaves me? Would another man treat me like Frank does?

“Do you promise not to leave?” I asked tearfully. “What? Of course I do, Y/N. How could I do that to you sweetheart?” he said, hugging me tightly. “We should get going,” he said softly. I nodded and he grabbed my bags for me as we walked back to the car.

We got to Frank's place and it was dimly lit, it smelled of cigarettes and expensive musky candles. I saw band equipment set up, “What’s all this?” I asked. “Oh, me and my friends do gigs on the side,” he chuckled as we walked to the kitchen. A timid man turned around to greet us, he gave Frank a hug and gave me a handshake. Firmly.

“Nice to meet you,” I said shyly. “Franks said a lot about you, nice to meet you,” he smiled kindly and I furrowed my brows a little confused. He talks about me? What did he say? More questions to be answered.

Frank hurried me to his room, it was spacious and had a few of his guitars displayed on the walls. He disappeared for a second and brought back a shirt and pajama pants of his, “Put these on,” I took them. I went into the bathroom bringing my toiletries along with me. I changed into his oversized clothes and washed my face.

I brought out my phone and snapped a pic of me in the mirror sending it to Livvy. She replied almost instantly: not you going home with him !! be safe !! she replied.

I went back out and put my other clothes back in my bag, “You have such a nice room,” I complimented. “Biggest one in the house,” he brags. I hadn’t noticed before but he turned the radio on and it was on a classic rock station. The room was filled with cigarette smoke and incense. Lamps created the perfect sensual ambience.

I laid my head on his soft pillows and Frank hovered over me, caressing my face with his hand. Something came over me, my eyes filled with tears and escaped the corner of my eyes. “What’s wrong princess?” he said, worried. I shook my head, sobbing. Never was I good enough to ever receive a love like this before. Here I had it.

“Tell daddy what’s wrong princess,” that broke me. I couldn’t tell if I was imagining all of this or if it was some sick joke. I straddled his lap, crying into his shoulder. His hand rubbed up and down my back sensually. “I’ve never felt such an overwhelming amount of love and adoration from a man before,” I stated plainly.

He asked me to talk about it so I did. I told him about the men this time, while I did we drank. It got to the point where I only started seeing flashes of my surroundings. One minute I was taking off my clothes, then I was sitting on top of Frank, then throwing my head back and moaning.

I remember seeing Frank go down on me and him forcing my legs open as I was ready to release on his face. Flashes of Frank saying things like, “You're daddy’s good girl…I’ll never hurt you…you’re safe with me…shh you’re okay sweetheart.” His voice vibrated through my skin.

Soon enough I passed out, naked and covered up by the warm sheets. I woke up groggy and still a little drunk around 3 am and had my clothes put back on. I groaned and didn’t see Frank in bed with me but playing guitar across the room. “Frank?” I said, rubbing my eyes. He immediately rushed to my side to comfort me, “Are you okay princess?” he said.

I nodded, “Could you get me some water?” I asked because my voice was hoarse. He brought back water to me and I downed it as fast as I could. He got into bed with me and I cuddled up at his side, holding on for life.

I grabbed Frank's face pressing our lips together, I longed for his kiss and his desire. He pulled away and cupped my face, “If you were my little girl, I’d do whatever I could do for you,” he said softly. “I am,” I stated so desperately wanting him to take me in, live with him, devote my life to him. “I’d even run away and hide with you if I could. You’re daddy’s girl,” he said pulling me into his chest.

To be safe and sound in his heart forever.

#frank iero #frank #iero #frank iero mcr #mcr frank #my chemical frank #frank iero imagine #frank iero fanfiction #frank iero fanfic #frank iero smut #frank iero x you #frank iero x reader #mcr fanfiction #daddy issues #teacher crush #my chemical romance #my chem fanfic

273 notes · View notes