#it's like crossing a line i can't uncross | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

golden-cherry · 7 months

Text

deal - cl16 (16/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: You know what's coming - they don't call me queen of slow burn for nothing.

Warnings: angst, jealousy, swear words

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: thank you all for your kind words on my engagement! and I'm sorry for this part! love ya. feedback is appreciated!

Charles is so close to you that you can breathe him in. His warm breath gently brushes your face, you feel the pressure of his big hands on your back and the thought that friends shouldn't look at each other like that makes your heart beat faster.

Because Charles is looking at you just like that. As if you weren't friends, as if the connection between you was more intimate than a friendship could ever be. As if he's willing to cross the invisible line that separates his lips from yours.

Your hands, resting against his hard chest, feel the strong heartbeat beneath and your fingers lightly claw into the fabric of the thick sweater as a sign for him to please be bold.

Take this step with me, it's supposed to say. Take this step and come to me.

And Charles even seems to understand. His gaze flickers from your eyes to your mouth, and you're so close you can almost feel his tongue against your mouth as he licks his lips.

And then his hands disappear from your back as he takes a big step backward. Your touch slips from his chest, his scent disappears from your nose, and a distance is created between you that you can not only physically see, but also emotionally feel.

When you look up into his face - a little confused - his features are harder than they were just seconds ago.

"Let's go," he says coldly, tucking his hands, which a moment ago had you pressed against him, into the pockets of his sweater. "I need some sleep before I leave tomorrow, and like you said, we also need to grab a bite to eat and head back home." He turns away from you, takes the few steps to the door, and leaves the store without looking at you again.

Puzzled and admittedly repulsed, you look after the man.

He had been so close to you just a moment ago - and all of a sudden there is an uncrossable ocean between you. What has happened that he is now withdrawing like this? Did you do something wrong? Forced yourself on him? Crossed a line?

No, after all, he sought your closeness first, pulled you closer to him, and whispered all those affectionate words to you that fogged your head and made little butterflies flutter around in your stomach.

But maybe that's exactly the mistake. Maybe you've completely misread the situation. Maybe he behaves similarly with his other friends. While you can't imagine how he would pull Pierre into such an embrace, every friendship is different, after all.

And lastly, you don't know how Charles behaves with his female friends either. The thought of him hugging other girls like that, too, and whispering such flirtations in their ears, makes your stomach tighten involuntarily. A nasty feeling that you didn't even feel when Raphael was flirting with other girls in front of you back then.

You suppress the nausea rising in you and follow Charles, who is waiting for you in front of the store, typing on his cell phone. You lock the door behind you and toss the key into the mailbox, which hangs hidden by ivy vines on the wall of the house next to it. Without looking at your roommate, you start moving. "Well, let's go."

The icy Nice night wind blows in your face and ruffles your hair as you walk back to the car, but Charles doesn't seem to mind in the least. "What do you want to eat?" he asks nonchalantly, still staring at his phone. He seems so far away, as if the moment just now didn't even happen.

You shrug, unsure how to handle the situation. "I don't care. You go ahead and pick something."

"We don't have a lot of options at this point," he counters as your car enters your field of vision. "It's really late and a lot of restaurants have already closed." He continues typing away on his phone as he unlocks the Renault. "According to Google, I think there's a bistro nearby where the sandwiches are supposed to be good. Would you be okay with that?"

"Like I said, I don't care," you reply to him, getting into the car.

"What kind of sandwich do you want?" he asks after plopping down in the driver's seat. "I guess they have one with lettuce, chicken, and avocado." He raises an eyebrow. "I think I'll order that." He tucks his phone away and starts the car before letting it roll out of the parking lot.

"I'll settle for a plain ham and cheese sandwich," you say, looking out the window.

The fact that Charles is pretending you didn't almost kiss just now unsettles you so much that you can barely look at him. And the fact that you wanted to kiss him - actually wanted to kiss him - almost makes you disappear into your seat in shame.

Because, as it seems, he doesn't want to. He draws the line between friendship and something more much more clearly than you do. And he doesn't seem to shift it to suit him. To him, you're his friend, his roommate, a means to an end until he can move into his other apartment.

You are his friend. Friend. Friend. Friend.

"Here we are," Charles breaks through your train of thought. He's already parked the car and points to the bistro on the street corner in front of you. A young man is tidying up the few chairs that are in front of the building and wiping down the tables with a rag. "I'll just get us something to eat. Do you need anything else?"

You look over at him with raised eyebrows. "I don't think we can get anything to eat there anymore."

"Why not?"

Confused, you look at him and point to the young man. "Because he's closing up store?"

Charles shrugs. "Just let me try it. It'll work," he smiles, and when you don't reply, he gets out. He jogs the few feet to the bistro and greets the man with a handshake, then points to the place. A little confused, but very pleased, the employee escorts your roommate into the building.

How could you be so stupid? How could you think Charles would want something more from you than friendship? After all, it's Charles - funny, caring, and so handsome that it partially takes your breath away and he sneaks into your dreams. Why would someone like Charles - someone who could really have any woman on the planet - want more from you when you couldn't even keep someone like Raphael?

You've known each other for three fucking days. What makes you think he could even feel anything else for you after such a short time? How delusional do you have to be to even have a thought like that?

You're on the verge of jumping out of the car and walking home.

How are you supposed to look him in the face now? Charles is not stupid, he would immediately notice that something is wrong. And you can't lie to him either, because he would see right through you. You don't want to face your feelings either, because that would mean that you have feelings for him that go beyond your friendship - and you are not ready for that pain.

When Charles steps out of the bistro onto the street with two bags in his hand, you feel sick. Your appetite is abruptly gone, and just the thought of eating something makes you scrunch up your nose. How are you going to be able to eat anything after what happened?

Pull yourself together, you tell yourself. That's not a solution either.

The only reasonable solution is obvious. The line that you've been pushing back and forth more than frequently over the past few days must stand nailed between you from now on. And it must be drawn up so that you can't cross it as you please. You have to protect yourself, protect your heart - especially after the thing with Raphael - and that's the only way without banning Charles from your life.

Because that's the last thing you want. And you'll do anything to stop that from happening.

"Here," Charles says as he rejoins you, handing you a bag. "I wasn't sure which ham you liked, so I just picked the one that looked the best." He places his own bag on the center console before steering the old Renault onto Nice's streets.

Silence settles between you as you drive home. While Charles takes a bite of his sandwich in the meantime, you pick apart the bread with your fingers.

To build this wall that is supposed to protect your heart, you need distance, which is definitely not possible in your small apartment. And the fact that you share a bed doesn't make matters any better, of course. For sure, it would be smarter if you reinstate your old deal - one of you sleeps in the bed, the other on the couch.

But how are you supposed to set that up after you just agreed on the new arrangement at noon today? Snubbing Charles would be too obvious. He'd notice something was wrong, and he'd definitely be able to conclude that it had something to do with your almost-kiss.

The fact that he will be out of the country for the next few days could be an advantage. The physical distance and the fact that you won't be spending every single second of the day together could build the wall between you up brick by brick. After that, you could claim that you are used to sleeping alone again - humans are creatures of habit, after all. And by then you will have shared the bed only twice.

That shouldn't really be so obvious - right?

"Don't you like it?" asks Charles as you cross the border to Monaco. His gaze lingers briefly on your sandwich, which by now looks a bit messy.

" Um, yes I do," you answer quietly and bite off a piece of it. Under other circumstances, the sandwich would actually taste delicious, but now it seems to have no taste at all. You chew on it a bit before choking down the dry lump of bread. "Thanks for getting us something to eat."

Your roommate smiles at you. "I'm sure my nutritionist would scold me if he saw me eating an entire sandwich in the middle of the night." He looks at the rest of his meal. "Even though it has lettuce and avocado on it." He tucks the last corner of his sandwich between his teeth, then grins at you with his mouth open.

You roll your eyes. "You're disgusting."

His grin widens even more. "You love me," he teases you with his mouth full before swallowing.

You don't even think to respond.

The rest of the ride is quiet, and even when you arrive home, you remain silent. The silence is not uncomfortable, but the tension between you is still palpable. As you stand side by side in the bathroom brushing your teeth, you avoid Charles' gaze in the mirror, which you can clearly feel on you.

The silence, however, gives you the opportunity to prepare yourself for what is about to come. It will be the last time you share a bed with Charles - which sounds like something you've been doing for years. The fact that your friendship feels like this doesn't make it any easier.

If Charles comes home from Italy and you tell him you prefer the couch, he will surely feel put out. And rejecting your closest friend in such a way may not feel right, but keeping you safe is a priority. One thing you had to learn from Raphael.

When you enter the bedroom in sleeping clothes, Charles is already in bed. He's lying on his side, facing the center, and apparently the man doesn't own pajamas, because his bare chest glows warmly in the light of the bedside lamp. He scrolls around on his phone, his upper arm resting on his side so that his biceps look even beefier.

"I set an alarm, hope that's okay with you," he says as you lie down on your side of the bed and slip under the covers. "I have to get out on time, and then we can have a proper goodbye."

You plug your phone into the charger and then place it next to your pillow. "It's all good. We'll be fine." You pull your blanket up to your chin and snuggle in deep, trying to block out the fact that Charles is lying shirtless next to you.

The brunette sets his phone aside, then flicks off the bedside lamp. As the room is in darkness, it feels like he's lying skin to skin next to you. You can feel his closeness, his warmth, and you would love to build a wall of pillows between you to bring the imaginary boundary into the physical world.

You turn onto your back and stare at the ceiling, hearing Charles move under his covers as well, and hold your breath as you feel him rest his hand on your bedding. It's like he's reaching out for your hand.

"I was with my ex yesterday," he says quietly, as if he doesn't dare say it out loud.

You try to suppress the tugging in your chest. You have no right to feel this way when at the same time you wish there were countless pillows between you. You have no right to it when you're trying to protect your heart. You have no right to feel this way about your friend.

"With Annika?" Your voice mirrors his, quiet, calm, hesitant.

You hear his pillow ruffle. He nods. "She's the reason you and I share the apartment. She's living in my first apartment right now. Well, I'm still letting her live there."

You purse your lips. "Your buddy from yesterday - he said he heard about you two and that he was sorry." You fight the urge to reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. Him revealing himself to you is something you didn't expect.

"Yeah, that was Nico." He takes a deep breath. "Annika cheated on me."

Confused, you turn in his direction, even though you can't see him. "And then you still let her live there?"

He turns as well, facing you. "I wasn't a good boyfriend during the years we were a couple. My job was always my priority, I couldn't give her what she needed. She tried - really tried - but I never really got into it and -" He rubs his palm over his forehead.

"- and then she cheated on you." You feel like wrapping him in your arms. "Are you letting her stay in the apartment because you feel guilty?"

"I - I don't know - maybe -" His breath catches and you can clearly hear him struggling with himself. "Maybe if I had paid more attention to her, this wouldn't have happened. If I had taken more time to be with her. If -"

"Stop," you interrupt him harshly, "We're not going to continue this spiral of thought. There's no point going through the ifs, ands, and buts because you can't change it now. You can't change the fact that she cheated on you, and you can't turn back time to make it better. The only thing you can do is do better next time."

The thought of Charles eventually having a new girlfriend and making a real effort with her makes you feel sick. You don't like it, this fucking jealousy that's spreading through you, creeping through your veins like battery acid and leaving a sickening taste in your mouth.

You try to mask it, even as tears spring to your eyes. "I don't know how exhausting your job in the car industry is, but maybe you can find someone who can walk the road with you. Who can travel with you when your job requires it. Who will stay by your side and support you when things get tough and stressful." Your voice trembles, and you hope Charles can't hear it.

"Do you think there's someone like that for me? Who's willing to give up that much for me?" he asks, scooting a little closer to you.

The voice in your head almost screams at you - "me, me, me" - but of course you can't repeat that out loud, so you nod.

In fact, you'd be willing to give up everything for him, even though it's not much, of course. You have no job, no responsibilities except for the apartment, whose rent you don't have to pay, and you'd give anything to explore the world.

But Charles is your roommate, your friend. You want someone for him who can make him happy. Even if it's not you.

"Of course," you answer quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I believe that there is a person out there for everyone. A soulmate to share everything with. Someone who's there for you and with whom you don't have to pretend to be somebody else."

"Hmm." You feel Charles' breath on your face. Only then do you realize how close he is to you. "So there's someone for you, too. Someone who will make time for you, won't let you down, and will take care of you. And most importantly, someone who doesn't fuck other women."

You have to smile. "The latter would be enough for me. But even that seems impossible. After all, look at us. We've both been cheated on."

Charles shrugs. "But if that hadn't happened, we wouldn't be living together now. We wouldn't even know each other, we wouldn't be friends." He exhales. "The fact that we both got cheated on really sucks, of course - but we found each other through it. And I wouldn't trade that for anything in this world."

Something tugs at your heart. You place another brick on the imaginary wall between you.

"I don't want to go to Italy."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice."

Charles exhales a breath. "You said you were just going to sit here and wait for me to come home." He sounds concerned.

"I was kidding," you try to lighten the situation. "I'm going to work, of course." The lie tastes bitter on your tongue. "And I still have Kika and Pierre." You pause. "And Lando."

You can feel your friend stiffen beside you at the mention of the Brit. "I thought you're happy with the tiramisu you had here on site?" His voice sounds colder and more bitter than it did a few seconds ago.

"I am." You turn away from him, onto your back, to put distance between you. "But there are other desserts to try, aren't there? Or sandwiches. Pasta. Or something else. I've got to get these few days over somehow."

Unlike you, Charles notes that the meals you listed are all things you've already eaten together. That you would want to possibly top those few memories you have with him with Lando leaves a sickening taste in his mouth.

"Well, if you have to work and you're meeting with Kika and Pierre and we're facetiming in between, you might not have that much time to try other dessert. Or sandwiches. Pasta. Or something else," he repeats your words.

"We'll see. If there really is someone suitable out there for me, I'm definitely not going to find him on our couch." When Charles doesn't answer, you declare the conversation to be over. You close your eyes, snuggle deeper into your blanket, and try to block out the fact that the person you want - the one who might be right for you - is lying shirtless next to you.

You already have, Charles answers you in his mind, taking a deep breath. Your scent still clings to his bedclothes from noon today, his skin tingling as he breathes it in. Me. Me. Me.

next part

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc cute #Charles Leclerc deal #charles leclerc x yn #Charles Leclerc fluff

997 notes · View notes

performativezippers · 2 months

Text

here's some random writing advice that i've found helpful, in no order, that i reserve the right to add to at any time:

no one says everything they're thinking. in dialogue, less is more. people don't speak in paragraphs, they speak in sentences, especially when they're not telling a story. let the dialogue be brief, and use interiority (thoughts) to show the reader all the things they aren't saying.

use physical cues to help the POV character understand what the non-POV character is thinking/feeling/not saying/lying about. For example, if we're in Jane's POV while Maura is talking, and Maura says "I'm fine," Jane can notice that her eyes are darting around like she's anxious, or she's crossed and uncrossed her arms, almost like she's nervous. there's no need to say MAURA SEEMS NERVOUS, let the reader get it from what Jane's picking up.

let the reader be curious—don't info dump—but don't frustrate them by giving so little that they don't know what's going on. this is a very very fine line sometimes, and betas can be really helpful for pointing it out until you've gotten the feel for it.

Use paragraph breaks, for the love of god.

Only italicize things that really and truly cannot be explained any other way. "What are you doing here?" for example doesn't need any italics. If you can't get the reader to understand what you mean without the italics, then, sure, use them. but SPARINGLY. use body language, interiority, other words, and dialogue tags (shouts, yells, whispers, cries, she says as her voice cracks) to get the reader what they need.

"What are you doing here?" could be "what on earth are you doing here?" (aka, i have no fucking idea why you're here, my dude)

"What are you doing here?" could be "i told you to stay out of this, lucy! what are you doing here?" (aka, lucy you specifically should not be here)

"What are you doing here?" could be "jesus, you scared the shit out of me! I thought you were at the front! what are you doing here?" (aka, i'm not surprised to see you, but i'm surprised to see you HERE what the fuck)

Don't head hop. Know who's POV you're in and STAY IN IT until the chapter break, scene change that's clearly indicated by ***, whatever. if this is challenge, try writing in first person to get in the habit of only knowing what your POV character knows. There is, of course, 3rd person omniscient narration, but it's really fucking hard to pull off and honestly I recommend staying away from it entirely. Most things you'll read are written in first or close 3rd, and that's not an accident.

Let your characters move around in space. let them notice the things around them.

If Kate walks into a room, i'll probably list what she sees in order of importance, unless it's a big reveal. i'll add voice to that so you'll know i did it on purpose.

in order of appearance: "the body lies in the middle of the big, wide room. the ceiling must be twenty feet up, and there are plenty of windows, the way the light catches the falling dust mites looks more like a church than a crime scene."

with reveal/voice: "Kate bursts into the room and immediately skids to a stop. it's too bright, all white walls and high windows. it looks like the kind of room you'd put a WeWork in, or maybe a super expensive soulcycle. normally Kate would be itching for a paint roller and some blueprints, but today she ignores the terrible architectural choices, choosing to focus instead on the dead body congealing in a puddle of dark brown blood in the middle of the floor."

try to have an internal plot/obstacle (alex can't be honest with maggie about their relationship because she hasn't told her that her sister is superhero) and external plot/obstacle (there is a serial killer targeting aliens in national city, and all three women are on his radar). Best practice is for them to intersect and create layered, complex problems (maggie can't understand why alex is so fucking freaked out about this serial killer in the first act; yes, crime is bad, but like, it's their job? why won't alex TALK to her? where does she keep running off to in secret? does alex even actually want to be with her??)

Everything should have: tension, stakes, obstacles. Try not to make all of that hinge on a misunderstanding or one person being too chicken to confess their feelings. that gets boring and frustrating for the reader.

If you need to make a calendar, make one. If you need a cast list, write one. keep yourself on track.

introduce new original characters slowly. give them one name (first and last is usually not necessary at the start). give us one or two things to remember about them. Jenna is the producer of the tv show. Jenna is mean. the next time she comes back, call her "jenna the producer." then the next time you can hint to her role, like "jenna has her big clipboard and is shouting at everyone to get the fucking cameras ready." if jenna doesn't come back again, don't name her. be kind to your readers who forget things, and help them out by limiting the named cast to people who need to be named. if they don't show up until halfway through, don't introduce them until halfway through. for fanfic, obviously this is easier because we know everyone, but still, please. only have the people in the scene who need to be there. huge scenes with 5-8+ characters present are a MESS.

if your character has two best friends who fill the same role, cut one. streamline so i as the reader have less to keep track of.

banter can be fun to write, but dialogue without movement, choreography, internal thoughts, lies, physical cues, and plot movement gets really boring to read. if a scene is skippable, ask yourself what would make it essential, and add that.

every conversation should do at least two things. things can be:

move the plot forward

deepen, change, or complexify an existing relationship

create tension (plot, romance, etc)

explore stakes

attempt to get over the obstacle

FOR EXAMPLE: Helena and Myka almost kissing when they shouldn't because Helena is with Some Dude? yes! that's romantic tension and attempting to get over the obstacle (some dude). Myka rambling to claudia about almost kissing helena for 3 pages: no! That does nothing on this list. the event already happened, and a long debrief about it isn't interesting to the reader. Let Myka ruminate while she's doing one of the other things. and by ruminate, i mean KEEP A LIGHT TOUCH HERE, ruminating is very very easy to make boring and maudlin. trust your reader; be subtle about it.

#writing advice #on writing #writing fiction #writing original fiction #writing fanfiction

102 notes · View notes

existslikepristin · 14 days

Text

Tags: NSFW, TheLounge, Dreamcatcher, Handong, female reader (or potentially a force-feminized male reader your mileage may vary), just a little quick-read ficlet about how Handong is a pervert, is that a foot fetish?, you should probably worship Handong’s body, she got them wander-y eyes and hands, woah woah woah you don't think this is inappropriate do you?, are you a dirty little reader?, oh you're a dirty little reader alright, Handong can tell

Just A Little Vanity

Handong strikes quite the figure. Most anyone would, sitting as she is on an armchair ornate enough to be mistaken for a throne. Your particular point of view is that of extreme artistic foreshortening. Mere millimeters away from your eyes, her bare foot takes up most of your field of view, obscuring even her crossed, mile-long legs. Her face, appropriately for such protracted limbs, seems distant and yet no less beautiful. Beyond those gorgeous, exposed legs, her fashion sense is as ostentatious as the tower-like structure of her body. Shaggy faux fur on denim, bedazzled camo, and pearls. Hair so platinum it might as well be chrome, reflecting blacks, blues, whites, and silvers. One slender finger adorned with two unreasonably large rings taps gently against her cheek.

“What to do… what to do…” she muses, “with such a naughty little girl like you.”

“Make me please you?”

She sighs heavily and presses her big toe against your lips. “Shush, you. It was not a question. Did you hear a question mark?” she demonstrates her meaning with her tone well enough for you to recognize the rhetorical nature of the question. The rest of your suggestions will have to wait.

“You…” Handong says, stroking your jawline with the same foot, “do not get to wave that delicious butt of yours in front of me all day and then just get what you want. There are consequences for teasing me.”

Although you're not going to say anything about it, you can’t help but think that perhaps Handong was planning this all along. After all, she made you wear a tiny skirt today, insisting it would be fine without safety shorts, and then she found any and every reason to be behind and slightly below you. It was certainly less than subtle. You'd been feeling her eyes burn a hole in your helplessly visible underwear all day. At least it kept your ass warm in the chilly spring air.

Yes, it was all a trap. Not a particularly clever one, and also not one you mind being caught in. Though it'd be nice if she let you kneel somewhere other than the hard floor.

Handong continues to caress you with her foot, lifting your chin, turning your head to either side. She inspects your face from each angle.

“Done talking back?” she threatens.

“Yes,” you talk back. Cheeky, but technically compliant.

She smirks with you, appreciating the irony. “Good. I would hate to have to send you home without a snack.”

Oh how utterly, coquettishly subtle.

“Please, no, Handong. I'm so hungry.”

She lifts her foot, and your jaw with it, snapping your mouth shut. “Shut up already. I am looking at you.”

It's unclear how those things are related, but you keep yourself from saying anything.

With a flourish, Handong uncrosses her legs, spreading them wide so you can briefly see up her skirt. “Surprise,” no underwear. But you can't look long. Her upper body spans that vast distance in an instant, putting her face nearer to yours, going from practically a pinprick to vision-encompassing, menacing you from above. Those slender, metal and jewel laden fingers grasp just below your chin, holding your head still. You only feel four fingers, giving you the impression that she's sticking her pinky out as if you're a fancy glass of wine. You can't wait for the dinner party.

Handong clicks her tongue, half-lidded eyes traveling up and down. They linger on the down stroke, reminding you of the other piece of clothing she'd demanded of you. Your chest is barely covered, the neckline of the shirt so low that it really shouldn't be called a “neck"line anymore, but perhaps a “nipple"line. As she pulls you forward, you're sure she can see far, far more than the shirt's designer ever intended. Handong's light dusting of a blush and perverted twitch of a lip key you in further.

“Mmm,” she hums, “I could just take a bit out of you.”

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from correcting her verbal spelling error. She tends to make more mistakes when her mind is meandering down your clothes.

She urges you up with a slight pull. Anybody normal would close their eyes for the impending kiss, but Handong’s eyes stay open and predatory until the last possible moment.

When you’re close enough, she strikes. Your lower lip is caught between her teeth and she nibbles softly before she kisses you proper. Her breath hisses between the gaps at the corners of your lips, greedy more for you than the air. She pries your mouth open with hers, invading you unreasonably quickly. She’s got a different metric for what constitutes reasonability though. You’re her toy. She'll play with you according to her rules.

“Handong!” Soomin shouts from across the room, “I’ve called your name three times! Come get your damn coffee! And we’ve got rooms for that!”

Without any additional warning, Handong drops you to the floor, stands up, and glides gracefully past you toward the counter. Watching her go past, you see no small number of other coffee shop-goers staring in your direction.

“Thanks, babe,” Handong flirts shamelessly as she picks up your drinks, “Oh, and I would like to use one of the rooms.”

#dreamcatcher #handong #fanfic #female reader

78 notes · View notes

bean-bean2000 · 25 days

Text

The Maid - Part 6

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, depression, mentions of suicide, despair, feeling trapped. Mentions of abuse and rape.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

Series masterlist Main Masterlist

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

You walk towards the middle of the bedroom. You decide to not push your luck and remain silence. It is a pure miracle he has yet to punish you for your disrespectful actions and words. He is a royal, the king, a god. He should be ordering your beheading, or worse.

You shiver at the idea and shuffle in place in the centre of his room.

Loki stalks towards you slowly, hands behind his back with his lips pursed together in thought.

"Sit down." he commands. Before you can point out to him that there was no chair for you to sit, you see a cloud of green smoke and a chair appear right beside you.

You notice Loki's gaze following your every move, trying to decipher your thoughts and feelings. He smirks when he sees you shake your head in annoyance at the appearance of the chair and huff as you sit down.

Loki steps toward his window and opens it, whistling three distinct notes into the sky.

Is he really whistling right now?

Then you hear a caw and the flapping of wings as a crow lands on the windowsill.

"There you are my pet. Were you successful as always?" Loki questions the bird.

You're staring at the interaction with confusion. Is he talking to a bird? It then dawns on you that you do not know the true extent of his powers. All you know is that he is the god of lies and mischief but who is Loki truly?

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear Loki thank the bird who caws in reply and flies away.

"That bird as you call him, is my pet. My most trustworthy friend. He has never failed me."

Your head snaps up "I didn't say anything." How did he know I called it a bird? Was I talking out loud without knowing? I must be very tired.

You're so confused and lost in thought that you don't notice Loki shift uncomfortably at his realization.

She doesn't know that I can hear people's thoughts at times when they are loud enough... does she not know the extent of my powers? Loki thinks to himself.

"Who is this 'snake' you speak of?" he asks, abruptly distracting you from your thoughts.

You look at him in confusion. How can he not know who the snake is?

"He is the Chief in command of the royal guard." you explain.

"Impossible, I appoint only those with my highest regard to such positions of power. I know of no man under the name snake. He is an imposter." Loki declares.

You press your lips into a tight line and say nothing, staring at the floor.

He can't be serious? He appointed him. He orders that monster around. He tells him what to do... who to punish.. and how..

You swallow thickly and shiver from the terrible memories. You shift in your seat and remain silent.

"What are his duties, according to your understanding of his ranking. What has he told you?"

I can't. He'll find out. He knows everything. Deny it all. But he can taste lies... I can't lie... the truth with holes isn't lying.. right? It's just not telling him all the details...

Loki is watching you intently. He hears your thoughts, they are so loud, laced with such extreme fear, it sounds like you're shouting them in his head. You're terrified.

"I asked you a question." Loki says to you calmly. He pulls a chair out of thin air and sits across from you.

You try answering but your voice waivers. Your whole body is shaking. You will yourself to stop, to compartmentalize, for your own sanity.

You sit up straight and wring your hands together, clearing your throat. You cross your legs and notice Loki's eyes shift to your bare legs in his oversized green pyjama shorts. You uncross them immediately.

His eyes shift back up to you. You stare at the floor, avoiding his gaze. He looks at you with sadness. Small indications of a traumatized woman trying her best to survive in the world she was thrown into.

"You are terrified of him. Every time I mention his name you shrink into yourself. You stare at the floor. You begin to shake. You stop speaking and you slow your breathing. You do everything to make yourself as small and invisible as possible. Now, please answer my question."

Your throat feels dry, your hands are clammy and you're heart rate increases. You try to swallow again.

If I lie to him he will know and he will punish me. If I tell him the truth, the snake will punish me. Why do I get the feeling the snake's punishment would be worse than anything the king could ever do to me?

"His- his duties are to watch over the maids quarters. He - he um does the check every night with a few other guards. He said - I was told that he is your first in command. Everything he does is ordered by you." you explain and you continue to wring your fingers together and look anywhere but at the king.

Loki shifts in his seat and leans back, placing one leg above the other knee. You dare to glance at him and see his features flash with frustration and anger.

Oh norns. He knows I'm not telling the entire truth. There's no way he knows. I just didn't elaborate, that doesn't count as a lie, right?

You stare at the window and imagine yourself flying away like a bird. Free to do as you wish, fly wherever and whenever. Freedom and liberty.

"What does he do every night as part of his duties?" he pushes further.

"The check. He does the check." you answer quickly. keeping your gaze on the window.

He sighs heavily and leans forward.

"What is 'the check'? I want specifics." he pushes again.

" The Sn-...He- He checks the maids quarters. He makes us stand up in a horizontal line and makes sure we are all where we're supposed to be."

"That's it? That is 'the check'? This is what has you shaking at the very mention of his name?" Loki keeps pushing.

I can't I can't I can't I can't. Just lie to the king. The snake - if he finds out - he'll... I won't be able to stop him. They can all overpower me. They will torture me until I beg for mercy. I can't let it happen. Even if it costs me my head.

"Yes. That's it." you whisper as you continue to avoid eye contact. You're imagining yourself as a bird flying away, maladaptive daydreaming to maintain your sanity.

"The least you could do is look me in the eye when you lie to me." The king says stoically.

You freeze.

Oh my gods. I'm screwed. Why didn't I just do it faster in the bathroom? This wouldn't be happening right now. I had my chance...

"Look at me." he commands.

You slowly raise your eyes from the window and meet his. They're shining a dangerously dark green.

You immediately cower, shrinking into yourself further if possible, willing yourself to disappear.

"What does he and the guards do during 'the check' of the maid's quarters?" he asks again, slowly, in a threatening tone. He's challenging you to lie to him again.

"Please. I can't. Please let me go. I will not say a word to a single soul, I swear. I can't tell you, he'll - they will. Please. I'm begging you." You feel the tears cascading down your cheeks. A never-ending river. All of the repressed tears over the years, flowing out of the broken dam.

You stop shaking. You realize he did it. The Snake succeeded at what you vowed you would never let happen.

"He broke me." you whisper.

Loki's face falls and his eyes darken with rage and pain.

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

Part 7

Let me know what you all think of the story so far!! Feedback is welcome!

Tag list:

@gruftiela

@elegantcheesecakecrown

@chxco-hyujin

@cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson

@i-am-amora-the-enchantress

@cakesandtom

@dorck26

@buckitostan

@princessdragon23

@classicsandfantasy

@wolfsmom1

@stardream14

@em0220

@goblingirlsarah

@meow-meowmotherfucker-blog

@huntress-artemiss

@lunazeichnet

#fanfic #marvel #king loki #loki x reader #loki of asgard #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #angst #enemies to lovers

87 notes · View notes

angelagiarratana · 3 months

Text

You Make It Easy

This is really similar to a blurb I saw last night but I wrote this early yesterday so….

The day you and Ang decided to tell the cast and crew at Smosh, you knew she was going to sneak it into every shoot. Really just to fuck with you. She knew if she played her cards right she could win any game, get you to laugh, blush, forget what you were saying, and you saw it in her eyes. It became a thing. People at work knew it was happening.

"You guys really waited for me, and then just took me out!" Angela waved her cast around for emphasis, the whole table laughing at how fast she lost UNO. "AG at least, we waited?" You and Courtney both puppy dog eyes at her, Arasha staring at Angela, waiting for her next move. Keith was already on it, "This is the part where Angela flirts with Y/n, she blushes, and everyone laughs at Angela's joke." Keith deadpanning at the camera. Angela was offended at Kieth exposing her newest bit like that. She went from feral guinea pig to cool as hell when she started flirting with you on camera. "Hey now!" Courtney slapped the table, "It's cute! Okay? Y/n absolutely melts and Angela gets that dopey look in her eyes!" Everyone laughed and moved on. What no one saw was Angela asking Keith if she should stop or tone it down for the sake of everyone. Keith hugged her, "Angela if I had an issue with your comedy I would come to you about." High fived her good hand and winked at her.

This time, it wasn't so sweet, it was alright hilarious. Angela was sitting on a stool along with Courtney, Ian, Chanse, and Amanda. You were waiting for your turn trying to think of literally anything, "Y/n! You're up!" Kiana called from behind the cameras. "Fuck it." You grabbed the first prop you could and walked out. You looked down at your hand to find Angela's phone, why was it on the prop rack? Great question! Your eyes went wide and you knew exactly what to do. You opened the camera and squatted awkwardly, filming them on the stools, "Wait could you do that again? It was really funny! I wanna put it on my Instagram story!" You moved closer to her, almost in her face. Courtney spitting. Angela held it in by avoiding eye contact but the second your eyes met, she lost it. Water flying directly onto your shirt, pants, hair, and her phone, "AG! You fucking spit on me!"

There was a beat, you swear you heard The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly playing. You saw the gears turn in her head, she made direct eye contact and said, "You act like it's the first time." Dead serious, straight face, and just stares at you as everyone loses it. Ian, Chanse, and Amanda all spit. The cast in the back comes walking out dying. Shayne is off-camera screaming. Your face goes bright red, your brain short-circuiting not knowing to laugh, run, or shoot back at her. You eventually give up, finally breaking eye contact and chuckling loudly. Your ribs hurt from laughter. Angela just sits on her stool, smug as hell.

After the shoot, Amanda walks up to the couch you were lying on giving you the cool mom look. You hid your face with your hands feeling very shy about Amanda knowing your sex life. She has such mother energy to her that just, made you feel so nervous about this. "Now, Y/n. I learned something very interesting about you today." She sat down at your feet. From behind your hands, you responded, "Yep." She tapped the back of your hand, "I can't hear you." She was fully accepting the bit at this point, trying anything to get you to take a deep breath. You moved your hands finally seeing the mom look she was wearing and laughed loudly. Amanda relaxed her posture and uncrossed her legs, fully becoming Amanda again. "No seriously how are you feeling?" She grabbed your ankle, "Angela is somewhere freaking out that she crossed a line with you and HR." Your heart dropped and you sat up, "Where is she?" You were on your feet Amanda following behind you as you walked.

Checking room after room, closet after closet until you finally found her outside sitting against the building. Amanda stayed inside but stood by the door. Angela saw you approaching and used her hand to brush away the dirt from the ground beside her. You smiled sadly at the action and plopped down beside her. Pulling her head onto your shoulder and hand into yours. She sniffled from your shoulder, "I'm sorry." You kissed her temple, "You don't need to be. It was funny. If it was an issue I would've lost it and silent laughed." She hummed. You rubbed her hand with your thumb, "And no one from HR or Ian or Zoe is looking for you. They would've said something during the shoot." She sighed, "Yeah. I just take things too far sometimes." You squeezed her hand, "You're in your head love. Everyone takes things too far once in a while, we're human. I wouldn't say it's something you do. You don't have to think that about yourself." She sniffled. There was a comforting silence.

After a few minutes, Amanda stuck her head out the door, "Hey, I don't want to interrupt but they're ready when we are. Kiana said no rush." You smiled and thanked her. She nodded and gave you the 'how is she look?', you smiled and mouthed 'she's okay'. She closed the door and went to grab both of your phones, water bottles, and a snack for Angela. Anglea picked her head up and looked at you. She took in the warmth of your gaze, how your hair was slightly moving with the wind, and how radiant you are. "Thank you for always knowing what to say." You smiled wide, "You never have to thank me, you make it easy." She pressed a sweet kiss to your lips and gave a look so full of love she didn't have to say it. "I love you too."

#angela giarratana #smosh #starkid #angela giarratana x reader #angela giarrantana fanfic #npmd

62 notes · View notes

lazybutsmexy · 1 year

Text

A glimpse

König x reader (GN)

Inspired by @tremendousdiplomattreespy-blog , I tweaked your idea a bit but it's still cute af

Warnings: angsty at the beginning, becomes fluffier the more you read. Graphic description of violence and injury. War themes. König is probably OOC.

On AO3

It's quiet. Not the sort of quiet that is paired with a late summer night, or heavy rain pouring outside.

It's the sort of quietness that follows the end of a difficult mission, where the intel was almost entirely wrong, risks were taken and mistakes were made. Lives were lost. It's heavy, pregnant, suffocating.

The common room is occupied by those in the team who came back and didn't need to be strapped in bandages and forced to remain in a gurney for the near future.

Those who didn't are the cause of that silence.

This silence is loud, but not as loud as the thoughts of those who sit there, replaying every step they made, wondering if they were the cause of everything that went to crap.

Inwardly, they know that not one of them is fully responsible, it was a pileup of many things, most of them unavoidable. But the thoughts remain, and they won't go away for a few days.

If I had checked the intel more closely.

If I had paid more attention to the layout of the building.

If I had found better maps.

If I had been a bit faster.

If I had been stronger.

If I had called for them sooner.

If I had-

Horangi got up and excused himself, heading to the showers.

A cold shower sounds nice, you think.

Aksel was in the furthest corner of the room, reading the instructions written by the doctor. He has read the same five lines over and over again without actually reading them, finding himself interrupted by his own thoughts.

You rest your back on the sofa with a groan, using a pillow to support your head, your bandaged arm finding solace on your stomach. The stitches hurt like a bitch, but you refuse to take the analgesics just yet - you are going to save them for when it becomes unbearable, like you always do.

You instinctively turn your head to look at König, who was sitting across from you on a chair - König's chair, lovingly called that by the team because it was the only one that didn't groan in protest when he sat on it - but you can't see his eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest and his face is cast downwards.

What you would give to see a glimpse of his eyes now, just a glimpse would lift your mood significantly. It always works. Just a glimpse will be enough to lift the suffocating fog in your mind.

He looks up, sensing your stare. Your eyes meet and you twitch your mouth in what you hope is a smile. It doesn't reach your eyes.

He looks down again, uncrossing his arms and supporting his elbows on his knees.

The corner of your mouth falls again. At least you got your glimpse. You know you shouldn't - couldn't - ask for more; there is no relationship between you two, besides being comrades in arms, team partners.

Oh, but how you wish there was one.

He occupied your thoughts from the moment you met him. First, with amazement and respect for his sheer volume and killing abilities. But the more you knew him, the more you thought of him as a gentle giant. You slowly learned to read his moods despite hiding his face beneath his hood, and to appreciate the few moments where he would comment on things.

The first time he complimented you - for a timely shot between the eyes at an enemy -, his voice was akin to a hiena, his eyes wild like a beast's and war-fueled adrenaline pumping in his veins. He looked and sounded like an ancient war god, an entity brought from hell to bring death and chaos into this world.

The second time he complimented you - for somehow managing to make him lose balance and throw him on his back during sparring -, he sounded breathless, amazed, proud of your progress. The corners of his eyes crinkled, a drop of sweat - you made him break into a sweat!! - disappearing into his hood.

Both times, he made your skin break into goosebumps, and a warm tingly sensation run through your whole body, settling in your lower stomach. You had it for him, bad. You hoped you were able to hide it from him. If there is something you've learned with the time you spent around him, was how certain social interactions and situations made him very uncomfortable.

You couldn't see him ever reciprocating your feelings. Well, you did in your late night fantasies, once you were snuggled up, warm and cozy, and let your mind wander.

You were letting your mind wander again, but the sofa wasn't your bed, and your bruised ribs were reminding you so. You attempted to sit up, but all your muscles protested and you swallowed a groan.

Looking around, you realized that König was the only one left in the room. You hadn't noticed everyone else had left - likely to the showers or the barracks.

Your eyes set on König, who hadn't moved from his position, and realized you now had a perfectly good reason to talk to him. Trying your best to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, you wet your lips with your tongue before speaking up.

"König, uh," you nearly jumped at how squeaky your voice came out, and again when his eyes immediately found your face, even though you perceived no movement from the rest of his body, "can... can you help me sit up?"

He blinked at you once, twice, before raising from his chair and approaching the sofa. He bent over at half his height, his shadow engulfing you completely as he carefully placed a hand behind your shoulders, and his hand taking your uninjured one. His movements were calculated, careful, as if you were made out of the finest crystal. One more reason to feel amazed by him, you thought.

Once you sat up with a groan, his shadow receded, but you didn't let go of his hand. König looked at it and then at your face, finding you staring into his eyes. He felt himself shrink under your gaze, his heartbeat loud in his ears.

"...I," you begin, and he stills, trying to resist the urge to glance at your lips, "I hadn't had the chance before, to thank you for saving me back there..."

You had been tackled by a man as big as a fucking wardrobe, who tried to stab you in the side when he had you pinned against a wall. You used your arm to block the hit and your handgun to shoot him close range, once, twice, but it seemed like bullets had no effect on him. He pulled out the knife and grabbed you by the throat, cutting off your pained scream. Your body collided with the floor and he braced for the final stab, when his weight disappeared from above you.

König had stabbed him in the back and lifted him like a ragdoll, throwing him down on his knee effectively breaking his back, before slamming him on the floor and stomping on his neck. Pain invaded your senses, a ringing whistle permeated your ears, but you saw his eyes.

Murderous. Enraged.

When he turned to you, his eyes were fretting, anxious. Caring. You would be lying if you said that didn't make you feel good.

König remained silent for a few moments. You don't expect to get an answer anyway, just a short nod before he continued on with his day. Or perhaps a scolding for being careless and having him save you when you should've been able to get off that situation by yourself. You honestly preferred the nod.

Instead, what came from behind his hood surprised you.

"... I was too slow to get him off you," his voice was almost a mumble, and you had trouble registering what he had said, "and now you're hurt..."

You blinked at him and smiled, tugging his hand a little until he got the hint and sat down next to you. The sofa groaned under his weight and dipped slightly, causing your body to tilt closer to his. Hopefully, he wouldn't hear how loud your heart thumped against your ribcage from being so close to the object of your affections.

"Well, if I was stronger, he wouldn't have been able to tackle me in the first place," you countered, keeping your voice as quiet as his. You noticed his eyes shifting from your arm to your eyes, searching for a lie.

He didn't find any, and that bothered him.

"You are strong, maus," his brow tightened and his voice dipped a reproachful tune, as if the fact that you thought yourself to be weak had offended him, "I should know, I train with you."

"Well, yeah," you grinned, your voice sarcastic, "and I only managed to tackle you one out of twelve tries."

A groan left his throat, and he was about to counter again, when you interrupted him.

"And you were faster than anyone, faster than him, and he was on top of me," you squeezed his hand, "if it weren't for you, I'd be a goner."

He quieted and looked down at your hands, and you wanted to think that the thought of you dying upset him, but dismissed it as wishful thinking on your part.

It wasn't. There were no words in the English language or his own to express the pain that enclosed his heart at the mere thought of you dying. Or the terror that flooded his veins when he saw you pinned to the floor by the neck by that massive man, who was ready to strike a lethal blow. Or the relief that washed over him when you sat up, coughing and clutching your bloody arm, alive.

His silence unnerved you a little, but he didn't let go of your hand like you had expected, and you wrote it down as a good sign. You hesitantly brought his hand to your lap, and held it with both hands, being mindful not to move your arm too much. He followed your entwined hands with his eyes, raising them to your face when you spoke again.

"I will be stronger next time," it was a promise to both him and yourself. You would be stronger and handle a similar situation by yourself.

His massive hands squeezed yours tenderly, engulfing you in warmth - or was that you blushing from head to toe? You refused to look away from your hands, feeding on his initiative to hold you so carefully, and hiding your flushed face from him. König had other plans, though, as his free hand cupped your chin and raised it, making you look into his eyes.

"And I will be faster," his voice dripped with sincerity, "I won't let them get to my maus that easily again."

My maus.

You could drown in the intensity of his stare. His eyes bore into yours, then flicked down to your lips. You were sure that he could listen to your heartbeat now.

You wet your lips and leaned in closer. The hand on your lap raised yours to his face, under the hood. His face was warm under your fingertips, the stubble brushing your skin. The hand under your chin moved to your neck, his long fingers circling it and bringing you even closer.

Your nose pressed against his, his hood being the only barrier, and you shut your eyes, blindly searching for his lips beneath it. He exhaled sharply - a chuckle? - and caressed your cheek with his thumb.

"Keep your eyes closed, maus," the bass of his voice made you shiver as you nodded. You felt the brush of the fabric on your skin as the hood was lifted, and before you had time to process it, a pair of warm, scarred lips claimed yours.

You swallowed a moan as you opened your mouth to the kiss. His tongue found yours and his quiet groan rattled your bones. You tried to press yourself closer to him to deepen the kiss, but your ribs protested and you settled back. He caught on your intention and pressed himself to you instead, the hand that was previously on your lap finding its way to your back, supporting you.

You both needed to breathe eventually, and you panted once you broke the kiss. He didn't move back an inch, though, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

"...We should stop... You're hurt..."

Your eyes were still shut, but you could feel the intensity of his stare, boring right into your skull.

"...We don't have to go any further than this," you protested, a pout unknowingly making its way to your lips, "I just don't want to stop..."

Had you had your eyes open, you would seen the way König's smile took over his face, blissfully happy to hear you. "...Let's find a more comfortable place, then." That said, he pulled down his hood and helped you off the sofa, his hand never leaving your back. You wrapped your uninjured arm around his middle, smiling up at him. He revelled on your flushed face, knowing his was just as red.

"Sie haben keine Ahnung," he murmured, placing a kiss on your forehead from behind his hood, "wie lange ich damit gewartet habe..."

You blinked up at him, your smile only widening as you spoke, "You will have to teach me what that means."

König agreed with a snort and led you out of the common room, down the hallways towards the barracks.

Aksel watched you both go, still sitting on his chair at the furthest corner of the room, having gone completely unnoticed by the two of you this whole time.

"...Fuckin' finally," he grumbled, looking back down to the piece of paper in his hand, trying to decipher the last line of the doctor's horrid handwriting, "took them long enough."

#könig #könig modern warfare #könig x reader #könig fluff #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #könig fanfiction #könig mw2

470 notes · View notes

sailing-through-hawkins · 7 months

Text

wanting, chasing

✧ written for 'suck' ✧ word count: 480 ✧ rated: T ✧ cw: none ✧ tags: cowboy au (set in the same universe as previous cowboy entry), deputy eddie, flirty steve ✧ @steddiemicrofic o( >ω<)o✧

"Gettin' real sick of these games, Harrington." Eddie glares, arms crossed. His cheeks burn and his face is red, but it's purely because all the blood is rushing down to his head because, guess fucking what? He got caught by a damn trap and now he's hanging upside down from a tree like a damn dog's tongue hanging from it's maw.

"Really?" Steve laughs, leaning against the tree all casual-like, all confident, all cocky. "I don't think I can get enough."

"You say that now," Eddie squints as he rotates towards the sun, the sound of Steve's laughter so close behind him. "But wait 'til I get my hands on ya -"

"Oh but deputy -"

Eddie spins and faces the tree again but now Steve's there, his face right in front of Eddie's. His hand gently holds Eddie's upper arm, stopping him from twirling away from those hazel eyes, sharp and mischievous.

"I think we both know," Steve murmurs, his eyes glancing up at Eddie's mouth with a smirk. "I've got you in the palm of my hand already."

He should feel anger, indignation, some kinda threatened by that. But all Eddie can think about is how Steve's still wearing the bandana, the one he stole from him that night at the saloon, around his neck. How it looks like it belongs there on him, Eddie's signature black tucked into the collar of his tan shirt.

"Eyes up here, Munson."

His eyes do flick up and he stares at the golden glow of Steve's smile, soft and sweet. Without a single thought in his damn head, he uncrosses his arms and reaches out, fingers ghosting over his lips. Steve inhales and before Eddie can blink, he's somehow pulled Eddie's glove off with his own damn teeth and ah fuck.

"Yer a terrible man," Eddie grumbles half-heartedly, as Steve spits out his glove onto the ground.

With a chuckle, Steve presses a kiss to Eddie's fingers. "And you just can't get enough."

"Maybe I have," Eddie says weakly (they both know he'd never). "Maybe I've decided I've had enough, 'n it's time to start chasin' other -"

He hisses when teeth almost pierce his thumb, low-lidded eyes staring him down, warning his running tongue.

"You ain't chasin' nobody else, deputy," Steve gently sucks at the skin where he bit Eddie, something of an apology, but his eyes, dark in the shade of the tree, tell Eddie it's more of a promise. "'S you 'n me, end of the line."

"Ha," Eddie clears his throat. "Anyone would think you had somethin' to claim here."

"Somethin'," Steve pulls Eddie's hand out and just barely grazes the air Eddie breathes with his lips. "Someone."

And with that, Eddie's on the ground, a throbbing echoing in his skull, staring up at the man above him, who winks and runs out of his sight, out of his grasp.

#sailor✧writes #steddie #microfic #steddiemicrofic #writing #au content: cowboys #I'VE DONE IT AGAIN #i hope it's cool that this is set in the same universe and kind of references my previous cowboy entry #i just felt like the dialogue callback was too perfect not to use #i'm on a possessive steve kick too which has been fun #i enjoy this au a lot and i'm hoping to maybe write something for rockie in it at some point

64 notes · View notes

justanotherrpmeme · 11 months

Text

Harm starters

"Why would you do this? Look at what you've done!"

"I had no choice. It was either them or us."

"You think you can get away with this?"

"I don't plan on getting caught. You're next if you don't cooperate."

"How could you betray me like this?"

"It's survival of the fittest out here."

"You've crossed a line that can't be uncrossed."

"Don't act like you're innocent."

"I never thought you were capable of such violence."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures. You have no idea what I've been through."

"I trusted you, and now I realize it was a mistake."

"Trust is a luxury we can't afford in this world."

"You're just collateral damage."

"You're a monster. How can you live with yourself?"

"Sometimes you have to embrace your darkness to survive."

"I won't let you get away with this."

"I'm always one step ahead."

"You think hurting others makes you powerful?"

"Power comes from knowing no one can touch you."

"You've become exactly what you swore you'd never be."

"Sometimes the path to redemption is paved with blood."

"What's your endgame here? Destroying everything?"

"I never thought you'd resort to violence."

"Desperate times call for drastic measures. This is the only way."

"Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good."

"You're playing a dangerous game, and it won't end well."

"In this game, the winners take it all, and I plan on winning, no matter the cost."

#rp starter #sentence meme #starter meme #rp ask #sentence starters

125 notes · View notes

black-dhalias · 2 years

Text

All Ten Toes -Avatar-

Tsu’tey X F!Reader (8K Words) Warning: death, descriptions of war, angsty, violence

While sitting in the hangar, your body pressed against the metal as you lean onto the truck. Even as you watch the soldiers, as you see the war brew around you—the sheer beauty of Pandora shines through. You can see the towering trees that just brush the sky.

Arms crossed over your chest, you spot him rolling up—Jake Sully, another Avatar pilot and veteran... Just like you. You uncross your arms and walk in his general direction, lips curling upwards under the mask.

"Sully?" He nods, and you nod in the direction of the base entrance to which he falls in line beside you. "Y/L/N. Just wanted to meet the fellow not scientist joining the Avatar program."

He smiles under the mask, which tells you everything you need to know. "Navy?" You roll your eyes, side-eyeing him.

"Semper fi." His eyes widen, but he sees it—just in the way you carry yourself now. You're not just a soldier, but a marine—like him. Reaching the door, you code you both in and gesture him inside.

"Appreciate the welcome. So what's the mission?" You raise a brow, pointing him int eh direction of the briefing.

"Don't die, hot wheels. Briefings down the hall, just through that door."

So when you and Sully approach the Colonel, side by side, you have a feeling it has more to do with your shared background. With the fact that you are both ex-military with a knack of taking risks, and paying for it in the end. Trudy points over at the helo, your heart pounds louder and then fades off.

"I'm putting you both on door guns." Trudy was your roommate, she kept your secret and you kept her sane—not a lot of women running around that aren't scientists. You nod, well at least your time in the service keeps you from being too bored around here; it keeps you useful.

"This low gravity'll make you soft." An uneasiness grows in the pit of your stomach, and you like to listen to that feeling—because its usually right, and he's always put you on edge. "You get soft. Pandora will shit you out dead with no warning." As he sits up, you shift, tucking your hands behind your back. Wrist in your palm.

"I pulled your records. Corporal." Eyes on Sully, then you. "First Lieutenant." Your lip twitches, you haven't heard that in a while—can't remember the last time someone called you by rank. He doesn't linger on you for long though, turning back to Sully. But all you hear is the dull ringing in your ear, feel your body detaching until you hear your name over the ringing.

"Several tours Lieutenant. A couple badass career moves, medically retired at the peak of your career because a lunatic blew your leg off." Its a quote from one of the articles written about you, about the four that were in that bathroom. You wish none of them knew, that he didn't know, but its in the file—clear as day.

"The Avatar Program is a bad joke. Bunch of limp dick science majors." He points at you and while your urge is to step back, you don't—stuck at attention. The weight of your leg becoming more apparent, but its in your head just like the burning sensation. "We're going to talk about the fact that seasoned marine wasn't in your resume."

You feel Sully watching you, but ignore it—keeping up with the colonel. "However, it does present an opportunity both timely and unique." He shouts, but your blood has run cold and chest tight. "A couple of marines in an Avatar body. That's a potent mix. Gives me goosebumps. Such marines could provide the intel I need, right on the ground. Right in the hostiles camp." You never thought twice then, driven only by orders—mind resorting to all it remembers and knows.

"Look Sully. Y/L/N." You swallow. "I want you to learn these savages from the inside. I want you to gain their trust." Easier said than done. "I need to know how to force their cooperation, or hammer them hard if they won't."

"Are we still with Augustine?" Orders, that's how you both run.

"On paper. Yeah, you walk like one of her science pukes, you quack like one, but you report to me." Your posture stiffens, the doubts still flood in even if you know that you're going to listen. You preferred when it was a secret.

"Can you do that for me?" Sully affirms first. Eyes on you, nod. May god forgive you... because you're not sure you will.

To see ten fingers and ten toes, all at once—it is something you never thought you would see again. Even on the overlook, the fact that you have both legs is more overwhelming than the view.

"I never thought I would have two legs again." You break the long silence, the weight of training has become easier given time and you appreciate the breaks he began to give you.

"What does that mean?" To him, he's only ever known you as this—something that is a force of nature like you were on Earth. But on Pandora, you don't feel like a force of nature anymore. You never even mentioned it to him before now because it never crossed your mind.

"Back on Earth, when I was still a warrior—" You recall Sully's first lie to the Na'vi, that you were warriors of the jarhead clan. "A man was so against women warriors in my clan, he set off an explosion in a room for women. Killed three others, injured me beyond repair." You pause, trusting the words and trusting him not to repeat them. So when you finally get the courage to look at him, he is not showing you pity. He almost looks admiring, but that's just a trick of your mind. "When I woke up, I didn't know what had happened to me... I was so scared and went to walk out of the room." You've never spoken about it, not even to Trudy. "When I hit the ground. My whole life was gone. My career. My friends. My leg. Took months of rehab and therapy, got a prosthetic. Signed up to come out here." On Pandora, at least you were somebody. Worth something.

"Then you have always been brave." You smile and he miles back, your heart rate quickens. You like when he smiles on those rare occasions.

"Come with me." He declares, standing and holding out his hand, and you trust him without a second thought. The ringing always dulls around, so much so that you know he won't lead you astray.

In the helo, you feel alive—Pandora is alive around you. A living, breathing thing. You think about what Sully said when you asked him not to say anything to the others about your military experience. "You can't run from who you are, Lieutenant." Echoes upon echoes of memories, even as Trudy grilled you nightly for information about the Colonel you shake your head. Because the memories were coming back to fast, the ringing getting too loud.

Yet you can't shake the feeling that it feels good Jake knows, and that its not just you going behind their backs. Grace looks back at you before looking forward to Trudy, her voice going over the head sets. "You sure you want a plant scientist to be on a gun?" Its taunting, but lighthearted—to which Sully responds by giving you a look. Trudy laughs, oh you'll hear about this later tonight when you get back to base.

"Oh I think she's got this." Grace raises a brow at Jake's comment before returning to what she was doing.

Now here's the truth, you would say it was marine comradery that got you stranded in the middle of the jungle. Soaking wet, surrounded by darkness. You want to defend yourself, but the truth is you're as much of an idiot as Sully and you weren't going to let him be an idiot on his own.

"So how do they think you lost your leg?" You laugh coldly, he gets you stranded in the middle of Pandora without any defenses and he's asking you personal questions. Your hands squeezing the water from your clothes.

"Car accident." But you placate him anyways with an answer hoping it'll shut him up for a while.

"Are you ashamed?" Nope, hasn't crossed the line yet, but the ringing grows louder in the back of your head.

"Maybe I was tired of being some trigger happy jarhead?"

"Its more than that."

"Why does it have to be more than that?"

"Because you lost your leg, and your instinct is to get on the first flight to Pandora."

Following, hand in hand with Tsu'tey, he guides you towards the top of home tree—the greenery thick as the branches flatten out enough to walk out onto. "You must learn one more thing." Just one more? Even as your feet find the grooves naturally, instincts guiding your every step—you no longer have to look for where they go.

"There has to be more." When he looks at you, something has changed—but it doesn't make sense. Did you mistake pity for admiration? Does he feel sorry for you?

"You are almost ready." One of the people, but now your stomach is doing backflips because you have betrayed him. Betrayed the people. So the ringing grows louder until he tightens his hand, and you center—the ringing dulls.

"Just watch." Tsu'tey taught you that sometimes it pays to watch and listen, and all the military training—all the 'go go go' mentality does is drive you into the ground. Sometimes the world needs to be still.

You stumble into the people, wrists bound together as some reach out to run their fingers along your limbs—this is the closest you've ever been to a native and its the closest you'll ever be. Because you'll be dead soon enough. Glaring at Sully, you never should have ran after him—should have let him die out there or get caught on his own.

But your oath means something, and so do your friends so here you are because those things mean something to you. Like you said, you won't let him be stupid on his own. Now you're both just a couple of stupids. Two people stuck in front of the leaders of the Na'vi. A chief. His wife. Their daughter. And the betrothed. They all hate humans, and they hate the Avatars—the dream walkers. Demons.

This is a fitting end for you though—the colonel wanted trust and that wasn't ever going to happen. For you or Sully.

Watching Tsu'tey from the branch, you leap for joy and cheer him on before he lands. In front of you is a Banshee and a grinning Tsu'tey, the funny thing is you don't remember him ever smiling at you like that before. Maybe he has and you never had a chance to notice. Never could see what it meant. Not that you think it meant anything at all.

Tsu'tey waves you forward, but you are not able to bring yourself to walk forward—which causes a crease to form in his brow. To smooth that crease, you step forward and watch it flatten out. Fear builds, but so does curiosity until its nose is in your palm. The banshee does not flinch or run for, it remains grounded even as Tsu'tey steps off.

"This is Ikran. With Tsaheylu, we are one." That is the word you would use to describe them. The look Tsu'tey shares with them, but what you don't see as you run your fingers along the back of its head. That is how he looks at you.

"I don't like Jake Sully... But you are different." He tolerates you is the difference, Sully is intolerable even to his friends. Even as he guides your hand, his fingers ghosted atop yours. "To be one with Tsaheylu, requires more than what he has. It requires spirit." So even as the Banshee's wings beat and your heart speeds up, you did not expect to see the flashes of your life on Earth.

You see your family, the reason you joined the marines in the first place. Being sworn in.

There is a whooosh of harsh winds against your cheek, Tsu'tey closer than you remember as the ringing begins. You see your best friend, the world overcrowding and resources running thin. You see the first time you were shipped out. The ringing is louder as you see yourself entering the bathroom—it's all in slow motion. The drift is beginning to close in on you, and blur the memory with Tsu'tey. The explosion. The smell of burned skin.

Your body has gone limp, you can't hear Tsu'tey, but you can see him. It is so bright. You hear your name far off, caught in the drift. Deeper and deeper, as it all goes brighter. The light that slants in from the top of the tree, cutting into frame and overwhelming your sight. The last thing you see is Pandora. Oh Pandora... You don't feel him shaking you, or hear him yelling. None of it because you are being pulled out of the chamber — unconscious.

You lean against the tree, huffing a little as glance up at Tsu'tey, both irritated and amazed at how hard he seems to be pushing you. Day after day, and it doesn't get any easier with time. He pushes and pushes, and he keeps pushing until you physically cannot move another step. Yet when he drops down from the trees, eyeing you harshly— you straighten up and stare him down. You want to believe you can handle him, even if it means pretending like your mind is not stretched to its very limit as you look at him.

Becoming one with the people, as the tribe elder said, has become next to impossible with Tsu'tey as your guide. He has made no secret that he wants you to fail, to barely be able to get up the next day—let alone be here. "You did good." It's as if something breaks mechanically as you skip a step, body adjusting as your mind processes his words. Hardly a compliment after the day you had, but coming from him, you beam a little. He thinks you did a good job.

"I did my best." And he smiles. Odd, a returned gesture of kindness. You quirk your head, but don't mention it in fear of it never happening again. You had always shown such interest in him, curiosity of the things he knows about Pandora, but he barely glanced your way. Barely seemed to notice you hit the ground over and over again, the mud that was caked into your body as you wiped it away. But he did. In his own, a silent judgement—kind of way.

At first, his disinterest was defeating and it made you want to quit, but that defeat quickly turned into motivation. Instead of drifting off in thought every time he critiqued, you would power through and push yourself further than before—you suddenly had a lot to prove to Tsu'tey.

You feel yourself being ripped away from your Avatar, your mind splintering and you realize Grace is hovering over you with—hate. She seems hateful and angry. But so are you.

"Are you kidding me? Are you serious right now?!" You can hardly breathe as you fling the tech off your frame and swing your leg over the edge.

"When were you going to tell me?" You glare, grabbing the prosthetic that's leaned against the chamber.

"Grace you just pulled me out of there mid-link. What if-"

"You work for the Colonel now?" Shit. You adjust the prosthetic and swallow down the bile, she doesn't care about you. Just about her science.

"Grace listen-"

"No you listen! You report to me, my science and my program! I can take this shit from Sully-"

"Ma'am... with all due respect, I report to you and him. That's my job. My expectation because he's the one that signs my check, and makes sure I get my benefits."

"You're starting to sound more like a soldier than a scientist, Y/N." It is her sneer that does it for you, that pushes you over the edge and sends you into thought. You can hardly breath as you tuck your hands behind your back, wrist into palm.

"Maybe I am."

"Get out of my lab..."

"With all due respect Grace, make me." You may lack one less limb than her, but you take her and half this department before they got you down. "I have every right to be here, I worked just as hard and did just as much."

"Pack your shit, we're leaving. All of us." You don't break eye contact, watching as she lights a cigarette and turns her back to you. A part of you wishes you had hit her, just once. One good hit, but you watch her begin packing and then go to your room.

You have to prevent yourself from jumping across the helo when Grace comments about how it explains why they always gave you the gun. Its because you were trained, military—and you weren't someone she has control over and so she moved you all. Everyone to shacks in the middle of nowhere.

She kept you under wraps though and out of the chambers, careful to keep you from reaching out to anyone. It was like a cruel punishment, and all it did was tether you to the crutch. Not caring enough to put on the prosthetic in such a small space with every intention of sitting most of the day.

But every night you hear about his life, his journey to becoming one with the people—for days. You had half hoped Tsu'tey would ask about you, but he didn't—he was harsher on Sully, protective when Sully tried to bring you up.

You had tried to listen to Grace with interest, leaned back almost completely in your chair as she continues to lecture you about lying. Detailing every lie you ever told, forgetting that you really do have a degree in biology. You just never applied it in a science context until you were on Pandora. She even touches im how its dumb to lie about something so stupid when you are friends. So even as Norm sits next to you, having dealt with Grace for about half as long as you when it comes to her judgement.

"Honestly Y/N, you should have just said something. But instead you let yourself be micromanaged by a couple G.I. Joes." You lean forward, chin on your hand that rests on your thigh.

"So what?" You pause, "I was just supposed to admit to being a soldier and hope you didn't judge me so quick?"

"I wouldn't-"

"Like with Jake? Honestly Grace, its plenty important to you that your science project remains yours."

"Well I mean of course its important, we don't need another-"

"Another what? Trigger happy moron? When have I ever been that?"

The conversation ends there, and back to being grounded and ignored. Graces specialty around here. She had Sully, that was her in with the clan... You weren't important to that.

Grace throws something in front of you, papers—you half expect them to be resignation papers. She likes trying to force your hand into leaving, the betrayal still fresh in her mind.

"Don't make me regret this." Its approval to make her your boss, she signs your check...You nod, pulling yourself to your feet—using the crutch, you head the link chamber.

Your throat tight as you settle into the gel, leaning back and letting the tech settle over your body. Melding to you as you shut your eyes and head into the dark. Hopefully you aren't dead yet.

At first, there is a block that keeps you from fully coming too and then the darkness shifts. You feel your fingers and toes, all ten toes. You open your eyes and find yourself in a large room, the familiar hammocks beneath you. Then you see the healers, who see you awake and push you back into the hammock.

"Stay." They whisper, you nod, but as soon as they turn the corner—who climb out of the hammock and feel the wood beneath your feet. The stiffness in every muscle unmistakable to the point that you think about listening, but why would you?

First step. You've got this. Second step, you see a figure turn the corner and stumble back- "Tsu'tey."

"You're not welcome here, demon." It feels as though everything, every fiber of being has drained away from you—leaving only a shell. You half wonder if he realizes how cruel he looks, how much hate he conveys with those eyes—you're tired of people looking at you with hate.

"Are we back to this?" You ask lips pressed into a thin line, it may be a different body, but it is still you and the same mannerisms.

"You walk in a false body."

"You knew this." You sneer, walking towards him until you are just in front of him. While your tone is angry, your eyes are sad. "I never made that a secret."

Even as the hardness melts away from him, when he reaches out to touch your cheek and push hair away from your face. "You-" He pauses, not trusting himself to speak before he puffs out all the air in his lungs. "You worried me."

"I didn't want to."

You didn't know this, and you wouldn't unless someone had the guts to go around Tsu'tey, but he spent most of his days with your still form. The healers had spread the rumor quickly of his interest, but they had grown accustomed to seeing you with him. Assumed it was by the chiefs orders alone, but it was also because he found comfort in your presence. You never expected anything more of him and he appreciated the gentle kindness that your words often held.

Pinned to the ground, you struggle against the binds until the arrows and spears lock your muscles in place. Even with hands grabbing at you, pulling the braid taunt and tender, all you can think about is Tsu'teys' word to describe you: 'demons'. You shouldn't take it personally, you've never met him in your life and know that the Na'vi hate you.

Approaching Home Tree though, you fall under the spell of Pandora once more and the world shifts for a second. Beautiful. Unlike your science buddies, you never had the chance to see this in person—the friendship with the Na'vi long over.

"We have tried to teach sky people, but you cannot fill a cup that is already full."

"Trust me, our cups are plenty empty ma'am." Oh Sully, you poor idiot— you think, trying your best to not squirm under Tsu'teys glare. "Just ask Dr Augustine, we're not scientists."

"Then what are you?"

"We are Marines..." You speak up, going along with Sully and hoping your not dead in the next hour.

"Warriors... From the jarhead clan." Tsu'tey swears and you worry that you might be walking a thin line... He seems the most hostile, less willing to listen and bend.

"The chief says we're the first warrior dream walkers. That they must learn from us." You repeat as Sully nods to acknowledge as you wait.

("Tsu'tey you will teach the woman dream walker:") That does not receive a favorable response from him, one that makes you think Sully might be the only one to live between the two of you.

"Learn well Jake Sully. Y/N Y/L/N. Then we will see if your insanity can be cured." Yup, you're still going to die.

Once asleep, you begin to come to— hearing voices calling you and all you can manage is a laugh as you sit up straight. Holy shit... Now no one can say anything, because you're there. Inside the village.

Even when you wake again, you feel that jittery feeling until you hear him.

("Wake up demon.") What a way to wake up, to know he thinks so highly of you:

("You do not have to he so rude Tsu'tey. I'm very capable of understanding you.") He humphs.

("I do not care if you understand me. Go home demon.")

("You would hate that wouldn't you?") If his glaring eyes could push you out of the hammock now, you'd be falling to your death right about now.

Yet that wasn't the first time that you were torn from a link, but it certainly would be the last. You stand beside Tsu'tey knowing full well what is about to happen, Grace standing in the crowd. ("Tsu'tey will lead the war party!") There is a roar as he throws his bow into the air, you half imagine him to die if he proceeds. You know he will. As Jake enters, you feel it beginning to shift and it changes Tsu'teys expression.

"You mated with this woman!?" Fuck. You attempt to get closer, but are incapable of getting closer as people stop you. Starting with Neytiri's mother.

Tsu'tey paces, you see the shake in his chest and the tremor in his voice as he pulls his knife. You plead with him without saying a word to stop, but he doesn't. Yet once blood is drawn, you rush to Tsu'tey. He shakes you off, wiping away the blood.

Grace drops. Your eyes widen. Jake drops and Tsu'tey pulls his knife, and Neytiri protects his body. You look at Tsu'tey, feeling the shift again. Your breath catches, he meets your eye— to far to catch you, and too far to do anything yet watch your knees break. "Tsu'tey I-" Then you drop.

Waking from that moment, the panic still bursts through as your chamber is forced open. "Rise and shine, marine." Then you feel a fist hit your cheek, it'll bruise nicely— as you go unconscious. You're definitely getting tired of this.

They keep the cuffs on you, sitting you in the chair as you sneer at Colonel. You hadn't stopped with the ring of threats, your cheek still burning from the initial hit.

"We can talk them out." You assert, swearing up and down as your jaw tightens.

Parker turns towards you, pointing. "You're not going anywhere." You slump into your chair, but he nods in Sully's direction.

Tsu'tey watches Jake, the image of you dropping still stuck in his brain. He sees Grace, but he does not see you. Even as they tie Jake, the words slip out. "Where is Y/N?"

"You have to go! Y/Ns life depends on it!"

You sit in silence, in an isolated room until your chest begins to hurt. They took your prosthetic, took everything from you—chest completely solidified and throbbing. You feel the hard throb of your heart, you were supposed to be a protector of The People. Yet here you are, stuck in a place you don't want to be—in a room on your own. Waiting for the inevitable.

They let Norm sit in, but you weren't allowed— because you were one of them. You hear the shouts before you see them being forced into the same room, you don't ask because you know— you dont want to know anything.

Not a sound. You didnt speak because you couldn't, you were supposed to be there for Tsu'tey.

You half expected to never wake up again when the bullet hit you, the blood blended so well with the burnt red color of your t-shirt. You wanted it to just be a wine stain, to disappear and fade off to become just a stain. Yet it didn't. Instead, you felt a dizzy spell begin to fall over your frame and send you tumbling to the helo floor just after Grace.

Fuck, you think leaning onto the cold metal—the whirring sending you off to sleep.

You feel the burning sensation of your hands cupping the wound until you no longer have the strength; however, just as you are beginning to slip too deep. The world becoming too fuzzy to hold onto, Sully is shouting out for help—is he? You think so, its not him shouting—or anyone... Its what you wish they were doing, but instead you are laying in silence. Wondering what will take you first, blood loss or the shock of it all.

Tsu'tey listens to Sully, "I will fly with you." Sully nods, knowing full well what comes next as his eyes grow more serious. Which worries Tsu'tey.... "Where is Y/N?" He asks, it is almost as if he knows—as if he feels you fading in and out, even in your human form.

Sully's eyes shift to the ground, he can't lose two people in one day and he's afraid of what happens if you die. Of what Tsu'tey will do... Because the warrior may be hardheaded, but he cares about you in his own way. Whatever way that might be.

You lean into the pillow: is death supposed to feel this painless? Supposed to brush into your mind and numb the edges, to make it easier to stomach when you're able to watch it walk towards you. Inch by inch, step by step—the door opens and you force yourself to look up.

You're not ready to let go yet, "Hey Y/L/N... How ya feeling?" You try your best to smile, but to Norm, it is the saddest attempt he's seen out of you and Grace. "Look there—" You half expect it to be Pandora, or the Banshee Norm said Sully now rides... You expect Neytiri, not Tsu'tey.

He is watching you curiously, trying to see you in this form and he does... In your eyes and nose, the way your cheek is built and structure of your face. He sees a lot of you. He sees a lot of blood too. More than he has seen from a human.

"He insisted..." You half laugh, but choke on the lack of air—that bullet did a lot more damage than you expected it to have done.

"That's just a nice way of saying he made you." Even through the window he can hear he soft lulls of your breathing, and the dulcet of your voice. That too is very similar to the way you knows you. This is you.

"Glad you're still making jokes..." He whispers, taking out on of the masks that you are not so fond of, but know you need. "C'mon we got a party to go to."

Norm lifts your head and slips on the mask, watching your expression as it tightens—missing the pang of guilt that shows on Tsu'teys' face. Even as he lifts you, he tries not to jostle you too much. Trying his best to keep you grounded with him, hushing your small cries and soothing the sharp intakes of air. Norm's always been kind like that.

Yet once outside the hatch, Tsu'tey is standing next you—he's taller than you remember.... The Na'vi are taller, you curse yourself for forgetting such a simple fact. Something you should be aware of and remember, but everything seems out of touch now.

He tilts his head as he reaches out to brush his fingers against your cheek, feeling the soft flesh not jagged and bone like as he imagined aliens to look. Finally, you are able to bring yourself to look at him—really see him with your own eyes, you've always seen him. Tsu'tey had tried to rationalize everything he felt for you, wanting to find a reason to hate you. To hate your people. And he does hate them, just not you. He could never hate you.

"You're beautiful, even now." He whispers, reaching under Norm's arms and taking you into his with ease. You lean into him, maybe being close with him will make all the pain go away.

You half imagine Pandora to lose its beauty as the world becomes fuzzy, but it does not lose its beauty—the night life on Pandora is greater than any night on Earth. The wondrous colors and blends of glowing plants, the sounds of the forest humming to the song of the people.

Where you used to hear ringing, all you see is mouths moving—watching as the world fades out. "Be strong dewdrop." He whispers, such a name that would have made you laugh at any other point. Just not now as you struggle to grasp onto life. Why is it you can hear him?

Maybe that's just what you imagine he would say as you watch his lips move, as your body rests beneath the tendrils of the Mother Tree. You breath in and let your eyes close— this is it?

One last chance to relive it all, right on the border of life and death. Barely hanging onto the threads, pieces of who you are. Your mother and father stand before you smiling, even after the gunshots. Your sister smiling, even after she disappeared in the crowded Earth. Your best friend smiling as you walked into the women's restroom, just before it was blown to nothing. Your doctor smiling at you, just before he told you that your leg was beyond repair and somewhere in the disposal rooms. The bomber smiling as he admits on tape to killing your three closest friends, and how his one regret was not killing you too. Your therapist smiling when they say you've made progress even though you can't think about the past without your ear ringing. The scientist smiling, just as they take your resume to send you off to Pandora. Sully smiling when he hears your a Marine. Norm smiling when you speak to him in the Native tongue. Grace smiling when you stand up for the science, for the team, and for the Na'vi.

Tsu'tey just smiling at you.

You open your eyes... No burning, and no pain—just silence as you finally look around. You as the tendrils break away from you, as you look at your hand and then your toes. All ten toes.

You should be dead, but instead you are here. Ready to fight.

Tsu'tey let's his hand drag across your arm, down to the palm as he uses his other to touch your hair. It shouldn't feel different, you know this body— but it feels very different. Real. You don't feel like a ghost living in a shell, you feel every fiber of yourself.

"This suits you." Short sentences, but you half smile as you chuckle. Using your palm, you guide his hand to the place between your neck and jaw, leaning into the touch.

"I have not changed."

"You have... You're more you than you've ever been."

Nothing in all of your entire life could prepare you for this moment, to the five feet distance between you and your adversary. No amount of warning or preparation, or anything in between, could have given you enough courage to face this head on. Well, that's a lie-- he gave you the courage to see the world differently. To see all the world's in the universe differently because you're not afraid to admit you came to Pandora as a soldier-- a strategist, who knew Pandora inside and out, which gave you the opportunity to pilot an Avatar.

Your heart pounds viciously in your chest, threatening to burst through your ribs and rupture at any second. You have experienced war on Earth, been at the center of the devastation, but this feels different. You feel as though you have something to fight for right here, right now-- Pandora feels like your home.

Perhaps there is an important distinction to make, you are from Earth-- that is where your family is, but this planet feels more like home than Earth ever did. Maybe that has less to do with the planet itself, and more to do with the person you associate with Pandora. Never did you expect to be here, but it happened and now you worry that this beautiful world will be destroyed. Obliterated by the selfishness and greed of your kind, and it breaks your heart. On Earth, you were a strategist at the Pentagon having dedicated your life to service at the age of 17-- you knew nothing other than follow orders. Now you feel independent of orders, you feel as though both loyalty and duty has shifted to Pandora, and Tsu'tey. Even the thought of him gives you some form of comfort and strength.

That was the biggest shock, to find that you had a heart still and it had the capability of beating in time with another's. Mostly for the fact that you haven't been in love in over a decade because look how well it turned out the first time-- you became the good soldier, the one who followed orders and kept her head down as not to draw attention. You'd say it worked out pretty well for you because you were never hurt like that again. But now, you have opened back up and in turn, you feel whole again. You feel as though you have finally cut away those layers of scar tissue.

Following Tsu'teys' lead in the mountains and struggle less than the others because you're used to the challenges he gives. The truth is, he only looks back to look for you—and once you meet his eye, he faces forward once more and continues the journey. You trust your hands and body to know the way, and trust him to never lead you in the wrong direction. Just as you reach the top, he takes your hand and pulls you the last bit with a smile on his lips. It fades quick though, his expression hardening with a scorn.

("You will go last.")

Even as you watch Sully succeed, your nerves build and mount; you hesitate to move from your place at the edge of the falls. Hidden by the shadows of the cliffs edge. Even as you watch others succeed, you are still nervous.

("Tsu'tey.") He watches you before nodding in the direction of the Ikran, under his eye you do not feel as judge as you thought you would.

("Do not hesitate. The Ikran will know and so will you.") Through the falls, through the mist that touches your cheeks and sends a cold chill through you. You feel has hand wrap around your arm and pull you back towards him, the shadows of the cliffs casting a harsh shadow on his features. But on you, the light slants through the stone and cuts through you. You meet his eye, trying to read his expression as your heart pounds deep in your chest. You've never been able to read through the mask that he wears with everyone else, its always too much for you. ("Good luck Y/N.") He leans down to kiss your temple, his lips linger there and you go absolutely still. Completely silent. So when he lets you go, hands lingering on your shoulder you can just listen. ("You are the strongest one out here.") He is soft in private, most as impossible and hardheaded as others see him.

"Stronger than me." This is why he wanted you to go last.

Your first flight on your Ikran should have been the moment that stuck out when you think back. But its not. Instead it is the fact that Tsu'tey had finally let his guard down completely, finally seemed to trust you.

When the dust cleared that day, the silence of those lost was deafening—everyone wanted to celebrate in the beginning as the long war was over. Things could finally calm into peace, but there was work to be done.

Days went by, the rest of your race went home— days turned into weeks, and Jake joined you in the new body. You were what remained of the Avatar program, strong enough to live in both bodies and strong enough to choose the one that kept them with them. Soon enough, you no longer felt fear every time you walked with Tsu'tey. No longer felt the judgement that was mostly in your head.

You sit beside Tsu'tey, legs intertwined as you face each other in the trees. His entire demeanor has changed from when you first met him, he hates you less. His fingers are curious as they trace your limbs, he had imagined this a thousand times over—thought it was impossible to love you as much as he does.

"Now you must choose a man." Your eyes widen at the assertion, his body close, but far as his words put distance.

"Must? Sounds boring."

For a second, he hesitates, but he continues—still he traces your skin, feeling every finger and dimple in your hand. "A mate is important. Necessary. You have to choose."

"But what if they don't choose me?"

"Only an idiot would do that."

"Are you an idiot, Tsu'tey?" You ask, trying to will him to hear you as he often did to you. Trying to make him understand without ever saying a word.

It starts small, his lips on yours which surpasses all feelings and all logic. You are not left wondering about what's to come or what he feels, even as he separates. Caressing your cheeks and skin, willing you to hear him without a word and you do.

Tsu'tey kneels before you, shifting both your bodies so that you are chest to chest— you can feel both his breathing and his heart as you let your hands run down his chest and torso.

As he brings his braid to the front, he reaches around your shoulder to yours. You feel every caress of skin and brief, fleeting touch. You try to feel more whole, but there isn't a piece missing anymore.

Nothing to fill because you are already whole.

Flowers of luminescence crowd the clearing as you let Tsu'tey embrace your hand until you are close. His body in a short sway as he smiles, others say that they only ever see him smile when he is with you.

("I'll swim and sail through savage seas... with never a fear of drowning. And gladly ride through the waves of life.") You start with quiet dulcets, your voice soothes every part of Tsu'tey and it grounds him to Pandora.

("If you would marry me... No scorching sun or freezing rain. Will stop me on my journey. If you will promise me your heart. And love me for eternity.") He smiles, joining into your dance and following your lead as you guide him with your hands.

("What are you doing?") You hush him.

("My dearest one. My darling dear. Your mighty words astound me. But no need for mighty deeds. When I feel your arms around me.") You geek him become more willing to move with you, twirling as Pandora comes alive beneath your feet.

("But we are already mated?") Still you hush him.

("But I would bring you rings of gold. Id even sing you poetry. And I would keep you from all harm. If you would stay beside me. I have no use fir rings of gold. I care not for your poetry. I only want your hand to hold. I only want you near me.") By now, he is into the movements and leading the dance. Even as Pandora comes alive around you. All is well.

("To love and kiss, to sweetly hold. For the dancing and the dreaming. Through all of life's sorrows and delights. I'll keep your laugh inside me. I'll swim and sail on savage seas...") As your voice slows, so does the movements.

("With never a fear if drowning. I'd gladly ride the waves of life. So you will marry me...") He leans down to press your foreheads together with the softest smile, with the gentle hands. Warrior or not, you've never had him be less than gentle with you. Even as the world caves in, as all the world fell apart and things shifted into something new and different. You were always the thing he coveted... protected...

For a second, all of Pandora is still... Not a sound. Only the glow to remind you of the truth, that you are alive and in one of the most beautiful places.

("What does that even mean?") He whispers and all you could do is smile. How could he say something so perfect, to male you laugh and smile? Yet he could listen to it all day, listen to you just speak a sound. It is his greatest pleasure, that and seeing you move through the trees.

Knowing he taught you to climb and move, but you showed him how to move forward. How to let go. How to keep loving, and how to love more.

So this is probably the happiest ending I've ever written, cause who doesn't love a feel good story. This is also eight thousand words long… so a lot of time and thought went into this.

#imagines #imagine #requests are open #fandom request #imagine requests #love #avatar #pandora #Tsu’tey x reader #Jake sully imagine #Spotify #8000 words

1K notes · View notes

keirawantstocry · 13 days

Note

Ramon realizing that if tubbo is dating his dads then tubbo is technically also his dad. But he already saw tubbo as a brother so now he's having a crisis over his family tree

poor guy 😔

Ramon stood in front of Tubbo with a nasty expression on his face. “You can't date my dads.”

“Why?”

“HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF YOUR FRIEND STARTED DATING YOUR DAD?” Ramon signed furiously.

Tubbo laughed. “Okay, okay I get it dude. But I hate to break it to you, I don't think your dads would LET me break up with them. They're very pushy.”

Ramon crossed his arms, pouting. Uncrossing his arms, he signed, “You're like an older brother to me you can't be one of my dads.”

“I never said I was one of your dads,” Tubbo said. “I can still be your older brother.”

Ramón squinted at him. “That doesn't make any sense.”

“Not a single family unit on this island made sense,” Tubbo said with a laugh. “I'm pretty sure Roier had a wife and a husband at the same time? Phil has like a goddess wife and she's not Chayanne or Tallulah's mom. Missa is their other parent. Just cause parents are in a thing doesn't mean their kids have to follow that you know same line of thinking.”

Ramon blinked at him. “I guess that makes sense,” he signed slowly. He narrowed his eyes. “But I still don't like that you're dating my dads. That's weird.”

“You love me,” Tubbo teased, reaching out to ruffle Ramon's hair.

Ramón huffed but he didn't push him away. Instead he leaned into the touch until he was falling into Tubbo, headbutting him in the gut. Tubbo stumbled laughing, shoving at the young boy’s shoulders.

“Don't try and shove me. I could beat your ass.”

“You'd beat a child?” Ramin signed, raising both eyebrows in an exaggerated look of surprise.

Tubbo shoved at his shoulder lightly. Ramon fake stumbled back. “Owwww,” he groaned, falling to the ground. “You hurt me,” he said, his voice sounding crackly with disuse. “You hurt a child. What is wrong with you?”

Tubbo groaned, kneeling next to him. “I didn't do shit. That was you.”

“No, it wasn't,” Ramon signed, still flat against the ground. “You're mean and I'm telling my dads on you.” He leaped up with ease and ran.

“Hey!” Tubbo shouted, holding back a laugh. “Don't you dare. I'm gonna get you, you little asshole!”

#qsmp #my writing #fanfiction #q!tubbo #poly morning crew #qsmp ramón #qsmp shipping #fitpacbo #im on a ROLL todayyy

49 notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝 Part 2: Plastic Rhinestones

Jungkook just loves playing with you, while you think you've got the whole thing all figured out. But maybe, down the line, both of you have forgotten the rules to the game you're playing- and it's starting to make things more and more complicated.

Tags/Warnings: mc still hates kook, kook hates her too Angst?, enemies to ???, past regrets, miscommunication, Fluff?, slow burn, sugar daddy Jungkook vibes (they're getting stronger), minor age gap, sexual thoughts & suggestive talking over the phone, there's tension baby and it's getting worse

Length: ~3k.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"So you're gonna fuck her and then what?" Jungkook asks, and Jimin chuckles a little, leaning back into the couch.

"Was thinking about it." Jimin shrugs. "She's cute and seems up for it, so why not?" He says while tapping away on his phone while Jungkook shoots him a glance through his long hair.

He's met up with Jimin at his own place, casually talking until his friend had brought up you, and his plans to woo you into his bed, no strings attached. Park Jimin doesn't do relationships after all- he breaks hearts casually, and enjoys living rather leisurely. And while yes, Jungkook does in fact participate in similar hijinks whenever he's got the time for it, he's not the same as the man in front of him. He's always upfront with whomever he ends up sleeping- it's only for pleasure, it's nothing personal, there's no chance for feelings after it. But Jimin? Jimin likes to play with people, and that's something that Jungkook just doesn't want to happen to you.

Usually, he would just tell himself it's none of his business. But if it involves you, it is his somewhat business.

"And then what?" Jungkook repeats his question, making Jimin scoff.

"Then nothing. Come on, you've got no right to lecture me on shit like that. You fuck them left and right and then? Nothing either." He says before he looks at his friend with a suspicious smile. "Or are you jealous?" He asks.

Jungkook clicks his tongue. He's not jealous- why would he be? If anything, he should pity anybody who's got to survive whatever boring escapades Jimin makes happen. He's protecting you from a disappointing orgasm, nothing else. "As if. Fuck her six days till Sunday for all I care, it's not like I'm gonna miss out on anything." He shrugs, words empty in their actual meaning as he himself doesn't even believe them in the slightest, adjusting his posture. He doesn't know why he even said them. Maybe just to put up that façade again, so he won't get teased for it to high heavens. "I just don't think you should." He shrugs, making Jimin scoff.

"And why not? Because you called dibs on her or what?" His older friend asks, before he seems to become more thoughtful. "You're worried she might talk." He says, crossing his arms. Jungkook feels somewhat offended by those words.

"No, but one day one of all of your flings will." He says with a bit of an irritated undertone- since his friend is missing the entire point. "I helped you get where you are today. Any of the shit you fuck up is gonna turn on me as well, and it feels like you keep forgetting that." He mentions, making his friend sigh.

"Hm. You've got a point." He shrugs, uncrossing his legs as he picks up his phone. "Well, I'll keep it in mind now though. Please don't think I'm not grateful." Jimin offers, ruffling the younger one's hair and making him groan out in annoyance at that.

And after he leaves Jungkook's apartment, he himself can't help but think about how odd it felt to hear his friend talk about you like this. He really isn't jealous, not at all.

So what's his fucking problem then?

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You honestly don't know how or when it started, but by now, occasionally, you'll drop by at his company building to eat at the cafeteria there with him whenever he asks via text. It's an odd habit you've both created for no reason other than boredom and the need for company- but man, does his attitude piss you off almost every single time you meet him here. If it wasn't for the free food, you wouldn't ever fucking talk a single word to him ever in that place.

The predator in his natural habitat, so to speak.

"I like you, yeah-" you shrug, answering a flirty question he had sneaked in during your meal with him. "-But you're no better than any other guy, really." You tell him, as he sits across from you, trying hard to keep his cool.

He agrees that Jimin probably only wants you as a trophy to show off, yes- but Jungkook himself? He doesn't. He doesn't care for that, doesn't see any worth in telling anybody about whatever you might indulge in behind closed doors. That's for himself only.

He wants you for himself only.

"Am I now?" He challenges, leaning back on his chair, one leg over the other as he relaxes in his posture. You feel oddly threatened by him in that moment, and not even in a bad way. He's more like a predator very much toying with his prey- confident he'll catch it no matter how far it runs.

And maybe you want to know how far he'll let you go before he starts the chase.

"Who cares." You say, taking a sip of your beverage in front of him, trying to appear unbothered by his words.

"You, apparently." He chuckles to himself, amused by your acting. He has already noticed the way you've started to shift around on your seat, legs restless as you evade any eye contact with him. "And there's nothing bad about it. I'm flattered, if anything."

You laugh. "Flattered by me insulting you?" You raise an eyebrow. "Boy, you must have some odd kinks. Not that I'm judging." You wave off.

"You really like barking like a little dog, don't you?" He asks, and you stop everything you're doing as your heated gaze finds his. "Its cute. Adorable, really, how you keep yapping at me." He smiles.

"I take back everything I said." You threaten, crossing your arms. "I hate you. You're so full of yourself, it's disgusting." You huff, and he grins with a wolfish grin.

"I mean.." he tilts his head a little, eyes dark as he licks the silver piercing on his bottom lip. "…you could be full of me too." He offers, eyes never moving away from yours, as you swallow thickly. "All you gotta do is beg." He teases, laughs when you turn a bit red across from him.

"In your dreams, Kook." You jab only, slapping some bills on the table to pay for your portion of the drinks and food, before you leave the company building.

Him still smiling to himself, satisfied as he pulls out his phone to send you the money you've left on the table back with a generous bonus on top- receiving an influx of angry emojis and even angrier insults from you only seconds after the payment is sent. He knows you'll use the money, even if you tell him you won't. He knows you just can't quite get a thank you out from between your lips when it's directed at him.

He just loves playing around with you- because he knows he's the only one who get's under your skin like this.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook doesn't like parties.

Jungkook likes you going to parties with him even less.

The whole situation is quite ridiculous really- he had it long coming at this point however. He's almost thirty after all- people are constantly asking questions about potential lovers of his. He's good at hiding any escapades he might've had in the past; but the most annoying thing mostly for himself would be rather that there haven't been any. At least not since he's gotten closer to you this past year or so.

And he honestly doesn't even know why.

He's gotten over his stupid crush he'd had back when you were in your final year of school, staying over at his home every now and then when his sister was living with him during her final year. He's not who he was back then anymore, and he's glad he's not- but at the same time, some things feel like they're just stuck now.

Any girl he takes to bed (or on the couch, he's not really picky), always seems to warp into someone that looks like you- and it's just weird at this point. He doesn't have a crush on you. Of course, you're pretty- exactly his type, both personality wise and in looks as well, but that doesn't mean that he thinks about you as anything other than his best friend's friend who he kind of lusts over.

That doesn't make him special. You've got a lot of his friends licking their teeth for you like you're some prey to be caught. And granted, it pisses him off. You're a grown woman, not some piece of meat.

It's why he takes you out to so many of his company's events like these. He's taken you to Paris for a Dior show he'd gotten invited to, had brought you along to movie premiers, or private aftershows. He wants you to experience these things because you simply deserve it in his eyes- he can't explain it well enough for it to make proper sense, but that's just what he feels like. The look in your eyes of pure amazement at the paintings in the louvre museum in France, the stars reflecting in your eyes when you were drinking whine on the balcony of his hotel room in Dubai, or when you both walked through new York together.

It's weird.

When he's alone with you like this, in situations where you more or less have to rely on him to make sure you'll be fine, you get along great. You laugh, it's light and comfortable, relaxed even- no arguing, only playful banter and honestly good memories made. When in situations like these he does see himself even developing an emotional connection to you- but then you come back, you say your goodbyes, and the next time he meets you again with Taehyung or Jimin for just casual evenings to spend, he just feels like he's annoying you. Like you're annoying him. It just feels wrong, like a sweater that's itchy but you can't take it off.

It's horrible, really. And he doesn't even know who or what to blame.

Because again, right now, he couldn't be happier with you as his company- you're beautiful in the dress you'd picked, mature but naturally playful in the way you carry yourself. You always feel so fresh compared to all the faces he sees around him at times like these- it's all just so confusing.

"Do you think they'll write a dramatic article about me if they spot me eat all those fancy snacks there?" You ask him, fingers having tugged slightly on his sleeve to get his attention. It's small things like these, your giggling, the ease at which you seem to wrap him around your finger just by standing close to him like that, it's stupid how it always gets under his skin. All he can think about right now is how close you're standing to him, how you still hold onto his sleeve, how utterly mischievous you look right now as you eye the catering table. "I'm really hungry.. how long is this whole thing?" You ask, looking up at him.

That Dior lipgloss is really doing god's work, making the low lights of the hall reflect on your lower lip, while tinting them a subtle shade of warm pink. "Jungkook?" You ask, catching him from his thoughts.

"One more hour, then it won't look impolite if we leave." He chuckles down at you, before he takes a look around. "Though there might be a problem brewing over there. They've been talking to each other the entire time." He tells you in a bit of a lower tone. "Don't look." He orders- and you don't.

"What's the problem?" You wonder, and Jungkook sighs, clearly upset but trying to keep himself in check.

"I think they might've gotten the wrong idea about you and me." He explains. "We had to pay off three magazines last month because we've been seen together in Dubai, and now they want to gossip about you being my new 'toy'." he rolls his eyes, making you giggle.

He doesn't see the joke in any of it. You're not a 'toy' to anybody- it's insulting how they've been trying to paint you to the public.

"I mean, granted-" You offer, stepping a bit away from him before you brush something off of his tie. "-we do look like a couple sometimes, not gonna lie. Or. you know, like sugar-daddy and sugar-baby; god knows I'd never be able to bag someone like you." You laugh, before sneakily turning around to look for the group of people Jungkook had been referring to earlier. They're still talking, smiling to each other about something said amongst them, their eyes firmly on you. They're older men and women- but they honestly don't look too mean.

"Cut yourself some slack. I know a lot of guys who'd murder for a gem like you." He teases, and you cringe a bit, making him laugh. "What? Don't like my flirting?" He asks, brows raised.

"Oh I like your flirting- but not whatever the hell THAT was.!" You giggle, before you slide your hair off of your shoulder. "Just tell those magazines I'm like, your sister or some shit. Won't that clear up the air?" You ask, and he plays with his piercing for a second, before he shakes his head.

He wants to tell you that he doesn't want to lie and later be caught in a scandal if he does end up getting that close to you, if he does gain that courage and ask you out, if you do end up agreeing to trying out a relationship with him-

But he doesn't say anything, and just goes to grab your coat, ready to leave and bring you home.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook has a bad habit.

Okay, he's got multiple if you're to be given enough to write them all down, but right now, his worst habit is his absolute lack of timing. Or maybe it's perfect timing if his goal is to just piss you off- in which case, his timing is always absolutely on point. "What?!" You hiss into the phone, turning your babypink vibrator off, letting it fall onto your bed.

You'll clean the sheets later.

"Oh wow, you sound like I interrupted some heavy workout there." He chuckles. "Though knowing you, you've been rather jerking off than actually hitting the gym." He teases, making you roll your eyes something he can't see, but surely imagines you doing.

"Fuck you." You bark at him, sitting up slowly, disappointment evident in every breath you take as you take a proper breath. "What do you want?"

"What were you using?" He asks, and you fall into silence at that, the question catching you off guard.

Jungkook is always pretty forward. He flirts, he teases, he uses anything he's got to get under your skin- but he's never been this blunt. And right now, you can't even deny what you've been doing, because he wouldn't believe you anyways- so should you actually answer him? You have to. Otherwise he'll think he's got you- and you won't give him that achievement, ever.

"A vibrator, you know, something I can trust with making me cum instead of being disappointed." You try to casually tell him, though his chuckle on the other end of the line makes you horribly weak in your knees. It's probably still the aftermath of your ruined session of self-love.

Yes, that's it.

"Cute." He simply comments. "Though I take from your sour attitude that it failed at it's task this time?" He almost sings, making you frustrated again because fuck him, fuck men, and fuck this one most of all ten times. "Poor thing. Guess I'm honored you picked up my call though, instead of finishing up." He laughs to himself, and you scoff.

"Fuck off, I thought it was something important." You bite at him. "I could finish myself off right now just fine, you do nothing to me." You try and jab at him, though you should've known he doesn't play by those rules. His own don't apply to him. He's cheating in his own game, and you know it- and yet you fall into his traps every single time.

"Oh?" He says, before he chuckles darkly. "Prove it." He demands, and you squeeze your legs shut as if on instinct.

If you deny, you'll never hear the end of it. If you agree, you'll never hear the end of it. You don't even know if he's serious- maybe he just wants to tease you as always, not putting a single ounce of truth into his demand- and yet, it also fills you with an odd shameful sense of excitement. You've never done anything like this. And his voice is pretty nice to listen to, so..

"Make me." You challenge, and you expect him to laugh, or say anything else than what he actually ends up saying.

In this moment, he's the voice of reason. This is dangerous territory you're both walking on, and while you might be completely clouded by lust in this moment, but he's still very much clear in his head. "Not like this." He simply tells you because of that, voice awfully sober, so much so that it makes even you sit up now, phone in your hand.

All until the shame hits, making you frustrated and embarrassed. "Just say you're fucking with me, asshole, no need to pull such a piss-poor joke like that.!" You angrily tell him- though his next words make a shiver run down your spine- and not a good one, in fact.

"I'm far from joking." He says, sighing. "I apologize for even.. letting it remotely get here. That was entirely my fault." He tells you, and you sigh.

"What did you even want in the first place?" You ask him, by now completely pulled from your mood anyways.

"Nothing. I actually don't remember it anymore." He chuckles a bit awkwardly. "Sorry for my bad timing. I'll leave you to it." Jungkook almost rushes out, before he hangs up.

And he doesn't know that for a good moment, you stare at your phone just as confused as he is.

What the hell was that?

#jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #hatred au #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagine #bts imagines #jeon jungkook imagine

197 notes · View notes