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utterlyazriel · 3 months

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whom the shadows sing for —(and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: eek not a request but an idea that wouldn't leave me alone! thus... we embark on a mulan-esque story that i hope u will enjoy <3 big thank you's to @strangerstilinski who listened and helped immensely as i whittled a hunky idea down to a plot

word count: 2.9k

synopsis: Someone in the Illryians Mountains has been making a name for themselves— a bastard like Azriel and his brothers, ruffling the feathers of a war camp's Lords. But they seem to have no loyalty to the fighting legion, or much to anyone for that matter. fem!reader

— CHAPTER ONE :: STRANGERS

Frost was everywhere.

Despite all the eerie memories that tainted them, the Illyrian Mountains were hauntingly beautiful, even Azriel could admit that.

Pine trees stretched up tall, their timber trunks hidden beneath the snow-leaden branches. It was a sea of swirling frost. Snowflakes eddied down from the frozen sky, a soft blanket of white draped across the landscape.

He was sure that some, maybe the likes of Feyre and her artist's eye, could see that beauty easier than he could.

Beautiful, Azriel thought bitterly, but fucking freezing.

Normally, dealing with the likes of the war camps that riddled these mountains was left to Cassian. He had that raucous, fiery way about him that was far better suited to it. Enough pride to challenge the warriors and more than enough eager attitude to back his taunts if need be.

But Cassian was currently very much occupied— and highly unsuited to crack the whip against some rowdy Illyrians in his current state.

Azriel couldn't help the smile at the thought of when he'd last seen his brother.

Freshly mated Cassian looked as though he had tiny hearts circling around his head at all times. He resembled a puppy following his nose, always that wicked grin on his face as he trailed after Nesta. His adoration was impossible to miss.

Cassian had more than earned the time off. He deserved to celebrate properly, to have a couple weeks with no badgering worries, with no bickering Illyrian warriors to deal with (beyond his usual two).

So, as a mating gift to his brother —and partially to escape a house filled with intolerably mated couples— Azriel had taken over his duty temporarily. To oversee the war camps he detested so much.

Today, he was to investigate the rumoured stirrings amongst the camps and assess the level of threat it posed. More often than not, these sorts of stirrings were simply whispers of rebellion but nothing more.

There was an easy fix; a visit from one of the most powerful Illyrian warriors in history, or even from Rhys himself. It always made the Illyrians a little nervous and those whispers of a coup would sweep away with the wind in a matter of time.

This time, however, the network of spies that operated under Azriel had not come back spinning such rumours.

Instead, there was talk of Lords with ruffled feathers. Lords with bruised egos due to a single bastard warrior, rising in the ranks and not playing by the rules.

The familiarity of the situation was almost too ironic, Azriel thought. He had half a mind to tell Rhys what he had learned and leave them to it. Cauldron knew these brutal camps needed a bastard to challenge their ways from time to time.

But still, there was always the potential for such a warrior to pose a threat in the future. Azriel could not leave a possible danger to brew. No stone left unturned.

The snow beneath his boots was beginning to melt.

He had been standing in the cold and peering up at the war camp ahead, barely seen through the heavy snow falling, for too long now. Snow was gathering on his wings, tendrils of ice shooting through their sensitive membrane. Find the bastard.

Shaking off the snow, he began to walk.

—

Gods forsaken males and their egos.

The bone in your forearm ached, having taken the brunt of your initial fall in the mud. It's covered in it too, the muck of the ground that always seemed to linger. Always a layer of dirt beneath your fingernails. Truly, one of the many incredible appeals of the Illyrian mountains was never actually being clean.

You'd probably hate it more— if it didn't do such a good job of masking unwanted scents.

But right now with a jagged cut that tears up your left arm, all the way to the elbow, you're cursing the mud. It's likely festering with uncountable grim diseases. You'll have to flush the wound to properly clean it before it begins to heal.

That means water. That means energy that you don't particularly feel like summoning to fetch it. You cast your glance to the window.

Outside, the Mother's Kiss howls loudly.

The southerly chilled wind current that Illyrians don such a precious name is quite fitting for their backward ways — to expect a kiss from your mother to have such a sting on the face.

Tonight, the current seems particularly fierce. The windows of your shelter rattle in warning. A storm had blown through camp rather unexpectedly and you'd caught the worst of it, tangled up in a snarling fest against Brudam.

Brudam, who is responsible for the current state of your arm. Your lip curls at the mere thought of the arrogant male. Your wings bunch up tightly and you huff quietly to nobody.

He'd caught wind of the broth you had made that had filled the stomach of three ravenous bastards in the camp. It had been just enough to keep them on their feet. Tonight, you know that one hot meal might very well be the difference that helps them survive the night.

But Illyrians are a tough breed— and they don't take kindly to people giving handouts, as Brudam had put it.

You preferred the term leveling the playing field.

As if Brudam and his Lord father had ever experienced to ache of starvation. Ever had to sleep in the snow with nothing but their own wings for warmth against a blizzard.

Another deep pain twinges in your arm and you hiss, drawn out of your thoughts. If you have to pick your wins, you can at least admit you're glad he had only found out about the broth— and had seemed none the wiser to the healing tonics you were slipping the freshly-clipped girls.

It ached to see them and their quivering wings. The way the muscles in their backs buckled when they tried to spread their wings, a cut too deep into the wrong nerve. It ached to see it, yes, but beneath that pain was an ocean of bitter and furious fire.

But your righteous anger would not help these girls.

You were not the most proficient healer and the tonics you were attempting... it was hard to say if they would make any difference in saving any females' wings.

You were gathering knowledge as best you could though, scraping together herbs that scarcely grew in the frozen climate. It was a poor imitation of something that might work.

Whether it would be enough... that was up to the Mother. But you had to try.

You assess the wound on your arm once more, wondering about the reserve of water you had in your small hut— whether you could both clean your wound and have enough to hydrate.

Another glance out at the wintry snowscape outside. You grimaced. If you didn't, you would have to bear the blistering chill of the Mother's Kiss to get more.

Weariness weighs on your bones. You hadn't been prepared for the fight, hence your almost embarrassing injury, and it drained you more than you expected.

You stand with a sigh and drag your feet toward the tiny cauldron filled with melted snow collected earlier in the day. It hangs over the fireplace, the embers within long since snuffed out. Your motion stirs them up.

For a moment, you stare into the fireplace. The water in the cauldron shimmers. The shelter creaks around you, bending in the wind.

It's covered in soot, marred by the flames that usually lick it from beneath it. The lip of it, however, is still clean enough to see your own reflection. You peer into it.

And in that reflection, you find a tall figure with massive wings looming above their shoulders standing behind you.

Your heart spasms in shock and you have to swallow your gasp of surprise. Your eyes dart up, frantically hunting for a weapon. You grab the closest object you can, your hand closing around a kitchen fork. And before they get the chance, you twist and lunge, arm raised.

The floorboards groan as your boots slam into them, darting forward to attack. But the male dodges you easily, your strike passing through empty air.

You don't stop, turning and striking for him once again. The male sways back again easily to avoid your swing and you scowl.

Quickly feigning one way, you watch as his hands, weaponless, move to defend his gut — and you change direction, fast. Neck exposed, you snarl as you sink the fork deep into his shoulder.

The male hisses in pain.

You falter for a moment at the noise but it's a mistake. His hands move so fast you barely see them, gripping your wrist that holds the fork and twisting it down to the ground, immobilising you from using it.

You snarl again and tug against him fruitlessly. A swell of panic begins to rise within you as you tug again, again, again. His hold doesn't falter.

"Stop," The male commands you quietly.

This time when you tug, he opens his fingers and you fly back onto your ass, wings flaring out a moment too late to catch yourself.

You expect him to trudge forward, to beat an attack down on you now that you're less defended, but he doesn't move from his spot.

In fact, you realise as you stare at him, cheat heaving, he hasn't attacked you at all.

His weapons, which there are many of them, stay strapped to his side, glittering against the snow's reflected light. You spot the siphon on his hand, a churning sapphire colour — and clock the matching one on his other hand.

This was not just any Illyrian warrior in your home.

Faintly, your panic subsides as you realise that if this male meant to hurt you —to kill you— he very well could have done so by now.

You let your eyes trail up, taking in the face so hidden in shadow, and recognize that the darkness swirling around him is not ordinary shadow.

The revelation has you sitting up a bit straighter, the bindings around your chest pulling tight. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.

What do you say to one of the most powerful Illyrian warriors in history —one who served on Rhysand's inner circle, friend of the High Lord of the Night Court— when you've just stabbed him with a fork?

As if your thought had reminded him, the male —Azriel, you know his name to be— shifts and reaches for the utensil still sticking out of his shoulder. He yanks it out without a noise of complaint.

Then he says, "Considering your choice of weapon, it's no surprise Brudam cut up your arm."

You scowl at him but at a closer look, you can see that his expression isn't condescending. No, with his raised brows, he almost looks... impressed.

"I wasn't expecting visitors." You bite back defensively.

Azriel's eyes dance with amusement. He throws the fork onto your table with a clatter. "That's how you greet visitors?"

"Uninvited ones, yes."

His amusement fades, the planes of his face shadowed and yet still handsome. Like most Illyrians, there's this incomprehensible sense of elegance to him, an alluring pull tied to his very demeanor.

But looking at him now, even in the dimness of your shelter, you could see Azriel went beyond to type of beauty that usual Illyrians had. An unparalleled grace, an unmatched Adonis.

He is the most beautiful male you had ever seen—and you had just stabbed him with a fork.

"Sorry," You mutter eventually when he doesn't say anything.

You shift onto your knees to stand, your hand coming to cup beneath your elbow— the ache of the injury had begun to bleed back in now that you weren't focused on fighting off an intruder.

"You're forgiven." He says. You can see lightly, through the dimming light, the faint blood on his neck you've caused.

"You fight well," He comments, with the air of a compliment. Something like amusement is in his eyes when he says, "Even with your unusual choice of weapon."

You glare at him as you climb to your feet and all but collapse into a chair. You don't even have another to offer to him. Buried beneath your leathers, your chest aches in pain — a reminder that it's been bound for far too long. You ignore it and tilt your chin towards him.

"Why are you here?"

You're actually sure that even if you offered Azriel a chair he wouldn't take it, given how stiffly he stands before you. He takes a moment to answer, his gaze flitting around the small room you both stand in. Calculating, categorizing.

"There were rumours of a warrior turning up trouble here."

He fixes his hazel-eyed gaze on you. You steel yourself beneath it. "A couple days in your camp and it became clear who the outlier was."

A couple days? For some reason, you can't believe that he's been surveying this place without detection from anyone. Another glance at his shadows, the dark masses that hang around his shoulders, and you can believe it a little more.

Besides, it's hardly as though the Lords would deign to tell a bastard like you anything important.

You clench your jaw but don't say anything.

"Brudam mentioned you feeding some warriors." Azriel continues, his tone unreadable. Though something, you couldn't tell what, glittered in his eyes. "Not very in the spirit of Illyrians."

You scowl at him again. Even if he had once faced these conditions before, you wondered if his time away, spent Cauldron knows where, had softened his memory.

"It's not against any law."

"No, it isn't," Azriel says. His eyes narrow. "But making healing tonics without a Healer's jurisdiction and selling them to young females is."

Your heart stops for just a moment. How could he know that? The last batch you had dropped off had been over a month ago.

Without thinking you snarl back, "I'm not selling them, you prick."

Something blooms on Azriel's face, surprise and a hint of smugness.

Your mouth snaps shut as you realise what you've done. You curse yourself. Slumping back in your chair, your wings sag with you and you let them droop onto the floor, uncaring. He could very well be here to kill you, given the knowledge of what you had just admitted.

For a long moment, there's just silence.

You stare at the floor and wonder which version of the High Lord is true; the Court of Nightmares whose power ripples through these camps and keeps them in line. Or the rumours of a softer side, a dreamer.

You wonder, more importantly, which of those this male before you is friends with.

Something in the floor creaks when Azriel finally moves. He crosses the room swiftly to the fireplace and gathers two logs from the stack of firewood beside it, tossing them onto the pile of ash.

You watch, perturbed, as he hunches over the fireplace for a quiet minute— and when he pulls back, a small flame is burning on the wood. It dances on the log, entrancing and amber-coloured.

Heat begins to fill the room. You pick your wings up and stretch them towards it, grateful for how they begin to warm. You hadn't quite realised the extent of your chill until right now.

It's such a kindness that hasn't been shown to you in many years. Surprise and silent gratitude bloom in your chest.

Azriel turns back to face you. You school your surprise away.

"What's your name?" He asks, his voice gruff.

It's been a while since anyone asked that either. Bastard. Mongrel. Imposter. There are a thousand other words that have become your name whilst growing up here.

You can't tell him your name. In the same way you can't tell anyone here your real name without revealing too much about yourself.

So you shorten it and tell him that instead.

Azriel nods. Doesn't repeat it, doesn't blink at your hesitance. Instead, he just says, "Like I said, you fight well. You could be better though."

You frown at the backhanded compliment, something in you sneering at the jab at your fighting skills. Worse, you know he's right.

If you had weapons suited to your size, exercises that focused on your agility more than your brute strength... There's a good reason you have to work twice as hard as every other warrior in camp.

Azriel looks at your arm, no longer bleeding and beginning to stitch itself up. Shit, you really need to clean that first.

"Clean that and get a good night's rest." He orders, not meanly. Then he crosses the space of your shelter in a few paces of his long legs, heading for the door.

"You—" The question dares to come out of you. "You're not going to turn me in?"

Azriel pauses, one hand, one scarred hand you can now see with the fire going, on the door. So, the rumours of that were true.

"No," He says lowly. He sees you staring, and as if on command, the shadows swirling around his shoulders dart down to cover his hands. They and the doorknob in his hand disappear from sight completely.

You evade your eyes back up to his hauntingly beautiful face. His expression is stony, unreadable. He stares at you for a long moment, the dancing fire reflected in his hazel eyes.

"I'm going to train you."

[next part]

#ahhhh!!! i'm very excited for this one!!#pray i can do it justice !!#azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel fic

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cherrygukki · 1 year

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after last night (m)

➸ pairing: rich fuckboy! jungkook x f. reader ➸ word count: 4.3k ➸ genres: acquaintances to fwb, smut, unreciprocated love, mild angst if you squint, and a sprinkle of fluff ➸ summary: After last night, Jungkook doesn't know what to do. You got to tell him when he's gonna see you again before he drives himself crazy. ➸ warnings: alcohol consumption, cursing, protected sex, whiny jk, rough, making out in public for like a minute, grinding, lots of kissing, hickeys, dirty talk, praise kink, face sitting, cunnilingus, fingering, spitting (once), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, he's WHIPPED for reader's pussy, i almost forgot to say that jk also finishes early but that's okay he makes up for it🤭🤭 ➸ author's note: As what the title suggests, this short series (maybe) is inspired by After Last Night by Bruno Mars. I'm literally OBSESSED with this song so I couldn't help but write something dedicated to it. As always, enjoy reading!

Wishin' on a shootin' star, say a prayer for me

And hope it comes true

Jungkook can't help but heave a sigh, twirling the almost empty wine glass around in his hand while looking at the night sky with such loneliness in his eyes.

The sight above him is beautiful, but to him, there's nothing more beautiful than the image of your face in front of him right now. He craves you by his side, appreciating the view outside his window as you spend the most loving time in your lives.

So, when his eyes spot the phenomenal shooting star that swiftly passes through his home, his mind screams your name right away, praying to whoever's listening to him in the sky to have you here with him.

It's foolish, but he'll just about do anything to see you again, hoping that his wishes will eventually come true someday.

Throw my phone out the window, there's no player in me

Those days are through

When he said that he's willing to do anything for you, he meant it with every fiber of his being. Hence, it doesn't take Jungkook any second thought to pull his phone out of his pocket only to throw it out the window. He lets it fall freely from the high level of his penthouse without a care. Perhaps it's the alcohol seeping into his veins, putting him under the influence, but there still remains a part of him where he doesn't regret what he just did. After all, he only wants to prove you one thing by the end of the day —

He's more than willing to enter a new chapter in his life, and the title of that chapter is you.

You put it on me like I never felt before

That gushy, gushy good, girl, I want some more

While Jungkook continues to appreciate the mesmerizing city landscape beyond him, his mind couldn't help but drift off to the moment you met each other for the first time.

He had only intended to have a great time with his old friends during that highschool reunion of your batch. If only you hadn't attended that party like the gorgeous goddess you were to his eyes, then perhaps he wouldn't be so crazy like he is now.

Back then, Jungkook merely thought of you as the smart student who had a few admirers here and there, only ever getting the chance to talk with you every time you're paired up on a project, but he never thought of batting an eye towards your direction. However, the clearer view of your beauty in the present is in no doubt, indeed a present to him.

Without hesitation, he strikes up a conversation with you right away, leaving everyone else in the ditch as his entire attention was now directed on you, and you only.

It took hours for the party to end, thus it doesn't surprise you to see Jungkook impatient to get the both of you out of the venue, for you already knew where this night was about to end the moment he greeted you.

You haven't even gotten the opportunity to jump inside his car, but you're already making out on his hood like horny teenagers all over again. He kisses you with a spark of fire, spreading flames all over your body like a wildfire. You moan when he bites your bottom lip before pulling away, extending his warmth down to your exposed neck where he marks you like his personal treasure. You throw your head back in no shame whatsoever, disregarding the environment around you when you begin to grind your crotch against his thigh. The moans you let out our wanton, especially when he easily locates that sensitive spot on your neck to lick, suck, and bite on it that already has you reeling for the man.

You're certain there's a wet splotch in your underwear by now, already aroused from merely grinding away on Jungkook's thick thigh as well as him leaving dark spots all over your neck as if tomorrow will never come.

He slithers a tattooed hand beneath your dress to rub your clothed folds. You gasp loudly at the abrupt intrusion, letting him do whatever he desires at the moment while you relax at the sensational touches he leaves on you.

Whimpering, you grip tightly on his shoulder to urge him to go on. "Don't stop," you whine, "Please don't stop, fuck—"

"I won't, sweetheart." He licks at the fresh hickey he's just made while whispering. "I won't."

Before anyone could even catch up to what was going on, Jungkook hides the both of you from out in the open, hastily fishing his car keys from his pocket to unlock the Black Mercedes he's about to drag you in. He opens the backdoor, and soon enough, he's messily falling along with you on the leather seats where you continue to explore each other's bodies.

He locks the car again before hunching your dress around your waist to take a look at the sopping mess you've done with your panties, pushing them to the side when he finally gets to touch your bare pussy for the first time tonight.

Growling, he leans down to your ear only to send you a hot wave of shivers with the raspy whisper he lets out. "Gonna make you cum so hard tonight, sweetheart." He chuckles, "So fucking hard."

Jungkook wasn't expecting to receive exactly the same treatment he intends to give you tonight.

The moment you arrive at his penthouse, the two of you are already sticking to each other immediately like opposite poles of a magnet until you eventually navigate yourselves to the large couch in his living room. He settles you comfortably on his lap, hands traveling down to your clothed ass where he kneads them as you continue to lap each other out. You're the first one to pull away after a few more seconds, for he's already sucking the breath out of you with his plush lips alone.

You impatiently begin to unbutton his dress shirt, admiring the bulky figure that's hidden underneath the flimsy layer of fabric. He does the same to you, wrapping an arm around your back to unzip the tight outfit refraining his eyes from indulging in your gorgeous figure. The straps fall loosely around your shoulders, and soon enough, your dress is already messily hunched around your waist, exposing the entirety of your body to Jungkook's lust-hungry gaze.

By the time you get rid of his top, you don't hesitate to lean down and place kitten licks on his nipple. He quietly gasps at your bold move, resisting the temptation to have his eyes rolling back when you lick a fat stripe on his chest. He shivers underneath you, falling victim for your presence as he tightens the hold he has on your waist. Your pussy is gushing your arousal like a waterfall, and Jungkook doesn't fail to notice how desperate your whimpers get when you pick up the motion of your hips on his thigh.

Pulling away, you attack his lips ferociously, moaning oh-so wantonly that it has the tent in Jungkook's pants growing angrier by the minute. "I wanna ride your face."

"Fuck yeah, baby." Jungkook almost whines when you hastily settle yourself on his face, having your panties already ridden off earlier from the steamy car ride on the way home. You pant heavily, sensing his warm breath knocking right on your entrance, steadily aligning your core above his pillowy lips until he takes matters in his own hands — becoming more desirous for the sweet nectar leaking over him.

"Oh! Fuck, Jungkook—" You draw out a long mewl when he laps at your pussy like an oasis, leaving no drop of your juices out of his mouth as he dances his tongue around your sopping folds.

Nothing left could be heard in the spacious room aside from your lewd moans and the obscene noises of your wet pussy being eaten out by Jungkook.

You desperately grind on his face, searching for more friction, repeatedly nudging the tip of his nose with your clit which only has you throwing your head back in bliss.

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels more than euphoric seeing your fucked out expression from below. He wiggles his tongue in every spot he deemed fit to have you toppling near the edge. Your taste alone is enough to get him off, bucking his hips in the air to seek for a release himself. Swallowing every drop you offered him only has him going crazier by the second, only urging him to fuck you with his tongue this instant, and that's what he exactly did.

The abrupt intrusion of his tongue between your folds elicited a loud whimper from you. He fucks you with his tongue like how he would with his cock — messy and fast.

Breathy chants of his name and a messy mantra of moans and whimpers come tumbling off your tongue. You bounce on his face like the desperate one you were, chasing that orgasm that's merely boiling from deep within your core.

He simply couldn't get enough of your essence, akin to getting intoxicated by the best form of addiction in the world. He continues to lap on your dripping cunt as if he's the next one in line on a death row, moaning every now and then which sends vibrations reverberating up your spine. Your mind blacks out, and now the only thing you can think of is Jungkook's skilled and wet tongue bringing you to an intense orgasm.

You don't hold back from leaving your mouth ajar to spill out the most sinful, yet heavenly noises Jungkook has ever heard, provoking him to add up to your pleasure by encouraging you to swivel your hips around his face.

Your pending orgasm is peeking around the corner, and the knot that's about to blow up inside you is about to make a mess on Jungkook's swollen lips. "Fuck, Jungkook, I'm cumming—" you whine, thighs shaking profusely until the knot snaps.

Gasping, Jungkook doesn't leave any of your juices unwelcome, for he's greedily drinking your juices up in pure gluttony. Your pussy keeps gushing out new waves of your orgasm for Jungkook to consume, and he can never get sick of it. If anything, it leaves him wanting more of that gushy sweetness you provide him, never ever being stunned from the way you do it.

Sweet, sticky, thick and pretty

You changed the game

At this point, Jungkook wants nothing more than to shove his cock in the prettiest pussy he's seen in his life, similar to a messy abstract painting that always succeeds in enticing the people's eyes — that's how beautiful Jungkook saw you.

Slowly lifting your hips off his panting face, you finally take a glimpse for the first time on how fucked out he already seemed. His lips are absolutely smeared with your essence, and perhaps a few of it even landed on his chin and his nose. However, your appreciation session on the man's features are cut short when he rips open the condom hiding in his pocket, swiftly stripping himself off his pants until his dick is finally sprang out in the open; tall and leaking with pre-cum.

He rolls the condom around his shaft, and before you know it, he's already forcing you down on his lap where your soft walls gain contact with the tip of his cock.

"Gonna fuck your pretty little pussy with my cock, baby. You want that?"

You mewl in response, eagerly nodding as you visibly bite your lower lip. Spreading your slick all over his tip, you steadily sink yourself around his girth, eliciting a guttural groan between the two of you. For a moment, you can feel the wind knock out of your lungs from how full you felt. Your walls kept themselves snug around Jungkook's veiny shaft, and he swears, he's losing his composure faster by the second.

"Fuck," he lowly whimpers when you finally bottom out, large hands settling on your hips to slowly drag you up again. Your pussy already leaves a trail of dribbling slick down the length of his cock, and it definitely earns a hiss to come out between Jungkook's teeth.

He helps you in riding him, a lewd yelp falling off your pretty lips when your hips crash down on his thick thighs, causing his tip to kiss the top of your cervix inside. Soon enough, your pace becomes increasingly desperate, as what seemed to be mildly moderate a few seconds back turns to a merciless wrath of Jungkook's cock roughly fucking into your dripping cunt.

"Jungkook!" You cry his name in utter bliss before the weight of your head gives in, leaning on his shoulder for support as you unknowingly drool on the taut muscle. He growls animalistically, fucking you with full force and great speed which leaves the air humid, and the sound of skin slapping and wet squelches of your pussy fill the quiet space of his penthouse.

A staccato of breathy moans spill out from your lips like a waterfall. His cock was covered in your slick, shimmering in your thick arousal which only heightened Jungkook's stimulation.

"God, look at you—your cunt is drooling all over my cock, baby. Wettest pussy in the fucking world, shit—"

Your walls clench from his words, another wave of your juices gushing out from your pussy. No one else can make you hornier than the man fucking you right at this very moment. His brows are furrowed in concentration, mind unable to think of anything else aside from his cock rearranging your guts. He's practically pierced everywhere, and the fact that he has a full-sleeve tattoo covering the whole of his right arm only aids on to your arousal.

He catches you momentarily staring at him, and he only simpers at you. "Fuck, like what you see, baby?" The clench you do confirms your thought. "Yeah, I know you do, baby. Your cunt is so fucking wet for me, isn't it? Such a good fucking cunt, taking dick so obediently, yeah?"

"S-So good," you mewled on his shoulder, breathing becoming labored when his tip repeatedly nudges your sweet spot. The obscene noises increase in volume, which encourages Jungkook to remain consistent with his thrusts.

Everything feels messy and sticky down below where your arousal has certainly reached Jungkook's balls, covering them in white as some of it land on your ass where they clap in motion of his rough thrusts.

Jungkook swears to God that he's losing it every minute, feeling his climax build up faster than usual, too lost in the incredible sensation of your tight walls clinging onto his length for dear life. Oh, and was he extremely whipped for the way you keep creaming around the base of his cock as if you're marking him as your own. He tries to hold back the fighting orgasm bubbling within his gut, but you just had to keep him snug against your warm folds for one last time until he's eventually reaching his breaking point.

"Shit, baby, your cunt's so fucking good I think I'm gonna cum soon—" He draws out one last whine before he's filling up the thin latex material. He breathes heavily, knowing that he's never been the one to cum first during sex. Feeling his dick immediately soften, he pushes you off his cock and pulls the condom off his shaft, hastily flipping you around so he's the one on top of you this time. He grips your knees to force your legs wide, kneeling down so his face is directly in front of your dribbling cunt.

"You haven't cum yet, haven't you, angel?"

"N-No," you stutter, sensing the proximity of his face between your folds.

"Sad you didn't get to cum on my cock, but my fingers will do the trick for now."

Before you could even fully react to his statement, he's already plunging three long digits in your warm cunt, plunging them inside and out at a swift rate that has your eyes rolling to the back of your skull in an instant.

"Holy shit, pussy still so fucking tight even after getting split open with my cock." He bites his lip, pleased with the wet noises your cunt makes whenever he digs them deep within your cavern. You throw your head back as if you're floating on clouds, eyes giving in as you surrender to Jungkook's fingers finishing you off.

"Such a good girl," he coos, "taking my fingers like your pussy's made for them."

You can feel your high lingering in your lower abdomen, that familiar knot beginning to form and Jungkook detects it right away. You almost lost it when he began to increase the speed of his fingers, but what has you screaming in such a pornographic manner is his mouth sucking your clit ferociously.

He laps on your clit like a madman, desperate to reach your climax. Your legs begin to profusely shake, and your screams morph into pleasurable sobs that have Jungkook smiling against your heat. You're flooding more and more juices on his hand, his tongue aiding to your fast-approaching orgasm.

"Don't stop, don't stop, pleeeaasseeee, don't fucking stop!" You pant wildly as your hands fly to his soft locks, gripping on them for dear life to lock his mouth in place of your clit. Jungkook was absolutely shameless for loudly slurping on your wetness, flicking your clit with his tongue simultaneously which brought the cherry on top for your orgasm.

"So good, I'm cumming, shit—"

He temporarily pulls away from your cunt. "Go on and make a mess all over my face, pretty girl. You did so, so fucking well for me."

With that, he sucks on your clit for one last time before your vision fades to black. A large wave of your wetness gushes out of your pussy, forcing his fingers to pull out which has him aiming for your clit right away. He rapidly rubs your clit, groaning in satisfaction with the mess he caused.

"Damn, angel, you just fucking squirted all over me."

You're panting heavily, unable to register anything that Jungkook's saying to you, for the recent orgasm you experienced has just hit you in the head like a truck. Your body is still twitching due to the overstimulation, but Jungkook didn't seem to care at all.

Jungkook appreciates how your pussy appears to be more glossy from how much you squirted, licking his lips in temptation before leaning in to swipe a fat stripe of his tongue from the bottom of your folds to your gorging clit. You shiver from the overstimulation, taking the pleasure nonetheless.

How can you ever make him stop when this man is an absolute fucking sex god?

"Fuck, your pussy's so sweet, baby," he whines on your folds before proceeding to flick his tongue left and right at a rapid pace. Your eyes struggle to keep themselves open, for the only sensation you yearn to keep is his mouth working wonders on you. Your moans increase in both volume and pitch, and you swear the man eating you out like a whole buffet is about to pull another mind-boggling orgasm out of you.

He only adds on to your rapture when he inserts three of his slender digits inside you again. You gasp loudly, legs profusely spasming to the point where you can't keep them open anymore. You attempt to squeeze your thighs between Jungkook's face, which causes him to forcefully pry them open when he growls on your pussy.

"This cunt will be the fucking death of me, angel," he chuckles, planting a soft peck on your clit contrary to the merciless motion of his fingers. "Make a mess one more time for me, sweetheart, hm?"

"I-I can't," you sob, nails clawing on the fabric of the couch as you feel your climax flying to its peak. "Too much..!"

"You can and you fucking will," he growls again, and the vibrations felt on your heat is what triggers another mind-shattering orgasm to crash down on you. Your legs wail around from the strong intensity, but Jungkook held you still. His mouth remains unbothered when you spill your juices all over his lips, happily lapping up on your remains.

The overstimulation makes you shudder, and your cunt at this point is overly sensitive from the continuous motions of his wet tongue. "T-Too much." You use all of your remaining strength to push his head away, and you're thankful he did, only to land a wad of spit onto your sensitive cunt, anyway. He rubs the small bundle of nerves in slow, circular motions, which makes you whine.

"Jungkook, I really c-can't anymore," you whine, and he finally separates himself away from your cunt despite the addiction coursing in his veins. He leans down on your face to pull you in one last tender kiss. Your taste has definitely made its mark on Jungkook's lips, evident when he tangles his tongue with yours.

He's the first to pull away before things become more heated again, abruptly carrying you in the air with his taut arms to bring you to his bedroom. "You should look at yourself, pretty," he snickers, "You look fucking adorable in my arms like this."

You blush at his comment, shying yourself away from his gaze which Jungkook merely chuckled to. He brings you to his bedroom where he provides you with the most tender care you've experienced in your life, gently cleaning you up here and there with a wet tissue as well as giving you a generous donation with one of his shirts to keep you warm.

Jungkook was never a big fan of aftercare, preferring to keep things casual by letting whoever he hooked up with leave right away. However, seeing you laying there, exhausted from everything, gave him this strong urge to cradle you in his arms in an instant, which makes him exactly do that.

In tangled sheets, you and Jungkook sleep through the night with your limbs intertwining one another. He couldn't exactly place the blossoming sensation in his chest, but he decides to brush it off, thinking it'll all wither away in the morning.

Boy, was he wrong.

After last night

After last night, I think I'm in love with you

The next day, Jungkook wakes up next to the large empty space of his bed. At first, he could hardly remember everything that occurred last night, until the memories all came crashing down at him at once when the image of your face appeared in his brain.

His heart hammers the moment he thought about the long, yet ephemeral night he spent with you. His first instinct is to get up from bed and call out your name, thinking you're still somewhere within his residence.

"___?" He's been chanting your name like a broken toy, searching for every part of his penthouse. To no avail, though, it seems you have left Jungkook alone without bidding him a proper farewell. The only trace of you he has is the small note you wrote placed on top of the counter. It merely stated about you leaving extra early for personal reasons, saying you enjoyed the night with him nonetheless.

However, Jungkook feels himself pouting when you didn't bother leaving a number for him nor any sort of connection that'll have him talk to you again. He reminisces about the valuable time he cherished with you last night, remembering even the smallest details of you. His favorite feature of yours is definitely your smile, following the sound of your giggles echoing through his ears. You possess the plumpest lips that are worth dying for, and definitely the belle of the party last night.

To top it all off, you also had the sweetest pussy he's ever laid his hands on.

He didn't realize that he's been staring into empty space for the past few minutes, immediately blinking away any thoughts of you before deciding to proceed with his daily routine.

A lingering sensation of longing for you still remains in his chest, though. And it's slowly driving him to madness.

After last night, he's probably in love with you for all he knows.

Woke up and I can't get you out of my head

After last night, I don't know what to do

Jungkook has never seen himself be this crazy for a woman, let alone it being after a supposed one night stand.

Did you perhaps cast a hex on him? Your face haunts him even during the middle of daylight. You're like an addiction he can't get rid of no matter how hard he tries. You come to him like you were meant for him, and he can't help but be simultaneously overwhelmed and amused from how much he's thinking about you.

He can't think straight from how much you've been conquering his mind throughout the day, spacing out every minute and so to cling onto the last traces of you by solely remembering you.

Jeon Jungkook is absolutely head over heels for you.

(Baby, you've got to tell me)

When I'm gon' see you again

On the couch is Jungkook endlessly scrolling through his phone, checking out every social media app possible to possibly find you and gain contact with you for the sake of his remaining sanity. It seems like fate has been on the wrong side with him when he's unable to find a hint of you no matter how thorough he searches.

He can only sigh when his hope begins to plummet. Perhaps you were only meant to be another mere one night stand that'll add on to Jungkook's promiscuous history and nothing more. After all, you were aware from the very beginning that a man like Jungkook can't be trusted, thus making you leave before you could possibly get attached to the man.

However, after last night, he doesn't bat a single eye to any other woman whenever he's out with his friends.

After last night, you're all that takes up most of Jungkook's mind.

After last night, he began doing the craziest shit all because of you.

After last night, Jungkook only clings onto one question for the following weeks of his life: When is he going to see you again?

after last night (two)

#bts #bts smut #bangtan #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #fanfic

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burntheedges · 22 days

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Maintenance Request Chapter 17

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 3.2k

chapter summary: Joel follows through on that promise of a phone call. 😏

a/n: thank you as always to @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta 💕

chapter tags/warnings: flirting, banter, fluff, cursing, food and drink mention, pet names (honey, gorgeous, darlin’, baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, good girl, handsome, cowboy), reader wears lingerie with gusset fastenings (picture whatever you'd like), phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation (f & m), Joel talks you through it

Chapter 17

Saturday, November 2 Tenth week of the semester

On Friday and Saturday, you and Joel texted a bit, but he was clearly busy with Sarah’s tournament and his family (which grew in size in your mind every time you learned more about them – how many cousins did he have, anyway?).

You spent Saturday with Beth and Ellie.

“What’s this project about?” Beth asked Ellie as she flopped onto the couch next to her. She’d brought coffee and donuts, again, and the three of you were sitting around the strange, flat sculpture-thing Ellie had brought over and set in the middle of your coffee table.

“We’re supposed to pick a historical event and do a presentation on it.”

You and Beth both squinted at the thing on your table. “Is this a historical event?”

Ellie sighed. “It was going to be the Emu War, like that’s supposed to be the plain and a town, but I realized I have no idea how to do the emus. Like, I can use little plastic soldiers for the humans, but what the fuck do I do for the emus?”

Beth had started giggling the second Ellie said “Emu War” and looked like she might fall off the couch.

You turned your squint to Ellie. “Was there a list of events to choose from?”

She looked shifty and wouldn’t meet your gaze. “Maybe,” she mumbled, tucking her hands up into the sleeves of her hoodie..

You raised your eyebrows. “Was the Emu War on it?” You had a feeling it wasn’t.

“No,” she muttered, confirming your suspicions. “But she said I couldn’t do the moon again. And I didn’t want to pick some boring, snoozefest historical event! What’s cooler than emus?” She crossed her arms, indignant. Beth teetered sideways as she giggled. You noticed she was laughing so hard her laughter had gone silent.

You sighed. “Did it say you could pick your own?”

She nodded, and then shrugged. “Yeah, but she said she’d grade it harder.”

Setting aside your thoughts on that grading strategy, you replied, “ok, well, sounds like you can choose the Emu War then. So what are we going to do about these emus?” You heard Beth snort and turned to find that she’d buried her face in one of your throw pillows.

Ellie started to explain her plan for demonstrating the different parts of the war on her landscape and you started poking Beth in the leg to get her to find her composure. It sort of worked.

“Hey,” Beth took a deep breath and made a soft “woo” noise as she breathed out, clearly trying not to laugh. “We can go over to that hobby store, the one with the model trains. Maybe they have little figurines that would work.”

Ellie perked up. “Yeah! I bet they have all sorts of weird little guys. And model shit.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, let’s head over there now. Maybe we can get lunch on the way back, and then you can plan your battle.” Ellie grinned and jumped up to lead the way to the front door. You caught Beth’s eye but quickly looked away as you felt a laugh pull at the side of your mouth.

By the time you’d gone to the store, retrieved all sorts of “weird little guys” and “model shit” for Ellie, and helped her plan her presentation, it was well after dinner. Beth volunteered to drive Ellie and her historical event home, so you found yourself alone and putting laundry away, wondering if Joel would manage to find some privacy as he’d said. There was a party of some kind with his family that night, and he’d sent you a couple of pictures of a crowd of dancers, Sarah among them, smiling. Ellie had caught you smiling down at your phone earlier and teased you for it mercilessly.

Around 10:45, your phone buzzed as you settled into bed with a book.

Joel (10:44 PM): You free, honey? I just escaped.

you (10:45 PM): sure am 💕

** incoming FaceTime call from Joel **

When his face came into view, you noticed he looked tired.

“Hey there, handsome. How was the party?”

Joel smiled, and you could see the fatigue in his expression. “Still going. They made me dance too much, but otherwise fine. I’m beat. How are you, gorgeous?”

You smiled at him and settled into your pillows. “Nothing exciting here. Just cleaned up a bit, did some laundry. Well, I did spend the afternoon with Ellie and Beth. Helped her with a class project.”

Joel looked wistful for a moment. “Sounds nice. Would like to spend a day like that with you.”

You smiled, and felt your cheeks heat. This man. “You’re welcome to join us anytime you’d like, but I can’t promise much excitement with laundry. How was the tournament?”

He settled back into his pillows and you noticed the unfamiliar room. “Good, Sarah’s team played well. Didn’t win every game, but they did win most of ‘em. They’ll play in the final games tomorrow.”

“Tell her I said congratulations and good luck.”

“I will. What was Ellie’s project about?”

You laughed. “The Emu War, in Australia. We had to go out to that model train store to get her some little figurines for her mockup.” Joel laughed, too, shaking his head.

“Everything I hear about your niece is like a new adventure. I can’t wait to meet her.” You grinned at him.

“I can’t wait to introduce you.”

You were silent for a moment as you studied the room he was in.

“Joel, where are you?” The bed looked small and the room had some interesting decor.

He laughed. “I’m in my cousin’s son’s room for the weekend, he’s away at college. Left his room looking like it did when he was in middle school, I’d guess. Sarah’s in with her little cousin.” He panned the camera to show you decor you would in fact associate with a 14-year old boy. There were even some pictures of women clearly cut out of magazines and taped up on the wall at the foot of the bed.

“I see you have some inspiration keeping you company,” you teased.

Joel turned the camera back around so you could see his face, and raised an eyebrow at you. “Baby, if you think I’m looking anywhere but at you whenever I can see you, you haven’t been paying attention.”

You smiled and bit your lip. “Flirt,” you accused.

He grinned. “Guilty, honey, but you love it.” You rolled your eyes. “Aw, come on, bet you miss me.”

You hummed. “Well, I don’t think I could say no to that and be at all convincing.” He laughed. “Yeah, Joel, I do.”

“Don’t worry, honey, I miss you, too. Been thinkin’ about you all day.”

“Oh? What about?” You raised your eyebrows and tried to adopt an innocent look.

He eyed you, and somehow you could tell that he was checking you out. You moved the camera slightly farther away to give him a better view and he smirked.

“Been thinkin’ about what I might do if I had you with me, tonight, instead of on the phone. Been thinkin’ about what we might do instead.” You licked your bottom lip in anticipation and you watched him watch you do it. Feeling suddenly inspired, you raised the hand not holding the phone and rested it lightly on your chest. His gaze darkened as he stared at it.

“Tell me what you were thinking about, Joel.” You wanted to sound commanding, but your voice was too breathy, too affected already.

“I thought about a lot of things, darlin’. Thought about how my pretty girl likes to be touched, to be held. Thought about all those pretty noises you made in my bed, ‘n how much I want to hear ‘em again.” Your breath caught and you watched your own mouth drop open on the screen. He grinned, almost feral. “Why don’t you take off that shirt, honey, let me see you.”

You nodded, and hid your own grin behind the shirt as you pulled it off. You’d been hopeful when you’d gotten dressed for bed a while ago, and you thought he’d probably like the lace you were hiding underneath. Before you could see him again you heard him inhale sharply and you threw your shirt across the room.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and you saw that he was staring at your chest. Good. “Honey, s’that for me?” He sounded breathless and you loved it.

“Yes, Joel,” you smiled around your response. “Was hoping you’d call.” He groaned, eyes slipping shut briefly.

“I need to see it, baby. Show me the whole thing.” You didn’t know what to do with the phone. You glanced around, grabbing some of your extra pillows to prop it up in front of you. It put him at your feet, looking at your legs and at an angle up your chest, to your face. If you opened your legs right now he’d be looking straight at your pussy through the lace of your lingerie. The idea sent a thrill through you.

“Honey, you are so fucking gorgeous,” he praised, eyes dancing over you as you laid in front of him. You grinned, propping yourself up on your pillows so he could see your face, too.

“I think you need to take off those clothes too, cowboy.” He nodded and began to strip himself out of his clothes. You watched, intent.

Soon he was positioned similar to you, but propped on his side with the phone against a pillow in front of him. It gave you an amazing view of his bare chest and you turned your phone sideways to fully appreciate it. His hand slid across the bedspread towards the camera like he was reaching out to you.

“You want me to make you feel good, honey?” Your breath caught in your throat and you nodded. “Yeah? Want me to tell you what I’d do if I were there right now?”

“Yes, Joel,” you breathed.

“How’s this?” He looked you over. “Why don’t you spread your legs for me, honey, show me what I’m working with.” You smiled and did as he asked. He nodded. “That’s perfect, honey. Showing me everything. Showing me how good you look in that lace.” He sighed. “Move that pretty lace to the side for me, sweetheart. I need to see you.”

You scrambled to do as he asked, but realized he couldn’t see the details of your lingerie – the snaps as you undid the fastenings in the underwear were loud, and you knew he could hear them. “What–” he started, but you laid back again before he could finish, legs wide open for him to see. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed. “You are so gorgeous. What I wouldn’t give to touch you right now.”

“How would you touch me, Joel?” You watched as he slid one of his hands into his briefs and gulped.

He grinned. “Any way you want, honey. But I’d start with my fingers on your pussy. Look at you. Are you wet already?”

You nodded, then realized he might not see it, and said, “yes, Joel, always.”

“Good girl. Spread that wet pussy for me baby, let me see.”

You reached down to do so, and then realized the camera might be too far away for this. You rearranged the pillows, bringing him closer and you heard him groan as you fell back to do as he asked. With your left hand, you reached down to spread your folds wide for him, and then changed your mind and added your right. With both hands, you spread your pussy wide open and he moaned.

“Fucking hell, you are so fucking beautiful,” you heard him shift on the bed and wondered if he was touching himself. He must be. “I’ll never get enough of this, honey. Shit.”

You hummed, using your left hand to keep yourself spread open but moving your fingers to begin circling your clit. You sighed into the feeling. “Joel, what now?”

“Just like that, baby. I’d touch that pretty little clit, get her all worked up for me. Just like that.” He sounded breathless, just like you felt. “Tease you with my fingers. Maybe my tongue.” You moaned. “Yeah, did you like that? The way my tongue felt on your pussy? Inside?”

You nodded, and managed, breathily, “yes, Joel.”

“I know you did, honey. Could feel it. Could see it.” You could hear it now, the sound of him fucking his fist. It made heat rush up your spine. “Can’t wait to put my mouth on you again. I want to lick that pussy for hours next time. Just drown in it. Fuck.”

The mental image made you think of what you’d been wanting, couldn’t stop thinking about, and it slipped out. “Next time is my turn.”

“Hmm, baby? What?”

“My turn,” you said in a stronger voice. “Next time I’m getting my mouth on your cock.”

“Fuck.” He sounded like he was falling apart.

“Don’t even have to wait for our date,” you breathed, trying to speak loudly enough for him to hear you. “I want to get on my knees for you in my office, handsome. Lock the door and take my time, ah–”

Joel’s deep, growling groan cut you off. “Fuck. Is that what you want, hmm? My dirty girl?” You nodded, but you had no idea if he was looking at you. “Honey, you can have it whenever you want. You know how pretty you’d look, with your mouth around my cock?”

“Yes,” you moaned, but he didn’t stop talking.

“Would you like that, honey? Getting on your knees for me right there in your office? Where anyone might hear you?” His words washed over you as you felt the heat start to build from your core all the way up your spine.

“Joel–”

“Shit, baby, let me see you put your fingers inside. Just slip ‘em inside, honey.” You moved your left hand down from your clit and teased at your entrance. He hummed to encourage you, and you curled two fingers inside. “Such a good girl, hmm? Doing so good for me.” You felt a shiver travel down your spine.

“Miss your hands, Joel.” The words left your mouth on a sigh, and you opened your eyes (when had you closed them?) to look for him. He had his hand wrapped tightly around his cock and he was staring straight at the camera.

“I know you do, baby. Those little fingers are nothin’ like mine, right? Not enough to fill you up.” You shook your head. “I know, my pretty girl needs something bigger. Needs to take it.” You watched as he jacked himself faster, and you sped up your fingers in response. You nodded and whined out, “yes, Joel.”

He grinned. “That’s right, honey. Next time I see you I’ll give it to you.” You slipped another finger inside, imagining it.

It was too much, and not enough. Suddenly you needed more, but you didn’t know what. You whined again, and you watched him furrow his brows.

“What do you need, sweetheart? I’ll give you whatever you want, you know that.” His eyes were dark under his brow and you watched as he twisted his hand around the head of his cock. “Why don’t you move those fingers faster on your little clit, baby. Don’t you want to be good and come for me?” Your breath hitched and you nodded.

“Yes, Joel,” your voice was barely there, but he heard it.

“I know you do, honey. Let me see it. Let me see you come for me, just like that. Never seen anything so pretty.”

You could feel it coming, licking at the bottom of your spine like a fire about to catch.

“Can’t wait to have you in my bed again, gorgeous. Can’t get it out of my mind, how good you looked. How right.” You shuddered as your orgasm came hurtling towards you. “Right where I want you, nowhere else. Now let me see it, baby. Give it to me. Come.”

It was like your body was waiting for him without knowing it. As soon as Joel commanded it, you did.

The orgasm washed down your body like the tide going out, pulling and dragging you under as you cried out his name. Your chest heaved as your muscles locked, spine arching off the bed.

You rode it out, feeling sparks tingle along your arms and legs. Distantly you heard him choke out your name as he followed you, and your eyes flew open again to watch. You managed it just in time to see the thick ropes of his cum paint his naked chest.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You watched his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths, as labored as your own. Slowly your heels slid down the bed as your legs fell flat against your blankets and all the tension left your body. You weren’t sure if you could move your arms.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Joel almost whispered, sounding wrecked. “I ain’t even touchin’ you and it’s the best I ever had. Better than I ever imagined.” You nodded.

“Me too, Joel.” He smiled and reached out for the camera to bring you closer. You did the same. Your eyes darted over his face as his smile grew.

“Honey, I swear I wasn’t planning to jump right in like that. Just can’t resist you.” You laughed. “You tired, darlin’?”

You sighed. “A little. Talk to me until I fall asleep?” He nodded.

“Let’s clean up, meet back here.”

You did, and soon you were on your side under your covers with the phone propped up on the pillow in front of you. Joel smiled at you again, silently, and you finally narrowed your eyes and asked, “what?”

He shrugged. “Just lookin’, gorgeous.” You felt your cheeks heat, as always around this man. “Wish I were there with you.”

“Me too, Joel.”

He smiled. “Can I come by for lunch on Monday? We’ll be getting back late tomorrow, or I’d just beg to come over then.”

“I wouldn’t stop you, even if it’s late.”

“Don’t tempt me, darlin’.” You laughed. “I can see you fallin’ asleep.” You blinked your eyes wide and he smiled. “It’s ok, I just wanted to say something real quick.”

You yawned, but sat up a little so you’d hear what he wanted to say. “Can’t help that you gave me a workout, Joel.”

He grinned, but quickly sobered. “Sarah told me what you talked about. I– I’m glad you know. Just wanted you to know that. I wasn’t keeping it from you, or anything.”

You shook your head. “No, Joel, of course not. She told me how careful you are with talking about it.”

He ran a hand down his face and sighed. “I just want it to be up to her, really. But yeah, I’ll tell you all about it. There’s some stuff Sarah was too little to understand, between her mom and me. But maybe another time, when you aren’t about to fall asleep in front of me, honey.”

You shook your head again, trying to wake up. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“No, it’s alright, I just wanted to say that. We got plenty of time, after all. I’ll see you Monday?”

You nodded. “Monday.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

…

Sunday, November 3 Tenth week of the semester

Joel (7:32 AM): Have a good day, honey. Woke up in a good mood today, for some reason. Hope you did too.

you (8:37 AM): 🥰 sure did, handsome

Joel (8:43 AM): Good. 😉

...

a/n: look Ellie to me is the type of teenager who would think the words ‘Emu War’ were hysterical and then lock herself into an absurd class project because of it. see you next week!

tag list: @harriedandharassed @jupiter-soups @ilovepedro @auteurdelabre @anoverwhelmingdin @myloveistoolittle @iknowisoundcrazy @beezusvreeland @screechingphantommaker @bigboiseason123 @joelalorian @untamedheart81 @ashleyfilm @jessthebaker @jeewrites @fluffygoffpanda @paleidiot @mithicakurogo @theclairvoyage @lizzie-cakes @islacharlotte @syd-djarin @copperhalfcent @vabeachazn @spacedoutdaydreamer

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#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou fic #x reader #maintenance request fic #JHCGBDM

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kaiser-author-san-iii · 1 month

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Star Light, Star Bright | Fatui Harbingers x (Fem) Creator!Reader

A/N: okay okay. I'm very sorry for this overdue chapter. I've been busy farming for primogems and playing Stardew Valley. I have joined many other fandoms, especially with the release of the Spider-Man Across the Spiderverse movie, and have been collecting the comics. Sue me /j. I have a lot of stories that need updating haha. But anyway, thank you so much for the support you guys have given me. It's fantastic! I'll be sure to continue with the updates whenever possible! Any questions, please DM. Any suggestions, DM me!

Summary: Caring for children is hard, but it's especially harder when around the Fatui. Getting isekaied was the last thing on your mind after landing in the icy tundra of Snezhnaya all while your nephew is with you. What will happen when you encounter not only the Fatui Skirmishers but the Fatui Harbingers?

Tags/Warnings: female reader, Creator!reader, Cult Au, contains spoilers of the Archon Quests and World Quests (read at your own risk)

Not edited or beta read, we die like Signora

Chapter 3 | To Be Aware and Be Prepared

<<<First <<<Last Next>>>

MASTERLIST

OPERA EPICLESE, FONTAINE

It had started as a normal day. As normal as it could possibly get with the centrism of Lady Furina and the citizens of Fontaine. There was a pause before it then burst. At first, it was seemingly unnoticeable, but then the forests and the landscape became livelier. It seemed brighter and adventurers saw a decrease in Hilichurls, and slimes, and even the Abyss Order stopped whatever they were doing to... dance? It was certainly a strange sight, but at least there was less activity where civilians were being harmed. In fact, this was being seen all around Teyvat thanks to the Adventure's Guild insight and informing each nation's current ruling governments and Archons.

The archons themselves felt a different presence. A presence they have felt once upon a time ago. The same could be said with a certain Court Judge of Fontaine, a certain fellow dressed in blue, his long platinum blond hair and stoic expressions, he definitely felt a power he thought wouldn't be seen again in all of Fontaine.

A being almost as old as Teyvat themselves, but nowhere as powerful as the one that gave them life.

Before he could even make a decision as tremendous as the one all nations must follow, he needed more information.

He needed to send out anyone to locate their Beloved Creator.

Neuvilette felt to go himself and search for Them, but he had his duties. He simply couldn't abandon them. He is a powerful figure in Fontaine and everyone would be suspicious of his actions if he were to leave his office. They would be asking questions.

No.

This needed to be done in an orderly fashion.

If they were indeed in Teyvat, they would appreciate a calm and happy welcome instead of chaotic and frantic for their faithful followers.

Himself included as he needed to prove he, and Fontaine, would welcome Them with open hearts.

The Divine Creator... has finally descended onto Teyvat once again.

---

LIYUE HARBOR, LIYUE

The trembling of the mountains. The color in front of him wherever he faced. The weather the past few days was beautiful and the people, especially merchants who traveled through treacherous waters to make it to Liyue were grateful for calm waters.

But he knew of the reason why everything seemed so... calm, so perfect as if Teyvat themselves was behaving its absolute best. Especially with word from other nations that the monsters and even the Abyss Order had ceased their attacks on villages and cities. They had seen these beings celebrate nonstop and were quite stumped about what was happening. But the former Geo Archon knew all too well...

Zhongli, better known as Morax or Rex Lapis, had felt it within the very rocks around him. As a devout believer and follower of the Divine Creator, he was quite familiar with the power and aura They possessed.

It's said that the Sovereign Dragons were the very first to proclaim their loyalty to the Divine Creator and when their time of rule ended, the Archons and Gods followed in their footsteps. As an Adepti in the form of a great Dragon, or Exuvia, he would be loyal to his beloved Creator, a form he greatly prided in thanks to the words of the Divine Creator many centuries ago.

But now they were here.

They have descended at long last like they promised.

His many years of patience and loyalty were finally being rewarded with the very presence of They themselves.

Zhongli, the devout follower he is, must find them. Were they alright? Yes, they were an all-powerful being, but recalling correctly, even the mighty have weaknesses and with the importance of the Divine Creator, there's always a danger no matter how beloved you are. He had to go himself to find him.

No.

He could ask the other Adepti to relentlessly search through all of Liyue, to leave no rock unturned and locate where their Grace may be.

---

ZAPOLYARNY PALACE, SNEZHNAYA

The days have gotten warmer and brighter in Snezhnaya.

What with the presence of the Divine Creator that is. It was all that the Fatui and even the citizens of Snezhnaya were talking about. There was nonstop activity in the palace as everyone scrambled to perfect it all for the Divine Creator.

You.

Though it wasn't as overwhelming since your nephew was right beside you, who happily took everything with stride and awe.

He even became attached to the very people that he spoke with on the first day here. And there was no way to separate them or to even have the heart to tell him not to speak with them since he took after his parents and family. Stubborn little nugget.

He especially favored Childe and Scaramouche. He was quite heartbroken when he left and never came back. But, he has been receiving gifts 'anonymously' once in a while.

Meanwhile, you spoke more with the rest to know more about this world. They all unanimously agreed that the mortal body you and your nephew both have currently is due to the fact of the long absence from Teyvat you had. Since your nephew hasn't set foot in Teyvat until now, it might take him longer to adjust to his birthright powers and titles. But he was nonetheless Heir of Teyvat.

The Little Prince.

"They're working really hard, aren't they?" His voice echoed in the halls as you and him were on their way to play outside yet again. He was still a child and with no video games around, it was good for him to be active. Childe once made comment about how strong he was and what a potential warrior your nephew could be with proper training. However, you had the last say and it was not yet time to think about that.

Snezhnaya is still a cold nation so even with Teyvat making it slightly less cold, you and your nephew had to bundle up. This is where Pantalone's gifts came in handy. While you were still bedridden due to your injuries, he called in all the tailors of Teyvat to create a wardrobe fit for you and your nephew: The Divine Creator and the Heir of Teyvat.

It was a sight to behold all the boxes and bags that arrived at the palace - clothing made from rare beasts and cloth. All for you and your nephew.

"If there's one thing you don't question about other people, Nugget. It's their beliefs. It has a certain power that a lot of people have yet to understand." You commented, stopping to adjust his personal Harbinger Coat. It was one of the few items Pantalone commissioned - with the Heir of Teyvat present, might as well commission a child-sized Harbinger Coat.

"I think Mister Pierro and Mister Pulcinella said something about that. I don't know... it's not our birthdays though. We're just people, aren't we?"

"I'm not certain either. We're a long way from home and it might be a while before we can go back. But don't worry, we're together and that's all that matters. All we have to do is-"

"Go with the flow?"

"Ah. I taught you so well." You laughed, quickly moving to playfully pinch his cheeks before resuming your brief walk outside. Everyone else had their duties and you didn't want to disturb them. They all seemed to be important in the political and military worlds.

That was something that kinda threw you off. Something like this world seemed like in the past. Like maybe 1800's innovative past since there were snipers and even giant mechanical machines that can move on their own or by being piloted. It was definitely fantasy - like a dream.

But even in a fantasy world, with aspects aimed at child entertainment, there is danger. Arlecchino and Columbina were telling you all about it with a brief history lesson and a bit of current information about Teyvat today. It was definitely something to think about if you plan to travel Teyvat with or without the Harbingers, especially with your nephew.

"Your Grace. What a pleasant surprise." The voice was ahead and looking up, you could see the masked man, the Doctor. Dottore was the one who ended up healing you from your injuries from the accident. They never did find the person responsible for your accident. Though they never will.

The healing process went smoothly and tended to you alongside your nephew.

"My nephew wanted to play outside again. He saw everyone was occupied and didn't wish to intrude so we thought we could walk for a bit."

"The Heir has no worries. If he or your Grace has a request, we're bound to stop and fulfill your wishes."

Your nephew didn't need to be told twice and quickly marched his way over to the blue-haired man, took his hand, and started walking to the exit to face another cold day.

"Doctor, please play with Auntie and I."

Dottore was quite the character. The others filled you in on what they have done and their opinions of each other. Dottore was the one with the most negative background but no one could deny the intelligence or genius in his mind. But to think this wasn't even his true form. The man was quite the genius that he made a number of clones of himself of each stage of his life. As a scientist, as a pursuer of knowledge, even the kind that's better left alone, he thirsted for it.

"Of course, Your Highness. Your Grace, would it be troubling to accompany you two?"

He also performed...some experiments that in this world were unethical, from what you heard. But...they weren't the worst. No, there was definitely worse. You weren't justifying what he had done, you weren't one to stand on a higher moral ground than anyone else, you at least attempted to understand why. That is exactly what you concluded when you decided to speak and interact with Dottore.

"Not at all. My nephew has grown attached to you and the others."

The walk outside didn't take long. It was short and slow to appreciate the snowfall and the area around. Various Cryo Crystalflies quickly flew their way to your nephew and he gave chase all while a variety of animals appeared and decided to play with the Heir. Teyvat knew the little Prince's love for animals. You made sure he didn't stray too far, your eyes never leaving his form while Dottore kept the same pace as you, taking a few glimpses at you every now and then. There was a small silence - but it was comfortable.

"Why?" You broke the silence and Dottore turned his head, his mask hiding any expression he could have made.

"Pardon?"

"The Fatui. Why was it formed? I want the truth." Your eyes still focused on your nephew who danced along with the Crystalflies, laughing and happily throwing snow in the air before then falling and making snow angels.

Your reason for asking is with who you two have been identified as, and with a seemingly unknown way of going back home, you two will probably be dragged into this world's politics. Before you get involved, you have to see what it is all about. Would it be worth it? Are you currently with evil people? Misunderstood people? What is their goal?

Would it be dangerous to involve your nephew?

"There is quite a lot that a mere moment is not enough to disclose the Tsaristas and our organization's goal."

"Then I shall listen. I hear talk and before I pass 'judgment', I want to understand. I hear talk of other gods, but the mere mention of them besides the Tsarista, it's with contempt."

Dottore, like many of his colleagues and subordinates, has heard the stories, the creation of Teyvat that was retold by the very dragons they created and had them oversee Teyvat. And then Celestia arrived. They had become power-hungry, drunk from the love and attention the Divine Creator gave to them before. When the creator left, Celestia took over and everything changed. Teyvat became different, peace wasn't an option.

Wars started, innocents perished...

Nations demolished.

"The Tsarista fell in love with the idea of how Teyvat was before you left. A Teyvat where all lived in peace. Then Celestia came. Thousands of years ago, they proclaimed that seven gods would be chosen to rule over one of the seven nations. From the thousands of Gods that fought, along with mortals who fought to survive another day, Seven were indeed chosen to represent their following element. But even for Celestia that was not enough. Your Grace was fond of a nation, Khan'ri'ah. Khan'ri'ah was a nation that ruled without the intervention of a God, an Archon. So.. one day, Celestia proclaimed Khan'ri'ah to be sinners, a nation that went against the Divine Creator and was thus destroyed. The Tsarista understood, her eyes opened to what was being done, and isolated herself, to find people who shared her opinions on Celestia and the Divine besides you, Your Grace."

That was just a brief summary that you recreated after your talk with Dottore. He was quite honest and with a few words, you were able to piece together everything. And to think he was kicked out of the Akademiya because of his practices and the murder of a fellow scholar.

This was clearly a case of the black-white-gray morality.

Things aren't always what they seem.

"Several weeks ago, I thought I was human. A mortal who lived a mundane life who loves her nephew like her own. I'm here and I'm told I'm the God that created your world, but I somehow have no recollection of it."

The walk continued as your nephew seemed to head further away from you and Dottore. Dottore was listening. He knew you weren't done talking and he couldn't wait to hear. Would he hear criticism of the divine from the very being who created it in the first place? What kind of wisdom would she bestow that may rival the God of Wisdom herself.

"Pierro and the Tsarista mentioned that my memories of such events and my divinity would come back to me slowly. Especially for my nephew. He's still young, curious but young."

"Your Grace, you need not fear. The Fatui, us, the Harbingers, will be by your side for we and The Tsarista are loyal to no other than you and the Heir."

"But what if I am not who you think I am?" You asked, looking down at your arms, remembering the injuries and the blood that oozed. You remembered the color and thought it wasn't proof enough, but the gold blood was there. You even requested to see the bloodied gauze that had a clear gold color. The sparkle it held, the amount of power that it had.

"Highly unlikely. Every man, woman, and child knows firsthand that the Divine Creator's blood is unlike any living being in Teyvat. Eyewitnesses from your first time here have written quite a bit of information of you. There is no mistake. The Tsarista would have been the first to know."

"Auntie! Doctor! Look!" Your nephew shouted and quickly ran to you, the heavy atmosphere dissipating as your nephew smiled, his hands cupped to hide what it was that he was bound to show you two. Slowly, he opened his hands and a small light blue glow appeared and in the blink of an eye, a small Cryo Crystalfly appeared and took flight, joining the other Cryo crystalflies that surrounded the three.

Creation of new life.

A power only found in the Divine.

What kind of world did she find herself in?

TAGLIST:

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If I missed anyone, let me know! I tried tagging some people, but tumblr must be weird. I probably will be posting this on Ao3 too. Thank you so much for your kind words, everyone! I hope to write more!

#genshin impact #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #Genshin impact cult au #fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #dottore x reader #pierro x reader #pantalone x reader #sagau cult au #sagau reader

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doumadono · 4 months

Text

Warnings: violence, viking!Dabi, viking!Shoto, earl!Endeavor, viking!Hawks, viking!Natsuo, fem!reader, viking themes, viking!Bakugo, viking!Kirishima, viking!Aizawa, viking!All Might, blood and injuries, gore, implied smut (non-con), Shoto is a massive jerk

Summary: impatience simmers within you as Touya's trip lingers. Upon the troops' return, the horrifying news unfolds — the prince has fallen in battle. Grieving, you brace for no further blows, only for Shoto to remind you to always expect the unexpected

Word count: circa 11.3k

A/N: if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know ♥

KVITRAVN - MHA VIKING AU • MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER • NEXT CHAPTER

ACT V - NEW BEGINNINGS

The biting cold pierced through Touya's sleep, and the distant echoes of an unfamiliar sound drew him out of the warmth of his furs. Shifting quietly, he glanced over to see his younger brother, Shoto, still deep in slumber. The tent flaps rustled lightly with the night breeze, and Touya reached for his dagger, his breath visible in the frosty air.

Carefully, he wrapped himself in a thick fur, its warmth a shield against the harsh northern chill. As he stepped outside, the moon cast an ethereal glow on the snow-covered landscape. The world seemed frozen, a silent expanse of white.

The muffled sounds persisted, guiding Touya through the darkness. He noticed the sleeping figures of their fellow warriors, their breath creating small clouds in the frigid night air. Only Hawks sat near the dwindling fire, his attention fixed on the rhythmic motions of polishing his axe.

"Prince Touya," Hawks greeted without looking up, his voice low yet carrying an air of confidence.

"Hawks," Touya acknowledged, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "Did you hear that noise? Something's not right."

Hawks paused, setting the axe aside, and finally looked at Touya. The firelight flickered, casting shadows on his sharp features. "I heard nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps it's just the wind playing tricks on your mind, my lord.”

Touya tightened his grip on the dagger, his instincts telling him otherwise. "No, it was different. Like footsteps or the creaking of snow under pressure."

Hawks raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Your senses are sharp, Touya. But I assure you, all is calm."

As if on cue, the wind howled, carrying with it an eerie stillness. Touya remained unconvinced, his gaze fixated on the vast wilderness surrounding them. "I'll take a quick look around. Better safe than sorry."

Hawks nodded, resuming his task. "Do what you must, my lord. But don't let your imagination run wild. These lands can play tricks on the mind."

Touya acknowledged the advice, leaving Hawks by the fading fire. Each step through the snow amplified the hushed night. The cold bit at his exposed skin, but determination fueled his movement.

In the quiet expanse, Touya's senses heightened. The darkness revealed no secrets, and the mysterious sounds remained elusive. Yet, as he patrolled the perimeter, a lingering unease settled within him.

Touya's boots crunched softly on the snow-covered ground as he wandered back to the camp. The cold air stung his face, but it was a welcome distraction from the thoughts that had been haunting him. The familiar sight of the camp brought a mix of comfort and yearning.

He found a large rock, partially buried under the pristine snow, and with a heavy sigh, he brushed off enough snow to make a seat. Settling down, he gazed at the camp bathed in moonlight. The tents stood stoically, and the dying embers of the fire flickered in the crisp night air.

Yet, despite the serene surroundings, Touya's mind betrayed him. It drifted away from the snow-covered landscape, back to you. Your laughter echoed in his ears, and the memory of the warmth of your body against his lingered like a sweet torment.

He closed his eyes for a moment, a deep breath escaping him. The image of you, the one he cherished above all else, filled his thoughts. The way your eyes sparkled, the sound of your voice, and the gentle touch of your hand were etched in his mind. In the midst of the harsh Viking world, you were his sanctuary. "I miss you," he whispered to the quiet night, as if the wind might carry his words to you. "These missions, the cold, the battles — they all feel so empty without you by my side, sweet Y/N."

His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns in the snow as he lost himself in the memories. The way you teased him, the shared glances that spoke volumes, and the moments of quiet understanding between you two. The world outside may have been harsh, but in your company, Touya found a refuge — a haven of warmth and love he never knew before.

He longed for the day when he could return to you, to feel the comfort of your embrace and to hear your laughter once more. The countdown to being reunited seemed to stretch on endlessly, each day a reminder of the miles that separated them.

With a heavy heart, Touya opened his eyes, refocusing on the camp before him.

The moonlit night cast an eerie glow on the snow-covered ground as Touya's eyes narrowed, catching a hint of movement to the right of the camp. Dark, crooked silhouettes emerged from the shadows of nearby bushes, and instinctively, Touya tightened his grip on the dagger, rising from his snowy seat.

Silent as the wind, he moved towards the camp, his senses heightened. As he drew closer, the outlines became clear — a pack of wolves, their eyes gleaming with hunger, led by a massive, black alpha. Time was of the essence, and Touya knew he had to act swiftly. "Wolves!" he shouted, the urgency in his voice cutting through the night.

The camp stirred, warriors scrambling to their feet, roused by Touya's warning.

Hawks grabbed his axe and joined Touya at the forefront.

The alpha wolf, towering over its pack, snarled, signaling the onslaught about to unfold.

The first wolf lunged at Touya, its fangs bared, but he sidestepped with a dancer's grace, bringing down his dagger with deadly precision. The clash of steel against fur echoed in the cold night air as the skirmish erupted.

Hawks, his axe a lethal extension of his will, swung with calculated brutality. His strikes were a dance of death, each swing met with the desperate howls of wolves. His movements were fluid, a deadly display of skill honed through countless battles.

Touya, too, fought with a controlled ferocity, his dagger slicing through the air. Wolves leaped, jaws snapping, but he evaded and struck with lethal accuracy. The snow around them stained with crimson as the battle waged on.

Meanwhile, Hawks battled the remaining wolves, his axe a whirlwind of death. The warriors from the camp rallied beside them, forming a united front against the relentless onslaught. The air was filled with the clash of weapons, the snarls of wolves, and the shouts of warriors determined to defend their camp.

The aftermath of the vicious wolf attack left a somber scene, with fallen warriors scattered across the snow-covered ground. The hungry wolves, driven by primal instincts, had bitten through armor and flesh, leaving no room for mercy.

As Touya fought to defend the camp, the harsh reality of the night unfolded before him.

In the chaos, Touya's keen eyes caught the movement of one particularly aggressive wolf, its maw stained with the blood of fallen warriors. With a sinking feeling, he realized it was making its way towards his tent, where Shoto likely still slept, blissfully unaware of the impending danger.

Touya's conflicted emotions churned within him. The familial bond he shared with Shoto clashed with the tumultuous history of rivalry and strife. Yet, beneath the layers of resentment, a protective instinct emerged.

Ignoring the exhaustion and the wounds that marked his body, Touya lunged towards the black alpha, the very embodiment of the danger. With a swift, determined motion, he plunged his dagger into the left eye of the alpha, a howl of pain reverberating through the night.

The wounded alpha, blinded and enraged, howled in fury. Seizing the opportunity, Touya sprinted towards his tent, his heart pounding with urgency. The shadows danced around him as he raced against time, driven by a brotherly love that transcended the bitterness of their past. Touya's heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted towards the tents, a surge of panic coursing through his veins. The distant cries of victory were abruptly drowned out by the guttural growl emanating from within the camp. His steps quickened, the urgency of the situation etched across his face.

Upon reaching the tent, he was met with a chilling sight. One of the wolves had managed to get into the tent where Shoto lay peacefully asleep. The growl rumbled from deep within its throat, a menacing prelude to the imminent attack. The wolf's predatory gaze locked onto Shoto, who remained blissfully unaware of the impending danger.

The growls of the approaching wolves tore through the tranquility of the night, reaching Shoto's ears finally as he lay within the confines of the tent. The cold air seemed to carry a sinister undertone, and with a start, Shoto's eyes snapped open. His breath caught in his throat as he realized the danger that lurked just next to him.

Turning his head slowly, Shoto's eyes widened as he beheld the massive silhouette of the wolf. Its fur blended with the shadows, and the gleam in its eyes spoke of a hunger that sent a shiver down Shoto's spine. Young prince knew that a single misstep, a solitary muscle twitch, could trigger an attack.

Touya, sensing the imminent threat, moved with a predator's grace. Silently, he approached the wolf from behind, his dagger gleaming in the moonlight.

Shoto's heart pounded in his chest as he watched his elder brother with the corner of his eye, a mixture of fear and hope swirling within him.

As Touya lunged forward, time seemed to slow. The blade flashed in the cold night air, and with one swift and precise motion, he slit the wolf's throat. The wolf’s growls turned to gurgles, and its once fierce eyes now reflected the glint of death.

Shoto, still frozen in place, watched as Touya's decisive action saved him from the impending danger. The wolf collapsed, its lifeblood staining the furs of the tent beneath it. The camp, now bathed in an uneasy silence, bore witness to the aftermath of the fierce struggle.

Touya, standing over the fallen wolf, cast a quick glance back at Shoto. “You okay?”

“Yeah…” Shoto exhaled, unaware that he had been holding his breath, and nodded in gratitude.

Touya nodded in response to Shoto, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond between them. As Shoto hastily donned his fur and reached for his axe, the brothers emerged from the tent, greeted by the cold reality of the aftermath. The once serene camp now bore the scars of the recent struggle, marked by the fallen bodies of both wolves and warriors.

Surveying the scene, Touya's gaze fell on the fallen warriors, a somber recognition of the price paid in the night's skirmish. The brothers shared a moment of silent mourning for their fallen comrades before turning their attention to the survivors.

Hawks, with his axe still in hand, approached the duo. His eyes, however, were fixed on Shoto, completely disregarding Touya and the fresh wounds that adorned his forearms and shoulders. There was an air of concern in Hawks' voice as he addressed Shoto, "You okay, my lord?"

Shoto, though visibly shaken by the recent events, nodded in response. "I'm fine," he replied tersely, his gaze flickering briefly toward Touya.

Touya, despite the wounds that adorned his frame, remained stoic. The chill of the night seemed to seep through the fabric of his torn furs.

Hawks, seemingly ignoring Touya's injuries, continued to address Shoto. "Good. We need everyone on their feet. The night is unforgiving, and we can't afford to let our guard down."

Touya stated, "We need to find and kill the alpha. It couldn't have gone far. Until we bring it down, we won't be able to rest. The alpha might return with other wolves, and we can't afford to let that happen."

Shoto exchanged a glance with Hawks.

Hawks, always decisive in his actions, nodded in agreement. "Touya's right. We can't let that beast roam free. It's a threat to the camp and to our people. Let's go after it, end this, and secure the safety of our kin."

“Hans,” Touya turned to one of the warriors. "Collect the fallen comrades and do your utmost to attend to the wounded before our return," the leader instructed.

The elder man acknowledged with a solemn nod, a silent commitment to carry out the directive in the face of adversity.

The trio, bound by a common purpose, set out into the frigid night once more. The snow beneath their boots muffled their footsteps as they followed the trail left by the retreating alpha. The air was thick with tension, the awareness of the lurking danger guiding their every move.

Touya, with his senses sharp and focused, led the way.

Shoto and Hawks followed, their axes at the ready, prepared for whatever awaited them in the dark expanse of the Viking wilderness.

The trio moved cautiously through the dense thicket, their senses attuned to every rustle and snap of twigs beneath their boots. In the distance, a quiet guttural growl reverberated through the still night air, signaling their proximity to the wounded alpha. The sound set an eerie tone, foreshadowing the impending confrontation.

As they pushed through the bushes, the landscape opened up into a small meadow blanketed with thick snow. Moonlight bathed the clearing, casting an ethereal glow upon the pristine white canvas. In the center, the massive, black alpha wolf limped away, leaving crimson trails in the snow.

The alpha, sensing the pursuit, paused and turned to face the approaching threat. Its fur, once sleek and powerful, now clung to its scarred and mangled frame. The air became charged with tension as the alpha bared its fangs, a silent declaration of defiance.

Touya, undeterred by the formidable presence before him, stepped forward. His dagger gleamed in the moonlight as he closed the distance between them. T

The alpha, fixated on the approaching menace, seemed to recognize the danger that loomed.

"Hawks, head left. Shoto, make your way to the right," Touya commanded, his movements deliberate as he advanced toward the wolf. He didn't allow his gaze to waver, maintaining unbroken eye contact with the creature. Breaking that connection would trigger the wolf's attack, and Touya couldn't afford a single blink in this dangerous dance between predator and prey.

Shoto and Hawks shared another glance before silently adhering to Touya's directive. They moved with utmost stealth, the only sound the hushed crunch of snow under their boots, as they navigated the shadows of the night.

Touya began a deliberate circle around the wounded animal, and in response, the wolf mirrored his movements, growling and revealing its still bloodied, menacing fangs to the scarred man. The tension hung heavy in the air as the primal dance unfolded.

The wolf, fueled by a mix of pain and aggression, was the first to make a move. In the blink of an eye, it lunged at Touya, meeting the assault with swift retaliation. A dagger found its mark in the animal's side, but rather than deter it, the attack seemed to stoke the flames of its fury.

Touya, thrown off balance, toppled to the ground. The wolf, undeterred, closed in, its snarling muzzle snapping dangerously close to the scarred man's face. In the struggle to fend off the relentless predator, Touya's desperate plea cut through the frigid air, "Help!"

For Shoto, the unfolding scene was a twisted opportunity. It seemed as though disposing of Touya could be easier than he had initially thought; all he had to do was wait and watch as his brother faced the relentless assault of the wolf.

Hawks, torn by a lingering human instinct to intervene, hesitated. However, his intention to step in was halted by Shoto's raised hand, a silent command to stay back.

As the wolf persisted in its attack, Touya fought back with determination. The dagger found its mark several more times, warm blood coating his hands as he struggled to free himself from the ferocious jaws. In the midst of the struggle, Touya's voice cut through the tension, a desperate plea for assistance. "What's wrong with you, Shoto?! Hawks, help me kill this thing!"

Shoto's eyes narrowed, a chilling resolve in his gaze. "Don't you dare to move," he warned Hawks, the threat laced with a cold determination that left no room for negotiation.

Touya's brow furrowed for a fleeting moment at the words of his younger brother, but determination fueled him. With a final effort, he managed to free himself from the relentless jaws of the wolf, crawling away to the edge of a high bluff that marked the meadow's eastern boundary. The wolf lay motionless a short distance away. Touya, on trembling limbs, slowly knelt, gasping for air, his body still trembling. He then directed a bewildered gaze at his younger brother. "What the hell!?"

Hawks observed the unfolding dynamics, crossing his arms over his chest, a silent witness to the family drama.

Shoto, undeterred, approached his older brother with a sneer. "Don't misunderstand me, dear brother. I appreciate your help back in the camp, but I'm not about to owe you anything. There's a chasm between us, and nothing will erase it. Life is cruel, always has been. Survival favors the strongest, and, sorry to say, you don't fit that description."

Touya's expression hardened as he slowly rose to his feet. "What the hell, Shoto? I made it clear some time ago — I don't want the power, and I sure as hell don't want that damned earl's crown. It's yours if you want it."

Shoto sighed, idly playing with his axe as he closed the distance between them. "Yeah, yeah. The problem is our illustrious father doesn't see it that way. Rumors are circulating that you've gained favor in his eyes, especially after that last successful raid. I can't let you snatch away what's rightfully mine. I'm sorry."

Touya turned to Hawks, a look of disbelief in his eyes. "Hawks?"

Keigo shrugged, his allegiance clear. "Sorry, my lord, but I've always been loyal to Shoto."

Touya let out a derisive snort. "I can't believe this. I never wanted any of this division between us. It's always been your paranoia about power. I never wanted to harm you, Shoto. I never wanted to take anything from you. All I ever wanted was to live my own life. That's it. You're our father's prized possession, not me."

Shoto tilted his head, a wide smirk playing on his lips. "Indeed. Unfortunately, our father perceives things differently. And now that you've acquired that damn thrall, freeing her and all, I can't wait until the day you get her pregnant. That would seal my fate entirely. You get it, don't you?"

Touya snorted, tightening his grip on a dagger. "I never intended to be at odds with you, Shoto."

Shoto retorted, "Yet it always seems to come down to a fight, doesn't it?"

Before the brothers clashed, Hawks yelled, "Shoto, step aside, the wolf!"

The younger Endeavorson swiftly turned his head for a brief moment, spotting a black wolf poised for an attack. In a swift maneuver, the two-toned haired man dodged, creating an open space between the fatally wounded alpha and his elder brother.

Touya found himself without enough time to evade the impending attack. Bracing for impact, as the wolf leaped toward him, he struggled to maintain balance on the slippery snow. For a fleeting moment, he believed he had regained control, but as he took a step back, the ground beneath his feet disappeared — he stepped into the void of the bluff.

Touya let out a scream, the sound mingling with the wolf's howl as Touya’s dagger once again found its mark on the animal's side. Together, they plummeted into the darkness of the night.

Soon, the night reclaimed its overwhelming silence.

Shoto rose to his feet, accepting the hand offered by Hawks to help him stand. The two exchanged a glance and slowly approached the edge of the bluff, peering down.

Several meters below, they observed Touya's lifeless form pinned beneath the massive wolf that had descended with him. Touya's left leg twisted at an unnatural angle.

Hawks, witnessing the gruesome scene, fought back a wave of nausea, gasping at the sight.

Shoto, however, maintained a stoic expression. "Seems like my problem has resolved itself. Fate decided to lend me a hand that night. I thought we might have to resort to poison, huh. Move, Hawks. We need to return to camp and share the unfortunate news with our fellow warriors." With those words, Shoto left, a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips.

Hawks watched Shoto in silence, his gaze lingering for a moment. Then, he turned his attention back to the scene below. A quiet tear traced down his cheek, falling onto the snow stained crimson by the alpha's blood.

Meanwhile, you went about your daily tasks in your new, free life, the familiar sense of accomplishment warmed your spirit. The small hut, now a cozy haven, stood as a testament to your new position.

Helga and Natsuo, friends who had become like family, offered their unwavering support during the two days it took to set up your new home.

One evening, Helga entered the room, "How's everything coming along, dear Y/N? Need any more help with the arrangements?"

You smiled, grateful for her presence, "Thank you, Helga. I think we've covered everything. Your help has been invaluable."

Natsuo, sitting near a tiny fireplace, chimed in, "It's the least we could do. This is a fresh start for you, and we're glad to be a part of it."

As you arranged items on a shelf, Helga leaned against the doorframe, "I must say, this place looks cozy. It's a far cry from the constraints of the past, isn't it?"

You nodded, "Indeed. Freedom was a gift I never knew I needed. And having friends like you made it all the more special."

Natsuo grinned, "Well, now that your new home is all set, what's next on your agenda?"

You paused, looking around, "I think I'll just try to find myself something to do.”

Later in the evening, Natsuo brought pails of water to your hut. He greeted you warmly, "Evening! Thought you might need some water after your day."

You thanked him, taking the pails. As you both sat outside your hut, enjoying the cool breeze, Natsuo couldn't help but notice a hint of sadness in your expression. "Something on your mind?"

You sighed, "It's just... Touya has been gone for so long on their mission. I miss him, you know?"

Natsuo nodded empathetically, "I get it. He'll be back, though. The missions are tough, but he's resilient. And you've got us here to keep you company in the meantime."

You smiled, appreciating his comforting words.

As the evening unfolded, the sound of shared stories and laughter echoed under the night sky, creating a comforting ambiance. Natsuo, always a good companion, shared anecdotes from the day's activities, lightening the mood.

You couldn't help but be grateful for the supportive community you now found yourself in. The conversations provided a soothing balm to the longing for Touya's return. Natsuo's presence, in particular, brought a sense of camaraderie that eased the ache of missing your partner.

"Touya will be back. The missions are demanding, but he's resilient. In the meantime, you've got us here to keep you company, to share these moments. We're like family now,” Natsuo spoke reassuringly.

As Natsuo prepared to leave, he looked at you with a thoughtful expression. "You know, sometimes these expeditions take longer than expected. It's the nature of the missions we undertake. They can be unpredictable, but it doesn't mean something has gone wrong. Touya is skilled, and they have a strong team with them." He continued, "I understand it's tough waiting, especially when you miss him, but it's part of this life. We've all been through it. Just remember, when they return, it makes the reunions all the more special."

With a warm smile, he bid you goodnight, leaving you with a sense of gratitude for the new beginnings and the supportive companionship that now colored your days and nights.

That night, as the moon cast an eerie glow through the tiny window of your hut, sleep enveloped you in a suffocating darkness. Tossing and turning on your modest cot, you found yourself trapped in the clutches of a haunting nightmare.

The air in the room felt heavy, and the silence of the night was disrupted by your whimpers and soft cries. In the realm of your dreams, shadows morphed into menacing figures, their faces shrouded in darkness as they circled around you. Each step they took echoed like a sinister drumbeat, intensifying the dread that gripped your soul.

As you lay paralyzed in the dream, the figures closed in, whispering malevolent secrets that clawed at the edges of your consciousness. Their voices, a chilling chorus, spoke of death and despair, weaving a tapestry of nightmares that threatened to consume you whole.

“He’s dead… He’s dead…”

"Only despair and sorrow lie ahead for you."

The cold sweat on your brow mirrored the intensity of the nightmare. Your cot felt like a prison, the thin fabric of reality separating you from the abyss of your subconscious fears. The figures, now distorted specters, reached out with ghostly hands, fingers like icy tendrils threatening to grasp your very essence.

In the grip of this macabre dream, the fear of death loomed large. The shadows converged, swirling around you like a vortex of impending doom. The nightmarish scenes played out in vivid detail — the echoes of your own cries, the palpable scent of fear, and the taste of desperation lingering in the air.

As the nightmare reached its crescendo, you jolted awake, gasping for breath. The moonlight spilled into the room, offering a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness of your dream. The reality of the small hut and the sound of your racing heart gradually replaced the nightmarish visions, but the residue of fear lingered, haunting the corners of your mind. The weight of the dream clung to you, a spectral reminder of the fragility of the human psyche in the face of the unknown.

Tears streamed down your face, and stifled sobs resonated in the stillness. Clutching your pillow as if it were a lifeline, you whispered Touya's name over and over, a desperate mantra that echoed the ache in your heart. “Touya, my love… Touya…”

Instinctively, an unsettling feeling gnawed at you, urging you to acknowledge that something was amiss. The weight of the night pressed upon you, and a haunting sense of foreboding hung in the air.

In the hushed hours before dawn, you made a decision. The nagging intuition that something was wrong compelled you to seek solace in Natsuo's understanding. As the first light of morning painted the sky, you resolved to confide in him, hoping that together, you could unravel the mystery that lingered in the shadows of your troubled dreams.

"Hey, Katsuki!? You think he's alive?" The tall, square-built man with red hair asked, casually skinning a massive, black wolf.

The ash-blond man, crouching next to a seemingly lifeless scarred figure, nonchalantly touched the man's shoulder with the haft of his axe. There was no immediate response. "It seems he's damn well dead, no doubt."

The red-haired man packed the wolf's skin into a sizable saddlebag secured to the side of his white mare. "We shouldn't leave him like that. We should bury him."

"Tsk! Oi, Kirishima, don't expect me to touch this rotting piece of shit. If you want that so much, bury him yourself. I can dig a damn hole. What the hell. We came to hunt, not deal with this crap."

"We apparently hunted down a dead man," Kirishima joked lightly, strolling closer. "Hmmm, he must've fallen from that bluff."

"He must've been a complete idiot then to get so close to the edge. Idiots always end up with the crap, don't they?"

Kirishima poked the other man's shoulder. "Quit with the disrespect. Odin's watching!" He snorted and crouched next to the man. "That's one nasty wound on his leg. Maybe it's a blessing he died, otherwise, he'd be crippled…"

"Enough chatter, start doing something!" Bakugo growled as he walked aside, scanning the ground for a spot less frozen to dig a grave.

In that moment, Touya's left hand twitched ever so slightly, and he let out a gasp filled with pain.

The sudden movement startled Kirishima, causing the red-haired man to fall back onto his butt. "Fuck! Bakugo! He's fucking alive!"

Bakugo returned to the two and once again pushed the man's shoulder with the hilt of his axe, eliciting a growl of pain. "Kill... Me..." the scarred man whispered.

Bakugo scoffed. "Oi, dumbass, shut the fuck up! Kirishima, guess we gotta take him with us. Even though I'd rather let him die here, it'd be merciful, given his injuries. He's one ugly fucking bastard. Odin himself would get fucking startled looking at this fucking extra."

"We need to bring him along. I'm certain our earl will be interested in this fellow."

"In a damn cripple? You're out of your damn mind, weird hair!" Bakugo growled, contemplating how to get the injured man onto his horse. "I think we gotta build some makeshift stretchers or something. Damn it! Let's move! I don't want to stay here at night. The wolves might have come back."

As Bakugo and Kirishima returned from their expedition, they made their way through the bustling settlement until they reached the earl's hall. With a determined stride, they entered the great hall where Earl Toshinorison held court.

Earl Toshinorison, known as All Might, commanded both respect and awe with his formidable presence. Standing tall and proud, he bore a robust and well-built frame that spoke of a lifetime of battles and victories. His golden hair, though now touched by strands of gray, retained an air of regality, cascading like a radiant mane around his shoulders.

His face, marked by the lines of wisdom and experience, harbored a strong jawline and a pair of piercing, blueish eyes that sparkled with a blend of authority and kindness. Despite the weight of leadership, there was a warm and approachable demeanor that endeared him to his people.

Earl Toshinorison adorned himself in attire that reflected both his status and prowess. A sturdy cloak, billowing with every movement, bore the symbols of his leadership. Beneath it, he wore armor crafted with care, a testament to the battles he had faced and the victories he had achieved.

In the midst of the settlement, he occupied a grand throne within the great hall, a symbol of his leadership and the heart of the community. His voice, when he spoke, carried the weight of authority tempered with a genuine concern for his people.

Earl Toshinorison was not just a leader; he embodied the spirit of a protector, a warrior whose strength and benevolence guided the community through the challenges of Viking life. The combination of his imposing stature, seasoned wisdom, and compassionate leadership made him a figure revered and admired by all who called the settlement their home.

"All Might, my lord," Bakugo greeted with a deep bow, acknowledging the leader of their community.

The earl, seated in his imposing throne, turned to them with a warm yet authoritative smile. "Bakugo, Kirishima, what news do you bring?"

Kirishima stepped forward, his demeanor respectful yet filled with a sense of urgency. "Earl, we found a man on the outskirts. He seemed injured, left for dead. But, surprisingly, he's alive."

All Might's expression shifted to a thoughtful concern. "Alive, you say? A life saved is a tale worth hearing."

Bakugo and Kirishima nodded and gestured to their companions to bring in the injured man. As they approached, Earl Toshinorison observed with keen eyes.

Aizawa, their most ruthless warrior among Toshinori’s settlement, accompanied them. His stoic presence added an air of seriousness to the situation.

The injured man, now resting on a makeshift stretcher, was laid before the earl. Yagi leaned forward, assessing the wounds with a discerning gaze. "A warrior left for dead. Curious."

Aizawa, standing at attention, spoke with his usual pragmatism, "He should've met his end. Perhaps fate has other plans."

All Might nodded in agreement, "Indeed, Shota. We shall tend to his wounds and learn his tale. A life spared under these circumstances may hold a purpose yet unknown."

The air in Skjaldvargr crackled with anticipation as the weary troop led by the Endeavorsons made its way back to the settlement. A murmur of excitement swept through the crowd, and the people gathered in the heart of the village began to cheer, their voices rising in a chorus of relief and hope.

As the warriors, dusted with the tales of their recent endeavors, entered the settlement, the cheers intensified. The crowd's eager eyes followed chests and sacks, laden with the spoils of their expedition. It was a moment of shared joy and anticipation as the warriors slowly unpacked their burdens, revealing treasures and goods from distant lands.

However, the elation in the air was tainted by a somber truth. The troop that returned was noticeably smaller than the one that had ventured out. An unspoken sorrow draped over those families who, instead of welcoming back their loved ones, found themselves gripped by the cold hand of grief. The absence of familiar faces, once vibrant with life, echoed louder than the cheers of triumph.

A hushed solemnity settled over those who faced the harsh reality of loss. Families, with eyes now clouded with tears, stood amidst the celebration, their joy eclipsed by the shadows of grief. The cheers of victory collided with the silent mourning of those who had given more than the spoils of war — a sacrifice written in blood.

The contrast between the jubilation and mourning created an unsettling symphony, a discordant melody that played out in the heart of Skjaldvargr. The warriors continued their unpacking, the clinking of treasures against the somber background of grieving families. It was a poignant reminder of the dual nature of their harsh existence, where triumph and sorrow coexisted like inseparable companions.

Unease nestled within you as you sat at the long table in the Great Hall, eyes fixed on Endeavor occupying the imposing throne. The air felt charged with tension, and the weight of the room bore down on you like an unwelcome burden.

Natsuo poked your side gently as he sat by your side, a playful gesture meant to break the intensity of the moment. "Hey, are you excited to see Touya again? It's been a while."

Your response was a hesitant smile. "Of course, I just... things are different now, aren’t they..."

Natsuo chuckled, "Well, different doesn't always mean bad, right? Touya is still Touya. I bet he's just as eager to see you."

The heavy door to the Great Hall swung open, breaking the tension that hung in the air.

Shoto, the youngest Endeavorson, stepped in with a measured grace, his gaze flickering across the room until it settled on you for a brief moment.

Hawks followed closely behind.

Shoto's eyes met yours briefly, a silent acknowledgment that spoke volumes. The room hushed as the two newcomers approached the throne, their arrival signaling a significant shift in the atmosphere. The weight of anticipation settled on the shoulders of those present, each heartbeat echoing in the grand hall.

Natsuo, by your side, leaned in and whispered, "Here they are. Let's see how this unfolds. I’m curious where Touya is."

"My earl," Shoto bowed his head to greet his father, a gesture mirrored by Hawks.

Endeavor's stern gaze bore down on his son. "It's good to see you back, Shoto. Rumor has it you brought a lot of goods from the trip."

"I did, indeed," the young prince replied. "We also accumulated some losses, my lord."

A subtle tension gripped the air, and an unspoken dread settled upon your heart and soul.

"What do you mean? Where's your older brother?" the earl asked, his frown deepening.

"He died, my lord," Shoto replied, his expression a stoic mask.

"What!" You exclaimed, jolting up from your place. "Impossible!"

Even Endeavor rose from his throne, descending the two steps to be on his son's level. "What do you mean, Shoto? What happened?" The earl’s voice trembled a little.

Hot tears streamed down your face, and Natsuo wrapped his arm around your shoulders, rubbing them in an attempt to bring you some comfort. The weight of the revelation hung heavy in the air, and the Great Hall seemed to echo with the echoes of disbelief and sorrow.

Shoto's voice cut through the somber air of the Great Hall, recounting the harrowing tale of the wolf attack. He spoke of Touya's courage, how he stood against the onslaught to protect his fellow warriors, including Shoto himself. The youngest Endeavorson described how Touya, driven by the need to eliminate the alpha, faced the final confrontation at the edge of the bluff.

As the story unfolded, you felt an invisible weight pressing down on you. Your hands trembled, and a haunting whine escaped your lips, akin to a wounded animal. The anguish of Shoto's words resonated within you, each detail etching pain into your heart.

"He fought valiantly," Shoto continued, his voice steady. "But in the end, the wolf lunged, and they both fell."

Your knees gave way beneath you, and you sank to the ground, overwhelmed by the reality of Touya's fate. The ache in your chest was unbearable, as if your heart had cracked and broken, the searing pain akin to hot iron being poured over your soul.

Natsuo's eyes flared with a sudden intensity, and he snapped at Shoto, "I'm damn sure it wasn't an accident. He just happened to fall off the bluff?! That’s not what Touya would ever let happen! You little coward! I’m sure you put your hand to that!"

Shoto growled angrily in response, his demeanor darkening as he retorted, "Are you even aware of what you're talking about, Natsuo? Accusing me of…"

"He wouldn't just fall off like that!" Natsuo's voice rose, an undercurrent of anger coursing through his words. "Touya was too skilled for that.”

Shoto's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. "You dare to insinuate…"

"I'm not insinuating anything!" Natsuo interrupted, the tension in the air thickening. "I'm saying it outright. There's more to this, and you damn well know it."

"Tsk," Shoto shook his head, his voice dripping with disdain. "Better shut your mouth, dear brother. You're talking nonsense."

Your entire body trembled, barely registering the words exchanged between the two brothers.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Hawks said with a slight bow to Natsuo and then Endeavor. "Touya was..."

"Don't you dare to talk about my brother!" Natsuo erupted, hurling a cup at the warrior. "Don't you dare to use his name, you filthy, venal bastard."

"Enough!" Endeavor roared, a silent tear tracing a path down his scarred cheek.

"Oh, I couldn't agree more with you, dear father," Shoto sent Endeavor a sly grin, and then bellowed, "Guards!"

Warriors entered the Great Hall, awaiting the young prince's orders.

"Take my father out and put him in that unoccupied hut at the bay. Make sure to tie him up well, even though he's old, the bastard's still strong."

"What!" Natsuo growled.

Endeavor looked down at his son. "What are you trying to do, Shoto? You can't just..."

At that moment, Shoto aimed a hard slap at his father's cheek. "Say one more thing, father, and I'll cut your throat here and now. You're not an earl anymore. You're nothing. You always were nothing. Give me your axe."

Endeavor remained motionless, his gaze shifting briefly between Natsuo and you.

"Your damn axe and crown!" Shoto's voice rose, demanding compliance, his hands reaching toward his father.

Reluctantly, the old earl reached to his belt, extracting the axe from a leather scabbard. He passed the item to Shoto, removing the crown from his head with a heavy sigh.

The young prince took the axe and the crown from his father, wielding the symbol of authority with contempt. With a sudden, violent motion, he smashed the crown against the nearest wall, watching it shatter into irreparable pieces.

"You're making a grave mistake, Shoto," Endeavor warned.

Shoto grinned back at his father, a sinister edge to his smile. "Oh, old man, there's no Touya to stand by your side anymore. Your beloved firstborn, the one you happily discarded and tried to kill when he was an infant, is truly gone now. You have no one to protect you. Your guards are listening to me, they've been for a while already. And Natsuo," Shoto looked at the white-haired man standing near you, "He's nothing, he doesn't even know how to wield a shield."

Hawks chuckled darkly, nodding at his people. A few warriors approached the earl, tying his hands behind his back. One of them delivered a strong blow to the earl's face.

"No!" Natsuo screamed.

You sobbed loudly, watching the horrifying scene unfold. The question lingered in your mind: why didn't Endeavor react at all?

The crisp air carried the call of Hawks and a group of warriors as they traversed through the settlement. The sound of their voices resonated, commanding the attention of all citizens, beckoning them to gather by the bay.

Meanwhile, in the desolate confines of an abandoned hut, Endeavor was bound to a wooden balk, his mind enveloped in bitter reflection. The flickering light filtering through the cracks in the worn walls revealed a man scarred, not only physically but also by the torment delivered upon him by Hawks and his people.

As he strained against his restraints, Endeavor couldn't escape the echoing regrets that reverberated within his thoughts. He cursed himself for the blindness that had shrouded his vision, the inability to see the rot that festered within Shoto. The weight of realization pressed heavily upon him, and he was left to grapple with the consequences of his own choices.

Silently, you sneaked into the dimly lit hut, the chalice of water and a soft rug clutched in your hands. The feeble light revealed the cruel aftermath of the torment inflicted upon Endeavor, and a gasp escaped your lips at the sight of his battered form.

Approaching cautiously, you set the chalice down and carefully unfolded the rug. Kneeling beside him, you dipped a corner of the cloth into the water, your movements gentle as you began to clean the wounds on his face. The atmosphere hung heavy with tension, punctuated only by the distant calls from the bay.

His eyes, filled with a mix of pain and resignation, met yours as you worked.

"What are we supposed to do now?" you asked with a shaking tone, your voice barely above a whisper.

Endeavor's gaze bore into yours, and for a moment, the weight of uncertainty hung in the air. "Shoto won't stop until he has complete control,” he replied, his voice strained. “I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you whispered, "I can't believe Touya..." Your hand trembled, and the pain in your voice echoed through the dimly lit hut.

A solitary tear rolled down Endeavor's scarred cheek as he uttered words heavy with resignation. "You should flee from here before I'm executed, Y/N."

Dread seized your body, and you protested, "Don't say that, my lord. I'm sure Shoto is not that crazy to get you killed… And I have nowhere to go.”

Endeavor's gaze met yours, and in that moment, he decided to reveal the truth about what he had noticed in his youngest son's eyes. "I saw it, in Shoto's eyes. The thirst for power, the willingness to do whatever it takes. He's not the boy I raised. He's become something darker, something I failed to see until it was too late."

Your heart sank at Endeavor's revelation, the truth piercing through the air like a chilling wind. The realization that Shoto had transformed into something unrecognizable, something darker, gripped you with a sense of helplessness.

"I should have seen it sooner," Endeavor muttered, his voice filled with regret. "But blinded by my own desires for power, I failed to grasp the truth until it was too late. I won’t forgive myself… I should’ve listened to Touya."

The gravity of the situation pressed upon you, and you wiped away the tears that stained your cheeks. "We can't let him continue down this path," you whispered, your voice laced with determination.

Endeavor nodded solemnly. "You must go. Flee from this place before it's too late. I will face the consequences of my actions, but you have a chance for a different fate."

The distant sound of footsteps approached the hut, signaling the arrival of Shoto's guards.

In that moment, you wrapped your arms around Endeavor's neck, giving him a tight hug, a silent gesture of reassurance and determination. "I promise, my lord, that I'll avenge Touya. I don't believe Shoto didn't have a hand in it anymore," you whispered, the words laden with both sorrow.

"I'm afraid you're right," Endeavor admitted, his own acceptance of the harsh reality permeating the air. “Go now, girl.”

With a heavy heart, you took the chalice and the rug, casting one last glance at Endeavor, who remained bound and alone in the desolate hut. The weight of the situation pressed upon you as you stepped out into the cold air, leaving the confines of the dimly lit space.

The evening air hung heavy with tension as the citizens of the settlement gathered at the bay.

Hawks, with a certain casual indifference, lazily cleaned his dagger, his guards vigilant in ensuring that no one was left behind.

You and Natsuo stood among the gathered crowd, your eyes nervously flitting between the citizens and Natsuo.

The atmosphere thickened as two guards brought the bound form of Endeavor to the jetty, his presence eliciting hushed whispers among the onlookers.

And then, like a harbinger of darkness, Shoto emerged. A grotesque crown made of bird skulls adorned his head, and an opulent fur of a snow leopard draped over his shoulders, a trophy from one of Endeavor's raids. The blood and white paint smeared across his face formed viking symbols, marking him as the harbinger of a new era.

A profound silence fell over the assembly as Shoto made his way to the forefront. The people, recognizing the symbolic weight of his appearance, knew that there was no room left for argument or dissent. The young prince had become an embodiment of authority, clad in the spoils of his conquests, and the settlement braced itself for the changes that his rule would bring.

Shoto made his way to the jetty with deliberate steps, his eyes scanning the gathered crowd. They found yours in the sea of faces, and for a brief moment, his gaze lingered on your tear-stained visage. The weight of his stare bore into your soul before he redirected his focus to the bound figure of his father, kneeling on the jetty.

The hushed whispers of the crowd ceased as Shoto raised his hand, a signal for silence. His voice cut through the still air, carrying a mix of authority and cold detachment. "Citizens of Skjaldvargr," he began, his tone echoing over the water, "The time of reckoning has come. For too long, we have been shackled by the failures of our past. The time for a new era, a stronger era, has dawned."

His eyes scanned the faces of the assembly, pausing on his father for a moment before addressing the crowd once more. Shoto moved deliberately towards the jetty, each step echoing with a proclamation of his newfound authority. As his gaze scanned the gathered crowd, it found yours among the sea of faces. His eyes locked onto your tear-stained visage, lingering for a moment longer than necessary, a cold acknowledgment of the impact his actions had on you, before he shifted his focus to his father, who knelt there, bound and vulnerable.

The silence that enveloped the bay was broken by Shoto's commanding voice, carrying the weight of his judgment. "Citizens of Skjaldvargr," he began, his tone unwavering. "The time of reckoning has come. For too long, we have been shackled by the failures of our past. The time for a new era, a stronger era, has dawned."

He gestured towards Endeavor, his father, with an air of finality. "Endeavor, once known as the earl, has failed to lead us into greatness. He allowed weakness and sentiment to cloud his judgment. It is time for a new leader, one who will guide us to prosperity."

Shoto's eyes flickered back to yours for a brief moment, a chilling gaze that hinted at the personal nature of his vendetta. "The former earl will face justice for his shortcomings. The verdict is the death penalty. Let this serve as a reminder that only strength will prevail in the harsh realities of our world."

The pronouncement echoed over the bay, sealing the fate of Endeavor and setting in motion the irreversible changes that Shoto, now adorned with the symbols of his triumph, would bring to the settlement.

The verdict hung in the air, heavy and final, as Shoto turned away, leaving the jetty and the kneeling figure of his father behind to take a seat on a throne that was prepared for him nearby.

The weight of Shoto's harsh verdict hung in the air like a shroud, and as the crowd absorbed the reality of the situation, hot tears streamed down your face. Instinctively, you grasped Natsuo's palm, seeking solace and support in the face of the unfolding tragedy.

The bay was cloaked in a heavy silence as the guards began the degrading process of undressing Endeavor's upper body. His once proud and scarred form was exposed to the harsh scrutiny of the onlookers, the symbols of his past glories now overshadowed by the weight of his transgressions.

The guards, expressionless and cold, tied Endeavor's hands spread to two sturdy stanchions positioned in the center of the jetty. The former earl knelt there, vulnerable and exposed, his fate hanging in the balance.

As the unsettling tableau unfolded, Hawks stepped forward, a grim determination etched on his face. Clutching his axe and dagger, he circled Endeavor with predatory precision. The rhythmic sound of his boots on the wooden planks echoed through the bay, creating an eerie cadence that intensified the chilling atmosphere.

Positioning himself behind Endeavor, Hawks loomed like a shadow, a silent harbinger of the impending judgment. The air crackled with tension, and the onlookers, unable to tear their eyes away, awaited the next grim chapter in the unfolding saga of Skjaldvargr.

Hawks nodded at his people, and they made Endeavor lean forward by pulling on the ropes tied to the earl’s wrists.

Hawks, grinning widely like a madman, started by making a deep, vertical incision along the earl's spine. This incision severed the skin, muscle, and connective tissues, exposing the underlying bones and organs.

Endeavor, bound and exposed to the merciless fate of the Blood Eagle, fought vehemently against the primal urge to scream. His muscles tensed, and every fiber of his being rebelled against the excruciating pain inflicted upon him. The raspy growls emanating from his throat served as a testament to his struggle, a warrior's battle cry against the agony that threatened to consume him.

In the midst of this macabre spectacle, Endeavor clung to the ancient belief that only by maintaining composure during such a brutal punishment could a warrior secure passage to Valhalla. His jaw clenched, and his eyes, filled with a mixture of pain and defiance, bore witness to the unfathomable ordeal, as tears rolled down his cheeks.

As the executioner continued the harrowing process, Endeavor's resolve was tested in the crucible of suffering. The groans that escaped him carried not only the weight of agony but also a silent determination to prove his mettle in the face of an unimaginable horror.

Your tears flowed unabated, soaking into the fabric of Natsuo's shirt as you sobbed, the weight of grief and horror pressing heavily on your heart.

Natsuo, too, couldn't contain the surge of emotions that gripped him, and tears welled up in his eyes, silently streaming down his cheeks.

The two of you, connected by shared sorrow, clung to one another in a world suddenly bereft of hope.

Despite the absence of a genuine father-son bond with his own father, Natsuo understood the pain of loss, and his tears mirrored your own. "Father," the man whispered, barely moving his lips. "May Odin guide your spirit to the hallowed halls of Valhalla..."

With the earl's spine exposed, Takami proceeded to cut through the ribs, detaching them from the spine. This macabre act created the framework for what resembled "wings." Hawks then reached into Endeavor's chest cavity, pulling out the man's lungs through the opening created by the removal of the ribs. This grotesque act gave the victim the appearance of wings, completing the horrifying visual metaphor.

Hawks stood amidst the aftermath, his once-vibrant attire now drenched in the deep crimson hue of blood. From his tousled hair down to his boots, every inch of him was painted in the somber shades of scarlet, a testament to the brutal task he had undertaken.

The metallic scent of iron lingered in the air around him, an olfactory testament to the visceral reality of the harrowing act.

Hawks, his visage marred by the grotesque tableau before him, grinned like a man possessed, a maniacal glint in his eyes. His gaze, like a predator reveling in the aftermath of a successful hunt, fixated on Shoto, the new earl, who observed the scene with an unsettling amusement.

In his final moments, Endeavor, the once-mighty earl, summoned the strength to lift his head, a haunting defiance in his gaze. As the life ebbed away from him, he whispered words of reunion to a love lost in the annals of time. "Rei... Love.... I'm coming to you..." With those parting breaths, his head succumbed to the inevitable, lolling to the side.

Amidst the horror, you struggled to contain the surge of emotions, your tears choking your throat as you witnessed the cruel end meted out to the man who was once a father figure.

Shoto, now the legal earl, approached the lifeless form, a twisted rite of passage in the unforgiving realm. Sizing up the head of his father, he coldly declared, "The earl is dead!"

As Hawks chanted, "Long live the earl!" with an eerie enthusiasm, the guards compelled the onlookers to repeat the grim proclamation, the echoes of submission punctuating the air heavy with the scent of iron and death.

The settlement, now under the shadow of a new ruler, braced itself for the changes that were bound to come.

Shoto's subtle gesture summoned Hawks closer, their exchange shrouded in whispered words.

As the blonde-haired man stepped back, he bellowed your name, a chilling summons that cut through the heavy air, freezing the blood in your veins. “Y/N!”

Natsuo, understanding the impending darkness, tightened his grip on your hand, silently pleading for you to resist the ominous call. His subtle head shake conveyed the urgency to stay away, to avoid the perilous path that beckoned. But the relentless echo of your name persisted, a haunting melody drawing you towards an inevitable confrontation.

With tear-streaked cheeks, you met Natsuo's gaze once more, finding solace in his silent plea. Gathering what remained of your resolve, you wiped away the evidence of your anguish and, with a determined stride, pushed through the crowd. The last thing you needed was the cold, unyielding grasp of guards dragging you to Shoto against your will.

As you approached Shoto, the air became charged with an eerie tension. His eyes, adorned with a sinister gleam, followed your every step.

The crowd, still subdued by the recent events, parted to make way for your reluctant journey.

Hawks, positioned next to Shoto, continued to observe with a sinister grin, aware that the unfolding scene held a profound significance in the new earl's machinations.

Shoto, crowned with skulls and adorned in the spoils of victory, waited for you with a calculated calmness.

You stood before Shoto, a pawn caught in the web of a power play.

With a wicked smile, Shoto leaned in, whispering words that clawed at the edges of your sanity. "Y/N, it seems your fate is entwined with ours now. You will play a crucial role in the future of Skjaldvargr."

Your frown deepened as you couldn't comprehend the unsettling thoughts swirling in Shoto's mind. With a hint of trepidation, you dared to voice the question that lingered on your lips, "What do you have in mind?"

Shoto, feigning sweetness, leaned in with a twisted smile. "Now that Touya is no more, it falls upon me to decide your fate, Y/N. A bereft girl, left in the aftermath of such a tragedy. But fear not, for I have plans for you."

Terror gripped your heart as Shoto unveiled his intentions. "From this moment forth, you'll no longer revel in the freedom bestowed upon you by my deceased brother. Instead, you shall become my concubine, and I expect you to bear me an heir."

A quiet but resolute "No" escaped your lips as you resisted the notion, unwilling to surrender your autonomy.

Shoto, undeterred, grasped your chin, pulling you closer. "Don't resist, dollface. Make a scene, and I'll orchestrate another blood eagle tonight. If you refuse, Hawks will have the honor of ending Natsuo's life, the last person standing by your side."

His words echoed with a cruel certainty, leaving you with a chilling realization that your fate was no longer your own. A solitary tear traced a path down your cheek, a silent testament to the anguish that gripped your soul.

Shoto, reveling in the display of vulnerability, leaned forward, capturing the tear with the tip of his tongue. He licked it off, savoring the taste of your despair before whispering into your ear. "If I were you, I'd be obedient. There's no one left to protect you, and you're going to be mine, whether you want it or not."

"Why me?" you dared to question, your voice carrying a defiant edge.

Shoto's grin widened. "I've had my share of Viking women. A Christian girl, even a prudish one, is said to be particularly naughty in the alcove." The lecherous implications of his words hung heavily in the air, accentuating the grim reality that now lay before you.

Your stomach twisted in knots as Shoto's words reverberated in the air.

"Y/N, from now on, is considered my concubine," Shoto declared with a tone that brooked no argument. "Anyone going against me or her will face the doom immediately. And one last thing, all the warriors who supported my father shall be executed by dawn. Consider this night your last with your families. Satisfy yourselves with your women and put your kids to sleep for the final time. Don't even think about running away, as my envoys will find you wherever you hide."

He took your palm in his, a cruel possession that marked the beginning of your tragic fate. Before you left, Shoto's gaze shifted to Hawks. "Make sure Natsuo is locked in his room in the Great Hall. Tomorrow, I'll decide his fate."

"Of course, my lord," Hawks nodded obediently, the cold determination in his eyes betraying the allegiance he now held to Shoto.

As the thralls followed Shoto's orders, you found yourself in a bath, the warm water doing little to comfort your tormented soul. You let your tears fall freely, their silent streams mingling with the water around you. The echoes of your life's upheavals played in your mind like a haunting melody, each note a reminder of the tragedy that seemed to follow you relentlessly. How swiftly your life had changed, once under the control of Touya's unpredictable whims, and now, bound by Shoto's ruthless will.

You longed to scream, to cry out against the unfairness of it all. Shoto, a young man scarcely older than you, had become the architect of your misery. You despised him, and yet, the thought of begging for mercy from this vicious ruler crossed your mind. The temptation to ask him to end your misery with the swift swing of his axe haunted your thoughts.

However, a greater fear gripped your heart — the threat to Natsuo. Shoto's warning echoed in your mind, and you couldn't bear the thought of allowing harm to befall the one person who had consistently shown you kindness and support. You resolved to endure, to strategize, to find a way to protect Natsuo from the impending darkness that Shoto had cast upon your life.

After the bath, you were presented with the finest nightgown, a garment crafted from snow-white silk that draped elegantly around you. The thralls, with delicate hands, brushed and arranged your hair as you sat in front of a mirror, contemplating your reflection. The mirror seemed to reflect not just your physical appearance but also the weight of the burden now resting on your shoulders.

Assisted by the thralls and guided by the guards, you were led to the chamber that once belonged to earl Endeavor. As the thick doors swung open, the opulence of the room overwhelmed your senses. The chamber was vast, with a massive fireplace positioned on the opposite wall, providing warmth and a flickering dance of flames.

To the left of the entrance stood a colossal bed, adorned with a thick mattress and furs, supported by two sturdy columns at its head. The bed itself was a work of art, crafted from field maple. On the opposite side of the room, a table with two chairs and a closet adorned with a mirror completed the ensemble of wealth and luxury. It was a stark contrast to the grim fate that had befallen the former occupant of this room.

As you took in the grandeur, a mix of emotions churned within you. The softness of the silk against your skin felt incongruent with the turmoil within your heart. The room, once a sanctuary for a now-fallen ruler, now served as a gilded cage for you, ensnared by circumstances beyond your control.

It took a moment before you realized that the door had closed behind you, leaving you alone in the opulent chamber — or so you thought.

A smooth voice, belonging to the new earl, reached your ears as Shoto gracefully rose from a chair situated in the dimly lit corner of the room. He appeared to be occupied with polishing his axe. "Finally, I was growing impatient," he remarked, his voice devoid of any warmth or sympathy.

"Forgive me, my lord," the title felt foreign on your tongue as you addressed the man who now held power over your fate. The room, once a symbol of authority and now tainted by the dark events that had transpired, became the stage for a twisted power play that you found yourself unwillingly participating in.

Shoto placed the axe on the table and leisurely approached you, gently lifting your chin to meet his dual-colored eyes. "Don't be afraid, dollface. I'm not going to hurt you."

"You already did," you replied with defiance. "I know it was not an accident."

"You mean Touya? Oh, my little raven," he cooed, "of course it was an accident. Do you really think I'd let my beloved brother die?"

You snorted, and a tear rolled down your cheek.

"Shush, shush, no crying in here. You're too beautiful for sadness," he said, wiping your tear away with his thumb. "You'll have the life you deserved and which my poor older brother couldn't provide you with."

"He wouldn't lock me in a cage," you told him, and Shoto chuckled.

"A cage? Oh no, sweetheart, I'm not going to lock you in a cage. You're my concubine now, and a lot of privileges come with this title." His words dripped with a perverse sense of entitlement, sending a shiver down your spine as you realized the dark reality that awaited you in the clutches of the new earl.

Shoto gently traces his fingertips against your lips and neck, slowly moving them down your décolletage. Shoto circled you slowly, his movements reminiscent of a predator closing in on its prey. "I just expect you to be faithful to me, that's all I'm asking for. I want you to be a representative figure, shining like a gem by my side. And I want you to bear me a child, an outright heir of pure blood," he declared.

"But my blood isn't pure. I'm not a pagan like you. Won't it make your child unworthy?" you growled, attempting to sway his unsettling conviction. However, your efforts seemed in vain as his long, thin fingers slipped under the fabric of your nightgown on your shoulders, slowly sliding the attire off.

"Don't worry your pretty little head. Before you give birth, you're going to be a Viking woman. I'll make sure of that," he said, licking his lips as he watched the thin material falling slowly to the floor.

In your initial instinct, you attempted to cover yourself with your hands. However, Shoto effortlessly seized both your wrists in one hand, securing them behind your back. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he used his spare hand to move a lock of your Y/H/C hair off your shoulder. "Don't. I want to see all of you. You were more willing to undress for my older brother. I still don't know why. Did he force you into his bed? No normal woman ever would, so he was fortunate to experience the mellowness of a woman's body before he died. His life was nothing but a failure."

That was enough. Provoked by Shoto's words laced with sarcasm, you swiftly turned and slapped his scarred cheek with all your might, pulling your hands free from his grasp. "Don't you dare," you warned. "For what you did, you will never reach your beloved Valhalla. Even your gods don't accept vile men into their chambers."

Seemingly anticipating this move, the man firmly grasped you by the throat and effortlessly threw you onto the bed. Before you could react, his weight pinned you down on the mattress. "You're so brisk and valorous; I like that," he grunted, pushing his knee between your legs, parting your thighs enough for him to settle between them. "Haven't you learned yet? You're with me or against me. And trust me, I couldn't care less about your pathetic life. So, it's better to act like a good, obedient girl for your lord."

That night unfolded in a torrent of pain, tears, and degradation. Despite your attempts to resist, to twist and turn, they proved futile. Shoto pursued his desires, stripping away your innocence. His touch, both cruel and frigid, felt akin to a scalding iron on your skin - a stark contrast from what Touya had once offered.

As Shoto slumbered peacefully at your side, content and spent from the unrelenting hours of asserting his dominance over your body, you lay by him, curled into a small, trembling ball. Silent tears traced pathways across your face, and with every slightest movement, you would gag yourself, feeling the haunting presence of his seed seeping out of you. A genuine desire for death welled within your soul.

"Forgive me, Touya... Forgive me," you whispered, your plea hanging in the heavy air before exhaustion enveloped you, guiding you into an uneasy slumber.

heathen wolves: @queenkhepri @indignant-alpaca @misafiryanki @roast-toast @within-eyesight @crystalwolfblog @haseki-huricihan @violet-forgetmenot @dagger-dragger @smartspot @alientobe @zero-sugar-null @peter-sommer @thedancingparrot @dearsunaa @greaterheart

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randxmthxughts · 1 year

Text

Unrequited - Chapter 1 - Tsu'tey x Omatikaya!Reader

prologue (technically you can skip it, but i recommend checking it out for the backstory)

summary: y/n had been in love with tsu'tey since they were kids, watching him get his heart broken over and over, until he became hardened. on one particular night, she offers him intimacy with no expectations in return, which sparks up a complex relationship between them. they grapple with guilt, unrequited love, and newfound intimacy, as y/n and tsu'tey navigate the depths of their feelings for each other

wc: 5.1k

contains: one-sided love, angst, smut, friends with benefits (ig), smut in this chapter!

note: the events take place in correspondence to the first movie, right after the final battle with the sky people

a/n: you guys asked for continuation, so i decided to turn it into series. i don't know how many chapters i'm planning to write but i do have a structure that i'll be following, so we'll figure it out together, as we go. i really hope you enjoy it. nothing else to say, just thank you if you reblog or comment ♡

unrequited masterlist | general masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The aftermath of the war between the Na'vi and the RDA was a somber and devastating sight to look at. The once peaceful and serene landscape of your home was now just as scarred and disturbed as your own mind. When you looked at the scorched earth underneath, and the sorrowful faces around you, your thoughts involuntarily raced back to Tsu’tey. Guilt consumed you for allowing yourself to care about him at a time like this, for recalling the night you had shared with him in the clearing, when you had offered him a piece of you, expecting nothing in return. And yet, despite Tsu’tey’s cautious words, deeper in your heart there was still a longing for more.

Tsu’tey made it clear that his heart would always belong solely to Silwanin, his true and only love. And as you watched him suffer through the endless loss and heartache, you came to a painful realization that there would be no place for you in his life. He had become so hardened to reality, that he no longer cared for his own happiness, the duty of protecting his people becoming the only will to live. That night, when he became aware of your feelings for him, he pitied you for choosing to love someone as damaged as he was.

Watching the clan rebuild and heal from the wounds inflicted by the war, you were convinced to follow the same route. Instead of dwelling on the aftermath, you had approached Mo’at to join the other healers, as soon as the clan returned back into the forest. For the first few days, as warriors brought back injured Na’vi, you followed Mo’at, assisting her in treating the wounded. You silently prayed to Eywa that Tsu’tey wouldn’t be among the wounded, or even worse.

It was on the fourth day that you finally saw him. When Tsu’tey stepped into the healing tent, close to midnight, his eyes widened at the sight of you. He clearly did not expect to find you there instead of Mo’at. Your gaze traveled from his face to his left arm, predicting that he had suffered a broken bone. It was wrapped tightly in big dried leaves that mimicked the shape of his muscles and fixed his elbow in a flexed position. Flat pieces of wood were pressed alongside his bones, tied with smaller strings around his skin. Another thicker string supported his arm in the air, going around his neck.

For a moment, the broken arm offered you a momentary distraction from Tsu’tey's piercing gaze, but the knots in your stomach tightened nonetheless. The tension left from that night still lingered uncomfortably between you.

“Y/N,” he cleared his throat, “Is Tsahik out?”

“She is keeping watch over Atwäm tonight, he’s gotten worse,” you answered with a heavy sigh, recalling the said warrior’s severe state. Mo'at had predicted that the end of his suffering was drawing near. “What happened to your arm?”

“Nothing, I got thrown off my ikran and landed on my arm,” Tsu’tey shrugged his shoulders dismissively, “Mo’at told me she’d change my dressing, but I’ll come back when she’s here.”

“No need, I can help,” you said softly, earning his surprised look.

“Do you know how?”

“Yes. Sit.”

Without waiting for his response, you turned your back to Tsu’tey and began carefully selecting the supplies needed for his treatment. Refreshing his cast didn't make you nervous since you had already assisted Mo'at with a similar task just the day before. Moreover, it was surprising that you were able to maintain your composure around him, even though the last time you saw him, you were almost choking on his member. That vulgar image left emptiness inside you.

Tsu’tey hesitated for a moment before slowly lowering himself to the ground, watching you move around with ease, like a fish in the water. He felt a ping of guilt for not knowing this about you, truthfully, he had no idea that you were even interested in healing, let alone that you have been helping out the other healers for the past few days.

When you returned to him with the supplies, you took a seat beside him, quietly beginning to untie the string holding up his arm. You instructed him to keep it in the same position for you, and Tsu’tey obeyed, trying his best not to move. Your hands worked with precision and care, peeling away the dry leaves, and the flat pieces of wood that you put aside to reuse. You could feel Tsu'tey’s eyes on you the entire time, sensing that he had something to say but was holding back.

“I am sorry that I haven’t spoken to you since the duel,” his voice was hoarse. You shifted uncomfortably, trying your best to concentrate on your work.

“You don’t have to apologize. There was a battle far more important.”

“Still, I can accept it if you think of me as an unreputable man because of what I did. But I do not wish for you to believe that I avoided you on purpose.”

“I don’t think either of those things about you, Tsu’tey,” you finally looked up at him, “Would you consider me an unreputable woman?”

He shook his head, validating some of the doubts in your head. If anyone found out about the intimacy you shared with another man without mating before Eywa, it could have stumped your chances of mating with anybody else. Of course, bonds were sometimes made and broken by the guidance of the Great Mother, but you did not think about it. Frankly, you weren’t sure if you could give yourself to anyone else but Tsu’tey, even if Eywa had surrounded you with signs. It was something you figured out a long time ago, ever since Tsu’tey had mated with Silwanin and you knew that you didn’t stand a chance, yet your heart still yearned for him. No amount of attention and courting you received made your heart flutter the way it did when his eyes would land on you even for a second. You had gotten used to the idea of either ending up with someone you did not love, or remaining alone and dedicating yourself to your studies.

“I feel like I betrayed you,” he shook his head, unable to express the depth of his guilt.

“Why?” you frowned in confusion.

“I promised to always protect you when we were kids. And then I took something from you, and you can’t get it back.”

A lump of shame gathered in your throat, making it harder to breathe. Did he really think you were broken now because of what happened between you two?

“I do not regret it,” you lifted your chin up, “I would rather give a part of myself to a man I love, rather than give nothing to anyone.”

Love. Tsu’tey’s heart clenched at the obvious nature of your feelings for him. He hated himself for not being able to reciprocate your love, for torturing you.

“I gathered the leaves this morning, so your bandage should last longer,” you commented, diverting the conversation.

As you applied the sticky paste, followed by a clump of leaves, you pressed them firmly onto his skin, shaping it like a protective armor. He hummed, trusting your words, as you worked in silence. When you leaned in closer to reach the tie over his neck, his breath ghosted over your skin, and your heart raced in your chest. Tsu’tey’s hand instinctively reached out to support you by your waist, and you cursed inwardly at the rush of sensation that flooded your body.

Despite the awkwardness and discomfort both of you felt, your thoughts still drifted back to the night when you heard him whimper under the touch of your lips. The way his skin shuddered, when you pressed wet kisses against it, feeling just as nervous and excited to hear his satisfied moans. With trembling hands, you quickly tied the string into a tight knot around his arm, before pulling away, desperate to put some distance between you.

“Thank you.”

“You need to come back for a new bandage, once the leaves dry out.”

“Again?” Tsu’tey frowned, clearly dissatisfied with your instructions.

“As many times as it takes until the bone heals fully.”

“I hate this,” he huffed, “It is itchy and uncomfortable. I cannot fight like this.”

“Fight? The battle is over, Tsu’tey,” you rolled your eyes at him, “Eywa must forgive you for your ungratefulness. The worst of your worries is the itch on your skin that you cannot tend to, instead of losing an arm like Tsay'ä.”

Tsu’tey’s eyes narrowed at your remark, recognizing that sassy tone you used to reserve for Neytiri during your playful arguments. You had rarely used it with him, always contained and reserved, whenever he was around. Tsu’tey realized how different you seemed now, no longer a kid who needed his protection. There used to be a time before Silwanin’s death, when he would see you almost every day, given that you were inseparable from Neytiri. He wondered how much he had missed out on in the past few years, since you weren’t hanging around them anymore. He felt a pang of guilt for not noticing you slowly drifting away from your group.

As you gathered to stand up, Tsu’tey reached for your wrist, pulling you to a stop. You peered down at him confused.

“What?”

“What are you doing tomorrow morning?” he asked with a slight excitement evident in his voice.

“Resting before Mo'at's ceremony,” you answered, frowning at his sudden interest in your plans.

The past few days had been a whirlwind for the clan. But now, as the work began to taper off, you were preparing for the grieving ceremony. The final battle with the Sky People had been devastating, and many families in the clan had lost their sons and daughters. And while their bodies had already been given to Eywa, Mo’at decided to hold a final ceremony to pray for the lost souls before the Mother Tree.

“Could you help me with something before that?” Tsu’tey asked.

“Sure,” you nodded.

Tsu'tey felt a twinge of surprise at how readily you agreed without asking for a reason. You barely needed one, your heart would follow Tsu’tey wherever he wanted it to. He released your wrist, and quietly slipped out of the tent.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You walked past the Well of Souls, eyes catching a sight of the softly glowing Mother Tree, where the ceremony would take place later. The aftermath of the battle still lingered in the air, and you struggled to focus on Tsu’tey’s back instead. He walked in front of you, occasionally glancing back to ensure you were keeping up. As he pushed through thick bushes, you heard strange noises from the depths of the rainforest.

“What is that?” you asked, but Tsu’tey only threw a soft smile over his shoulder, like there was nothing to be scared of.

When he came to a stop, you saw it: a big, armored head peeked out from behind the tall bushes. Your heart skipped a beat, as you recognized the creature as a palulukan, piercing through you with its green eyes. You stepped back in fear, as the palulukan revealed itself, coming into your full view. Judging by the size, it was still a youngling, no older than a few days. Still, it was quite large and could easily harm both you and Tsu’tey.

“Don’t be scared, it is still a baby,” Tsu’tey said, holding up his palm. The palulukan cautiously and slowly moved towards him.

“Tsu’tey, do you have a death wish?” you gritted through your teeth, taking a few careful steps back.

“It’s alright, it won’t harm you,” he said calmly.

He remained unhinged when the palulukan nuzzled its head into his palm. You froze, watching in awe, as Tsu’tey continued petting the animal. The fearsome palulukan became gentler under his touch, tail swishing from side to side. Tsu’tey turned his face to you and chuckled at your expression.

“Come closer, Y/N.”

“Have you lost your mind?” your voice trembled with fear.

It was a rare sight to see a Na’vi man get along with a palulukan. Although you knew of a clan that was skilled at taming the creatures, amongst your own, the Omatikaya, surviving an interaction with a palulukan was considered a blessing from Eywa.

“You said you would help,” Tsu’tey reminded you, his voice firm.

He lowered his palm and turned to face you, his eyes fixed on yours. The trust he had in the cub was palpable, but your panic continued to rise, eyes jumping between him and the palulukan.

“Why do you need my help?” you swallowed hard.

“She limps,” Tsu’tey answered, nodding towards the cub.

“We shouldn’t intervene with the laws of Eywa. Where is the mother?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern.

“The mother was probably killed. The cub was all alone when I found it,” Tsu’tey explained, “I felt too ashamed to burden the other healers when they were busy helping our people. So, I tried moving her back to the valley, where she belongs, but like I said, she can’t walk far because of her paw.”

You threw another glance at the palulukan, who seemed to pay you no mind, lazily swishing its tail from side to side. Your mind calmed slightly, feeling a little sorry for the cub. You took a hesitant step forward.

“Something with the back paw. I’m not very helpful with all this,” Tsu’tey gestured to his broken arm.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, before approaching the animal. With a steady hand, Tsu’tey petted the cub, coaxing it into a sitting position, so that you felt less intimidated. You prayed to Eywa to keep you safe as you reached for the injured paw, finding a small piece of demon-metal lodged between its toes. You pulled it slightly, causing the palulukan let out a screech. But Tsu’tey somehow managed to calm her down.

“It can’t stay here any longer,” you threw a quick glance at Tsu’tey, pulling the metal piece as quickly and carefully as you could, “It's too close to the Mother Tree, and there is a ceremony soon.”

“Do not worry, I will lure it to the valley,” Tsu’tey replied, still patting the cub on its head.

“Not in that state, you can’t go alone,” you protested, nodding to his injured arm. “I will come with you.”

Tsu’tey let out a low growl of annoyance, partly at your stubbornness and partly at his own injury. He decided to remain silent and watched as you finally removed the metal chip. The palulukan let out another screech, wiggling its paw out of your hands and bringing it to his snout to lick the wound. Tsu’tey stepped back, observing the animal with a small smile, and you found yourself smiling at Tsu’tey.

You could never stop loving him. Even if you tried, Tsu’tey would always find a way back into your heart. Of course, only he would manage to handle a palulukan without getting eaten alive. You shook your head in disbelief of the man in front of you.

The palulukan stood up with a low growl, sniffing your feet before raising its snout toward your face. You froze, afraid that it might attack you for causing it pain, but the creature only studied you briefly with its big green eyes. You slowly extended your hand to the cub, before taking a step towards the valley. To your surprise, the cub climbed up, limping on its paw, and following you as you started to walk. Some time later, along with Tsu’tey, you led it towards the valley, letting it wander off at the outskirts.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As the two of you began your walk back home, you felt a rush of joy spreading through you.

“I thank Eywa for letting me pet a palulukan without getting eaten alive,” you grinned at Tsu’tey.

His ears perked up at your satisfied expression but he pretended to be annoyed with you.

“I wouldn’t have let you near it if there was a chance of getting eaten.”

“But still, Tsu’tey,” you stopped in your tracks, taking his hand in yours, “Eywa has blessed you. You made a friend out of a palulukan. Not many get to say that.”

Tsu’tey looked down at your hands, feeling a ping of excitement at the contact. Since that night in the clearing, he often found himself yearning for your touch and the solace it brought him. And he despised himself for it.

Tsu’tey mumbled a thanks and squeezed your hand in his, his eyes lingering on yours for longer than necessary. Your heart raced, and something uglier began to spread in the pit of your stomach. You had been consumed by lustful thoughts of him, yet you couldn't admit it to yourself. All you craved was confirmation that he had felt it too.

Like in some sort of trance, you lifted yourself up on your toes, drawn towards Tsu’tey's face. Your hand rested gently on his chest, careful to avoid the bandaged arm. You expected him to pull away, to reject your advances, but instead he watched you with a heated gaze. Tsu’tey knew that it was wrong to give into the temptation, that the aftermath wouldn’t be worth it, but he just needed to taste your lips.

Scared to your core, you tested the waters first by tentatively nuzzling your nose against his cheek. Tsu’tey released your hand out of his, but instead of pushing you away, he cupped your face roughly, pulling you into a kiss. His hunger to taste you consumed you, and you almost grew dizzy from the intensity of his lips.

As your lips parted, Tsu’tey pulled away, his eyes closed, breathing ragged. You tried to speak, to say something, anything, but your voice caught in your throat. You both stood there, silent, for what felt like an eternity until he spoke.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice low, “I’m sorry.”

“You did nothing wrong, Tsu’tey,” you whispered, staring into his eyes.

He was distraught but his hand was still gently caressing your cheek. In his eyes, you could see an internal struggle: his mind was telling him to stop, but his body was craving more.

His eyes widened before closing in a relaxing manner when you crashed your lips against his again. You were eager to satisfy your hunger for him, like an annoying itch that needed to be scratched.

Tsu’tey’s hand pulled you close by the nape of your neck, signaling you to keep going. Your stomach turned in a pleasant pain, when he groaned into your mouth. A few sloppy kisses were exchanged before you were pushing him back into a tree.

Tsu'tey couldn't resist you any longer, the passion that had been building up inside him finally erupting as he kissed you with all the desire he had been trying to suppress. His free hand roamed over your body, pulling you into him, not caring about the pain he felt in his injured arm.

But as the intensity of the moment grew, so did the guilt that Tsu'tey felt. He knew that what he was doing was wrong, that he could never give you more than this, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Y/N,” he pulled away, breathless, “I can’t do this to you.”

“It’s okay,” your voice hitched, his pitiful gaze on you, “I’m okay.”

Tsu’tey pursed his lips, his eyes slowly tracing your features. He had never before noticed the intricate pattern of stripes on your forehead, which formed a unique shape right in the center. He had never paid attention to the way your freckles glowed like stars in the night sky, something he had always loved to admire before drifting off to sleep. And the way your eyes glistened with a threat of tears, as you feared rejection.

“Please,” you pleaded with him, “Don’t pity me.”

He took a deep breath and let it out before slowly leaning into you. Your heart raced, as he nuzzled into your neck, his eyes shutting in surrender. Tsu’tey then pressed a soft kiss to the crook of your neck, hand grazing your back. Your heat felt uncomfortably abandoned under his touch, and you pressed your thighs together, attempting to get some sense of relief. The movement caught Tsu’tey’s attention, and he frowned, pulling away to observe you. But it wasn’t long till you distracted him with another kiss, scared of him changing his mind.

The sharp pain reminded him of his injury the second he tried to reach for you with his left arm. Tsu’tey suddenly realized that despite the lust he felt, he was too weak, too restricted to give in fully. So, when your hands reached for his loincloth, he swatted them away, gently pushing you off.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly.

“I want to take care of you,” he admitted, his hand finding its way to your waist. It was his turn to make you feel good.

It was embarrassing how effortlessly Tsu’tey made you forget to breathe. He played a game of cat and mouse with you, giving in one moment and then changing his mind the next. But you desired him so intensely that you simply nodded, letting him turn you around and lower you on the ground. You didn't resist as Tsu’tey settled in behind you, his back pressed against the tree.

“Sit here,” he ordered, pointing to the spot between his legs.

You scooched back quietly, leaning your back against him. Tsu’tey shifted slightly to adjust to his broken arm, before pressing a kiss to your temple. You relaxed, eyes closing, as his fingers gently caressed the skin under your skimpy top, grazing the already hardened nipples. Tsu’tey continued planting kisses to the side of your face, when his hand moved in between your thighs and parted them. He untied your loincloth, exposing your cunt to the cold air.

“Tsu’tey,” your voice hitched at the anticipation of his next move.

His hand quickly left your thighs, now turning your face to him, so he could press a kiss to your lips. When your mouth opened immediately, welcoming him in, you felt his finger pushed down on your button. Tsu’tey caught your muffled groan into his mouth, and pressed down on you, as you tried to wiggle away from the sensation. A low growl vibrated through him as a warning before he gently glided his fingers over your slit, slowly massaging your folds. His palm brushed over your sensitive bundle of nerves, forcing a low moan out of you. Tsu’tey felt his member harden at the sound, almost in disbelief at how sensitive you were to his touch.

The flat of his palm circled slowly against your clit, rubbing lazily against it. You gasped his name, hips unintentionally bucking up into his touch, seeking a rhythm. But Tsu’tey enjoyed the sounds that you made a little too much to give in right away. His touch left you for a second, as he wetted his fingers and brought them back to your clit, starting to flick it. You groaned and moaned, as he kept going, occasionally switching to his palm to rub against your sensitive spot.

“More,” you pleaded, choking on your own breathing.

Tsu’tey hummed, not rushing to comply with your request, as his lips found their way to your neck again, trailing wet kisses. His hand continued to tease your clit in tight circles, and you felt him smear around some of your wetness. Your moans grew louder, when Tsu’tey pressed two fingers against your bud and started stroking it from side to side, picking up a rhythm. Shivers ran down your spine, and you whined at the overwhelming feeling in your stomach but before you could give into it, his digits pulled away, teasing you down your slit.

You were growing impatient, desperately wanting to chase the sensation by squeezing your thighs, but Tsu’tey did not like that. He parted your thighs again, throwing his legs over yours and restricting your movements. He meddled with the idea of punishing you for moving before brushing past your swollen folds and lightly slapping them. You whined at the sudden ache, and Tsu’tey had to stifle a chuckle at your reaction. He felt an urge to slap your heat harder this time, to force a louder yelp. By the sound of your painful cry, he knew he had succeeded, when he raised his hand higher and slapped against your folds with more force. A mixture of pain and pleasure started to blur your vision, as Tsu’tey slapped your heat over and over again, making your body convulse. You were panting heavily, when he stopped, and his finger teased your entrance before slipping in, not giving you time to adjust. Your eyes widened at the sensation, and he pushed it further into your tight walls, all the way to the last knuckle.

“Tsu’tey,” you exhaled in a slight discomfort. You had never felt anything inside you like that.

“”S okay, relax, syulang” he said with a husky voice.

Tsu’tey moved his finger, making you clench around him. But it was too tight, so much that he couldn’t help but groan at the sensation, wondering what it would feel like to have you around his penis instead. He pulled his finger out, palm rubbing against your nub, before slipping it back into your hole and pushing as far as he could. You started to whimper, your walls clamping down on him, as Tsu’tey slowly thrusted his digit in and out of you, accompanied by squelching sounds.

You tried to tell him that it was getting too much but your words came out in a sloppy jumble instead, making no sense. Tsu’tey picked up on a faster rhythm with quick sloppy motions, filling the air around you with a mixture of wet squelching sounds and your panting. He was running short of our breath too, violently thrusting his finger into you a few more times, before pulling it out.

“Please…don’t stop,” you whined at the absence of his touch, buckling back. You pressed your bottom into his crotch, as if pleading him to continue.

“Don’t-don’t do that, sweetheart,” Tsu’tey breathed out heavily.

You struggled to fight the fuzziness in your mind, as you suddenly felt the need to check on him. You turned to look at him through your hooded lids.

“Did I hurt you?”

Tsu’tey shook his head with a low chuckle. He couldn’t contain his amusement at the fact that you were checking on him. It was an unexpected situation anyway, but even stranger, considering that it happened in the middle of such intimate act. He suddenly felt the need to reward you for your worrying.

As you held his gaze, searching for a sign of pain, Tsu’tey caught your lips with his, hungrily sucking and pulling at your bottom lip. Your mind got clouded with the hotness of his skin, which was exactly how Tsu’tey distracted you again. His hand caressed your thighs and sneaked back to your clit, beginning to draw tight circles around it. He enjoyed the way you bucked your hips up into his touch, chasing that sweet taste of pleasure.

As you buckled up again, Tsu’tey rubbed your swollen bud with a force, then picked up on a steady rhythm. It wasn’t long till you felt the tension building up in your pit again, and you pressed the side of your face into his chest, feeling hot in your cheeks. His fingers were expertly fiddling with your nub, his motions speeding up. Small whimpers were escaping from your mouth, and Tsu’tey couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you nearing your release. His penis was pulsating, as he started rubbing your button more roughly.

“Need you,” you trembled, gripping his thighs with your hand.

Your hips were jerking out of control, chasing that feeling building inside you, your body tensing up, with in a sharp intake of air. The painful tension broke down into a wave of pleasure, spreading from your heat to the knots in your fingers and toes.

You held your breath, squeezing your eyes shut at the immense sensation. Tsu’tey exhaled behind you, feeling the way you shivered underneath his touch. He rubbed your oversensitive clit again, pushing you over the edge, and you whined, squirming under him. It was too overwhelming, almost painful. You tried to squeeze your thighs, your hole clenching and pulsing around nothing, juice flowing out of it like a nectar.

“Stop, Tsu’tey…stop,” you gasped, as he slowed his motions on your sensitive spot.

Your hand swatted at his, and Tsu’tey chuckled before finally pulling it away. Your chest sank in big heavy pants, and his lips were on you again, hand caressing the soft skin of your tummy, and moving up to your chest. You breathed heavily, when he squeezed your breast in his palm, a satisfied smirk finding a way to your lips. When he kissed the side of your face again, you turned your face to capture his lips. Tsu’tey hummed in satisfaction.

“I need you to-” you pulled away from him, still a little breathless, “I need you to relax too.”

You wiggled your legs from underneath his, and shifted to sit sideways. Before your hands could even reach for the ties of his loincloth, Tsu’tey stopped you.

“Not now,” he shook his head.

“Then when?” you raised your eyebrows, “When you’re healed?”

He chuckled at your desperation. Tsu’tey couldn’t deny or hide his arousal from you but it was amusing to watch you figure out the reason for his rejection.

“Maybe.”

You let out a small sigh, your lips settling into a contented smile. But as you remembered the upcoming ceremony, you quickly rose to your feet, hastily tying your loincloth. Tsu’tey watched you shamelessly, feeling at ease with the knowledge that you now had a piece of him too. Even if it wasn’t going to be permanent.

“We should head back now to make it in time for the ceremony,” you mumbled, “I promised to help.”

Tsu’tey nodded, standing up too. But there was something different about it when he met your gaze. No words were exchanged as he followed your lead, back into the cove. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that this wasn’t the end yet.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

chapter 2

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @mechformers @xx-mayday-martyr-xx @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @fanboyluvr @live-laugh-neteyam @adaiasafira @cawi00 @sovereignsylvia @wifey02 @jakescumdump @vxncxntt @theseuscmander @avatarbyamara @vviviivvivivivvivivivi @aracelikara @brooklynscherry-z @teyums @bestwlwmonster @totesnothere04 @bigdikzaddy @awriana @scarletrosesposts @abbersreads @my-love-of-books @robin-the-enby @netemoon @minjix @nilrilie @jakes-babygirl @grierpilots @suntizme @jakesully-sbabygirl @lovedbychoi @netemoon @jakesullylongjuiscyshlong

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fancyfeathers · 2 months

Text

Rain and Dirt (Yandere Rex Lapis/Zhongli x Goddesses!Reader)

Chapter Four, Melancholy Memories

Sequel to The Moon Will Sing and Time Alone

Chapter One

Chapter Two Chapter Three

Summary: Stories are told of Rex Lapis the God of Contracts and his darling the Goddess of the Moonlight, but what people do not know is the truth of what their relationship really is. People think at Rex Lapis’s death that his wife would be the first to weep, but what if she is the first to smile.

You watch as the faces of Lumine and Paimon turn into pure shock. They look at each other, then to Moon Carver, then back to you. Their faces turn to shock then into pity, the one thing you did not want now.

“We’re so sorry…” Lumine started, but was not able to find the words. You shook your head, which caught the attention of Moon Carver.

“Sorry? Sorry for what?” The Adeptus questioned, stepping towards you. You knew that the Adepti would be shook to the core at the news of your husband’s death, you did not know what exactly their reactions would be besides extreme.

“It was at the Rite of Descension, I was assisting Lumine and her companion, Paimon, in finding the site of the ceremony.” You gesture over towards them, and your eyes drift down towards the ground, trying to make yourself at least seem mournful in front of the Adeptus. You took a shaky breath in as if to make it seem as if you were on the edge of tears. “Rex Lapis only descended as a corpse, he was assassinated, he’s dead. We have yet to find the culprit but they think it was Lumine but I was with her the entire time.”

“Preposterous…”

“Moon Carver-“

“PREPOSTEROUS!”

“Moon Carver!” You raised your voice at the deer and he fell silent. You sighed and fixed your gaze on the sky above. “Please stay calm, this is not the time to loose yourself in anger.”

“But how could one assassinate Rex Lapis during the Rite of Descension! And then place suspicion upon the attendees, ones with his wife no less!?” Moon Carver spoke out once again, his voice a little but softer than before but not by much. He glanced at you and then back to Lumine, almost to see if you had anything else to say. “Hm… of the unjust accusations placed upon you, one has become aware. The mind knows its answer. Though one must consult with one’s fellows, lest the mind be misguided. Go. Take your Sigil of Permission, carry with you a message.”

“B-but who should I look for?” Lumine questioned, looking at the deer and then back at you.

“Mountain Shaper and Cloud Retainer can be found here. Only fate will decide if you shall find them, or a word from my lady shall draw them forth.” You gave a nod at Moon Carver’s words, confirming this to be so. “There also exists a Conqueror of Demons, a Yaksha. Go to Wangshu Inn, there you shall seek him.”

—————————

You, Lumine, and Paimon left Moon Carver’s abode in silence, pure, awkward, tense, silence. You walked beside her, looking over the landscape of Jueyun Karst, remembering the days you spent here with your husband and the other Adepti, memories you wish to forget, even the fond ones. You felt your hands clench at the thought of all those thousands of years you spent imprisoned, one by chain and cage and then with a ring and vow.

“Are you okay, Miss (Name)?” You heard Lumine question, her face fixated on your own. You made yourself look at her, and she looked worried for you.

“Yes, why would I not be?” You replied, questioning her in return which gave her and Paimon a flabbergasted expression.

“…your husband was killed in front of you.”

“So? He is not my husband anymore, he’s dead.” Lumine still looked so perplexed at your explanation, but she simply did not know or understand what happened during all those years. “There are some things you cannot understand especially with the perceptive Liyue has of him, which is true but he was not just what they speak of. You asked me before what I felt of him and his death and the truth is I felt relieved when I saw his corpse.”

“You what!?” The high pitched voice of Paimon squealed in your ear when you said that. “You’re happy your husband is dead?”

“It sounds strange but if you know the story behind it, the true story, it is not so hard to understand. Those love stories that Childe mentioned, do not believe them, they are all lies. Remember history is formed by the victors, and I did not win.” You looked at Lumine and her confused expression. “I will explain at some point, but it is best you understand the present of the land before you try to understand the past of the land. I am sure your time in Liyue will bring light to that, once you return from the abode of the Adepti, come and find me.”

“Wait, you’re not coming with us?” You nodded your head at Lumine’s question, your eyes going to drift up at the mountains that hold the abodes of Mountain Shaper and Cloud Retainer.

“I cannot come with you, this place holds too many painful memories for me.” You forced a smile, but in your mind you could remember the cries of agony you wept after you broke your contract with Rex Lapis, those five hundred years of pain. “You will find Mountain Shaper on Mount Hulao, and then Cloud Retainer on Mount Aozang. You can tell them that Moon Carver sent you and if that does not work, tell them that I sent you and show them this…”

You slipped off your glove and you expected to see the mark your husband left you with after your act of disobedience, but it was not there, it was gone. You silently guessed that it vanished with his death, as death did you part. You shook away that thought for the time being and slipped off your wedding band, made of pure cor lapis, engraved with a long forgotten language of ancient Liyue. You took Lumine’s hand and placed the tin open her palm before your hand folded her fingers to curl around it.

“One last request, if you have the chance there is a cavern between Mt. Aozang and Qingyun Peak at the bottom of Huaguang Stone Forest. If you want a silver of the truth of who Rex Lapis really is you will find it there, but be warned that if you go there somethings are hard to unsee.” Lumine only nodded to your request, but did not say anything else and nor did you. You only gave a quick glance before you turned on your heel and began walking back, back to Liyue Harbor, a city that feels strange to you now.

—————————

You returned to Liyue Harbor, but you decided not to return to your home, you just could not make yourself return there now. You instead found yourself walking down to the docks, wanting to feel the comfort of the ocean again. You sat down at the edge of the dock, dangling your feet in the water that had an orange glow as the sun set over the harbor. You closed your eyes and remembered the time you and your siblings would converse by the water, not just you and your sister, but your whole family. The gods of Teyvat that are no Adepti, nor wind of Mondstadt, or subservient to any Archon of the land.

“Come little sister, you are the goddess of the rain, you have no reason to fear the water.” Your older brother told you, extending his hand to you as to help you wade into the water. Your brother had taken his human form as to be less intimidating to his younger siblings, namely you and your sister. “Come now, I will protect you for everything that swims knows my name as they will know yours.”

“But, it’s so deep.” You were hesitant to go any further than where the waves just hit your feet. “Who knows what’s down there.”

“I know the depths of the ocean, for it is my home and I promise nothing that dwells there is scarier than I and you don’t fear me, do you?” You shook your head no to his question and took a breath in before taking his hand. He guided you deeper into the water, but still making sure the water did not go over your head. “See, you are perfectly safe here, safer than anywhere because the ocean will always protect you.”

You hummed as you remembered the comfort the ocean had with your brother, and it still provided comfort but you could not see him anymore thanks to the one who calls himself your husband. You heard footsteps approach you, coming to stop behind you. At first you got a bad case of deja vu, remember the times your husband would drag you away from the water, saying how it was to protect you from the dangers of the deep. You could not get yourself to look behind you.

“Back so soon? I’m guessing Lumine is still off meeting with the Adepti.” A wave of relief washed over you as you heard the Fatui Harbinger’s voice. You looked over your shoulder to see the red haired man.

“Yes, I figured she could navigate herself from where I left her.” You responded as Childe came to sit next to you on the dock, his legs not dangling over the edge as to avoid the water. “She’ll be alright.”

“Is that the entire truth?” His words were sudden and caught you off guard. You glanced at him, a confused look plastered on your face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, with all due respect, you’re a terrible liar.” His empty blue eyes looked over the vast ocean before you, his eyes landed on Guyun Stone Forest in the distance. “When most women's husbands die they are weeping at their side, so I suspect those stories are nothing but fiction.”

“That… is correct.” There was no point in lying, he already knew, probably figured it out when you were talking to him before. “What do you want, Childe? Need I remind you that I am no mere mortal, I’m still a god even if I am weaker than the others.”

“I mean no harm, I just want to make a deal, no contract necessary.” He reached out and gestured into the distance where he was looking, Guyun Stone Forest. You knew who lay under there, all of Liyue knew. “You miss him don’t you?

“Morax?”

“No, your brother.” Childe corrected you and your face dropped to be emotionless and your gaze fell onto the water that reflected you both.

“I miss all my siblings.”

There was a pungent moment of silence between the two of you, no glances or words exchanged. Your heart ached for your family, your sisters, your brothers, but they were all but gone now, some dead, some sealed away, and others unknown to you.

“Here is my deal, help me…” you could feel his eyes fix on you again, watching you for your reaction. Then when he said those words he got the reaction he wanted, eyes widened, mouth agape, and body frozen. “…and I’ll make sure your brother is freed.”

#yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere zhongli #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere rex lapis #yandere rex lapis x reader

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go-to-the-mirror · 9 months

Text

Jonathan Sims did everything wrong and he should actually do that more. Kill people. Do it. I love you.

#landscaping your mind chapter one #jonathan sims #tma #i love him more than anything

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

The Detour 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor

Summary: You find yourself stranded in a small village.

Part of the Backwoods AU

Note: So this is an idea I had for a while but I just know I wouldn't get to do it full length for chapters but I hope it's fun.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You watch the green landscape pass outside the window. The tow truck rattles, almost to a concerning degree, as it chuffs down the winding country road. The driver, a man who calls himself Vol, sings along loudly to the radio as you make yourself small in the passenger seat.

This isn’t how you saw your road trip going. You don’t understand why something always has to go wrong. Even with your utmost efforts, there’s always some hitch.

You go over it all in your head. An oil change, standard check-up, some adjustments. All that on a nearly new model and you still ended up stranded. A flat tire but you don’t have a spare. The man promises one back at his shop.

Whatever it costs, you don’t care. You’re annoyed at the time spent on this ridiculous mishap. It does seem to occur often that each time you attempt to do something for yourself, that there must be some disaster. It’s why you haven’t tried anything of the sort in years.

You look in the mirror and see the edge of your car strapped to the bed of the truck. You should’ve done the train. The view along the cross country rail is allegedly quite resplendent but you didn’t like the idea of having to abide by a schedule not your own. Once again, your stubbornness nips you in the rear.

The man slaps the steering wheel along to the beat of the music. You don’t mind the song, it’s considered a classic of the genre, but does it need to be so loud? You cross your arms and huff, the noise of your displeasure drowned out by the crackling speakers.

Country houses stand on hills and fields sprawl with freshly sowed fields. You try to imagine a life here, away from the bustling furor of the city. That thought makes your chest want to collapse. You couldn’t do it. You are urban to the core.

As you come to the heart of the village, the houses are placed closer but not clustered. Only along the sparse row of their ‘downtown’ do buildings dare to touch. It’s after five and the shops are all closed for the day.

“Garage is just behind Mary’s place,” the man turns down the radio, “we’ll get a better look at the damage.” He assures you, peeking at you in the rear view, “these old country roads aren’t meant for speeding.”

“I wasn’t…” you cut yourself off. You won’t argue. You just want a new tire, “right, thank you.”

He chuckles, nonplussed by your curtness. He steers around another long bend in the road. Why must everything be so tedious and slow? He shuttles up to a bright red structure that resembles a barn. Across the moniker, hand painted nonetheless, is the name Volstagg’s. He flips the stick to park and kills the engine.

“Here,” he proclaims, pausing as his eyes pinpoint through the windshield, “ah, of course.”

He clicks his seat belt and lets it repel. He swings open the door so violently it shakes the entire vehicle. You furrow your brow as he hops down and hollers. What on earth is he doing?

“...working. What d’you want?” Is all you catch through his chortling grit.

“Good to see you too, friend,” another voice counters, even deeper and smooth like silk. Great, another of the village folk.

You undo your seat belt and check your reflection in the side mirror. You open the door and plant your heel on the little metal step below the door. You let yourself down but stumble at the still jarring height of the truck cabin. You cling to the door as you gain your balance.

You shut it with a creak and a clang. Your soles mulch in the dusty gravel as you follow the voices. You clear your throat, facing the men chattering on the other side of the truck. You bring your hands to your hips in a show of your irritation.

“Hullo,” you sneer, “my tire, sir.”

The bearded redhead, Vol, and his companion, a blond even taller and blonder, look over at you with curious expressions. Their faces tint from surprised to amused. You want to roll your eyes. Your stature rarely affords you dignity.

“Yes, ma’am,” the redhead shows his large palm apologetically, “forgive me,” he faces the other man, “as you see, I have work to do.”

“So I see,” the other man drawls, his gaze stuck on you, “you are visiting Hammer Ford?”

You curl your lip, “never. Passing through,” you turn and stride away, towards the front of the building as Vol gets back in his truck.

The blond jogs in front of the high bumper, waving at the driver, as he crosses over to you. You keep your back to him as you strut up the edge of the dirt lot. You try to ignore him as you watch the mechanic angle around to bring your car along the front of the garage, steering the bed towards the doors.

“Passing through. On your way to…?”

“None of your concern,” you sniff, “I only need a new tire and I’ll be gone.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. This is a lovely village. Quaint. You might like it here,” he muses, “a woman like yourself, you might find it novel.”

“A woman like me?” You challenge, facing him at last, well, facing his torso. You look up, “how am I like, sir?”

“Well, from the city presumably,” he tosses back as if mocking your tone, “city folk tend to endear themselves to the quiet here.”

“Mmm,” you accept with a purse of your lips, “I’ll be off as soon as my tire is fixed. I have more important places to be.”

“Fair,” he shrugs, “you do seem rather… important.” He emphasizes the last word, echoing your own statement. You squint and turn away again. You’ll be gone soon enough.

“Vol,” he spins with a holler, bounding off to bother the other man as he works at placing the loading ramps against the truck bed, “before I go…”

His voice trails off as he claps the other man’s shoulder, his volume dropping notably. You slowly drag your heels towards them, receiving another glimpse from the blond’s sea blue eyes. He smirks before he releases his comrade from his bearlike grasp.

“Good day, lady,” he bows his head in exaggerated gallantry, “not to worry, Volstagg always takes special care of the pretty ones.”

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #au #backwoods au #series #drabble #the detour #mcu #marvel #avengers #volstagg

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ybklix · 3 days

Text

𝐂𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 ♡ 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 ₊⊹

CRY BABY .♡⊹ (( bang chan)) mdni

Chapters:

1: cry baby ((wc: 4.1k))

2: dollhouse ((wc: 3k))

ONE: cry baby.

you're all on your own and you lost all your friends, you told yourself that it's not you, it's them ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

It didn't matter how long the journey had been; when it came to reaching his hometown, fatigue and jet lag ceased to exist for Chris once his body felt the air of Australia. He had arrived at a wonderful time, with time to arrange things in his new home and visit his girlfriend.

Chris picked up his phone and sent a text to his girlfriend letting her know he had arrived and that he'd pick her up after work. There were still a couple of hours left, so he decided to order a taxi to take him to his new home. He had planned his stay in Sydney carefully and thoughtfully, considering every angle. It favored him quite a bit; his girlfriend of two and a half years lived here, he could continue working from the comfort of home, and he could pick up extra jobs that he didn't completely dislike. Indeed, for Chris, working hard and keeping his mind occupied was always better.

Everything was going quite perfectly that he couldn't help but smile. He bought his dream house a couple of months ago and had since begun his official move, moving his entire life from Seoul to Sydney. Returning, for him, was something he hadn't expected. He found it almost funny that after all his effort, he returned to where it all began, where everything started as a simple dream. But all his sacrifice had yielded excellent results since he had a steady job and stability, doing what he loved most, writing and producing music. When he announced he had to leave, his colleagues almost tried to stop him. He was quite successful and famous as a producer, but they understood that he could continue working, just not in that distant country anymore.

Chris looked at the beautiful landscapes the city offered through the taxi window. He was so excited that once he spent the afternoon with his partner, he would consider immediately go to visit his family. A long day awaited him, but he knew it would be worth it.

Buying a house in a neighborhood like this, spectacular in every aspect, suitable for childless couples, professionals, and simply for families, whose children rarely went out to play and make noise, and for retired elderly people living alone, was just what he needed, a large space just for him, even though it wasn't part of his plan; but suddenly a change in his life and routine sounded so good. Chris didn't know exactly why a house and not an apartment, to start with, as he had in Seoul; not even his own father understood it, Chris just excused himself saying he needed to own a more spacious place where noise could easily be canceled out, for the construction of his own recording studio... but inside him, perhaps there was a certain instinct that he wanted to start a family soon, he knew exactly that this wasn't his girlfriend's idea, not even as a joke, but maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny feeling like that in him.

Once entering the neighborhood, he felt the warmth of living in Australia again despite it being a slightly cool afternoon with the sun hiding behind the clouds. He never thought he would come to this place; he always believed he would live in Seoul for the rest of his life; he was so excited to start a new life but still leaving aside illusions, if something went wrong, he knew he could flee to Korea whenever he wanted... but he wasn't like that, he was never the type of guy who just run away. In fact, he thought that he left Sydney to pursue a dream, never by choice; it would be a lie to say he didn't like Seoul since it was his home for a long time... but once he could see the green grass, the well-kept roses of the people, he realized he had disconnected a bit and had lived in the noisy city long enough. This was what pleased him the most, nature, and if he wanted more buildings and noise, the city center wasn't far from his new address.

He stood there for a few seconds admiring the facade of his new home and noticed a teenage boy entering the house next door, they must be the neighbors, he thought. When he was initially given a tour of the house, as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, a woman welcomed him, told him her name but Chris didn't remember it, she mentioned that she lived with her family and other things like how much they had started to remodel and modernize that house. Still, he felt strangely safe, the distances between the houses were large enough to provide privacy, to his right was that family he supposed consisted of the teenager, and to his left was an older widow, or at least that's what the real estate agent told him.

He sighed in frustration at the sight of the pile of boxes scattered around and thought that he didn't have enough time, but fortunately, he was always prepared and a step ahead, so the interior designer would come tomorrow with her team to help her move stuff. He had to prepare as soon as possible for the start of his new job in the morning, as a professor at the university. He would teach two subjects related to music at different levels, and a few courses about Asian culture. He was nervous, but he had become a teacher in his spare time, and he felt quite prepared for whatever he might face.

He was hesitating whether to take a nap or move a few things in case Leah, his girlfriend, wanted to come; Chris ran his hand through his hair, thinking, so he opted for the second option; he cleared the living room area, tidied up, cleaned a few things, took a shower, and without thinking twice, it was time to pick up Leah.

He took the keys to his new car, really taking seriously the idea of living in Sydney and being well prepared. Ready to have a new life. He felt tense when he realized that he would be driving in Australia again and that the steering wheel was on the right side, unlike his old home where he had obtained his license from a very young age. Still, he set his GPS and left; this time, as he passed by the house next door, he now noticed it was a girl entering the house.

When he finally picked up his girlfriend, the sky was completely dark, and he noticed how tired she looked; Chris felt slightly bad and reproached himself for not thinking earlier and not bringing her a small romantic gesture of welcome, even though he was the one who had just arrived. They hadn't seen each other for a long month, he missed his girlfriend so much that it almost physically hurt not to be with her. A few seconds later, Leah's expression softened, and her serious demeanor turned into a warm smile.

—Channie —she called him affectionately by his Korean nickname, almost in a sigh, and extended her arms.

Finally, they hugged for just the right amount of time and exchanged a tender kiss. He had met her almost three years ago in Seoul; she worked in advertising for a magazine and was somewhat related to the entertainment world, so her social circle was so similar to Chris's; like him, Leah had grown up in Australia with Korean parents, the only difference being that she did have her whole life back in Oceania; still, he was captivated by her at that party, she was only two years younger than him, Leah at that time was just a beginner still in college on a trip in Seoul with her other circle of friends, and he was a recent graduate with a special gift. Despite the differences, they decided to give it a try, leading them to a long-distance relationship for just over two years, but it didn't matter now, at least not anymore for him; right now, he was with her, and he could have her whenever he wanted.

Chris, or Chan to her, caressed his girlfriend's face as he gave her a gentle kiss, breathing in her perfume one last time before pulling away and lowering his hand to her bare thigh with a smile.

—Do you want to go out to eat? Should we go somewhere...? —he spoke.

—Mm, let's order food and you can show me your house.

—It's still a bit of a mess —he warned.

Chris let out a small laugh and did exactly as Leah had suggested. She had been inside the house before, but she was always surprised at how well laid out it was in terms of space and design. He found her reaction endearing and with a smile on his face, he thought about how all of this might one day belong to her too. They both headed to eat at the small and only nightstand table in his TV room; some larger items were arriving tomorrow, so for now, that was what they could improvise with. As they ate, Leah kept talking about how stuff should be arranged to create harmony and coherence in the house. Chris listened attentively and lovingly; they talked about their respective jobs and what awaited them.

After sitting in silence and letting the food settle for a while, Leah spoke.

—Is your room upstairs...

Chris turned to look at her; not seeing her for a long time suddenly had a quick effect on him, and from one second to the next, he found her ten times more attractive.

—Yeah, do you want to give it your approval? —he replied playfully, hoping this would lead to something else.

Chris looked at her profile for a few seconds before she turned and gave him a teasing smile in response. He examined her, from her smooth, slightly upturned nose and her legs barely exposed by the skirt, to her shiny, loose silk blouse. Suddenly, every detail of her drove him crazy and made him feel like a hormonal teenager. He wanted to fuck her right there, right now.

He felt that her mischievous smile and soft gaze were enough signals for him, so he dangerously leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. He started slow and passionate, his right hand traveling up to the hem of her skirt, playing with the thin seam, unsure whether to slide his hand gently between her thighs or do it quickly in one swift motion, while the other hand firmly held her waist. Chris was gradually losing himself, his tongue slipping in, giving her a bolder, dirtier kiss; however, after a torturous session of just wet and hot kisses, Leah squirmed out of his grasp and pulled away from him slowly.

Chris looked confused, but his girlfriend's expression only worried him. With her pink, swollen lips, Leah suddenly seemed shy, with her eyes cast down. In seconds, Chris realized that maybe it was just something she didn't feel like doing right now, and he respected that... but it still seemed quite strange to him. Had she pushed him away? Since when did she reject him? Every time they saw each other, because of their painful long-distance relationship, the most intense and pleasurable sex awaited them.

Chris wanted to believe that maybe it wasn't the best situation for her, tired in her work clothes after a long day.

—It's a bit late... and we both have to work tomorrow —she said, raising her gaze and captivating Chris's gaze—. You'll do great, love —she smiled.

He knew her so well, he didn't understand why she suddenly gave him an awkward smile pretending to be kind... Had something bothered her, and he had no idea? He wanted to ask her so many things, but Leah stood up from her position on the floor and grabbed her bag.

—I really need to rest, and it's getting late. See you tomorrow? —she interrupted.

Chris quickly got up and gently took her waist.

—Of course, I'll drive you home.

As they got into the car, Chris looked at the completely quiet street, with no noise, the houses perfectly illuminated, there was no one outside except for the two of them and the mysterious girl next door coming out of her house with the cold wind blowing her hair.

During the drive, Leah became herself again, outgoing and energetic. She told her boyfriend how they should spend the short break he had as teachers in September; he just thought about how grateful he was to have a sweet moment with her and looked at her with tenderness when the traffic lights indicated he should stop... yet, he was a little hurt, deep down, slightly bruising his pride as a man that he didn't get any physical intimacy from his girlfriend that night... he had waited so long, he thought he could reward her, and when his house is no longer a mess, he would make sure to satisfy her and shower her with gifts.

—I'll see you tomorrow, Chan —she leaned in, giving him a quick goodbye kiss—. Call me.

Again, for the third time that day, she felt strange to him. It was obvious she wouldn't be the same young woman she used to be, capable of throwing a party every time they saw each other... but he felt there was something about her that she had to tell him as soon as possible, or he would go crazy. It wasn't surprising, Chris was an intense guy.

Once he returned home, he threw the keys with fury... he had tried to keep his sanity, but the more he overthought it on the way back home, the less sense it made to him. She didn't anger him, never could he be angry with her, it just, maybe, he thought, it was about him.

He went up to his room, in one swift movement he took off his shirt, feeling the cold air seeping through the small opening in his window. He checked the time on his phone, 11:43 p.m., he needed to rest, to take a shower in the morning and start his day... but he could only think about the romantic date options he could do on a simple Monday.

As he took a few steps towards his bed, approaching it, he noticed through his window how a faint, warm light, not so noticeable, managed to penetrate into his dark room. He turned his body and cursed for not remembering to put up curtains before; for a moment, he felt sorry for not realizing that significant detail, he was so used to the large windows in his old apartment in Seoul restricting the view. It was obvious that there was another room, right next to his.

Chris didn't want to pay attention, but catching the subtle silhouette of a girl sitting by his window captivated him inconsistently. She was wearing a thin white tank top despite the cold weather. He thought about how warm her room looked while giving it a quick inspection. The girl had her face buried in her naked knees, and her loose hair covered her face; her arms embraced her legs. Suddenly, she pushed her hair behind her ears, revealing just her profile. Yet it wasn't hard for Chris to see that she was crying. Her cheek was shining, wet, and he could see the small tears sliding down.

The girl by the window began to sob, causing her back and chest to contract. Chris suddenly didn't want to watch; he felt like he was invading her privacy and pain. But somehow, he couldn't stop watching her; he was so dismayed, but he was more bothered by the fact that he couldn't take his eyes off her.

He had no idea how long he had been watching her... but somehow, deep down, he thought, in the most hidden part of himself, that she looked strangely beautiful crying. The large rectangular window frame captured that girl with glowing cheeks and slightly messy hair, crying in what seemed to be a corner with books and a seat by the window.

The girl by the window closed her eyes tightly and slowly lay down, facing away from Chris's window, ending the performance completely. Finally, he reacted; she was still sobbing, her back moving uncontrollably, but it was harder to see her now.

Chris didn't know what had come over him; he almost felt annoyed that his neighbor didn't put up her own curtains. He could see everything, from his bed, which was positioned so that it faced his room directly, to his posters on the wall, to her backpack thrown on the floor.

Chris sighed and tried not to worry about his neighbor anymore. He wanted to think it was just a young girl in the age of broken hearts and not something deeper... but she was crying with such emotion that it made his head spin. He puffed his cheeks, letting out a sigh, and, retreating to the window, he took off his pants, slipping into his sheets, making sure she wouldn't accidentally turn and see him. Unlike her room, his bed was positioned sideways, his front door facing his bed, and her room's door was on the right side of the bed. Somehow, he felt like her room was more exposed, so he would have to move to avoid causing her any discomfort.

At dawn, the light bothered him, and he prayed that the girl had her curtains closed. Otherwise, he would have to get up semi-naked, and if she saw him, she might think he was a pervert. And just for his luck, some pretty white lace curtains covered her window; Chris was able to leave freely and go to wash up, taking his clothes with just a towel covering his lower half and changing in another room.

Chris looked at himself in the mirror, wondering if his outfit was appropriate: formal pants with a black button-up shirt. He wanted to think it was the best option for winter. He adjusted his dark hair before heading downstairs for breakfast, tired of boxes everywhere; he hoped everything would be in order between today and tomorrow for a better rest.

As he left, driving his car towards the university, he saw her again, walking down the sidewalk in the same direction as him; the famous girl who had been crying by her window, his neighbor, wearing blue jeans, white ankle boots, and a thin pale pink sweater. He saw her so fleetingly that he only saw her profile once again and noticed her backpack slung across her body.

And then she saw him too, just in a quick glance, driving his car, dressed all in black. She hadn't seen him completely, they hadn't even introduced themselves, but her mother confirmed it, he's a very handsome young man, he lives alone, and he bought the property outright, he must have a lot of money. His name is Christopher.

She had seen him at least twice, an embarrassing encounter in the morning when she tried to open her curtains just before leaving home, as she always did, but found his broad back naked, wearing only a towel while holding his clothes; Celeste immediately slid the curtain with embarrassment and just left her room. She hated to admit her mother was right, but the short two seconds she saw of his build weren't bad at all. And the second time was just moments ago as she headed to the university.

So that's her new neighbor, a man who emerged out of nowhere, bought that modernized house that had been empty for so long. She was so used to there being no one next to her room, now she had to be careful of walking around wearing with what she’s comfortable with.

Celeste took a couple of buses and one more subway line to reach her campus, where the first classes went by normally, and it wasn’t until brunch when the only person she talked to approached her.

—Celeste —he said to her.

She looked up from her food, observed him, gave him a smile, and invited him to sit with her gaze.

—I heard we’re finally getting a music teacher —he said again.

—Wow, it’s about time, it’s been a week —she replied.

The guy smiled at Celeste and took one of her fries.

—There’s going to be an art exhibition, you should come —he suggested.

—When? —she asked.

—Friday at 7.

Celeste raised her eyes, thinking if she had to work that day and concluded that if she asked for the day off they’d give it to her since she worked a week with no days off, she could perfectly go see Hyunjin’s exhibition.

It wasn’t new for Celeste to be somewhat… strange. She didn’t know how to explain it, but little by little, she distanced herself from all the people she once spoke comfortably with, and surprisingly, the handsome exchange student was the only one who talked to her. He was two years older than her and was studying visual arts, yet he decided to take music courses, and that’s where they met.

—I’ll be there —Celeste replied, checking the time on her phone—. We still have about 20 minutes ‘till class —she added.

Hyunjin smiled at her; he was quite handsome and popular, so a part of Celeste wants to feel human and like him like most do, if she paid proper attention to him... she could develop feelings for him, she hated the feeling part, and that feelings lead her to false illusions but she felt that in her dull life she needed to at least, have a little crush on someone. Maybe that would help distract her.

Falling in love was something Celeste didn't know, something that was out of her hands and even something she thinks is out of her reach. It's not that she doesn't want to have attention and affection... she just gave up and decided to think that maybe life is lonely for her. Her last intimate encounter and affection for a man was when she was 13 years old at a birthday party when she was dared to kiss someone, that was her last and first kiss. The rest of her years she lived normally without the opportunity of a prospect and love... that was one of the last things she thought and cried about, truly. Love.

The depression and anxiety was diminishing her libido and she remembers that maybe the last time she masturbated out of boredom was a year ago.

But Hyunjin... Celeste thought about whether she should like him, whether she should bring excitement into her life for the first time in twenty years.

She was an interesting and pretty girl, shy, but lonely, she isolated herself too much and lived absorbing the pain and problems of her surroundings; her issue was that she felt too much that sometimes she would go into a kind of self-control, on automatic, off without feeling anything, until she overloaded herself and exploded, it was always the same with her and she felt pathetic that she could never change. Her behavior led her to pull away from everyone... wondering why they didn't come back to her, maybe it's them, not me, she thought constantly.

Celeste watched Hyunjin closely as they talked for 10 minutes and the next 10 they used it to walk to the classroom. She was quite observant and took it upon herself to memorize every detail about him, his full lips, his eyelids hiding in his sharp brown eyes, the almost invisible mole under his eye, thick dark eyebrows, long hair and big hands, come on Celeste, feel something, she thought.

She wanted to bang her head against the wall, only then did she think she would come to her senses to feel something for someone as attractive as Hyunjin, besides he was an artist and the only person nice to her... she felt like a heartless bitch.

Arriving at the classroom, Hyunjin and Celeste sat together and the teacher was already inside as well. She spotted his silhouette as she passed, but saw him completely once again looked up at him... suddenly he seemed so similar, those broad shoulders and all black clothes, she shouldn't have been excited, but something small grew inside her, perhaps the intrigue that maybe her teacher is also her new neighbor? Suddenly the big city she always grew up in seemed small to her with such a coincidence.

Celeste was at least ninety percent sure it was him, she watched him a minute longer and as she felt their gazes cross, she turned to Hyunjin, embarrassed. Class started two minutes later and he finally introduced himself.

—I am Christopher Bang. Sorry for the delay of the subject by a week.

TWO: dollhouse.

places, places, get in your places, throw on your dress and put on your doll faces. everyone thinks that we're perfect, please don't let them look through the curtains ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Celeste had lived in that house her whole life. It was only when she turned 18 and graduated that she managed to leave for a year and breathe… but due to economic reasons, she had to return. It's not that she wasn't grateful… she just needed a break from what her family could sometimes be.

Her father was an accountant who worked hard to provide his children with a home in what was considered one of the best neighborhoods in the city. At least she agreed that he did the right thing in that regard. However, he was insolent, dishonest, and unfaithful. She discovered her father's infidelity when she was only eleven years old, one June night when her father probably thought the house was completely empty since her mother usually took them —her younger brother and her— to visit their aunt… but that day was different, one of those when Celeste's puberty rebellion hit, and she refused to go with them. So, she wanted to stay in her room… until she saw them, him and his lover entering the house. She was so surprised, scared, and overwhelmed with emotions that she didn't know what to do, so she pretended not to be there. Overnight, her innocence was gone in an unpleasant way.

She couldn't live with the guilt, so a year later, she confessed it to her mother. Celeste already knew the gravity of the situation by then and had considered a million options that could happen: her mother going crazy, even blaming her daughter for not telling her, or a calm and depressive reaction… but in all scenarios, Celeste maturely considered divorce as a good option. She felt that she was no longer a child, she could live with it; after all, she had discovered that her father was not a good person and that her mother could take care of them. The only concern of poor twelve-year-old Celeste was her younger brother, who at the age of eight, for them, everything seemed like a fairytale, and having both parents was part of their fantasy world. She hated that she cared and loved him… but she was sure that the little one could overcome a divorce. She didn't want to be there anymore; she couldn't even look at her father in the eyes, she was always avoiding any encounter with him.

But her mother's reaction to the truth was… something different from the expected options. Even after years had passed, it still seemed so strange to her. They were there, sitting in the dining room, and it was three days after Celeste turned 12, on a rainy day in July when Celeste got tired of crying and wondering every night why… her birthday celebration made her angry; she didn't feel so sad and dejected anymore. She hated the way her father pretended to love her and everything was fine, the way he played with her brother and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, she couldn't stand it anymore, so she told her mother. That time she had murmured an oh, and stared fixedly at a fixed point.

“I know, because I saw them,” Celeste said before her mother even asked anything else, but she didn't, she didn't do anything and was shocked. During the night, it was as if nothing had happened, and she served dinner… that wasn't what she expected, she wanted a scene and chaos; she wanted there to be shouts, but somehow she was grateful that there was no such behavior because of Celeste's little brother. But she was blinded by hatred and remorse towards her father.

The next day she remembers that she reproached her mother, shouting, “won't you do anything?”. She didn't answer. After that, she felt so cold and distant, her father was becoming more and more obvious with his affairs, the smell of a perfume that wasn't his wife's, spontaneous outings, and even nights without returning home.

Celeste couldn't stand pretending to be okay, and two months later, after seeing how her mother deteriorated and faded more and more, she walked to her father's small office in the house, being completely a mess, and told him the truth. “I know you have another woman, maybe mom wants to keep pretending with you but I can't.”

She remembered her father's expression, the surprise on his face and its paleness. Celeste didn't expect a response from him, so she was about to leave, but back then her father acted quickly, getting up from his chair and questioning her. “I saw you, don't try to deny it.”

The following years were him trying to fix it and build a bond with her but it was in vain; suddenly her little brother wondered why his father was too lenient with his sister. Celeste lived through her remaining teenage years trying to be someone normal until she finally got lost in music; she didn't want to spend time at home so she tried to enroll in all the extracurricular courses at her school that didn't involve physical effort like sports. Months later after her horrible confrontation, she found a passion for the piano, all her following school years were based on music, being in recitals whose events she never invited either of her parents to, playing for the drama club, being in the literature club, debate club, creative writing club… until she enrolled in her chosen university dedicated to that one thing she was passionate about.

At first, she knew she would annoy her parents with her career choice, but it was the perfect time to blackmail her father to pay for her institution. She wasn't anywhere near forgiving him, but the psychological damage somehow had a price: getting out of that house. Celeste had a busy life, after rehearsals, she started having part-time jobs since she was sixteen with the dream of living in her own space near the university.

She was so busy, she would come home around 10 or 11 at night and what she found at home was devastating. Her mother was a secretary who became a housewife after her second child was born, a boy named Blake. She dedicated 12 years to taking care of her children until she found out about her husband's infidelity. Cecille gradually became an alcoholic.

Celeste had to see it every night when she came home from work. Her wasted mother lying on the couch with the TV on and a strong smell of alcohol. Celeste had tried everything, her aunt's intervention, enrolling her in support groups, but her mother didn't seem to cooperate.

When she turned fifteen, she begged her father to divorce her mother, but she refused to accept it.

Every now and then she had to go check on her brother, to make sure he didn't turn into a complete idiot like his father, or simply into a bad person, related to what was he seeing at home. But even in that, both dysfunctional parents were lucky, Blake was a shy boy, four years younger than Celeste, who grew up with a passion for physics and mathematics; unlike her, he did go out in the afternoons with his friends and lived a life outside of his home. He didn't care how bad things were, as long as he had somewhere to live and his own space he was more than okay, even when he was fourteen he managed to steal alcohol from his mother to go try it at a friend's house later, not everything had to be so bad, or at least that's what he thought… sometimes Celeste wanted to be like him and try not to worry too much. Little by little, both of them grew up without showing affection, Celeste thought that maybe that's why it wasn't something she sought in other people, her perception of love and respect had been so damaged since she was young but she couldn't accept it. She never felt anything when she saw her classmates holding hands, seeing the cheesy actions of strangers showing affection, a hug was something she only remembered fleetingly from her childhood.

When she finally turned eighteen, she found a roommate and rented a dorm room on campus; that place wasn't her dream, the floor was noisy, full of extroverted theater kids, but it was all she had. She had lived like that for a whole year, with no communication to her parents, working and studying at the same time, only communicating with her brother to wish him Merry Christmas and New Year, and in May, to wish him a happy birthday. It all fell apart in her second year of school when her roommate told her she was moving out and Celeste couldn't afford the full expense, she already had an academic scholarship and her parents were still paying for her institution.

Celeste did it, she called her brother on a normal day that wasn't a holiday, her little brother advised her that she could go back home, that's what he would do when he entered college, since it would only take him routes and buses to get there. “I'll let mom and dad know,” he told her over the phone before abruptly hanging up. Celeste couldn't answer, she couldn't say don't do it. And she insisted by text that she would manage on her own. That day her heart broke when she read the text from her fifteen-year-old brother saying: why do you hate them? come back home for me the uni is literally half an hour away from home

She had no choice, she had everything, she wouldn't pay rent, her payment at the university would continue, she would only work to buy her own things and take care of Blake. She never thought he would feel abandoned. She thought about how much it must have sucked to come home alone, with an absent father and an alcoholic mother.

When she told her roommate that she would return to her home in Woollahra, her expression was incredulous, “you've been living there all this time? Why would you want to live in an uncomfortable dorm?”. Celeste wondered if she was being ungrateful.

And then she returned, her father couldn't be happier, and even her mother's dull face lit up at having her only daughter back. She would go back to being the same, practically just going home to sleep.

If she had everything… why did she feel so empty. Her room was still the same as they had decorated it since she was eight, covered in pale pink and white shades. The years passed and she continued to support her brother, going to academic competitions he attended, and for the first time, she asked him to come see her perform at a recital in her university's auditorium.

And so her life remained, until now that she felt stuck once again, in her third year of university. She felt like she was repeating her high school years and it was suffocating her. If she could leave with Blake she would, but she was just a simple university student with anxiety attacks in the school bathrooms.

—You should ask the new guy next door if he has a girlfriend, seriously, he's cute, Celeste. You've never had a boyfriend, right? —her mother mentioned, leaning on the kitchen counter.

Celeste looked at her incredulously, wondering since when her private life mattered to her, and if she had a boyfriend, it wouldn't be something she'd inform her about. She was about to leave for university, she didn't want those kinds of conversations at 7 in the morning.

—Ew, isn't he like thirty? —her brother added, eating a spoonful of his cereal.

—Age can just be a number, Blakey, we want your sister to find love.

—I have to go —Celeste sighed, escaping the conversation.

She couldn't stop thinking about it. Once again, she was right, why couldn't she find love? Her only friend, whom she rarely contacted, moved in with her mother in Melbourne after finishing high school. And now socializing at university where classmates change and come and go, it was so difficult for her to establish any kind of relationship with anyone. The only person she talked to was… an exchange student who shared only one class on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Celeste couldn't help but wonder if she should start flirting with him, just to try to feel something in return.

Every time she examined him more… she realized how cute he was, should she approach him? Anyway, he would leave at the end of the semester, no one could die trying.

When they sat together in class, she couldn't help but be distracted by thoughts that tomorrow she would dress up more for Hyunjin, fix her hair more, wear more makeup… the idea of being liked by someone made her so nervous.

And when she looked up, she saw her new teacher, who she could swear was her new handsome neighbor.

As the class began, she remembered her mother's voice saying he was handsome, and without realizing it, a slight mocking smile appeared on her face as she analyzed her new teacher's appearance in detail. Slightly tanned skin, short, dark brown hair semi-wavy, his intense gaze beneath his slit eyes, prominent nose, and thick lips… and his voice was strong, commanding, and nasal, and his build was… Celeste thought… was this what imagination was like when dealing with the sudden rush of hormones?

She had the idea that maybe she wasn't the only one so surprised and delighted by the assignment of the new teacher. She discreetly turned her gaze to the sides, to her other classmates, and noticed how they looked at him intensely without taking their eyes off the man giving the class, Celeste felt foolish, had she looked so obvious? Had Hyunjin noticed?

Once the class ended, Chris said:

—Before you all leave… —he approached his desk and quickly and gently picked up a paper from his desk— Is Celeste Burton here? —he looked up searching among the students.

Celeste frowned and timidly raised her hand, Hyunjin quickly glanced at her friend and then at the teacher, it also seemed strange to him but he didn't pay attention to it; Chris finally managed to perceive her and added:

—Can you come up for a moment to talk?

His gaze fixed on hers, Celeste nodded gently and began to gather her things, suddenly she was feeling nervous and not understanding why.

—The rest of you, I'll see you tomorrow —Chris concluded.

With a nervous smirk, Celeste was about to approach but a warm and large hand holding her wrist made her turn, Hyunjin was so close to her face that she couldn't even react.

—I have to go to the arts campus now, but I'll see you tomorrow, Cel —he informed her with a smile, almost feeling his cool breath.

—Sure.

She limited herself to answer, she was so overwhelmed by the situation's overload, Chris wanted to talk to her and suddenly Hyunjin was approaching dangerously, she couldn't process it. Celeste returned her gaze to Chris, who had his eyes fixed on Hyunjin until he left the classroom, after feeling Celeste's soft gaze, he cleared his throat and looked at her, waiting for her to come closer.

Celeste walked to his desk and the last two students had already left the classroom, leaving only the two of them; she didn't want to appear nervous, she didn't have to be.

—You signed up during the academic break as an apprentice to some teacher at the beginning of the school year —Celeste quickly processed the information while he made eye contact with her—, well Burton, I'll be your mentor, is that okay?

—Oh, sure, I didn't know I had been selected… it's a pleasure, Professor Bang.

Chris gave her a smile and observed her, her still and straight posture with her hands together against her jeans.

—Yes well, the other students applied for classes with other teachers, but you were selected as my apprentice, I heard you're the best in the class.

Chris raised his eyebrows waiting for a reaction from her to his last comment and suddenly he realized that he was starting to ramble, he didn't understand why he did it. He shook his head slightly and tried to refocus.

—I want to discuss schedules. Wednesday is general rehearsal, so I like discipline, how about Monday to Friday excluding Wednesday, from 1 to 4? It'll be in the music room, for tomorrow.

Chris looked at her intently and Celeste began to think… she would have to shorten her work hours if she said yes, she couldn't miss the opportunity, it would be so beneficial to her resume, she wants to believe that he is a good teacher in terms of his knowledge and being his apprentice could lead her to expand her mind. But she would have to sacrifice a few hours of work; despite being sunk in sadness, she liked the little things like makeup, clothes, going to nice cafes, visiting the cinema alone, all without having to ask her parents for money at her twenty years old, so being his apprentice would only mean a little less pay, and working with him, or for him, for free.

Celeste thought for a second about how young he looked to be a mentor, she wondered if he was really qualified.

—You can’t…? —he interrupted her, expecting an answer.

—Oh, sure, yes, I'll be there. Thank you.

She smiled at him and Chris returned the gesture. Celeste was about to leave when the female desire to play a little took over.

She was steps away from walking through the door, but she turned, with a playful smile she searched his gaze, Chris was drawn to her sudden movement thinking that maybe she had forgotten to say something.

—By the way, Mr. Bang, did you just move to Woollahra? —he looked at her with a slight furrow of his brow and she continued— Oh, I didn’t want to sound weird; I just think we're neighbors now too. So, welcome.

Her tone was so sweet and innocent yet somehow wicked; Chris recognized the slight intentions of approach.

She left and left him sure of one thing, that it was her, the pretty and poor girl who cried through her window the night before. Chris swallowed, she's even prettier up close, he thought.

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

₊˚⊹ ᰔ TAGLIST: @forklesschowder @bubblebisk @calisnewworld @sunarins-whore @bangchansslut6 @snowyquokka @chansbabygirlsstuff @athforskz @heeyboooo @chrizzztopherbang @yerijaksel @moonlightndaydreams @readr1221 @skzswife

lmk if u want to be add 2 the taglist☆

2nd divider by chilumitos, i dont rmber by who the first one oop

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burntheedges · 4 months

Text

Maintenance Request: Chapter 5

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ (minors DNI) | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 3.4k

summary: Hot Construction Guy is the bane of your existence — he seems to only pop up at the worst possible moment for you, every time you see him. There’s no way there could be something more there.

Right?

a/n: happy Friday! let's see what's going on with these two. 😏 chapter tags/warnings: banter, food and drink mention (brunch), fluff, mention of breasts

Chapter 5

Friday, September 27 Fifth week of the semester

You looked for your construction guy (HCG, said Beth’s voice in your head) outside when you left your class that Friday, but there was no sign of the crew anywhere. It seemed he’d been right and they had finished their work with the jackhammer in less than 20 minutes.

Damnit.

You looked, but you didn’t see him at all the following week, either. Beth had told you you needed to apologize, and you knew she was right, but you didn’t even know the guy’s name. You didn’t really want to go down to the maintenance office and try to find him, either, Beth. Not with so little to go on.

One morning, though, in the week following the jackhammer incident, you were walking into your building when you stopped, frozen, with your foot on the first step of the stairs to the entrance. Something wasn’t right. You looked up and around, trying to figure out what had caught your eye.

Then it hit you.

The absence of flowers.

All of the chrysanthemums in the beds around your building were gone, replaced with greenery. Not a single flower in sight. You took a deep, easy breath, and smiled a bit at the feeling. You glanced all around, half expecting to see HCG lurking around a corner, watching you notice the change. He wasn’t there, of course. He only appeared in moments when you embarrassed yourself somehow.

But something tripped in the back of your mind. It couldn’t be an accident. You started to wonder.

Maybe it was because of your suspicions about the landscaping change, or maybe it was because of your lingering guilt at the way you’d snapped at HCG, but on Friday you decided to finally put in your maintenance request for the picture that had broken during the pile driver incident. Anything to take your mind off of the look on his face when you’d called your interactions with him a “shitty, unpleasant surprise.”

You weren’t allowed to hang things on the wall in your offices by yourself, and usually you complained about that at length whenever it was needed (they really couldn’t just let you hammer in a few nails? come on). But you were feeling bad about how rude you’d been and you sighed as you finally put in the request for someone to come hang your new frame, complete with the same picture of you and Ellie. You’d reframed it weeks ago but it was just leaning up against the bottom of the wall right below where it used to hang. In the picture you were both making silly faces and just looking at it made you smile, every time. It was time for it to go back up and for you to stop holding a grudge against the need to call in a maintenance request for it.

It didn’t assuage your guilt about the whole situation, but it did make you feel a teensy bit better.

To your surprise, the ticket was processed quickly. You got a notification that someone would be by to take care of it on Monday. That was fast. You shrugged, and made a mental note to prepare that corner of your office before leaving for the weekend.

…

Saturday, September 28 Fifth week of the semester

Most weekends, you and Beth met up for brunch, and Ellie joined you pretty frequently. On this particular Saturday you were watching as she shoveled potatoes into her mouth, barely paying any attention to them, as Beth caught her up on what was going on with HCG.

(At brunch the week before, the day after the jackhammer incident, you’d recounted the entire incident to Beth. She’d sighed, heavily.

“Ok, so you were a bit bitchy to him, but describe his face again?”

“He looked like I’d just punched him,” you’d said, hands over your eyes. “Eyebrows raised, eyes wide, mouth dropped open. Totally taken aback, and like, hurt. Which made me feel even worse.”

Beth had been silent for long enough that you’d finally peeked out from behind your fingers and found her considering you, eyes narrowed. She’d taken a sip of her drink and said, plainly, “he’s into you.” Like it was a fact, something obvious, something everyone knew. Duh, he’s into you.

You’d scoffed. “No way, Beth, I’ve been an asshole to the guy like five times now, that’s ridiculous.”

She’d shaken her head and smirked. “Why would he react like that if he didn’t want you to like him? He keeps coming up to talk to you every time he sees you. He asked you to coffee the first time and shit, he definitely looked at your tits.” You’d shaken your head right back in response through all of her points. She’d rolled her eyes.

“No, I just keep bothering him when he’s working. And he didn’t ask me to coffee, he offered to replace the one I spilled all over myself when I ran into him.”

Beth had leveled an unimpressed look at you, but you’d changed the subject.)

She looked just as unimpressed a week later, and this time she had Ellie to back her up.

“Look, he kept trying to talk to you. He was flirting with you, and you know it.” Beth pointed at you with her fork and raised her eyebrows.

You shook your head. “No, I think he was being normal and I was being rude.”

She rolled her eyes. “He was being polite and friendly, sure, but he was also teasing you, and going out of his way to talk to you. It was more than that. He called you ‘darlin’!” You shook your head again as she added, “And he got rid of the flowers in front of your building.”

“We don’t know that that was him?” You could hear how weak your protest was and she raised her eyebrows as she ignored it.

Ellie snorted. “Who else would it be?”

Beth nodded, agreeing. “No one else knew or cared that you were allergic to them. Hot Construction Guy likes you, dumbass. You know I’m right.” She waved her fork at you again to punctuate her statement. You eyed the bit of egg on the end distrustfully.

Ellie hummed, adding, “you really think this guy would rip up a whole flower bed that he’d just finished putting in if he didn’t like you? As he should, of course, but come on. Doing the whole thing twice? Even if you like flowers and dirt or whatever that’s a lot.”

You sighed. “Ok, even if you are right, I was still a bitch to him last time. Why would he want to talk to me anymore?”

Beth reached out to squeeze your arm. “If that scares him away, he’s not worth it. But I bet it doesn’t. I bet the next time you see him will be different. Besides, didn’t he change out the flower bed after you yelled at him?” She was right, but you didn’t know what it meant. Only what you wanted it to mean.

“Ok, well, we’ll see I guess. But I doubt it. And we still don’t know if that was him!”

Ellie sighed, looking extremely done with your nonsense, and poked you with her spoon. “What’s that thing you tell me all the time, about school? Oh, right. Stop assuming people don’t like you.” Her tone was as dry as the desert and she graced you with an extremely unimpressed raised eyebrow. You smiled, finally, and poked her back.

Beth took pity on you and interrupted your spoon warfare to ask Ellie how school was going, but the idea that HCG might actually like you needled its way into your brain. It stayed there, hovering behind your every thought for the rest of the weekend.

…

Monday, September 30 Sixth week of the semester

On Monday morning, you’d (somewhat) successfully put it all out of your mind — you were going to let the next encounter happen, and just do better. And apologize. But you’d decided that you weren’t going to force it.

At this point you’d probably trip over him on your way to class, anyway.

You made it through your morning class and lunch with no HCG sightings, though. You were pretending not to worry about how long it had been since you’d seen him and trying to focus on grading (as always) during your office hours when someone knocked on your door.

“Come in,” you called absently, barely looking up from the paper in front of you. The sound of someone clearing their throat startled you and you looked up. Your jaw dropped open.

It was him. HCG. He had one hand on your door and one foot inside your office, hovering over the threshold. “Afternoon,” he greeted you, nodding his head. “I’m here about your maintenance request.” He looked cautious, like he was unsure of his welcome, and it pierced you in the chest with the echo of your guilt from the incident the week before.

“You!” This was apparently becoming your standard greeting for him, but at least you didn’t shout it at him this time. You stood up. Do better, this time, you reminded yourself. “I mean, um, hi. Yes, come in. Th- thank you for coming.” He hesitated, but stepped into your office, leaving the door slightly ajar.

“What was it you needed?” He sounded uncertain, still. And that was all your fault.

You took a deep breath, and explained, “um, one of my framed pictures fell the day with the, uh, the pile driver—”

“Ah, damn. I’m sorry-”

“No! No, it’s not your fault. But I just got a new one and wanted to hang it back up, that’s all.” You bit your lip and clasped your hands together in front of you, meeting his gaze with your own, eyes wide.

He raised his eyebrows. “You should’ve told us, we would’ve replaced the frame for you.” You shrugged in response, not sure what to say. “Well, I can definitely do that for you, darlin’. Won’t take but a moment.” You felt your body react to the endearment the way it did every time, though you were usually too distracted by anger or frustration or sneezes to really take note of it. You tried not to be too hopeful about the fact that he was still using it, after you’d been so rude. You stepped forward to hide your reaction.

“Here’s the frame.” You picked up the frame from the floor. “It goes, um, just over there.” You pointed to the empty place on your wall above your desk. He nodded and moved to take it from you.

An awkward silence fell over you as he worked, pulling out the old anchor and nail to replace them with different ones that fit your new, more secure frame. Your eyes fell on his arms and for a moment you just watched the muscles in his shoulders and biceps move until you had to tear your gaze away, overwhelmed. You searched for something to say, for a way to break the increasingly awkward tension, knowing you still needed to apologize.

He beat you to it. Again. His gaze was directed at the wall as he placed the new anchor and his voice was soft.

“Look, darlin’, I’m sorry about all the noise and problems lately. I, uh, I feel like maybe you’ve been getting the worst of it all, and I didn’t mean to upset you. I really am sorry about all of that—”

“No, I’m sorry,” you cut him off and winced a bit at the volume of your voice. The idea that he felt like he needed to apologize to you was galling and you couldn’t let it go on for another second. “I didn’t really mean it that way, what I said. I wanted to take it back right away, but I had class and, well. Sometimes I blurt things out without thinking.” You smiled at him, a bit hesitant. Your hands were laced together in front of you again, clenched so tight your knuckles were white, and you forced them to relax as he looked at you. He smiled back, soft.

“You were right to be annoyed, I felt pretty terrible about how we kept interrupting your day.” He laughed, a bit ruefully, and rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. “Wasn’t the best impression, I know.” You tilted your head at him, considering.

“But I knew it wasn’t your fault, right? It’s not like you’re in charge or anything. And even then you can’t change things around for one person. I wasn’t really mad at you, just mad, and I took it out on you. Sorry.” He furrowed his brow at your comment, and started to reply, but you cut him off. “I just realized I don’t even know your name, I’m sorry, that’s so rude of me.” You introduced yourself, and raised your eyebrows at him expectantly.

“Have to confess, I did know yours.” He met your gaze out of the corner of his eye as he hung your picture back on the wall. You nodded — it was on the maintenance request, you knew that. And on your office door. “Joel Miller. Nice to finally meet you.” He turned back to face you, having finished hanging your picture, and held his hand out for you to shake. You took it. His was large and warm and you felt a shiver go up and down your spine at the feeling of it surrounding your own.

You smiled. “Nice to meet you too, Joel.” His name felt nice on your tongue. He smiled back.

You were both silent for a moment, a bit awkward, when he glanced to his left and frowned.

“Has your shelf always had that tilt to it?”

You turned to look, and bit your lip. “I think so? It’s been like that since I moved my stuff into this office, anyway.”

He moved over to it to assess and let go of your hand, which was when you realized you’d been awkwardly holding onto his the whole time. Get it together. You felt your cheeks get warm again. He mumbled something to himself — you only caught “shoddy work” and nothing else. It made you smile, again.

“I can’t fix this today, but I can come back later and make sure this won’t fall off the wall. You sure do have a lot of books.”

You laughed, nodding. “Comes with the territory, I guess.” He smiled at you over his shoulder.

“I liked this one.” To your surprise, he was pointing at a new book of short stories that had just come out last year. You tried not to let it show on your face, but you could see that he noticed. “No, it’s alright, I know I don’t look like the type to know about it or enjoy it. My daughter keeps me well-read, always picking books for me to read that she liked or thinks I’d like. She’s planning to come here in a few years, when she graduates.”

Suddenly you realized you’d gone from knowing nothing about this man (except how hot he was) to learning so many new things about him in just a few minutes that you felt a bit winded, a bit out of breath. Hot Construction Guy — Joel — was even more interesting up close. But you were also cautious at the mention of a daughter. You glanced down and saw he wasn’t wearing a ring, at least. When you looked back up you saw that he had followed your gaze to his left hand, and you knew you were caught.

You cleared your throat, embarrassed. “Oh? Thinking she wants to be an English major?” You smiled at the thought, trying to stay on topic.

“She’s not sure, but I haven’t exactly been pushing. She has plenty of time to decide, she’s only a sophomore now.” You nodded, agreeing. That was a refreshing outlook to hear from a parent. He tilted his head and gave you an intent look before he continued, “it’s just the two of us, so she keeps me on my toes enough as it is.” You felt yourself smile widely in response. So he wanted you to know he was single, then. Interesting.

“My niece, Ellie, is the same.” You pointed at the picture he’d just hung up, and he followed your gaze and smiled. It looked good on him. He looked much more relaxed than he had when he’d arrived at your office. You’d started to feel a bit lighter, too, since it seemed your apology had been well-received.

Maybe he was interested after all. Why else would he point out that he wasn’t with anyone? You hoped you weren’t reading into that.

After a moment Joel ran his hand through his hair and started to reach for his bag. “Well, darlin’, I won’t take up any more of your time. But I’ll put in another ticket for you for the shelf, be back soon to work on it.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“It’s fine, really, happy to do it.” He smiled and picked up his bag of tools as he backed towards the door. “See you then.” As he stepped through the door, a thought occurred to you, something you’d been worrying over with Beth and wondering about.

“Joel, wait,” you called out to him as he was about to disappear from view, and he poked his head back into your office. “Do you know anything about the plants outside this building? I noticed the flowers were gone. It’s been, well. A relief.” You could see him hesitate, before he seemed to settle on a tiny smirk.

“Can’t say as I do, darlin’.” He winked at you and walked off before you could press him on it. But you knew he was lying. Left alone in your office, you couldn’t wipe the huge smile off your face.

…

you (1:42 PM): BETH (1:43 PM): GUESS WHO JUST CAME BY TO HANG MY PICTURE BACK UP

bestie (1:46 PM): HCG???? (1:46 PM): no way

you (1:47 PM): and GUESS WHO DID GET RID OF THE FLOWERS OUTSIDE

bestie (1:48 PM): I KNEW IT (1:48 PM): I TOLD YOU (1:48 PM): the man is INTO you (1:49 PM): what did he say???

you (1:50 PM): well he started apologizing to ME, which was ridiculous so I interrupted and apologized to him (1:50 PM): he said he felt bad that they were constantly interrupting my day (1:51 PM): and his name is Joel btw

bestie (1:52 PM): excuse me his name is HCG (1:52 PM): but I’ll allow it

you (1:53 PM): and it turns out he READS (1:53 PM): he recognized that book of short stories I reviewed in the spring

bestie (1:55 PM): ok that’s random

you (1:56 PM): right?? apparently his daughter gets him to read new stuff

bestie (1:56 PM): wait, daughter? (1:56 PM): is there a wife? partner?

you (1:58 PM): no he caught me looking at his left hand like a total weirdo and then he EMPHASIZED that it’s just the two of them (1:58 PM): like that was the next thing he said (1:58 PM): “it’s just the two of us”

bestie (1:59 PM): oh he wants you (1:59 PM): he’s INTO YOU (1:59 PM): like there is no reason to say that otherwise

you (2:00 PM): I KNOW (2:01 PM): he’s coming back to fix my wonky shelves

bestie (2:01 PM): good and then you can jump him

you (2:02 PM): BETH (2:02 PM): no

bestie (2:04 PM): beth yes (2:04 PM): get him (2:05 PM): who doesn’t have an office sex fantasy, seriously

you (2:06 PM): 🙄 (2:07 PM): anyone who has to have office hours in that same office with undergrads three times a week

bestie (2:09 PM): you always ruin my fun

you (2:12 PM): 🙄

…

Ellie (6:07 PM): i told you he did the flowers

you (6:08 PM): yeah yeah brainiac you were right

Ellie (6:08 PM): obviously (6:09 PM): look i don’t want any ~details~ but he should do that kind of stuff for you (6:09 PM): if he likes you (6:09 PM): or else 🔪

you (6:10 PM): love you too, kid

Ellie (6:12 PM): 🔪

...

a/n: yes, that really is the rule at some places (about not hanging things yourself). see you next Friday. :) prev | next

tag list: @jupiter-soups @ilovepedro @auteurdelabre @katareyoudrilling @anoverwhelmingdin @myloveistoolittle @iknowisoundcrazy @beezusvreeland @screechingphantommaker

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fic #x reader #maintenance request fic #my fic #JHCGBDM

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storiesbyrhi · 6 days

Text

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; light smut; warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: You are wide awake. 2340 words.

1986

Every day Eddie watched the jar. He watched how the moon water moved, alive and with a viscosity different from regular water. He watched the apple slices dry and the sprigs of lavender go stiff. He thought if he watched closely enough, he’d see the magic working, but he never caught a glimmer of craft.

When it was time, you let him plant the enchanted seed in the new coven neighbourhood. Your home would grow furthest out, close to the shade of the woods. A spell later, you were traveling back to Forest Hills to begin packing the trailer up.

It had been months since you’d moved in, therefore you had accumulated a lot of items.

“Do you need all of these?” Eddie asked, holding up one of five shoeboxes, all packed with feathers you had found. “And is this a normal amount of feathers to find? What is wrong with the birds in Hawkins?”

“Yes and no and a lot. I told you that if you are gonna help, you can’t question every single thing you pick up,”

“I’m doing no such thing,” he rebutted.

“Eddie, you told me to cull my jar collection,”

“I stand by it. There are too many. You can collect more,”

“I use them! Frequently! And I don’t just keep any jar. All the ones I have are, like, uniquely shaped or extra sturdy!” you whined. “Asking a witch to not collect jars is just…” You shook your head, not able to find the words to express the atrocity.

Eddie smiled at you softly. “Perhaps I am not the best helper,” he conceded. “Perhaps my time would be better spent doing something else,”

“Something else like use your vampire speed to clean the bathroom, or something else like turn into a bat and sleep?”

An hour later, Eddie was asleep in one of the boxes containing clothes, and you were wrapping more empty jars in bubble wrap.

…

A monument to witchcraft and love. That’s what Eddie thought when he saw the house. It had the glorious drama of Ev’s Victorian home and the softness of the other witches’ cottages. Expansive stained glass windows. Detailed architraves, the wood so dark it appeared black. Red brick. A single-story structure, but the dome of a conservatory was visible over the roof. It extended back into the woods, settling into the landscape as if it had always been there.

Eddie thought back to all the places he had lived in. The house his father’s rage felt the brunt of as much as he did. The farm he came into adulthood on. The colony caves. The cold and lonely hotel rooms. The trees above Forest Hills. He’d never had a home, apart from your arms, but there it was. Real and in front of him.

The sun was setting over the valley as Eddie stood before the house. You’d seen it early that day, doing your final checks before okaying the move. It was your magic the house grew from, so naturally you were less awestruck by it. The floorplan and aesthetic had been born in your mind. Still, it was a beautiful thing.

“Think it will do?” you asked Eddie, coming to stand beside him.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. “It’s…” How many different words were there for ‘home,’ he wondered. What language could fully communicate the depth of emotion?

“Enchanted seeds create homes, not houses,” you told him as you walked towards the front door. “Come and see.”

Eddie followed, almost expecting something to happen as he crossed the front door threshold. Once inside, Eddie clenched his jaw. It was more perfect than he could have anticipated.

The furniture was plush and comfortable, an eclectic mix of antique pieces and modern amenities. Bookshelves stood tall and waiting, ready for the library to arrive. Potted ivy trailed up and around curtain railings and along the walls.

“You never got to see my place in the Catskills. A lot of the furniture comes from there. The rest comes from the seed… It’s the kind of magic that makes me wish we could study it, you know? I want to know the science of it. How does it work?”

“It seems to me that part of the power of magic is in the unknowing,” Eddie replied, as wise as any of the Witches Who Came Before.

“It does appear to be the case,” you agreed.

For a while, you let Eddie wander aimlessly through the house.

He marvelled at the bath, huge and round, like a pond and definitely big enough for two. A huge wardrobe door that opened into a secret library. The conservatory full of thriving plants, flowers, herbs, and other living things Eddie did not have a word for. Every window a different shape but never square. Strange detailing like cat shaped doorknobs and pink quartz basins.

Eventually, Eddie sat on the end of the huge bed, its four posts grand and its linen crisp. He looked over at you and held out his hands.

“Come.”

You walked to him, taking his hands, and standing between his legs. Eddie looked up at you with those sparkling brown eyes, the adoration radiating from him.

“It’s an irrational idea, this fear I have that I’m dreaming. That I am still cursed, haunting this town until the end of time. But a vampire cannot dream. The cursed cannot dream. But still…”

Gently, you let go of Eddie’s hands and leaned into him, snaking your fingers into his hair as he pressed himself into your body, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You are wide awake. Alive… kind of… But definitely here. With me. In our home. Soon-to-be, with our friends. Our family. And just in time for Halloween.”

He purred a happy sound, nodding into you. “A witch’s favourite holiday?” he hazarded a guess.

“Hmm, not all of us. Most of the witches I’ve known tended to find more obscure holidays to worship at the altar of. New Years is a big one, too. Alas, I am but a cliché All Hallows witch,”

“With much respect, I see that,” Eddie said. You laughed, shrugged. He looked up at you again. “You did fall in love with a vampire, after all.”

…

Far away from the rest of the world, you and Eddie spent almost a week settling into the new house. Grimoires were catalogued into one of the three library rooms. Dandelion puffs were jarred and shelved. Every trinket found its home.

Eddie tested the rainbow light that flooded the rooms, discovering that in the magic there was safety. Sunlight that filtered through the windows did not burn him. He could be free and at ease.

You explained to Eddie the importance of representing the elements within the home. Earth in the plants, wooden carpentry, and the grounding crystals. Fire in the candles, ever-burning incense, and roaring fireplaces that only ever emitted the exact level of heat you wanted. (“In summer, the flames burn cold,” you told Eddie and watched his smile grow.) Water in the mirrors, seashells, and small fountains found in the glasshouse room. Lastly, air in the wind chimes, feathers, and windows that could remain open without upsetting the temperature inside.

During the day, you began work on your garden, creating flower beds in the shape of pentagrams and sewing seeds. Borage for the butterflies and bees, primrose – I can’t live without you; angelica in case you need to break any future hexes; and yarrow, amaryllis, and polypodies.

One evening, just before sunset, you found Eddie rummaging through the apothecary pantry. As you entered the room, his manic smile told you he’d had an idea.

“What’s the story, morning glory?” you asked him, perching on a stool.

Eddie sunk to his knees and shrugged. “The fires are out… The Shire is no longer burning,”

“The Shire being… Hawkins?”

“Yes. And us. We’ve sailed to the Undying Lands,”

“You’re really making Tolkien your whole personality, huh?” you joked.

Eddie smiled up at you. “Until the next book… But what I’m saying is, now that we do not have a battle to prepare for. No conflict upon the horizon. What do we do with all of eternity?”

“Oh… My plan was to eat a lot of Meg’s cinnamon rolls… Try to get Steve Harrington to stop haunting Mel… Maybe work on a spell to make myself teeny tiny so I can ride around on you when you’re a bat…”

“Wait, seriously?”

You gave him a sly smile. “Maybe,”

“Well, I would love that… But, I was thinking a little more introspectively. Back to things we have thought about before. Like, why I am the way that I am… What that means…” He ran a finger along the leaves of the mimosa pudica plant beside him. The leaves felt his touch, curled inwards on themselves. It was one of Eddie’s favourites, the way it reacted to the world around it.

“Any new insights?” you asked softy.

“No… But… If I believe in you and in your magic and the way you make sense of the world… then I… I have to do something,”

“Do something?”

“We get back what we give, right?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It’s not always obvious or direct. Or timely. Or even equally fair… But, yeah… There is definitely something like the concept of karma at play. And even if there isn’t, living as if there is can only be a good thing,”

“Then I must show more grace… and gratitude… Even if I am a monster, maybe especially because I am… I can give goodness too.”

Without thinking, you slid off the stool and joined Eddie on the floor. “You already do. You don’t owe the world anything.”

Eddie smiled, first a small soft thing, almost sad, but then it twisted into something else. Ear-to-ear and full of teeth. “I owe it more than one life,”

“But if we count all the lives you have saved. Both by killing what plagued this town, and by preventing deaths at the hands of bad people-”

“Morality cannot be simple addition and subtraction. There is no math that can quantify goodness or righteousness. You know that,” Eddie cut in. He watched your face, saw the pensiveness blossom across it. “Don’t worry, my little witch, my plan is not as life-or-death as this all makes it seem… I just want to do something good for your friends,”

“Your friends,” you corrected quickly. “They’ll be your friends too. Your family. You’re part of this coven.”

Eddie reached out to cup your face in his hands. “Your coven is yours. But I will take the friendship. I have years of loneliness to make up for,”

“Then what-”

He cut you off again, this time with a kiss. You brought your hands up to his shoulders, draping your arms around his neck. Eddie pulled you into his lap and you curled into him like the leaves of the mimosa.

His mouth kissed and sucked at your neck between sentence fragments. “I’m-” kiss “going-” kiss “to plant-” lick “them-” kiss “flowers.” His punctuation a kiss that wanted to be a bite.

You were hardly listening to his words. His words and ideas and introspective musings could all wait.

Eddie laid you down on the floor, the smell of the oak still new. You arched your back and pulled him down by his collar.

“Bed,” you mumbled into his mouth.

“Why build a house if we’re not gonna use it,” he answered.

One hand splayed next to your head to keep him up, the other tickling its way under the hem of your skirt and up your thigh.

“Besides,” Eddie said. “Doesn’t feel like you can wait.” He was sliding your underwear off, throwing them across the room. He rested a hand on you, sliding an index finger through your slickness.

“I can’t,” you agreed, breathy and impatient. “Now. I want you now.”

Eddie didn’t have to be asked twice. With his pants still hanging from an ankle, he was fast to set up and slow on approach. You felt the tip of him follow the path made by his hand, gathering wetness, and shooting electricity through your body.

You melted into jelly beneath him, bliss written all over your face. Eddie loved you like this, pliable and prone to tears of ecstasy.

He held himself back, keeping his pace slow and steady. His vampire muscles screamed to go faster, to rail you into next week, but he liked pulling you apart. Liked how you unconsciously uttered strings of words like ‘full’ and ‘please’ and ‘can’t.’ Liked when you clawed at him to come closer, bit down on his shoulder.

“I love you,” he told you, mouth on your ear, tongue licking. “So. Fucking. Much.”

There was a seemingly endless amount of ways Eddie had learned could make you cum. Talking to you was a favourite for you both.

“You’re so perfect, so perfect… You feel so perfect… You’re so warm and soft and I… I want to eat you whole…”

Your response was in the pooling tears and the nodding and the slack jaw. The begging, “Please. Please.”

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” It was all it took. Your orgasm exploded moments before his. Eddie’s thrusting getting harder and faster for the few seconds he took to follow you. He had to grind his teeth together to stop himself from ripping into your neck.

You kept your eyes closed, not aware of your surroundings. When you felt Eddie’s arms slide beneath you, you smiled and hummed. He carried you to your new bed, cleaning your skin with a warm washcloth before curling himself in behind you.

With the last of your day’s energy, you tangled your fingers through his, falling asleep happily.

As Eddie listened to your breathing find its mellow night rhythm, he saw a vision of you in his mind. Hands full of flowers and foliage. A coven of audience. Glorious and beaming.

End Note: I made a small Pinterest board with inspo for their house - click here to view.

I hope you are all as well as any of us can be at a time like this. I hope this story continues to provide comfort, escapism, and fuel for daydreams. xo Rhi

Fic Taglist: @paranoidmunson @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03 @moviefreak1205 @pastel-pillows

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16 @cultish-corner

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Vampire!Eddie Munson #Bat!Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You

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cinnamongorll · 3 months

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a fragile line - chapter 28

read on ao3! (125k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Series tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 7.5k

Chapter 28:

Juliet's POV:

3 weeks later...

Juliet’s bathroom mirror had a crack in it.

The edges were jagged, creating a black slash across her face whenever she peered into it. Juliet ran her finger along the gap, allowing the razor edges to glide across her skin, as she examined the way her features split in half.

The steam from the shower had begun to dull the mirror’s clarity, surrounding Juliet’s body in a strange fog. One thing the mirror had yet to dilute, however, was the burning red outline of her father’s possession.

E.M. reflected back at her with precise clarity.

Juliet didn’t flinch anymore when she saw it in the mirror; the reminder of her father and his burning hot poker had faded to a constant screaming in the back of her mind.

The scar appeared to her now like a stain to be removed, one which she itched to run her hand over and erase.

A sense of hollowness began to invade her bones as the shower’s steam gradually coated the glass, turning it opaque. Her father’s brand began to fade into a dull red glow and Juliet released a slow breath.

She turned and stepped under the stream of blazing water, which instantly scorched her skin and another sigh of relief eased from her parted lips. Recently, the burning of the water was the only thing Juliet truly allowed herself to feel.

She tipped her head back under the water and ran her fingers through the soaked strands of her hair, tugging gently as she loosened some knots. For a moment, her own hands were replaced by rough fingers and a tight grip and she let go immediately.

He lingered everywhere: in her hair, on her cheek, her lips, her thighs…

Joel was a stain she could never wash off, no matter how hard she tried.

It had been three weeks of hiding her tears behind closed doors and gasping awake in the middle of the night reaching desperately for him and finding nothing but an empty mattress.

On the darkest of those nights, Juliet imagined herself leaving her house, walking to Joel’s door and taking up the offer of his meaningless touch. Juliet imagined that just the feeling of his hands on her might ease the ache a little… but she knew it wouldn’t fix the fractures he’d left.

Joel had split her open and all that was left was a scarred girl with no one to pull her back together.

She turned the shower off and stepped onto the bathmat. Juliet’s body began to shiver as the warmth of the water left her, and she quickly changed into her clothes and braided her wet hair down her back.

Juliet hesitated when she pulled her shirt down over the brand. Today was her final check up before she could be cleared for Jackson’s patrol and Juliet prayed that Charlotte deemed her whole enough.

When Juliet first arrived in Jackson, she couldn’t imagine ever wanting to step foot outside the fence again… but claustrophobia sets in fast when you’re trapped in a town with a man who has seen the entire rotten mess of your soul and wants absolutely nothing to do with it.

Above all, Juliet wanted to earn her keep. She’d been on medical rest since she came to the town and the weight of her debt to the townspeople was crushing her. Juliet knew how to shoot, she knew how to ride a horse, and she knew how to fight. Patrol was the best fit for her.

She just had to prove that she wasn’t completely falling apart.

Her footsteps were heavy on the stairs as rushed down them, desperate to avoid being late for her appointment.

“You ready?” Ethan called from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Juliet shouted back as she pulled on her boots.

She’d invited Ethan to come with her and get to know the clinic a bit more. He’d been the medical prodigy of her father’s town and Juliet knew that he was itching to get back to practising medicine, he just needed a push.

Juliet straightened as Ethan rounded the corner into the hall. She only had a second to plaster a somewhat convincing smile on her face before he was in front of her, scanning her up and down.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a frown.

Ethan asked that a lot in the past couple weeks.

“I’m fine,” she assured him as she tilted her chin up, “just want to get this over with.”

Ethan nodded with a weak smile, and his eyes lingered on her face for another moment before he turned to grab his jacket from the hooks beside the front door.

As Ethan shrugged his jacket on, Juliet squeezed past and reached for the khaki coloured canvas jacket.

It still smelled like him.

The reminder of Joel was imprinted in the material and Juliet was forced to breathe in the memory of his presence every time she pushed her arms through the sleeves.

She could have found a new jacket, if she’d tried. Juliet could have traded something and added to her ever-growing debt, it wouldn’t have been too difficult. But how could she? When this was all she had left of him.

Juliet should be angry, she should be furious and disgusted, but she wasn’t. Juliet just felt hollow, like all the emotions she should feel towards Joel had been gutted out and all that was left was an empty pit where her heart used to be.

She pulled the jacket off the hook a little too forcefully and the entire structure shook. Ethan’s head swung towards her but Juliet kept her eyes to the ground and held her breath as Joel’s jacket engulfed her body.

………………………..

The walk to the clinic started out rough, as it always did.

Juliet tried not to look towards his house.

She’d gone through multiple methods to stop her eyes from straying towards it: First, Juliet attempted to cut through the back garden of another house, but she got stuck between a very large tree and a very high fence. Next, on a particularly rough day, she walked past with her eyes squeezed shut, but didn’t get very far before she tripped. Juliet had quickly dusted herself off and darted away, praying no one had seen her. She didn’t even turn back when she thought she’d heard the sound of his door open and footsteps rushing out onto the porch…

Juliet had decided it was just the wind.

This time, Juliet threw herself into a conversation with Ethan as they strolled past. She watched his eyes brighten as he talked about the meal they shared the night before. Juliet smiled back, but it wasn’t real.

She would pretend, though, for Ethan.

For Ethan, Juliet would fake a smile and pretend that she wasn’t entirely numb to the kindness of life in Jackson.

Joel had stripped her of that luxury… but how could she truly blame him?

His only crime was not loving her, and the more she thought about it the more she understood why he could not: she’d bribed him, lied to him, and forced him into a situation where he had to save her life.

Juliet had thought there was something there, glimmering beneath his furrowed brow, clenched jaw and rough commands. Juliet had thought he felt something for her.

She blinked away the threat of tears and tuned back into Ethan’s chatter. Things had been better between them; Juliet remembered how comfortable it had been, with him by her side. He was still the same man after all this time and, as the trauma of the last few weeks started to chip away, Juliet remembered why she had fought so hard to save him.

They walked down Jackson’s mainstreet at a quick pace, smiling at the residents who passed by.

“No one ever smiled back home, did you ever notice that?” Ethan observed in a wistfully sad voice.

“Yeah,” she answered as her head turned towards him, “there wasn’t much to smile about.”

Ethan let out a cold laugh as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Guess that’s true,” he replied, “people here have something to live for, I suppose.”

Juliet caught herself before she flinched, but her skin still pebbled beneath her thick jacket as Ethan unknowingly repeated the words Joel had whispered to her in that dark forest.

“You just gotta find somethin’ to live for,” he’d said in a voice so low and lips so close that his breath had brushed over her forehead.

How could she? Juliet wanted to scream at him now… how could she, when he’d left her standing alone in the cold?

……………………….

“Charlotte!” Juliet called when she opened the door to the clinic. The heat from the fireplace hit her immediately and a flush began to build on her cheeks. She stripped her jacket off immediately and hung it on one of the hooks by the door. Behind her, Ethan did the same as his eyes roamed the room.

“In the back!” Charlotte called back.

Juliet turned to Ethan and raised her eyebrows before they followed the sound of Charlotte’s muffled voice into one of the back rooms.

“Hey,” Juliet said carefully as she stood in the doorway. She was conscious of frightening her new friend as she sat hunched over precariously balanced bottles of some strange liquid.

Charlotte’s head swung towards them and her face lit up. “Hey! Give me two seconds, I’m just finishing up,” she said in her permanently cheerful tone. Juliet nodded and turned to Ethan, ready to gesture that they would go wait in the hall … but Ethan’s eyes were glued on Charlotte.

Juliet watched as Ethan followed the movement of Charlotte’s hands. She must have noticed too, because she called over her shoulder: “Are you interested in medicine?”

Ethan straightened in surprise. “Yeah,” he said, then cleared his throat, “used to practise but it’s been… a while.”

Juliet didn’t miss the way his voice quietened at the reminder of the last few years.

“I take it you were the one to dress Juliet’s wound before y’all arrived?” Charlotte asked over her shoulder as she continued to fiddle with her equipment.

Ethan looked to Juliet before responding, his eyes had taken on a haunted look as they dipped to her stomach then back over to where Charlotte sat at her desk. “Uh, yeah, that was me,” he confirmed in a rough voice.

Charlotte finally looked away from her work and stripped off the gloves in her hands, then carefully dropped them into the bin on the floor. Her eyes lifted to Ethan’s as she reached up to tighten her long blonde ponytail.

“You did a good job,” she said earnestly, then paused and tilted her head slightly to the side, “we’re always looking for help around here, if you’re interested…”

Charlotte trailed off as Ethan began to nod enthusiastically, then she smiled and clapped her hands together. “Fantastic! We’ll talk,” she answered with a wink.

Juliet watched with a hidden smirk as a flush rose on Ethan’s neck.

“But first, Juliet, shall we?” Charlotte said, nodding towards the examination table in the corner of the room.

It was metal with a thin mattress over it, and Juliet had found herself lying on it more times than she could count over the last couple weeks. It turned out that her injuries were more severe than she had realised. Having grown up with bruises as a permanent feature on her skin, Juliet never took her pain seriously. Even in the QZ, her hands were littered with burns that went untreated.

When her father told her every day that the marks he left on her didn’t actually exist, Juliet began to adopt her pain as second nature and question if her tears were worth anything at all.

Charlotte had treated the bullet wound on her shoulder, the bruises and burns on her wrists and ankles, the slash from her father’s bible on the side of her face, and his white hot initials on her stomach… along with various other aches and pains from untreated wounds over the years.

After Charlotte sent Ethan into the hall, she read out the list of treatments Juliet had accumulated over the past few weeks… and it wasn’t surprising she was banned from patrol.

“Okay, so, let’s see if you’re ready to get on a horse,” Charlotte said softly as she rolled up Juliet’s top.

Charlotte’s fingers were icy and goosebumps travelled across Juliet’s skin. She bit her lip and kept her gaze levelled on the ceiling as Charlotte peeled off her bandage. It was terrifying, the thought that she might still be too weak to step outside the town and do something with the abundance of time now on her hands.

In the QZ, the days were long and brutal, and Juliet would stumble back to her dingy apartment with smoke covered hands and blackened lungs before passing out on her moth-eaten couch, preparing for another gruelling shift the following day.

In Jackson, life was much slower. Everyone worked and contributed to the community and there were no enforcers, no men with guns and bats tasked with keeping people in line. People worked in Jackson because they wanted to; the residents were fueled by their gratitude to the town and their willingness to work together.

Juliet wanted, so desperately, to be a part of that. She wanted to find something to get her up in the morning after long nights spent haunted by the memory of rough hands and cold eyes.

“You’re healing nicely, I’m going to recommend to Tommy that you’re cleared for patrol,” Charlotte declared as her hands left Juliet’s torso.

“What?” Juliet coughed out and she used her elbows to lift herself up on the table, just enough to see Charlotte look down at her with her eyebrows raised.

“I said you’re good,” she repeated slowly, “I mean, you’re still healing but I don’t see any risks of infection.” Charlotte clasped her hands together and tilted her head to the side as her eyes softened.

“I know you’ve had a rough time of it the last few weeks… with Joel” Charlotte said in a quiet voice.

She was frighteningly perceptive.

Juliet’s eyes left Charlotte’s as she sat up and swung her legs off the table, cringing slightly at the pull on her stomach.

When she turned to her again, Juliet shook her head and feigned confusion. “It wasn’t like that,” she assured Charlotte with as much conviction as she could muster.

Charlotte scanned her face for a moment, then stepped backwards with a knowing smile. “Just don’t do anything reckless, it won’t make you feel any better,” she warned as her chin tilted downwards. “I’ve spent weeks trying to patch you up, don’t spoil my good work,” she continued, her voice friendly and teasing but with a soft undercurrent of concern.

Juliet feigned an exacerbated eye-roll and let out a long breath. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied and Charlotte shot her another quiet smile.

Juliet thanked Charlotte and left the room. Her heart raced and her body had stiffened slightly as Charlotte’s words sunk in…

Was patrol just another one of her distractions?

Self-destructive behaviour was not new to Juliet, but patrol had nothing to do with Joel, surely. She just wanted to prove herself, right?

Her mind felt clouded as she walked into the waiting room, ready to join Ethan by the fire for a moment, but her steps halted when she entered the room.

The front door swung open and Tommy entered, rubbing his hands together as the heat hit him. “There you are,” he said warmly as his eyes focused on her, standing stiffly next to Ethan’s chair.

Juliet blinked. “Hey”

“How’d it go?” Tommy asked as he walked closer, running a hand through his long wavy hair, “you cleared for patrol?”

Juliet straightened and a sudden feeling of dread began to burn in her gut. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “Charlotte said I’m good to go.”

A relieved smile took over Tommy’s mouth. “Thank god, a couple guys had to leave patrol when their wives had their kids, so we’re needin’ some fresh recruits,” he explained enthusiastically.

Juliet didn’t reply, she just nodded awkwardly and crossed her arms over her chest.

Tommy’s stare cut suddenly to Ethan, who sat quietly in the armchair by the fire watching their conversation with his usual curious look.

“What bout you?” Tommy directed towards Ethan. “Heard you can shoot too, you interested in patrol?”

Ethan’s eyebrows shot up and he shifted in his seat.

“Tommy Miller, are you tryin to steal my new trainee?” Charlotte exclaimed in mock surprise as she squeezed into the room behind Juliet with a gentle touch on her shoulder.

Juliet’s mouth twitched as Tommy’s eyes shot to the ceiling.

“New trainee?” he asked, looking between Charlotte and Ethan.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “with doc doin’ so many house visits, I need all the help around here I can get.”

Tommy looked contemplative as Charlotte’s head turned to Ethan. “Plus, I think he’s already had some medical training. Is that right?” she asked, tilting her chin down at Ethan, sitting in his armchair.

Ethan stiffened as all the eyes in the room swung on him at once. “That’s right,” he confirmed roughly as his gaze found Charlotte’s.

Tommy raised his hands. “Fine,” he said, admitting defeat, then he caught Juliet’s eye and nodded. “Let’s head over to the stables, I’ll introduce you to your patrol partner.”

Juliet didn’t say anything for a moment. The weight of her decision grew heavy on her shoulders, but there was also a glimmer of excitement within her. She imagined herself getting on a horse, armed with every weapon she needed to protect the town.

It would be good to protect a place like this, a place that actually deserved it.

Her eyes caught Charlotte’s and the weight eased as Juliet returned her warm, encouraging smile.

She turned back to Tommy, who watched her with a curious look. Juliet might have thought there was guilt swimming in his gaze if she didn’t know any better.

Eventually, Juliet nodded sharp and quick. “Let’s go.”

………………………..

Juliet hadn’t stepped foot in the stables since that first day, when burning relief was her most prominent emotion.

Now, Juliet wasn’t sure what to feel.

Tommy showed her around, pointing out all the things he hadn’t needed to on that first day. Juliet listened intently, wishing she had brought a notebook with her. It was the first job she’d ever cared about and she didn’t want to fuck it up.

Juliet was very conscious of the fact that she had no ties to Jackson or Tommy, and that she and Ethan were allowed to stay purely because of the kindness of the residents.

Once the tour had ended, Tommy and Juliet circled back to the entrance of the stables, where they waited for her new patrol partner to arrive. Tommy assured her that she wouldn’t start until the following day, but he wanted to make sure that she met her partner before then.

They chatted quietly about Jackson’s weather, and the snow which was very possibly arriving the following week, when the barn doors opened with a long sharp whine of the hinges.

Juliet’s head swung in the direction and her stomach dropped to her feet.

She would have prepared herself if she thought it would have been him. She would have donned some armour, strengthening her defences and at least attempted to plug the gaping hole in her chest.

But Juliet hadn’t expected to see him, so the sight of Joel Miller struck her like the most painful blow.

When her eyes finally focused, the first thing she noticed was his new jacket.

It shouldn’t have caused her stomach to drop even further, but it did.

It was a dark brown leather, with the collar slightly turned up over his throat and Joel tugged against it as he entered the chilled barn.

Juliet swallowed rough and shifted on her feet as she forced her eyes to focus on Tommy, but she knew the exact moment Joel’s stare found her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his stride suddenly stop and his body physically stiffen.

“Joel,” Tommy said, greeting his brother with a tight smile.

Juliet kept her stare pointed on Tommy’s face but goosebumps grew across her skin as she felt Joel move closer.

“Ready to head out?” Joel asked his brother, his voice low and stilted.

Tommy nodded and crossed his arms over his chest as his eyes darted to Juliet.

“Yeah, soon, just waiting to introduce Juliet to Matt,” Tommy explained, as he tilted his head down to check his watch.

“Why?” Joel demanded in a voice so devastatingly dark. She felt his hot gaze find the side of her head and Juliet knew she had to turn around and face him, but his uncaring stare still stained the inside of her eyelids when she tried to sleep at night and Juliet worried that she might see that coldness in his eyes again.

Tommy looked taken aback as his head turned between them both. “Juliet want -”

“I’m starting patrol,” Juliet said, cutting Tommy off as she finally faced Joel.

Joel’s eyes were like the heaviest anchor, dragging her down into the depths of her sadness. Juliet had once thought he was the weight that kept her afloat, but she was wrong; she was merely a passenger in his life before he pushed her off the edge, back into the dark murky waters.

“You’re what?” he growled. Joel looked down at her with a face like cracked stone, where his rage simmered out of each jagged edge.

Inside, Juliet’s heart was hammering against her chest, but on the outside, she forced her spine to straighten and she wiped her face clean of any shock or surprise.

“I’m starting patrol,” she repeated, slower this time with a harsher edge to her voice.

“No, you’re not,” Joel argued gruffly, but his voice didn’t invite a response, it was a command.

Juliet blinked and looked to Tommy for assistance. “Charlotte just cleared me?” she replied, confusion evident in the crease between her eyebrows.

“Joel, you said it yourself, Juliet is highly skilled and we need that on patrol,” Tommy interjected, shifting on his feet.

Joel said that?

Juliet reached up to rub the back of her neck as her irritation grew. Joel was cruel that day outside her house, she hadn’t imagined that… but was she now imagining the way his eyes shone with concern?

“You’re not ready, it’s too dangerous, you’ll hurt yourself,” Joel challenged. His words spilled from his mouth in a distressed ramble which made the confusion in Juliet’s chest twist painfully.

Juliet shook her head and tilted her chin up to meet his flared pupils.

Her mind flashed back to the Joel she knew three weeks ago, who had looked so guarded and frigid, and then she focused on the Joel standing in front of her with a turbulent combination of fear and anger darkening his eyes.

Juliet should be outraged at his insistence that she couldn’t take care of herself, but she couldn’t help the part of her who clung to him on dark nights, and looked up at him like her protector, from viewing Joel’s words with optimism, with some sick hope that maybe he really did care after all.

He must have seen it in her eyes; Joel must have watched her gaze shift into something softer, something kinder. And so, just as he had three weeks ago, Joel crushed any hope still living within her.

Joel’s eyes narrowed as he turned to Tommy, ignoring Juliet altogether. “She’s not ready, she can’t protect the town.”

It was like her heart was shattering all over again.

Juliet’s eyes turned glossy despite her best efforts to push down the ache in her chest. Joel just had this keen way of finding the part of her which hurt the most and driving the knife in deeper.

Tommy stepped back from his brother, rage now rippling across his face.

“Go sort the horses Joel, we’ll leave once I’m done here,” Tommy seethed, and Joel’s eyes widened.

“You can’t be serious,” Joel ground out when he turned on Juliet, “after everythin’ we went through to get here, you’re just gonna go back out there?”

Juliet winced. “You’re on patrol, why can’t I?” she bit back, standing her ground.

Joel’s jaw clenched with teeth cracking intensity as his dark eyes roamed her face. What he was searching for in her expression, Juliet didn’t know, but she wasn’t planning on relenting anytime soon. In fact, Joel’s presence just made her more determined to find time beyond the fence.

Everything about being around him hurt. It hurt to look in his eyes, knowing the way he used to look at her. It hurt watching his mouth curl into a cruel snarl, knowing the way he used to reluctantly laugh when she least expected it. But most of all, it hurt to hear the bitter words from his mouth as she remembered how warm they had once sounded against her skin.

“That’s different,” he argued as he sharply turned his head back to Tommy in a desperate attempt to find some agreement in his eyes. But his brother said nothing, he was the one to approach Juliet with the offer of patrol and he wasn’t budging.

“Joel, just go,” Tommy interrupted with a hand on Joel’s chest, holding him back from god knows what. Juliet hadn’t realised until Tommy broke the spell that Joel had moved closer, towering over her as he almost growled his words.

He took one last look at Juliet, scanning her face with such intensity before he pushed past his brother and headed further into the stables with his shoulders tight and his fists clenched by his side.

Juliet blinked and felt her race redden.

“I’m sorry bout him,” Tommy sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s fine,” she replied quickly. It wasn’t though. She just couldn’t understand it. Joel and Juliet fought their way across the country together; he knew she could shoot, and protect herself, so why would he be so against her joining the patrol?

Maybe what her father had done to her changed the way Joel saw her… maybe he saw her as weak, maybe that’s why he wanted nothing to do with her…

Juliet swallowed roughly and coughed away the lump in her throat. She couldn’t afford to think like that. If she started to imagine why Joel had backed away, Juliet would spend the entire day ripping herself apart.

“Hey!” a new voice called from the entrance to the barn.

A smile approached Tommy’s mouth as a man Juliet hadn’t seen before stepped into the stables and headed over towards them.

“Matt, I’d like you to meet Juliet - your new patrol partner,” Tommy said, gesturing towards Juliet.

Juliet’s eyes finally focused on him and she stood up a bit straighter. He was handsome, with messy brown hair and a friendly smile which prevented any tendrils of fear from growing in her chest.

But it was his eyes which helped ease Juliet the most. They were kind eyes, the sort of eyes which echoed every smile on his face.

“Juliet,” he echoed, now staring down at her, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Juliet wasn’t sure how to reply. Her mind was still caught up in the mystery of Joel, so she opted for a quiet smile and raised eyebrows.

“Heard you’re a good shot, will be good havin’ someone like you watchin’ my back out there,” Matt said with a friendly wink.

How did everyone know so much about her? Only Joel truly knew the extent of her survival skills but she couldn’t imagine him singing her praises around town, he could barely look her in the eye without scowling.

“When do we start?” she asked, pointedly ignoring Matt’s comment out of mild embarrassment.

Matt crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Tommy. “We’re on the schedule for tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, bright and early,” Tommy confirmed.

Juliet nodded and looked between the two men. “Perfect.”

…………………………

Two days later, Juliet had regrets. Not enough that she would swear off patrol forever, but she definitely had her doubts.

She walked into the stables for her second shift just before dawn with her hood up and her sleeves pulled down over her fingers. The barn was empty and she could hear the soft thuds of her footsteps hit the straw covered ground as she made her way over to her horse.

With everything in her, Juliet tried not to think about the day before or the fresh, thick ring of bruises around her wrist… if she did, she might start to think that maybe Joel was right, maybe patrol wasn’t for her.

But she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Matt went first through Jackson’s gates, leading his horse with an air of confidence about him while Juliet tugged on the reins of her own horse and followed behind with sweaty palms and a racing heart.

The first hour or so was fine, boring even, as Juliet and Matt travelled towards a nearby abandoned town they’d been asked to clear. Juliet had her gun loaded and her knife ready. She wasn’t frightened of the infected, it was always the people to look out for.

She eyed Matt on the horse next to her. He seemed nice, making an effort to keep the conversation up even if Juliet only responded with vague answers and quiet pauses. His smile never faltered, it was inspiring actually. But Juliet hadn't seen him fight yet and she worried that his skills might not match his confidence.

When they reached the array of houses, they stopped and slid off their horses in silence; only communicating through hand signals and exaggerated looks. Within minutes, Juliet and Matt had their guns positioned in front of them as they approached the first house.

Their backs were pressed against the rotted wood, listening for any infected groans or hushed whispers. Juliet breathed a sigh of relief when they heard nothing, but the rigidness of her shoulders didn’t ease; they still had to clear the houses, which meant actually going in them.

Juliet swallowed and closed her eyes, she allowed the weight of her task to fall down on her tense shoulders and then waited for herself to get used to the feeling. Juliet was beyond the fence and she had neither Joel nor Blake standing by her side to protect her. Despite Matt’s gentle presence, Juliet felt like she was facing this alone, and with that thought came a feeling of pride. She could do this, she was doing this. Juliet pushed Joel’s harsh words to the back of her mind and strengthened her grip on her gun.

When she opened her eyes, Matt turned her way and he signalled to split up and enter the house through different doors. Juliet’s eyebrows furrowed a little at the mention of splitting up, but, despite hardly knowing him, she trusted that Matt knew the ways of patrol and decided to follow his lead. She nodded back fast and sharp.

The thud of hard footsteps startled Juliet from her memory and her head darted towards the source of the sound.

As soon as her eyes brushed over the muddy leather jacket she froze and squeezed her eyes shut. Shit.

That was not Matt.

Juliet swallowed down her panic and shrunk behind the wall near the back of the stables, where the shelving was kept. Maybe if she stayed here, Joel would get what he needed and leave. He wasn’t scheduled for patrol this morning.

She heard him head over to his horse and Juliet allowed her head to fall back against the wall in relief.

The front door made no sound as she turned the handle, not even the signature shriek of over twenty year old hinges. The initial stabbing of fear in her chest lessened as a small bit of relief flowed through her.

Juliet walked into the house with the softest footsteps she could manage, barely even putting weight on the wooden floor as she made her way through the hall and into the living room.

The house was a massive, practically a mansion, it was bigger than any house Joel and Juliet had come across on the road and there was a lot of ground to cover. Matt had entered from the back door and Juliet watched as he silently headed up the stairs before she rounded the corner into the living area.

The room was a time capsule. With the layers and layers of dust on everything Juliet assumed that nothing had been touched since the world changed. It was strange to come across a house that hadn’t been pillaged but Juliet assumed being positioned deep in Wyoming would deter any visitors.

The realisation allowed Juliet’s muscles to ease even further but she continued to hold her gun tight in her hand with her finger hovering over the trigger, just like Ethan had taught her. It was her first time on patrol and she wasn’t taking any chances.

There was a door across the room so Juliet headed there next, still making sure to keep her steps light and fast. She kept listening for anything amiss upstairs but heard nothing, Matt must have been fine, just silently sweeping the untouched rooms.

Juliet was struck by how cold the handle was as her hand curved around it. She should have taken it as an omen, but the thought hadn’t even entered her head as she angled her wrist and turned the handle.

“The hell you doin’ back here?” a gruff, startled voice demanded.

Juliet’s eyes shot open and her head turned to Joel, now standing beside the wall she leaned against. She straightened instantly as her heart started to speed in her chest. Juliet could tell herself that he had startled her, but her body reacted this way every time she met his dark brown eyes.

“Just waiting for Matt,” Juliet answered as she continued to shake herself from her memories.

“Behind a wall?” Joel asked, amused.

His mouth didn’t have the same sharp edges to it, but Juliet knew not to be fooled.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, her face reddening slightly, “was just uh resting my eyes for a second.”

“Sure,” Joel replied slowly, with raised eyebrows.

Juliet shifted, suddenly feeling unsteady. She hadn’t spoken to Joel since the day before last, when he had very publicly questioned her survival abilities.

She wrapped her arms around her middle, making sure her hurt didn’t spill out from the hole he left in her chest.

“Why are you here?” Juliet snapped, “you’re not on the schedule.”

Joel blinked and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked down at her with eyes that didn’t match the memory of his apathy that day outside her house and Juliet struggled to keep her defences secured.

He cleared his throat and his jaw shifted. “Just grabbin’ some ammo,” he answered, nodding at the shelving behind her.

“Oh,” Juliet breathed. She realised that she was standing in his way and a horribly enticing image of him brushing against her as he squeezed past flashed into her mind. Juliet swallowed and decided to avoid any more close proximity, lest her defences fail entirely and she fall for the hint of decency he was showing her in that moment.

“I’ll grab it for you,” she said quietly and turned. The shelf of ammo was quite high up so she had to stand on her tiptoes and stretch her right arm up to grip the small box.

Behind her, Juliet heard Joel’s sharp intake of breath as her sleeve fell.

The handle turned with ease, it wasn’t even stiff. Somehow, Juliet had been fooled by the silence of the house and its lack of immediate threats. That’s why, when the door inched open and the infected’s peeling face filled her view, Juliet froze as her shock choked her. Her hand paused on the handle, she didn’t dare make a single movement.

It was strange, looking back on it, that the infected hadn’t made a single sound to announce its presence. Not a click or a grunt or a screech.

Peering into the windowless room, Juliet hadn’t known it was lurking in the dark until its decayed fingers were wrapped around her wrist, as her hand continued to grip the freezing cold handle.

With the first touch of its wet, torn flesh on her skin, terror struck Juliet, wrapping around her throat with the same vice-like grip of the infected on her wrist. She might have screamed, she wasn’t sure, because the infected had finally decided to make its presence known, shrieking violently into Juliet’s ear.

The infected gripped her wrist so forcefully that she couldn’t pull herself from the door handle, so she did the next best thing: Juliet tightened her hold on the door and pulled with all her strength to slam it closed on the infected.

It worked. Kind of.

The infected was jammed in between the door and its frame, with its hand still squeezing down harder and harder against Juliet’s wrist and its head pushing through the gap.

Juliet was definitely screaming as the infected’s teeth snapped against her arm. Joel’s jacket wouldn’t protect her from the force of the infected’s bite. Panic flooded her bloodstream. Juliet couldn’t think, she couldn’t strategise, because what if the infected’s teeth had already pierced her skin?

What if this was it?

If she was bit, Matt would shoot her in the head and Juliet would never see Joel again.

Even in what might have been her final moments, as she struggled against the infected, Juliet still thought of him.

She would die, and never get to tell him how she really felt.

Juliet knew he wouldn’t care, that some confession from her would only be met by emotionless eyes and cutting words, but she couldn’t let go… she couldn’t forget how she felt, and how he had once made her feel.

Thankfully, her sanity returned as the milliseconds ticked by and Juliet started shooting the infected’s arm, desperately attempting to force it to release her wrist.

She heard Matt rush up behind her, shouting her name, but she just kept shooting until a bullet finally landed itself in the infected’s head.

Matt caught her as she fell backwards, still kicking her feet and continuing to scream even as she watched the infected fall to the floor, mostly behind the door with only its arm and leaking head in sight.

“It’s okay,” Matt repeated over and over as Juliet struggled against him.

“No, get away” she gasped as terror poured from her, “I might be infected.”

Matt didn’t let go, even as Juliet began to punch his arms. It had to have hurt but he didn’t budge.

“Calm down, we’ll check, okay?” he said breathlessly as Juliet’s punches grew weaker. “Please, just let me have a look.”

Juliet slumped against him, breathing heavy. She couldn’t bring herself to glance at her wrist.

Matt held tight against her until for another moment before he cautiously reached towards her arm. Juliet could feel the rapid beating of his heart against her back.

Her eyes were squeezed shut when she felt his fingertips on her wrist, her skin was almost numb from the force of the infected’s grip, but she still felt Matt slowly trace her skin, searching for her death sentence.

Tears leaked from the corner of her scrunched eyelids when he pulled her sleeve down further and Juliet wondered how long the infection would take to set in. Was she starting to feel it now? Or was the shaking of her body just the remnants from her adrenaline rush?

The seconds stretched beyond all understanding of space and time as Juliet waited for Matt to confirm her fate.

“You’re clean,” he whispered softly as his fingers left her aching skin.

“Juliet,” he said, raising his voice a little to grab her attention. “You’re clean, it didn’t get you, I swear.”

Juliet felt his voice rumble against her back as she continued to slump against him and she waited for his words to register. When they did, she sat up and, with a spinning head, examined every inch of her skin.

“I’m clean,” she confirmed under her breath as her wide eyes trained on the rapidly developing bruise on her skin.

The following day, the bruise had only grown worse. It was almost black and wrapped around the entirety of her wrist in the shape of the infected’s rotten fingers.

Juliet’s entire body stiffened as she felt the sleeve of her jacket brush her raw skin and reveal the evidence of her stupidity, her inability to protect the town.

She’d got herself caught by an infected, she could have got Matt killed.

Quickly she gripped the worn cardboard of the ammo box and dropped her arms, swallowing rough before she turned around.

She knew how Joel would react. He would tell her that he was right, that she wasn’t ready to go on patrol -

“Who did this to you?” Joel seethed in a voice so viciously menacing that Juliet couldn't help but flinch. He stalked towards her and grabbed the ammo from her hand, throwing it on the low shelf behind her, before he lifted her wrist with surprising gentleness as his fingers slowly pushed back the sleeve of her jacket, revealing the extent of the bruising.

His eyes left her arm momentarily to meet her wide eyed stare.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded again, slower this time, like every word choked him.

Juliet’s lips parted as her eyes darted between Joel’s intense stare and his fingers softly brushing over her wrist.

His mouth was bloodthirsty but his eyes were pained, like the sight of the dark ring of purple around her wrist bruised him too.

“Nobody, It was -”

“Don’t lie to me,” he nearly growled. “Was it Matt?”

Juliet’s stomach dropped. Joel said Matt’s name as though her were some mass murderer.

“No!” Juliet said nervously, “It was -”

“If he fuckin’ touched you,” Joel raged, shaking his head ever so slightly.

“It wasn’t him!” Juliet breathlessly revealed. “It was an infected.”

Juliet expected Joel’s rage to burn out when he realised Matt had no part in her injury, but for some reason it looked as though the muscles in his body grew even tighter.

“An infected did this?” he breathed, hovering his thumb over the dark purple.

Juliet nodded slowly, not trusting her words.

Joel was touching her and she could think of nothing else other than the calloused edge of his fingertips brushing so delicately against her injured skin.

“You weren’t bit?” Joel asked softly, already knowing the answer or Juliet wouldn’t have been standing in front of him.

“No,” she whispered hoarsely.

“You could’ve been killed,” he ground out as a muscle jumped in his very tight jaw. Joel was so close to her now, his breath touched her forehead as she looked up at him.

She was pressed against the shelving, with nowhere to escape him.

His other hand reached up and cradled her cheek as his eyes scanned over her face, watching as her lip trembled.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked in a hushed voice.

Juliet had been drawn in, caught in the spell of Joel’s close proximity; exposed to the intoxication of his smell and the magnetism of his eyes.

But his words struck her in that deep, dark hole in her chest, and she was thrown from his orbit.

Why didn’t she tell him?

Her eyes darkened.

“Why the hell would I tell you?” Juliet almost snarled.

Joel drew back as if he’d been slapped.

For a brief moment, Juliet imagined she saw hurt blazing in his eyes, before they hardened.

“We haven’t spoken in weeks, and you all but told me you couldn’t care less about me,” she bit out, pouring every bit of her anger, shock and sadness into each word.

“Why would I tell you anything?” she continued, her voice cracking.

A million emotions flashed across Joel’s face, and Juliet couldn’t seem to grasp at any.

She was breathing heavy.

His hands released her slowly as though he had to force himself to pull away.

Joel took a deep breath and Juliet held her’s as she waited for him to take back every cruel word he threw at her and rescind the way he made her feel.

But his eyes scanned her face and the breath slowly left his mouth, with nothing to ease the ache in Juliet’s chest.

“It’s a miracle you’re alive,” he said quietly after a moment, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

Juliet said nothing, all the fight in her was gone.

She’d expected Joel to argue back, to fight her accusation of his indifference towards her.

But, instead, she watched as all the shutters in his mind slammed closed once again.

With one last lingering look, Joel turned and stormed around the corner without his ammo.

Juliet closed her eyes and felt tears leak down her cheeks, cleansing her skin of the memory of Joel’s heated touch as she heard his hard footsteps march out of the barn.

_________________________________________

@amyispxnk @http-paprika @shotgun-shelby @weeping-werewolf

(I'll proofread this properly tomorrow, sorry if there's any random formatting or grammatical errors lol)

thanks for reading ❤️

#joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x reader #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #joel miller fic #ao3 fanfic #joel miller hbo #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal #tlou #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou hbo #Spotify

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beskarandblasters · 2 months

Text

Was it all a dream?

Chapter Six: I'm gonna sleep because you live in my daydreams

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist

Series summary: You’ve always had vivid dreams, an escape from your monotonous life. But one night, something appears in your dreams that keeps reoccurring; a pair of brown eyes. -Or- Two people, in completely different parts of the galaxy, find each other in their dreams and try to make sense of the strange connection they share.

Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), switches between Reader and Din’s POV, story takes place in the dream realm and the real world, takes place somewhere between the end of season two/Book of Boba Fett/beginning + middle of season three, eventual smut, line between reality and dreams gets blurred, use of Mando’a words and phrases, no use of y/n

Chapter summary: You further your escape plan off of Sullust. Din searches for you on Coruscant and ends up finding more than he bargained for. But once you two reunite in your dreams that night, everything starts to make sense.

Word count: 4.3k

Chapter warnings: Din has sex with someone else (but it's not technically infidelity IDK), sex work, angst, skinny dipping, fingering, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, praising, panty stealing

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

You

The first step of your plan is to slowly accumulate all the parts to craft a blaster at home. You can’t take all the parts at once, it’ll be too obvious. By the end of your shift, you want to grab at least two or three parts that you know will be useful. You’ll shove them deep in your pockets, hoping no one notices. Especially those pesky droids.

As the day shift crew starts to thin out, you hang back, waiting until there are fewer eyes around. Hastily, you grab two parts and shove them into your pocket, not even looking to see what you took.

Day one of stealing blaster parts is seemingly a success.

After you leave the factory, you take the shuttle home, making a plan in your head to drop the parts off at your place and head to the library again. You have to research the last two dream locations. The last one will be hard, all you saw were endless beige hallways and a field through a window. Nothing distinctive about that. You’ve been hoping he would recognize one of these places eventually, giving you some sort of clue as to where you can go after you escape.

Once the blaster parts are safe in your home, you head to the library with your mind running wild. When you really think about it… you’ve only known Din for less than ten days. Is it crazy to go after a man you barely know? Sort of. But when your reality is as bleak as it is, you’d take any reason to flee.

Reality doesn’t even feel like reality anymore. That thought doesn’t even make sense. To you, reality is when you’re with Din in a love that feels real, more real than anything you’ve experienced in your life. That’s why you keep going. Besides, you were born to explore the galaxy, not to be bound to a soulless corporate life.

Finding a secluded spot in the corner of your library, you pour yourself over books and articles on the data-pad– a routine for you as of late. Just as you expected, searching for a “place with beige hallways” yields no results. And the other place, the field by the lake and the grove of trees, you can’t find it either. You need him to recognize a place or to dream of somewhere with a distinct landscape. But for you, that’s every place, everything is distinct and memorable compared to Sullust.

You hope tonight’s dream takes up someplace different, someplace real.

Din

Din spends his day doing what he does best; tracking someone down. But this time this someone is you. He’s going off of the fragmented bits of information he has. He knows you live underground somewhere. And while you don’t remember where you live in real life when you’re dreaming he does recall one place where he found you in a dream— the lower levels of Coruscant.

Is it a long shot? Yes, but it’s also a lead. Besides, any disappointment he’ll face if he doesn’t find you is worth it on the off chance that he actually does.

It’s raining when he lands on Coruscant and it makes him immediately think of you. How he wishes he could take off his armor and feel the train on his skin. But not when there are all these people around. He wants to feel the elements with you and only you at his side.

And so he sets off on his mission, combing the lower levels of Coruscant. He searches in cantinas, nightclubs, motels, and even brothels. And every time he gets the same answer from people after he tells them your name and describes what you look like– never heard of her.

He goes to leave the brothel, the third one he’s been to tonight, but before he can go one of the workers stops him. It’s a woman; tall, brown curly hair, deep blue eyes, and glimmering red robes.

“Are you in need of a service tonight, sir?” she asks sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him.

He shouldn’t. But this is different… right? This isn't sex with someone he loves. This is sex in the form of a service, with no emotions attached. And besides, you exist in the dream realm. The sex he had with you wasn't even real. But Maker, it felt so real. He’s in his own head, contemplating whether or not he’s dishonoring you, questioning whether or not you’re real. Are you out there somewhere in the galaxy yearning for his touch? Are you longing to escape whatever abysmal place you’re from? Are you seeking physical connections with others like he is right now?

Do you only exist within his gaze? In the confines of his subconscious?

“Sir?” the woman asks, stopping Din from spiraling further.

“Yes,” he says awkwardly.

“Follow me,” she says, turning with a sway of her hips and leading him down the hallway.

She brings him to his chambers, closing the door behind him after he enters.

“What are you in the mood for?” she asks, running a finger down his breastplate.

Not this, he thinks to himself. But maybe for a fleeting moment, this can fill the void in his heart; a void in the shape of you. Perhaps he can close his eyes and pretend it’s you he’s burying his cock in. It won’t be the same and he knows that. With you he can be his true self, free of his armor and stripped of his real-world responsibilities.

“I don’t have a preference,” he shrugs.

She grabs him by the hand and leads him to the bed, coaxing him to sit. She begins to fall to her knees, brushing her hand over the bulge in his flight suit. He looks down at her, her eyes wide and searching his visor. But when he closes his eyes he’s transported back to the house with you, watching as you suck him off, your tongue swirling around his foreskin. You know just what to do to make him melt into a puddle, your touch reducing him down until he’s completely at your will.

But this isn’t the same. And if he’s going to go through with this he needs to do it in a way less personal, without this woman’s eyes never leaving him.

“On second thought,” he says, getting up from the bed, “Get on your hands and knees.”

This position takes him back to his early bounty-hunting days. He would spend countless nights railing prostitutes from behind, relieving his stress and frustrations, and getting off without having to worry about keeping up appearances afterward.

He’s doing the same thing now. Except this time it feels different. There are feelings attached but not in the way he wants. The guilt he feels is indescribable. He’s wishing you were here, feeling your skin and hearing your moans. But that’ll just have to do for now.

“Whatever you want, handsome,” she says, shedding her robes.

Whatever you want, handsome.

She doesn’t even know what he looks like.

That shouldn’t make him laugh but it almost does. The stifled laughter comes out as a strange sound and he has to pass it off as clearing his throat.

Handsome.

Kriff, now he’s sad again. That word is forever associated with you and the cave illuminated by the fire. It feels wrong for someone else to call him that.

But he can’t be sad now. He needs to perform, to pretend he’s not feeling so terrible inside.

The woman moves on the bed, resting on all fours and arching her back. It’s now or never.

He gets on the bed, situating himself behind her on his knees. He pulls his cock out of his flight suit and strokes it, spreading the pre-cum built up on his tip down his shaft. He looks to his left and sees a bottle of lube lying on the bed.

Perfect, he thinks to himself.

He grabs the bottle and squirts a dollop of lube onto his fingers, spreading it around the woman’s entrance, just enough so he can slip inside. He tosses the bottle aside and holds her hips, thrusting into her roughly. She moans, high-pitched and breathy. It almost seems like it’s played up like she’s putting on a show. It’s nothing like you. Your sweet moans are melodic, music to his ears.

He feels awful. This poor woman is just doing her job, just making a living. And here he is, fucking her while he compares her to someone who might not even be real. He just wants to get this over with.

If he’s learned one thing from his experience, it’s that sex in real life can’t even begin to compare to sex in the dream realm.

He pulls out and cums all over her ass, not even feeling any relief. He’s not sure if she came either, too lost in his thoughts. She flops forward and rolls to her side, looking up at him as he puts his cock away and moves off the bed.

“Hope you enjoyed yourself…” she says, not looking at him, “You can pay out front.”

He nods and leaves without saying a word. He needs to get out of there now.

Before he leaves he places a fistful of credits on the front counter, hoping it’s enough to cover his services. He’s exhausted, and in need of sleep in more ways than one.

Once he’s back in the Razor Crest, he’s peeling off his armor and stripping down to just his flight suit. As soon as his head hits the pillow he’s out, searching for you, wherever you are.

You

Blinding sunlight. Sand, so much sand. You look up, searching for any notable features.

A binary sunset.

That’s something you don’t see every day.

Sand is pooling in your shoes. Maker, this sucks. But at least you get to feel the sun on your face.

But where’s Din?

“I hate this place,” you hear him say behind you.

You turn around to see him coming towards you, the harsh sunlight making him squint, resting a hand on his hip.

“We just got here.”

“I’ve been here before.”

He’s been here before.

“...In a dream?”

“No, in real life. I feel like I’m here quite often.”

“What’s this place called?”

“...I don’t remember.”

It doesn’t matter. You finally have a lead, a tie to a real location where you can possibly find him.

“I like it here.”

“You won’t be saying that for long. You’re not used to the sun. We should try to find shelter, ner vercopa,” he says, grabbing you by the hand.

He leads you across the desert, searching for some form of haven away from the blazing suns. Although you’ve learned for so long to feel the sun on your skin, he was right. This is too much. He’s silent as he walks, too focused on you and getting you comfortable.

In the distance, you spot looming rocky bluffs. Maybe there’s a spot in the shade there. But it’s like your eyes are playing tricks on you because beside the rocky bluffs is a body of water. There’s no way. It has to be a mirage, your mind is faking you out, giving you hope that there’s water nearby.

“Is that real?” you ask, turning to look at him.

“It can’t be,” he says, meeting your gaze. His warm brown eyes are lit up by the sun, turning them into a beautiful shade of amber. “There are no places like that on this planet.”

You look at the mirage again, letting your primal urges take over. Real or not, you need to find out. You let go of his hand, trudging through the sand towards the oasis.

“What are you doing?!”

“We might as well see if it’s real or not,” you shrug.

He catches up to you, interlocking his hand with yours once again.

“None of this is real. We’re in a dream,” he says.

“You know what I mean,” you respond, rolling your eyes, “Like whether or not this is an illusion.”

“...Right.” He still sounds uneasy.

As you get closer you notice more about the oasis– tall leafy trees, bushes full of ripe fruit you’ve never seen before, and blue shimmering water. All of it tucked into the side of a rock face.

“Looks pretty real to me,” you say, standing at the edge of the water.

You let go of his hand and crouch down. The surface of the water moves gently in the direction of the wind. You cup your hands and scoop up a handful of water, rising from the ground to show Din.

“Look. Real water,” you say, holding out your hands to him.

His eyes flicker from the water in your hands back to your face. The unsettled expression on his face is starting to dissipate, finally letting himself relax. You bring your hands to your mouth and take a sip of water– so crisp and refreshing. But it’s not enough.

You pour the remaining water back into the spring and reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it off over your head.

“What are you-”

“Taking a dip,” you say, taking off your shoes and kicking off your underwear and pants in one go, “Are you joining me?”

“Yes,” he says quickly, slipping off his boots.

You ease yourself into the water, expecting for the temperature to shock you but it’s the opposite. It’s…. inviting.

Din joins you in the water, his hands immediately gravitate to your waist, pulling you into him. It’s not that deep, only going up to the middle of his waist.

“This is nice,” he says.

“This is nice… And real,” you tease.

“I’m not used to there being water here. Or swimming for that matter.”

“I’ve never been swimming before either.”

“See? What if you jumped in and immediately drowned?”

“I’d have you to save me, of course,” you playfully retort. You move to float on your back and continue, “Besides it’s not that deep.”

“I guess you’re right,” he says, floating on his back beside you.

The two of you stay like that for a while, staring up at the sky.

“Have you seen your son?” you absentmindedly ask.

But then you wince in anticipation of his response.

“No,” he admits.

“I’m sorry. You must miss him.”

“I do… This is the only thing keeping me going.”

“What do you mean?”

“This… Us.”

“Really?” you say, standing upright and looking down at him. His curls are wet and his eyes are closed, the sun hitting the high points of his face.

“…Yes,” he says, still not looking at you.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” you say, vaguely remembering your plan back home. You’re escaping but you don’t know where from.

“What if we found each other? You know… in real life.”

“I’m trying, ner vercopa,” he says, grabbing your hand.

“You’re trying?”

“I searched through the lower levels of Coruscant.”

“That’s sweet, Din,” you respond, squeezing his hand, “But I’m not from there.”

“I know,” he sighs, “It was worth a shot.”

He lies there, floating so peacefully like he’s never had any real moments to rest until he’s visited the dream realm with you.

“I’ll tear the galaxy apart to find you if I have to,” he says.

“You mean that?” you ask, his words tugging at your heart.

“Yes…” he says. The inflection in his response was a little weird like he wanted to say more but quickly decided against it.

“What is it?”

“…I have to tell you something,” he says, eyes still closed.

“You can tell me anything.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” he says, finally looking at you.

“What does that mean, Din?”

“It’s my native language. It means I love you,” he says, eyes flickering away from you and staring up at the sky once again.

You sink to his level, your head poking up from the water as you grab his chin, brushing your thumb along the hair on his jawline. You turn his head so he’s looking at you but instead, he shifts so he’s floating upright, face to face with you.

“I love you, ner vercopa,” he says, looking you in the eye.

“I love you, too, Din,” you respond. You don’t even have to think about it.

He closes the gap between you two, going in for a kiss. But just as he leans in the sky above you changes from day to night with a sunset somewhere in between. In what feels like seconds the sky is an inky black tapestry peppered with stars shining down on the two of you.

You look up admiring the star-filled sky, a sight you’ve never seen before. Din’s hands cup your face and you feel his eyes on you. He angles your face towards him, pressing his lips against yours. You wrap your arms around him and his hands slide from your face to your chest. And you stay there, hands roaming each other’s bodies, kissing like you’re the air the other person can’t live without. He feels so real under your touch– the warmth of his skin, the stubble on his face, his minty breath like he just brushed his teeth before bed; before coming to meet you here.

But as the night settles in so does the chill in the air. Your fingertips go wrinkly, goosebumps prick your skin, and a shiver runs down your spine. Din runs a hand up your back before pulling away and telling you, “We should get out. You’re freezing.”

He’s right even though you’re worried if you get out of the water the dream will end. So begrudgingly you get out, crouching down to scoop up your clothes and wait for what’s to come next. You glance to your right, looking into the rock face where you spot a cave, just like where it all began.

“Look,” you say, pointing to the cave as he’s collecting his clothes, “A cave.”

He pokes his head up, squinting at where you’re pointing.

“I’ll go make sure nothing’s in there,” he says, balled-up clothes in one arm and his blaster drawn. You pick up his boots, tiptoeing behind him as he inches closer to the cave. It’s a funny sight– Din fully nude, moving towards the mouth of the cave like a loth-cat on the prowl, holding a messy ball of clothes.

He enters the cave and you wait with bated breath, hoping it’s not too deep and that nothing is lurking in there. But then you hear a muffled, “Ow…”

“You alright?”

“Walked right into the back wall of the cave…”

“Oh,” you say, stifling a laugh.

“It’s not funny!”

“It kind of is.”

“I normally have something that helps me see in the dark,” he sighs.

You follow him inside, feeling around for him in the darkness until a hand finds your face.

“I’ve got you,” he says, softly.

He takes the clothes and boots you’re holding and presumably sets them down by his blaster and his clothes.

“What do you think? Should we make a fire?” you ask.

“I don’t know. I like this,” he says, hands finding your face again.

It’s almost entirely pitch black in the cave except for a sliver of moonlight trickling in.

“Fine with me,” you say, sitting down on the cave floor, expecting to be met with the feeling of cool rock against your skin. But instead, you feel your clothes laid out underneath you. What a gentleman.

He wastes no time, his hands pushing you by the shoulders so you’re lying down. You spread your legs for him, ready to have him inside you already. You’ll have to be patient, though, judging by the way his hand creeps up your leg slowly, starting at your inner ankle. A shiver of anticipation rattles through you, your body chilled by the nighttime desert air. His large hand palms the skin of your inner thigh, inching closer to your entrance ever so slowly. A small whimper thoughtlessly escapes your lips, prompting him to tease, “Patience, ner vercopa.”

You hear him shift to lie down in front of you, head resting against your thigh. His warm breath gently tickles you, triggering another shiver from you. He chuckles, his face sneaking closer to your cunt. His tongue licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt, moving in a way that can only be described as methodical and meticulous. He does it again, somehow moving even slower than before. He can’t do this, not when you’ve been aching for him for what feels like forever, even though you saw him the night prior.

“Din,” you whine.

“Shh,” he whispers, making all of your hair stand on its end, “What did I say?”

“...I have to be patient,” you say, softly sighing.

“That’s right,” he chuckles, hovering over your clit. He pauses for a moment, just to drive you crazy before whispering, “Good girl.”

That gets another whimper out of you but it turns into a choked-up moan as he sucks on your clit, tongue making circles around it over and over again. His arms wrap around your thighs and your back arches up off the floor of the cave. In no time, he pulls what is your first of many orgasms of the night. You just expect to have him inside you now that he’s made you cum but instead, he stays there, planted in between your thighs, licking up the remnants of your spend before trying for a second orgasm. And he does it again, faster than before since you’re so sensitive from the first one.

For what feels like hours, Din stays there, arms hooked around your thighs and face buried in your cunt, making you shiver and whimper, making you squirt in this small cave under the star-filled sky. But once he finally feels like you’ve had enough, however many that orgasms was, he pulls back and rests on his elbows.

“You ready for me, ner vercopa?”

“Yes, “ you say quickly.

“Someone’s eager,” he teases.

“I’ve just… missed you,” you admit, spreading your legs farther apart to accommodate how broad he is.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he chuckles, grabbing your thigh, “But not so fast. On your hands and knees, ner vercopa.”

Your cheeks heat up at his commands as you shift to rest on all fours, back arched and ass sticking up for him. One hand roams your body as the other strokes his cock, spreading his pre-cum down his shaft. His hands lock on your hips as he pushes into you slowly, buying himself down to the hilt and pausing to enjoy the feeling before pulling back and slamming into you. Deep and guttural moans force their way out your throat, coming out as choked-up sobs.

“Kriff, you feel so good,” he moans, squeezing your hip harder.

There’s not a coherent thought in your head, leaving you to respond in the form of a whimper. One of his hands moves from your hip to your shoulder, holding on to you for purchase as he rails you. Soon enough, the small cave is filled with the obscene sounds of skin colliding with skin and the wet, squelching sounds of his cock in your pussy.

With one last thrust inside you, you cum around his cock, walls clenching and releasing him erratically. The sensation of your orgasm triggers his; his cock spilling his cum inside you. He fucks you through your release, the hand on your shoulder moving back to your hip and leaving a trail of tingles in its wake.

He pulls out and you let yourself rest against the floor, thankful again for the clothes he laid out underneath you. He lies down beside you and you move to lay on his chest.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum… I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back.

Din

You go stiff beside him, falling silent as well, assuming you’re falling asleep. Falling asleep in a dream…. How does that work?

The blinding light spilling into the opening of the cave interrupts his thoughts. The suns are rising again. Has that much time really passed here?

He rests his hand at his side, feeling a ball of fabric against his palm. Looking down he spots… your panties, gray and basic but with a noticeable wet spot in the center.

Is it wrong to take a sniff? Maybe. Is it a little weird? Yes.

But you’re sleeping so soundly against his chest. You won’t know.

Slowly, he takes the fabric and brings it to his nose, ready to take a big inhale.

And then he wakes up. Maybe it was the Maker punishing him for his perverted behavior.

The dull ceiling greets his vision yet again. And as he stretches and yawns, he feels something in his hand.

No, it can’t be.

He opens his hand to reveal the panties from the dream, gray with the same wet spot in the center. How in the galaxy did this happen? Something from a dream materialized in real life, right in the palm of his hand.

First, the perverted thoughts have to take over before he thinks about what this means. He brings the panties to his nose and inhales deeply, his senses met with the same familiar scent– you. His cock twitches in his flight suit and flashbacks of the dream play in his mind. It makes him miss you even more, wishing he was dreaming again.

But now that that’s out of the way he’s starting to realize that…. You’re real. If anything this just incentivizes his mission even further. He’ll turn the galaxy upside down if he has to.

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