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bunnysbrainrot · 1 year

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But I’m Better

Kintober prompt: Toys

Relationship: dbf!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Content: explicit sexual scenes, praise kink, guided masturbation, dom/sub (kinda) dynamic, size kink (kinda sorta). No outbreak AU, age gap (Joel is around his mid-40’s, reader is early/mid-20’s).

Summary: When something breaks, you always know who to call. Your dresser is broken, and you’re left hopeless. But what happens when Joel finds something peculiar in your drawer?

A/N: Y’all. I am so pissed right now because i wrote so much on my drive home, and it deleted because of a bad connection. i can’t recall everything i wrote, so i did the best with what i could remember. i hope it’s up to your liking!

“Shit,” you grumble as you stare blankly at the clothes strewn across the floor. The knob of your dresser drawer sat stupidly in your hand, the mangled wood and metal mocking you. It looked completely ruined.

You thought about messaging your dad about the repairs, but chose against it. He was never exactly notorious for making these things simple - it would be a question of ‘So how did this happen?’ or ‘How did you manage to break it?’, and it really wasn’t worth the effort for you.

The knob sat in your hand, the screw that held it in the drawer was bent to the side, and incredibly dull. No surprise there, you thought.

To be fair, it was an old ass dresser, given to you by your grandmother when you were younger. It was weird to think that you’d had this dresser for over twelve years.

You bent over the pile of clothes and hoisted the hefty drawer in line with the empty space, grunting in frustration as you tried to shimmy it in. It was settled haphazardly and tilted backwards. Completely screwed up. You took your phone from your pocket and snapped a photo of your mangled dresser, sending it to Joel.

Dresser finally gave out, I guess. Knob fell clean off when I tried to open it

Almost immediately, Joel haha reacted to the image and began to type. He was unlike any other man you’d talked to before. Joel was timely and consistent, and he was always reliable. Even if he didn’t have the time to help, he would instruct you on how to solve an issue, but typically he helped you in person.

As much as you tried to deny it, your feeling for Joel had warped over the past few years. It began as a silly childhood crush - those early days where you and your friends joked about what older men were sexiest. Your friends had given you teasing looks when you mentioned Joel, and even more shocking was how long you’d liked him. It was a simple, harmless, childhood crush.

Until it wasn’t.

You were freshly eighteen and readying yourself for college when the realization hit you. After all those years having crushes on older guys, it would be considered okay. Weird and taboo, sure, but still allowed now that you were legally an adult.

Joel had come to your graduation dinner at the end of senior year. You remembered that night in vivid detail. More particularly, Joel’s presence set your skin ablaze with a new type of anxiety. At long last, you could freely crush on Joel, except that there was now a chance he could like you, too.

That night he’d passed you a small velvet box, tied neatly with gold ribbon. You opened the box to reveal a gold, oval-shaped locket with a simple clasp. Inscribed on the face of the locket were whorled spirals, breaking off as flowers scattered over the gilded surface. Gazing up at Joel, you couldn’t contain your joy as you gave him a quick hug. He briefly wrapped an arm around you, holding you close by the small of your back.

He broke away, smiling proudly at you below him.

“You did a great job, baby girl. You keep that up in college, and you’ll get by just fine.”

You were thankful dessert had arrived in time for you to turn your attention away, hiding your rouged cheeks. Joel probably didn’t remember that night, but you remembered every little thing.

—

You’d done your four years of college and after the endless nights with little to no sleep and hard work, you were finally graduated, and taking a gap year before considering anything further. You worked hard, and didn’t want to burn yourself out with more school immediately.

But now you were back home, and your sights were set on something else. It was a golden opportunity to spend time with Joel - time that you’d lost by being away for so long. Holiday visits and summer break was hardly generous enough to give you any alone time with Joel. You left for college as a timid girl, developed yourself as a whole, and came back a woman. A woman who knew herself and her wants.

And you wanted him, ached for him in a way you could neither define nor justify. He was almost twice your age, a wholly developed man with his own complex past and unsteady dating life.

Mr. Miller.

He had lived in the next neighborhood over for as long as you could remember. He and your dad met about ten years back at a ‘work thing’, as they described it.

Joel was kind and endlessly generous when it came to helping others. He was the first call when something broke, and the best person to have over when times were tough, despite his sometimes-rugged personality.

You’d gotten back in town over a week ago, and since then you’d seen Joel a few times, mostly to ‘inspect’ the furniture in your room - if anything had worn down over time and needed to be replaced, the whole nine. The both of you knew it was some bullshit excuse to see him at work, with those corded muscles flexing under his tanned skin, sending shivers down your spine.

That day, the two of you had enough bravery in you to flirt. It started out lightly, you gave more emphasis on Mr. Miller, until Joel requested you call him by his first name.

“Makin’ me feel like an old man, darlin’,” he teased. You remember how he sounded saying it, with a voice as thick and sweet as molasses.

Before he’d left he’d held you by the waist, staring a little too closely at your face, watching your eyes grow wide when he leaned toward you. He fixed your hair with a gentle hand, said your name, and trailed off, his eyes never leaving your lips.

He refused to kiss you that time. Though the time after that you’d decided to break the boundary, drinking him in like someone dying of thirst. You memorized his scent, the softness of his skin and rough, eager hands across your chest, between your thighs, your throat. You both had been greedy that night. It was a high that coursed through your senses. You needed him, more than you led on.

I’ll get my toolbox, looks like it could be some old hardware. Be over in 10.

You picked up around your room in the meantime, your heart fluttering in your ribcage with each passing second. The room had become stiflingly hot. Suffocating.

A knock at your bedroom door startled you out of your anxious stupor. You reached for the door and now faced a smug Joel Miller in the doorway.

“I could’ve met you at the front door, you know,” you chastised him playfully. Joel shifted his weight of his feet, pulling something from his pocket.

“Helps that I have a house key. Means I can help you even faster.”

You rolled your eyes at him and turned on your heels without a word, striding toward your broken dresser. Joel followed casually, craning his head to look around your room, at the decorations that covered the walls and ceiling. This was no longer the bedroom of a the kid he’d met all those years ago. No, you were fully your own woman now.

“Yup, the screw’s shot to shit,” he muttered, holding out the drawer’s knob to you. “See the end of it? Shouldn’t be that dull - gotta have it replaced every now and then.”

“Do you have the right screw for it?”

He nodded, popping open his toolbox and assessing the different screws in each compartment. His hands flexed with each movement, the veins branching across them shifted with every twitch and roll of his thick fingers. Your legs clenched while the most intrusive thoughts filled your head. Specifically those hands, and what you could imagine them doing to you.

Procuring the right screw, Joel handed it to you. You looked at him in innocent confusion.

God, those eyes. If he had the chance, Joel would look into them all day, to let himself get swallowed whole by their beauty. And when you looked at him all pretty like that, as if you had no idea what you were doing to him, it drove him wild. You knew exactly what you were doing when you’d flirt with Joel, but couldn’t gauge his reciprocation, or if he was even okay with the weird ‘relationship’ you had.

It had been confusing for long enough. Someone needed to make a move, and Joel wasn’t sure if you had it in you to do it. Neither were you.

“I wanna see you try it for yourself,” he explained.

“If it’s so easy, why can’t you do it?” you quipped with a smile, but still taking the knob in your hands. Joel gave no reply and waited patiently for you to back down and do it yourself.

It was far easier than you thought. You handed it back to Joel with a proud smile. His eyes thoughtfully scanned your face before finding home in your eyes.

“Smart girl. I knew you could do it.”

Heat rushed across your cheeks like a harsh sunburn, completely taken over by the brightness in his honeyed tone and brown eyes. Joel laughed at your reaction before he worked on the drawer knob, fiddling it into place. His hands rummaged through your drawer as he worked, and paid no mind to the clothes, though you just realized. This was your underwear drawer - full of lacy underwear, bras of all varieties, and one final item you prayed you hid well enough.

Joel’s hands pushed through your panties as you held your breath. After the drawer had fallen out you’d lazily threwn everything back in the drawer and paid no mind to its organization. Since it wasn’t on the bed or the floor, by accident, you were certain that Joel would cross paths with a toy of yours.

He struck something solid amidst the clothes. The material was solid and heavy, with a bit of give from the silicone. At that moment, he could’ve left it ignored, but there was no fun in that, he thought. Joel gripped the dildo at the base, pulling out of the tangle of clothes and handed it to you, flashing you with a smirk.

“You should find a better place for this,” he drawled. “Never know who could find it.”

You quickly grabbed it from him and scanned your room for another hiding spot, but nothing came to mind. Instead you plopped it back in the drawer, on the opposite side.

“Most people don’t get to go through my underwear, so you can’t give me shit for that,” you grumbled. Joel stood, groaning at the strain on his joints. You giggle at the noise, and gave him your usual teasing, “Old man.”

Ignoring your jab, Joel leaned against the chest of drawers, arms crossed over his chest in a stare down.

His voice was dark. It had become devious, knowing, and more stern than you’d imagined.

“You use it on yourself?”

You choked on your spit harshly, not expecting his question to be so direct. Joel placed a wide hand between your shoulder blades and gave you a pat, coaxing you back to normal.

“Joel,” you pant, catching your breath, “you can’t just- just ask me that.”

“And you wouldn’t be curious if the roles were reversed, I’m sure,” he said coolly.

The redness had returned to your cheeks while you debated on your answer, but your hesitation told Joel everything he needed to know. In the smallest way, you’d let it slip that you imagine him in your free time, not that it wasn’t the same case for him. If anything, it’d been worse. Every text you’d sent him set him ablaze; at night he thought about you in detail and palmed himself through his pants, or pumped his cock in a fervent hand as he thought of you, squeezing himself inside your tight pussy. Countless nights he’d stained himself with his own seed, wishing it was inside of you instead, where it belongs. That toy should be him, it always should’ve been.

“Do you?”

You huffed and turned away from him, striding toward the bed to adjust your pillows - any sort of casual distraction from the question.

“Why do you want to know?” you countered.

Joel’s hands brushed against your hips from behind, his feather-soft fingertips brushing across the skin above your jeans. You drew in a breath as Joel whispered next to your ear.

“Because I’m a selfish old bastard, and I’m wondering what it looks like.”

“What what looks like?” you ask softly. You knew precisely what he meant but you wanted to hear something from him anyway.

He burrowed his head at the crook of your neck, gently kissing your skin up to the soft spot below your ear. His breath flew over your skin hot and heavy, sending a new wave of heat to your core.

“I want to see your face when you’re all filled up. I gotta see what your little pussy looks like when it’s all stretched out.”

You pushed your hips back flush with his to find a growing bulge trapped in his jeans. Joel rolled his hips into your ass, groaning at the constraint of the rough denim.

“Joel,” you breathed.

He mumbled against your neck, “What is it baby girl?”

Shoving your ass against his crotch, you whined, “I need you. Please… need you so badly.”

His hum rumbled against your skin, sending goosebumps rolling across your arms. A hand wound up to your hair and tugged a good handful back toward him. You gazed up at him with those beautiful glossed over eyes he dreamed about. He pictured this look on your face for a few years now, and he finally had the joy of seeing it, of causing it himself.

“Not givin’ it to you yet, baby,” he tugged once more on your hair when you whined in protest, “Gonna try something different first.”

In one movement you were facing him, finding two dark eyes staring you down, pupils both blown in lust. Joel gripped the back of your head carefully now, cradling you like something precious, something coveted. This was exactly how he saw you. You were someone to protect and take care of, and now it’s shifted to something far more intimate. Joel vowed to himself that he would make you feel every ounce of pleasure you’d been missing out on. All those nights where his hand replaced your pussy built up a frustration only you could truly fix.

Joel crashed his mouth to yours, as he’d done twice before this, and the kiss sent the same heat through your body. You clenched your thighs in a pitiful attempt to gain pressure against your swollen clit, nestled sweetly between your soft folds, soaking your underwear with your slick.

He pressed you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed. The kiss was no short of pure ecstasy. The way his stubble scratched against your cheeks, the way his breathing grew heavy when you bit at his lower lip, the way his tongue edged into your mouth to explore every inch.

You gasped when Joel pulled away, watching him step to your dresser and draw out the dildo you’d hidden back inside. He turned to you with the toy in hand, wobbling slightly in his grip.

“‘S a pretty big one, sweetheart, you actually use all of it?” his voice was far too casual for a man holding your dildo.

You offer him half a nod, “Kind of. I’ve been trying to get… all the way in.” Joel assessed your words before he joined you on the bed, holding the toy against your stomach, at the base of your pelvis. He let out a low whistle when he saw where the toy’s length ended at your tummy, past your bellybutton.

“All of that inside you… felt pretty daring getting one so big, huh?”

That wasn’t the case and it was the most embarrassing part. The truth is, you chose the size based on your image of Joel. You didn’t even know how endowed he was, but you let your fantasy of him take over. That, and the time your hand brushed against his erection during your last kiss.

“I wanted to see if it would feel like you,” you admitted.

Joel’s eyes crinkled with his laugh, “Darlin’, a toy don’t compare to the real thing. Not really.”

You jabbed his arm at his teasing, “Listen, I’m doing the best with what I got, okay?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the best you could get, now is it?” he purred, pushing forward to plant a kiss on your neck. You shook your head, knowing he was exactly right. The toy would never really feel like the real thing.

You glanced up at him with a nervous expression, furrowing your brows, “What did you want to do?”

Joel looked at you coolly and leaned back onto his elbows. He eyed you, then the toy in his hand, then back to you.

“You gonna make it fit - take it all the way - and I’m gonna help.”

Crimson shaded your cheeks at the thought, staring nervously at the toy. Surely you were wet enough to take it, but the action of pushing further, to get it in completely, had been a challenge. In hopes to boost your bravery, you hunched over him, kissing him harshly as your hands flew to your pants. You fumbled with the waistband and slid them off of you, until you were stark naked, laid and bare before Mr. Miller.

He simply drank you in as you sat nervously in the lamplight. Joel eyed you darkly, his eyes raking from your quivering thighs, your slightly hidden sex - masked by your censoring hands, to your perk nipples atop each soft breast, and to your face, eyes half-lidded in pleasure adjoined with your soft panting.

“Jesus.”

You ducked your head sheepishly, shaking slightly to decline the compliment. Joel looked you over fondly as his hand found your cheek, brushing a thumb over your cheekbone. You glanced down at him, still giving you that goofy smirk and a excited glint in his eye.

Joel kept eye contact as his hand traveled down your body - through the valley between your breasts, down your tummy, to just above your slit, daringly close to dipping between your wet folds. You pushed yourself into your knees and knelt at his side, your aching cunt exposed to him in the dimly lit room.

He trailed his hand up each thigh, halting just before he reached your pussy. Each touch was carefully light in a way that made your whole body shudder against him. A single finger slithered up your thigh once again, finally finding its way through your slit, nestling comfortably against your clit and drawing lazy circles.

You cried out against a hand held at your mouth. Joel’s hand smelled of metal and bourbon, mixed with pine and lemongrass. He smelled smoky and fresh and completely warm against your face. You bestowed your face into his palm as he gained a rhythm on your clit, drawing out the smallest cries against his skin.

“Nice and wet for me already, darlin’, that’s good… that’s such a good girl. Drippin’ and ready.”

Another dumb nod has him chuckling while his finger skirted lightly across your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves until your stomach grew tighter.

“Gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum for me already?” His comment draws another moan from you, falling like a melody past your bitten lips, a chorus straight from heaven, just for Joel.

“It’s okay, baby doll, go ‘head. Cum for daddy,” he said sweetly, the Southern drawl thick through his words.

You unravel around him, jolting your hips as your orgasm takes over your senses. A soft cry sounds through your gritted teeth; you gently grind your hips onto the pad of his finger to ride through the shockwaves. Joel leans up to kiss your shoulder, his lips warm and supple.

“Just as beautiful as I imagined,” whispered Joel. His tongue skirts along your skin to your neck, fully sitting beside you to bore his eyes into yours.

You glanced back at him with lust-blow pupils, steadying your breath as his hand slowed its tempo. Joel gave you a lazy smile, the lamplight catching the salt-and-pepper hairs of his scruff in a soft display of his rugged features.

“Can,” you started, “you be… inside me?”

Joel’s hands found your hips and gripped snugly. The look in his eyes was nothing short of affectionate. Even still, he shook his head.

“Not tonight darlin’,” he replies, “I want you to show me how you look using this-“ he points to the dildo on his opposite side, waiting. “Since you think a toy could be so much better than me-“

“That’s not it at all,” you protest, “I needed something, Joel.”

He holds up a hand to stop you mid-sentence, “You could’ve asked me, but ya didn’t, did ya?”

You gave him a scowl, “I didn’t think this would happen, Joel.”

Ever since you hit eighteen, he wanted you to practice calling him by his first name purely out of comfortability, and since you’d grown up, it seemed more fitting.

He doesn’t reply, but his smirk grows when he brings the dildo over to you, sitting between your thighs. It was embarrassing enough with how little of the toy you could handle this far, and to do it in front of Joel seemed doubly humiliating.

Joel gives your ass a small smack to lift you up. You rise, letting him set the toy between your thighs and beneath your throbbing entrance. He cleared his throat, daring your attention back to him.

“Go at your own pace, but get it all in, sweet girl.”

All thought had left you - your only reply being in an eager nod. You started off slowly, notching the toy in at your tight hole, and slowly bounced yourself along its length. Your legs shook with each movement as you filled yourself more and more, every gyration sent shockwaves of pleasure through every inch of your being.

It took a few moments to ease yourself fully, now bouncing on the dildo’s length until it became glossy with your slick. Joel eyed you affectionately. Your face twisted in ways he couldn’t imagine, and your cunt wrapped around the toy in ways he could only dream of.

Joel patted your thigh as you bottomed out at the hilt of the toy. He pawed at your hips, kneading at the tender flesh of your ass, and pulled you into a grinding motion, setting the dildo ever deeper into your cunt. It struck a new spot deep inside of you, pushing against your cervix. A low moan fell from you as you moved your hips absentmindedly, solely following Joel’s command.

The tightness in your stomach only grew as his praises flowed through your head.

“Such an obedient lil’ thing.”

“That’s a dirty girl, gettin’ all needy like that. Wishin’ it was me in your sweet pussy, don’t you?”

“You have no idea how badly I want to fill you right now, baby doll.”

You mewled softly as another orgasm crashed through you, your hips sputtering as you ground onto the toy. Joel’s hands caressed you through your high, though he didn’t stop tugging your hips. He beamed lazily when you cried his name once again, shuddering around the toy nestled inside of you.

“Attagirl,” whispered Joel, “so fuckin’ beautiful..”

You shook your head at him like before, but he showed no signs of backing down from his stance. Joel peppered your thighs with kisses and he lifted you off the toy, listening to your whines as you were left feeling empty. His cock twitched in his jeans, eager to play.

But not yet. He needed to see this first.

“How was that, sweet girl?”

A beat of silence said every unspoken thing you’d come up with. It was good, but not mind-boggling. Not the ‘fucked til you’re dumb’ pleasure you’d expected from tonight.

Joel patted your ass, “That’s the thing. Toys… they feel nice. But-“ He plants a kiss to your cheek, then your lips, grazing over the swollen skin.

“I’m better.”

The next few minutes consisted of cleaning after yourself and settling back into your clothes. Joel fixed your hair neatly before looking you over.

“Cant stay long tonight, darlin’, gotta get back home.”

You sighed dramatically at him, to which he scoffed away the gesture. On his way out, he gave you a far more longing look - a loving, thoughtful gaze that told you one thing.

You were his. Completely and wholly. It was clear he saw you differently now, as you did him.

Joel fucking Miller.

MDNI spacer is by cafekitsune!

hi everyone! thank you for so much incredible support on this fic!

Just FYI: Blood Flow, and Daddy’s Girl are now up as parts 2 and 3! have fun, lovelies

#fanfiction #fic writing #smut #smut writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #bunny writes #kinktober

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1989tvcore · 6 months

Text

tied by music. - charles leclerc. chapter one.

summary; in which a songwriter gets in contact with the il predestinato to help her in creating her most personal album.

face claim; taylor swift

pairing(s); charles leclerc x fem! singer! reader, zayn malik x ex! fem! singer! reader. smau.

warning(s); toxic/unfaithful relationship, reader in a very bad mental state during break-up but she’s eventually healed, zayn is the douchebag i sincerely apologise. </3 (most of these are shown in the following parts)

author note; can we please um… ignore the fact that um… this is literally the script for my um… fame dr… ANYWAYS HERE’S COMPOSER CHARLES TO COMFORT YOU! 🤍 this series will have many parts or maybe just two, we’ll see how it plays out.

masterlist | chapter 2

english isn’t my first language, credits to rightful owners.

popbase

liked by y/nayncrumbs, ynphobic and 45,771 others

popbase Song-writer & Musician Y/N Y/LN & former One-Direction & Musician member Zayn Malik have officially broken up after 6 years of being together, TMZ reports.

tagged: youryusername, zayn

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user6 oh that y/nayn stan account must be crying now that the rumors are confirmed …

y/nayncrumbs user6 i literally just turned suicidal.

ynphobic y/nayncrumbs u know damn well this was long due …

user47 user6 can you blame them?

user58 THANK GOD, that man was insufferable when it came to their relationship

user13 user58 silent like

user0 user58 do y’all ever shut up

user58 user0 just wait until y/n releases a new album x

user99 NO PLS SAY SIKE RN

user33 user99 YES PLS DO I CAN’T HANDLE THIS I’M IN CLASS

user13 user99 girl she’s free???

user1989 wait a sec … remember when we got y/n6 rumors a few months ago?? DID HE CHEAT?? ZAYN IT’S ON SIGHT.

user17 user1989 they might’ve just not announced it when they actually broke up 🤡

user1989 user17 they were spotted together multiple times during y/n6 rumors and he was literally ignoring her while talking to models???

user16 why is nobody mentioning how charles leclerc has literally been helping y/n to make y/n6???

user55 user16 same question right here.

user4 user16 how do you know it’s for y/n6?

user16 user4 y/n has mentioned multiple times that she admires charle’s music and would love to work with him on a project of hers or his

user77 user16 Y/N IS A F1 GIRLIE??

user16 user77 since she was a child 🤧

yourusername just posted a story!

seen by charles_leclerc, oliviarodrigo and 1,403,758 others

user1989 GIRL WE KNOW THAT’S CHARLES’ KEYBOARD

user13 this album will break us all so bad.

user16 hi pls attend the next grand prix tyvm

charles_leclerc you must be in jail for not sending me the first picture.

yourusername charles_leclerc surprise? 😁

charles_leclerc yourusername yeah yeah whatever now send me the picture so i can make it my wallpaper 😌

charles_leclerc just posted a story!

seen by yourusername, f1, landonorris and 997,410 others.

user1989 SHUT UP IT’S LITERALLY THE SAME KEYBOARD

f1wagsource soft launch, no?

user65 CHARLES HERVE PERCEVAL LECLERC IS THIS WHAT I THINK IT IS.

yourusername no bc i’m literally announcing our baby tomorrow

charles_leclerc yourusername I know 🫶🏻

yourusername charles_leclerc i’m so nervous

charles_leclerc yourusername there’s no reason to be nervous sweetheart. whatever happens I’m here.

yourusername charles_leclerc stop being such a good boyfriend you know i’m not used to men like you 😔

charles_leclerc yourusername I really don’t plan on stopping anytime soon cherié.

yourusername charles_leclerc please do not! i love you 💞💓💕💗💝💘💖

charles_leclerc yourusername i love you too babe, now go rest you’ve got many promotions starting tomorrow.

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, arianagrande and 13,400,239 others

yourusername Surprise surprise! The first single of my new album “Metanoia” (coming out April 23), “we can’t be friends (wait for your love)” comes out tomorrow evening!

Thank you my whole team for making this album possible. I’m so grateful for all the wonderful and talented artists who took part in the creation of “Metanoia”, truly couldn’t be more lucky to have people like you by my side. Whether that is as colleagues or friends. In addition, there was one special someone who took HUGE part in writing, composing and producing this album with me, someone who I have very close to my heart. @charles_leclerc, the man, the monegasque himself. Thank you for agreeing to helping me bring into real life my deepest emotions and thoughts, you stood by me during very hard times in my life, I will always be thankful for that. Studio sessions with you are my only good memories of the hell I’ve been through last year.

And to the fans, thank you for supporting me always. I hope you’re excited for this project as much as I am. See you tomorrow for the premiere of the “we can’t be friends (wait for you love)” music video!

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arianagrande congrats!! can’t wait to listen♡

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yourusername arianagrande my girl 🤍

iamrebeccad can’t wait for tomorrow 🥰

liked by author

yourusername iamrebeccad love you so much. 🥹💗

francisca.cgomes album of the year already

liked by author

yourusername francisca.cgomes tearing up, thank you so much kika. 🥹🤍

lilymhe so in love with you! 💗

liked by author

yourusername lilymhe my #1 gf 🥹💞

alex_albon lilymhe excuse me?

rachelzegler I THINK I’M CRYING??

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niallhoran Congrats sis!

yourusername niallhoran Thank you Niall! 🫶🏻

user29 niallhoran oh zayn fucked up big time

user32 niallhoran THEIR FRIENDSHIP IS EVERYTHING

ynayncrumbs niallhoran oh it’s really over.

user1989 DID I ACTUALLY JUST MANIFEST Y/N6????

user13 user1989 OH MY FUCK YOU DID

user45 user1989 I think you graduated from tom holland manifestation university!

user16 WHERE’S THE TRACKLIST??

user88 user16 she’ll probably reveal it later

user99 EVERYONE SHUT UP NEW Y/N MV TOMORROW!!?!?

user30 user99 I’ve got a feeling it’ll have a love interest

user99 user30 SAME

charles_leclerc So proud of you! ❤️

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yourusername charles_leclerc Thank you Charlie! 🥹

ynphobic charles_leclerc I think I’m not breathing anymore.

user49 charles_leclerc I’M CRYING TEARS OF HAPPINESS.

landonorris having early access to this album: it’s good ig…

yourusername landonorris did you think the same when you were crying to the whole tracklist?

landonorris yourusername YOU DID NOT.

alex_albon landonorris get ended nowins 🤣‼️

landonorris alex_albon FUCK YOU

user11 I’M LITERALLY CRYING BC WDYM CHARLES ALMOST GOT A PARAGRAPH DEDICATED TO HIM??

yourusername user11 he deserves it more than anything. 🤍

taglist; @formulaonebuff @ironspdy @sleepybrokenmelle @dreamergirlatpaddock @taygrls

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librababe99 · 8 days

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Between Two Flames

cw: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, smut with plot, set during first two X- men movies, Fem!Reader, Logan/F!Reader/Scott, cunnilingus, fingering, threesome, unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all!) Word count: 3.8K

A/N: I decided to have a little “Challengers” moment but besides that I’m a sucker for a love triangle—I hope y’all enjoy this! As always comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

(marvel masterlist)

In the soft glow of the X-Mansion, you could feel the weight of their gazes, both so intense, yet so different in how they pinned you to the spot. Logan’s dark, smoldering eyes watched you with an animalistic hunger, while Scott’s visor hid his eyes. You could feel the intensity radiating from him, a more controlled but equally desperate need simmering beneath his calm exterior. They had both wanted you for as long as you could remember, and the tension between the three of you had been brewing just beneath the surface, ready to explode.

It wasn't a secret anymore. The way Logan’s voice would drop an octave when he spoke to you, how his hand lingered on your lower back for a second too long. The way Scott, ever the gentleman, would make excuses to be near you, brushing your hair from your face, his fingers barely grazing your skin, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched.

You were caught between them, two powerful, extraordinary men who couldn’t be more different, but somehow both managed to make your pulse race with equal intensity. And tonight… you’d decided it was time. Time to take control. Time to stop letting them circle you like predators ready to pounce. You weren’t going to choose because, deep down, you didn’t want to. You wanted them both. And you knew they wanted you too.

The air in your room felt thick, electric with anticipation as you stood between them, your heart hammering against your ribcage. Logan, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, was tense, his jaw clenched as if he was barely holding himself back. His shirt clung to his broad chest, muscles rippling beneath the fabric, his very presence an intoxicating mix of danger and raw masculinity. Scott stood at the opposite side of the room, more controlled, but his hands fidgeted at his sides, betraying his calm façade. The tension between them was palpable, years of rivalry over you culminating in this very moment.

“I’m tired of watching you two dance around each other,” you said, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. You looked between them, feeling the weight of your decision. “I want you both. No more games. No more competition. If you want me, you’re going to have to learn to share.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, a low growl escaping his throat as he pushed himself off the wall. “You serious, sweetheart’? You sure you know what you’re asking for?”

Scott shifted his stance, his gaze flickering between you and Logan. He hadn’t expected this, but the way his lips parted and his chest rose and fell with deeper breaths told you he wasn’t about to object.

“I’ve never been more serious,” you replied, your voice laced with desire. “And if either of you doesn’t want this… you can leave now.”

Neither of them moved.

Logan took a step forward, his hand reaching for you, the heat of his touch sending shivers down your spine. His fingers curled around your wrist, tugging you closer to him until your chest was pressed against his solid frame. “I’m not going anywhere,” he growled into your ear, his breath hot on your skin, sending a wave of heat straight to your core.

You tilted your head back to meet his gaze, your lips parting in a soft sigh. “I didn’t think you would.”

Behind you, you could feel Scott approaching, his presence cool and steady. He came up behind you, his breath warm against the back of your neck as his hands settled on your hips. His touch was softer, more hesitant than Logan’s, but the desire that pulsed through his fingertips was just as strong.

“I’ve always wanted you,” Scott whispered, his voice strained with barely contained need. “But this… are you sure?”

You turned your head slightly, catching his gaze from the corner of your eye. “I’m sure, Scott. I want this. I want both of you.”

With that, the dam finally broke. Logan’s lips crashed against yours, demanding and rough, while Scott’s hands roamed your body, his touch igniting a different kind of fire. Logan’s hands tangled in your hair, tugging lightly as he deepened the kiss, his tongue claiming your mouth in a way that was unmistakably possessive. Behind you, Scott’s lips found the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he kissed a trail down to your shoulder, his hands slipping beneath your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your stomach.

The sensations were overwhelming, two sets of hands exploring you, two mouths leaving trails of heat and want in their wake. Your head spun, but you reveled in the feeling, letting the pleasure wash over you in waves.

Logan’s hands slid down your back, gripping your ass with a possessive squeeze before lifting you effortlessly off the ground, carrying you towards the bed. He laid you down gently, his eyes dark with lust as he leaned over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. Scott followed, his hands never leaving your body, his touch grounding you in the midst of the storm that was Logan’s intensity.

They worked in tandem, their rivalry momentarily set aside as they focused entirely on you. Logan stripped away your clothes with an almost feral need, while Scott’s hands caressed every inch of bare skin revealed, his touch softer, more teasing in contrast to Logan’s roughness. You moaned softly, the mix of their attention driving you to the edge.

Logan’s mouth claimed your breasts, his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples while Scott’s lips found the inside of your thigh, his breath warm against your skin as he kissed his way up, his fingers brushing against your most intimate spot. You gasped, your back arching off the bed, your fingers tangling in the sheets as pleasure coursed through you.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Scott murmured, his voice thick with desire as he pressed a kiss just below your navel. His fingers moved against you, slow, deliberate strokes that had your body trembling with need.

Logan growled low in his throat, his lips trailing up your body until his mouth was on yours again, his kiss hard and consuming. “She’s mine, Summers,” he muttered against your lips, though there was no malice in his voice, just the deep, primal need to claim you.

“She’s ours tonight,” Scott corrected, his eyes meeting Logan’s with a silent agreement.

Logan’s lips were fierce, his kiss a burning force that left no room for hesitation. His hands, rough and calloused, ran over your bare skin with an urgency that sent shivers racing down your spine. Every touch from him was primal, raw, as if he was claiming you in every way he could. He growled low in his throat, the deep sound reverberating against your lips as he kissed you with wild intensity, his body pressed firmly against yours.

His mouth trailed from your lips, leaving a hot path down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he nipped at the sensitive spots that made you gasp. The heat of his breath against your throat had your pulse quickening, and you could feel the hard, solid strength of his body pressing into yours, his muscles taut with the need to take what he had wanted for so long.

Logan’s hands roamed lower, fingers gripping your waist, pulling your hips against his as his mouth traveled further down. His lips found your breasts, and he took one hardened nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before he sucked it gently, then harder, pulling soft moans from your lips.

Behind you, Scott was just as relentless, though his touch was more controlled, his need more restrained. His hands explored the curves of your body, his fingers brushing softly over your skin, contrasting Logan’s roughness. His lips found the nape of your neck, and the sensation of his warm breath there made you arch your back, pressing yourself further into Logan's mouth.

Scott kissed his way down your spine, his mouth hot against your skin, his hands trailing down your hips. His fingers traced the inside of your thighs, parting them slowly, teasingly, until his hand found the slick heat between your legs. His touch was soft at first, gentle, as if he was savoring every reaction, every gasp and moan that escaped your lips.

Logan growled again, his mouth leaving your breast with a wet pop as he glanced at Scott. “She’s ready for us,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, laced with barely controlled desire.

Scott didn’t respond, but you felt his fingers move more deliberately, sliding through your wetness with slow, deliberate strokes. He circled your clit with agonizing precision, drawing a moan from deep within you. Your body tensed, hips instinctively bucking against his hand, needing more, and yet he took his time, teasing you, building the pleasure until it was almost unbearable.

“Scott,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as the sensations overwhelmed you.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered softly, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers continued their rhythm, rubbing slow circles over your sensitive nub before slipping lower, pressing inside you. The feeling of his fingers stretching you, filling you, was almost too much as he worked you with practiced ease, his touch confident yet gentle, driving you to the edge.

Logan’s hands were on your hips now, lifting them slightly as he positioned himself between your legs. He was watching Scott’s fingers move, his eyes dark with lust. “Fuck, she’s so wet,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for him as he leaned down, his tongue flicking out to join Scott’s fingers.

The sensation was overwhelming, Logan’s mouth hot and demanding as his tongue licked a slow, sensual stripe over your clit, swirling around it with a skill that had you crying out in pleasure. Scott’s fingers moved in tandem with Logan’s mouth, thrusting in and out of you, stretching you as his thumb pressed against your swollen nub, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Your hands tangled in the sheets, your hips bucking uncontrollably as they worked together, pushing you higher and higher. Logan’s mouth was relentless, his tongue circling your clit before he sucked it into his mouth, his growls vibrating through your body, the sensation almost too much to bear. Scott’s fingers continued their steady rhythm inside you, the pressure building, coiling tighter and tighter until you felt like you were about to shatter.

“Please,” you gasped, your voice trembling as you begged for release, the pleasure teetering on the brink of being too much.

Logan’s eyes flicked up to meet Scott’s, a silent agreement passing between them. Logan’s mouth left your clit for just a moment, and then he gave you exactly what you needed, his tongue flicking rapidly over your swollen nub while Scott’s fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust.

The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with an intensity that had you crying out, your body trembling violently as pleasure surged through every nerve. Your hips jerked uncontrollably, your legs shaking as Logan’s mouth and Scott’s fingers didn’t stop, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until you were panting, breathless, completely undone beneath them.

Logan growled in satisfaction as he finally pulled away, his mouth slick with your wetness, his eyes dark and predatory as he looked down at you. Scott slowly withdrew his fingers, his hand resting on your thigh as he leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your back.

“You’re not done yet, sweetheart,” Logan rumbled, his voice low and husky as he moved over you, his body pressing you into the mattress. You could feel the hard length of him against your thigh, and your body responded immediately, desire flaring hot and fast once again.

Scott’s hands moved to your hips, lifting you slightly as he positioned himself behind you, his chest pressed against your back. “Let us take care of you,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he kissed the side of your neck, his fingers intertwining with Logan’s as they both prepared to claim you fully.

The air in the room was thick, humming with tension, the weight of desire almost palpable as both men converged on you. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a shared hunger that had been building for far too long, now unleashed with an intensity that left you trembling beneath their combined focus. The need to possess, to ravage, was clear in every movement, and you could feel it in the way their eyes devoured you, their bodies pressing against you, ready to take what they’d been craving for so long.

Logan hovered above you like a predator, his muscular form caging you in, every inch of him radiating heat and power. His dark eyes burned with lust, flicking over your face as his chest heaved, his body vibrating with restrained energy. His cock, hard and throbbing, pressed insistently against your thigh, the tension in him evident as he growled low in his throat, his voice rough and gravelly with want.

“Goddamn, you’ve no idea what you do to me,” he rasped, his lips curled in a feral smirk as he teased you, letting the head of his cock slide against your slick entrance, not yet entering, only heightening the delicious ache inside you. His gaze, heated and unrelenting, watched your every twitch, every moan, drinking in the sight of your body arching beneath him in anticipation.

Behind you, Scott was a steady presence, his warm breath brushing against the back of your neck as his hands held your hips, steadying you. His body, firm and solid, pressed against your back, his cock, hard and leaking, sliding between the curves of your ass. His control was fragile, his breath coming in uneven gasps as he ground himself against you, savoring the way you writhed under the weight of both their attention.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Scott murmured, his voice low, thick with need as his lips ghosted over your ear, sending shivers racing down your spine. The quiet, desperate confession stirred something deep inside you, his words full of longing as he pressed himself harder against you. His hands tightened on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as if anchoring himself to the moment.

The tension in the room swelled, and Logan, never one for patience, shot a glance at Scott, a silent challenge that passed between them before he took what he wanted. With one powerful thrust, Logan pushed inside you, his cock sinking deep, stretching you wide. The sensation hit you like a wave, a sharp, intense pleasure mixed with just enough pain to leave you gasping, your body trembling as you cried out.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Logan growled, his voice gravelly, strained as he pulled out slowly, only to slam back into you with a force that made you see stars. He wasn’t gentle—Logan never was—but there was something intoxicating about the way he moved, his cock filling you completely with every brutal thrust, claiming you in a way that was as primal as it was electric.

Scott groaned behind you, his body tense with barely restrained desire as he watched Logan take you. “You’re driving me fucking crazy,” he muttered, his voice hoarse as his cock slid against your slick skin, aching for release. He shifted, positioning himself behind you, his hands steady as he lined himself up, his cock nudging at your tight entrance, teasing the sensitive ring of muscle.

Logan slowed his thrusts, his movements deliberate now as his eyes locked on yours, his expression raw, filled with lust and possessiveness. He reached down, brushing the damp hair from your forehead, his thumb grazing your cheek as he rasped, “You want this, baby’? Tell us. Tell us you need both of us.”

Your breath hitched, the intensity of their combined presence overwhelming, but you couldn’t deny the deep, aching need inside you. “I want it,” you gasped, your voice trembling with desire, your body arching toward them, desperate for more. “I want both of you.”

At your words, Scott pressed forward, his cock slowly stretching you as he pushed deeper, the burn intense but delicious. He was careful, deliberate, giving you time to adjust as he inched his way inside, filling you until you could feel both of them, thick and hard, stretching you to your limits. The sensation of being taken by both of them at once—Logan’s cock buried deep in your pussy while Scott’s filled your ass—was overwhelming, a heady mix of pleasure and pressure that made your head spin.

For a moment, the room was still, the air heavy with the sound of their ragged breathing, both men deep inside you, their bodies taut with the effort of holding back. Then Logan moved, his hips pulling back before slamming forward again, setting a punishing rhythm that had you gasping for air. The force of his thrusts pushed you further into Scott, who matched his pace, both of them moving in perfect sync, driving into you with relentless precision.

The sensation was beyond anything you’d ever felt—Logan’s rough, powerful thrusts combined with Scott’s slower, more controlled movements, both of them working together to push you higher, to drive you to the edge. Every nerve in your body was on fire, your senses overwhelmed as they claimed you, their bodies moving in perfect tandem, the heat between you building with every thrust.

Scott’s hands gripped your hips tighter, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fucked you from behind, his cock driving deep, the friction exquisite as Logan continued to pound into you from the front. The feeling of being filled so completely, stretched by both of them, was too much—it was everything. Your body was trembling, overwhelmed with pleasure as they pushed you closer and closer to the brink.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Scott groaned, his voice thick with need as he thrust into you harder, his pace quickening as his control began to slip. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

Logan growled in response, his movements becoming more erratic, his grip on your thighs tightening as he slammed into you with renewed intensity. “Fuck… you’re gonna come for us, sweet girl’,” he rasped, his voice strained as he pounded into you, driving you toward the release that was quickly spiraling out of control inside you.

Your body was trembling, every muscle tensing as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. You could feel the heat coiling low in your belly, the sensation of both men inside you pushing you to the edge, their combined rhythm relentless, pushing you higher and higher until—

Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, crashing with an intensity that left you gasping for breath, your body shaking violently as pleasure surged through every nerve. You cried out, your body arching between them, completely undone as they continued to thrust into you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were left trembling, utterly spent.

Both Logan and Scott continued their relentless pace, driving you deeper into that overwhelming pleasure. Your body tightened around them, and their groans filled the room, the sound of their need mingling with the thrum of your release. Logan’s pace became erratic, his grip on your hips bruising as he buried himself inside you with a final, powerful thrust.

“Fuck—” he growled, his voice rough as his cock pulsed deep within you, releasing his hot, thick seed. His muscles tensed, his breath ragged as he shuddered above you, his climax leaving him, but still gripping you with an unyielding possessiveness. He lingered, breath warm against your skin, before pulling out slowly, his release still slick between your thighs.

Scott, still buried in you, was close behind. He gripped your waist harder, his thrusts losing rhythm as he chased his own end, his body trembling against yours. His cock twitched inside you, and with a low, desperate groan, he came, his release filling you. His hips stilled, pressed against you as he breathed heavily, his forehead resting against your shoulder.

For a long moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your collective breaths, heavy and uneven as the intensity of what had just happened settled in. Your body was exhausted, thoroughly claimed by both men, and you couldn’t help but smile, your heart still racing from the sheer pleasure of it all.

Scott slipped out of you, his hands gently brushing your waist as he lay beside you, his body warm and spent. Logan followed suit, rolling onto the other side of you, his arm possessively draped over your waist. The two men, who had been rivals moments ago, now lay beside you, their bodies close, their breathing slowing as the intensity ebbed away.

“You okay, baby’?” Logan murmured, his rough voice soft as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his thumb brushing lazily over your hip.

You nodded, too exhausted to speak, but the contentment in your expression said enough. You were more than okay—you were completely satisfied, your body and mind still buzzing from the pleasure they had given you.

Scott leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, “That was… incredible.” His voice was filled with wonder, as if he still couldn’t quite believe what had just transpired between the three of you.

You let out a soft laugh, your eyelids heavy as you nestled between them. “It was more than that,” you whispered, your voice sleepy but full of warmth. “It was perfect.”

In the quiet aftermath, with Logan’s steady presence on one side and Scott’s gentle touch on the other, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. You had wanted them both, and now, you’d had them—every inch, every moment, exactly as you had imagined.

Sleep tugged at the edges of your consciousness, but before you drifted off, you felt the two men shift closer, their bodies warm and protective against yours. In that moment, you realized that this was no longer a rivalry. They had both claimed you, yes, but they had also shared something deeper—something that could only exist between the three of you.

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repost-this-image · 2 years

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I just want to say it again for the teens out there:

The “groomer” rhetoric is not new.

I remember when all LGBT people were generally considered to be pedophiles. By most other people. I was y’all’s age.

When my parents were teens, two men holding hands in public could be arrested just for that, because it was “lewd and lascivious behavior.” Having gay sex was a crime. Dressing as the “wrong” gender was a crime. These things were considered pornographic by nature.

Leather and kink were featured in the first Prides, to flout society’s rules. To say, we’re here, we’re queer, and you cannot destroy us.

Again, until I was about 10 years old, there were still sodomy laws on the books in the United States.

And when I was a teenager, when Matthew Shepard was murdered (look it up, but be warned, it is gruesome), most adults still believed that gay men were pedophiles by nature.

The far right doesn’t just hate us. They want to go back to the days when children did not know about us, when adults could go for years without knowingly encountering a queer person.

They want every last one of us dead or in prison. Every single LGBT person in existence. Because to them, saying “some kids have two mommies or two daddies” is pornography. To them, saying “I’m not the gender I was assigned at birth” is pornography. You may as well be giving them a play-by-play of How To Have Anal Sex With Another Dude.

So when you act like the leather pride flag “isn’t a real pride flag,” when you say “no kink at Pride,” you are telling the far-right: “You were right. We are a bunch of filthy degenerate horndogs who shouldn’t exist in front of children.” You are playing directly into their hands.

Fuck that. I don’t need other queer folks doing our oppressors’ work for us.

If you are not for the LGBT community, warts and all, “freaks” and all, then you are against us.

#kink discourse #lgbt discourse #lgbt history #queer history #kink at pride

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laiiaaa · 1 year

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LOVE WILL TEAR US APART — CARMEN BERZATTO (part 1)

summary You come back to Chicago for the first time since Christmas five years ago. Seeing Carmen might just split you wide open.

length 5.4k

contents angst, childhood friends to not friends not lovers but a secret third thing, very deeply requited love and everyone knows it except them, family troubles/fighting (giving y’all the Berzatto special), takes place the year of Mikey’s passing so everything is still fresh n rly painful, reader has the nickname ‘Birdie’, there's some fluff dw, happy endings are overrated we die like men

note this was originally going to be 1 part but seeing as the doc is reaching 13k words…here’s just the beginning :)

Wind comes from the pale gray sky and bites at your cheeks and the tip of your nose. Fingers go stiff, a chill runs from the nape of your neck down your spine. Maybe you should’ve worn more than just your jacket; Chicago’s always been a little colder than New York, anyway. You tend to forget the little things.

The windows of the Berzatto house glow yellow with company, and you can hear the bustle just by standing at the door, frosted glass animated by guests. You can picture it like it was yesterday: white yellow lights around every corner, the table set in full with porcelain and silver, hollow presents under the tree, too much talking to hear yourself think. You can still go home to at least save yourself the trouble. Can’t lose if you don’t try, right?

For once, it’s Richie who greets you—not like Mikey’s around to do it anymore, to pull you into a bear hug and tell you how much you’ve grown up, to ease you into the chaos he struggles to navigate himself. Struggled, you have to remind yourself. Past tense.

“Birdie!” he calls out to you, opening the door wide before you can knock, half-expecting you to walk yourself in before meeting you on the porch instead with a big smile.

You look up at him as he plants his warm hands on your shoulders. He’s taller than you remember, but five years time leaves a lot in the ruins. “Hey, Richie.” You lean into the hug and into his chest to at least try to catch your breath, to try and slow down your heart’s racing.

He rubs your back ever so slightly. “It’s good t’see you, kid. ‘S been a while, I missed you ‘n that smile ‘f yours.” He gives you two pats and pulls back to hold you by your arms as he gives you a good look. His brows twitch, subtle enough to nearly miss it, with a sympathetic curve to his mouth. “You doin’ alright?”

Since Mikey died is what he means to add to the end of the question. Maybe it’s Since you up an’ left us. Or Now that you’re finally free.

You stick with the first one and just nod. “I’m okay.” Your eyes flit back to his face before landing on the front door, unease pooling in your gut. “A little nervous to be back in so long.” You let your voice go quiet, and you look at your hands and with wet eyes while your fingers fidget like a tall child. “And I…I miss him, y’know?…I should’ve—” you’re getting choked up now, throat growing tight— “I should’ve been here, or—”

His brows really furrow this time, head tilting to the side before he looks to the sky to bite back any real sadness that could come through in his voice, to keep you from seeing it. Bringing you into a hug again, he mutters, “Shhh, don’t beat yourself up about it, sweetheart. I know you miss him, I know.” A gentle kiss to the top of your head. “We all do.”

Growing up across the street from the Berzattos led them to be a second family to you—and, by extension, Richie, for how inseparable he and Mikey were. Much of your memories as a kid were the two older boys, already teens by the time you came into the picture: Mikey and Richie taking you out to ice cream, Mikey and Richie pushing you on the swings down at the playground, Mikey and Richie teaching you to ride a bike. They might as well have been your older brothers by blood. They always cherished and doted on you, and while it changed in manner as you grew older—from piggy back rides to intimidating prom dates—it was always there. They always cared. Richie still does. Maybe double as much to make up for what’s been lost.

You don’t cry so much into his chest. A few tears fall, sure, but you use the time to just breathe, to close your eyes, to stall. Sniffling, you pull away, wipe your eyes, and straighten your clothes, smoothing creases. “Okay,” you huff. “I’m okay. I’m ready.”

A knowing look. “You sure?”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m good.” Another sniffle. “Promise.”

Richie turns to face the house with you, opening the door while the other hand stays hovering by your shoulder. With the smallest shift in the hinges, noise spills out the door. Small talk in the living room, clinking of glass against tabletops, boisterous laughter, timers ringing in the kitchen, Donna’s voice rolling in. It’s more than you remember. Heavier. Hotter. Richie motions to take your coat and you happily oblige, left to pick at the hems of your sleeves rather than buttons and pockets.

“So,” Richie starts, and with the way he says it you’d think you look like you’re about to pass out, “How’s New York treatin’ ya lately? You a hot-shot lawyer yet?”

You laugh softly, partly to be nice and partly to stave off the awkwardness you feel, like you’re being watched by the rest of the family. “I just passed the bar this year, Richie, I’m barely an associate—”

“Right, right, right—all that stuff goes over my head. Whatever, you’re a genius in my book.”

You smile sheepishly. “Yeah, well the people I work with are just—they’re incredible, how smart they are. I’m a baby compared to them.”

He waves it off as if to say Fuck ‘em. “How’s the livin’ situation, then? You affordin’ it okay, eatin’ good, all that?” He looks a little more stern, more brotherly when he asks it.

“I’m fine.” You look up at him and smile to let him know you’re honest, that you aren’t just saying it to get him off your back. “I really like it out there. I made decent enough money as a paralegal, and I have a roommate with a cushy job in finance. We’re pretty close, but we don’t see each other often with our hours ‘n stuff. Not the best,” you shrug, “But I’m doing pretty well, all things considered.”

He pauses, looks you over to see you’re genuine. “Alright,” he sighs, pulling you into his side and squeezing you tight because he knows you hate it. “I believe ya.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, fuck you.” You’re laughing a little harder for the first time since arriving in Chicago, and it reminds you that it can be close to normal, coming home. “Where’s Nat? I haven’t talked to her since I got off the plane.”

“She’s upstairs resting.” He lets go and starts drifting to the kitchen absentmindedly—why, you’re not sure. “The baby’s got her in a mood, kickin’ ‘n all that, the little fucker—but Pete ‘n Carm ‘r down here somewhere—”

Your heart stops, and for a moment you can’t hear anything but your own thoughts, fragments of his voice and his laughter from memory. Your chest goes tight, your throat runs dry. You knew from Nat and Richie that he’d come back to Chicago a while ago, after Mikey’s funeral, but never in a million years did you think he’d come to Christmas dinner. Richie doesn’t seem as shocked as you think he should be. “Carmen? He’s here?” You nearly whisper it, afraid to be heard if he’s nearby.

He stops walking. “In the kitchen, yeah, why? You talk to ‘im in a while? Figured he’d’ah told ya, me ‘n Nat had to convince ‘im. A real jagoff about it, by the way.” His tone doesn’t say anything more than his words do. Maybe he’s forgotten about everything, or he’s trying to spare you. Maybe he never knew all that much to begin with.

“No,” you answer, quiet with an ache in your chest you haven’t felt in years. “We don’t…we haven’t really talked since the last time I was here…” And I don’t want to change that at the moment is what you don’t say, bile in your throat at the thought of peeling back scabbed wounds.

Before Richie can comment, a loud voice comes to you from the front room: “Is that my little Birdie?”

Cicero. You missed him, honestly.

He huffs himself out of his seat in the living room and welcomes you in the foyer, bringing your attention away from Richie like you’d been hoping to. “Oh, I missed you,” he says, giving a brief kiss to your cheek.

You hug him in return, but really you’re just hoping to get away from the kitchen. “Missed you too.”

Resting his hands on your shoulders, he smiles and looks at your face. “You’ve only gotten more beautiful since the last time I saw you. Like an angel.” He doesn’t let you protest, he only peeks behind you to look at Richie, who leans against the wall with his arms crossed. “Ain’t she beautiful, Richie?”

“Yeah,” he deadpans, unamused. “A real treat she is.”

Cicero looks back to you and speaks lowly. “Ignore that son ‘f a bitch. He’s just jealous ‘cause you’re my favorite.” He winks, gestures to the living room, and takes a few steps while he brings his voice back to a normal volume. “C’mon, tell this ol’ geezer about New York—can’t even remember the last time I was there, musta been ‘83—”

If the rest of the night is like this, you think, Carmen might not be so much of an issue. He could be nothing at all, like he always wanted to be.

He promises himself that he’ll say something by the end of the night. He has to, he thinks, and if not to avoid being an asshole, then to avoid getting reamed by Richie. Carmen realizes he has the upper hand, too, whether he likes it or not: he at least expected you to be here. That doesn’t make it any less terrifying to hear your name.

The first time is when he’s cutting onions as Richie opens the door, and he gets lucky enough to hear nothing else but the door shutting afterward. An afterthought, a mirage maybe.

In between that and the second, his name slips by your lips. You whisper it, of course, because you hate him—you hate him for the way he treated you, and for the way he didn’t, and for the fact that he wasn’t man enough to ever speak to you about any of it, or speak to you at all. And despite the fact you try to hide it when you say it, he hears you; he doesn’t think anything could keep him from doing that much. Especially not when it sounds just like you did years ago on those half-broken steps to the back porch, after everything went to shit and there was a hole in the fucking house and you couldn’t stop crying if you tried. He was there for you like he always was: letting you lean your head on his shoulder as you wept, one arm holding you tight to keep you grounded while the other hand nursed a cigarette to keep himself sane. And his name sounded just like it does tonight when you turned to look at him with bleary eyes so many years ago, whispering Carmen? so sweet he wanted to taste the lip gloss that flavored it. That night he did, for a fleeting moment. Before he ruined it.

So of course, he hears you say his name, and he knows it’s you. He doesn’t think anything could keep him from knowing you.

The second time he hears your name it’s like a confirmation. A confirmation that it’s real, you’re real, and you’re here, and it isn’t his mind playing tricks on him like it does when it’s late at night and he’s walking the streets and thinks he sees a girl that looks like you. The rest of the dialogue after the fact goes blurry, the timers going off turn into a monotone buzz, all he hears is chopchopchop against the cutting board until Uncle Jimmy calls you beautiful. He’s sure you are, but he doesn’t want to see it and believe it even more. Your heels click against the hardwood a few times, and he’s not sure where Ma went, but Richie’s standing behind him saying something he can’t decipher and he wants to tell him to Fuck off but he can’t, not now, not tonight.

“Cousin!” Richie snaps, pushing his shoulder. “Did you hear a word I just said?”

He sighs and looks over his shoulder but stays gripping the knife. “No, sorry, say it again—‘m listenin’.”

“Right. So when’s the last time you talked t’her?”

His hand squeezes a little harder, the knife suffers for it. “Talk t’who?”

A quick bang of a hand to the counter top leaves the onions rattled. “Don’t play stupid with me right now, Cousin—” a harsh finger points in Carmen’s face— “or I swear t’God I will fuck you up once this dinner’s over.”

He pauses. He looks past Richie into the foyer where you once stood but quickly goes back to work. Chop. “Look, I dunno, it—it’s just been a while, I dunno the exact fuckin’ date, alright?” Oh, but how vividly he does.

“Yeah? How’s five years to the fuckin’ day sound? Pretty damn accurate, or what?”

No response. Chop.

“You’re a real piece’ah fuckin’ work, y’know that, right?” Richie sounds about as angry as he’s ever been, but it’s different this time: it’s quiet, it’s controlled, it crawls up Carmen’s spine.

“It’s not—it’s not like I meant to, to, uh—”

“ ‘To, to, uh’ what?” he mocks. “To pull the shit you did then go fuckin’ AWOL on ‘er?”

Another beat of silence. Laughter trails in from the living room, and he starts to wonder if it’s you who made it ring. He shakes his head, scrunches his nose. “H—…” Rethinking whether he wants the answer to his question, he puts the knife down and leans into his hands before looking over Richie’s shoulder again. “How, uh…how is she?” It’s muttered, ashamed, the way he asks it, brows furrowed with regret and slithers of hope. “ ‘S she doin’ alright?” He heard bits and pieces of the conversation from just a minute ago, but part of him needs this: to hear it crystal clear, to have it branded beneath his 773 tattoo you traced with an anxious finger, to have the pain be inadmissible such that he can’t forget it.

Without needing to look him in the eye Richie knows to soften his approach. Carmen’s eyes are wet, he’s got that solemn air to him that he gets when he’s thinking about something that forms lumps in his throat, he swipes his hand by his mouth like the words were bitter to say out loud.

He turns over his shoulder like he’ll get caught and looks down at the chef. “She’s good, Carm,” he sighs, nodding his head slowly and with raised brows. “Real good…Like Cicero said, she—she’s beautiful, ‘n she’s gotta career lined up for ‘er. But—” he hesitates when Carmen looks up— “The look on ‘er face, man, it—it changed when she found out you’re here.”

Something indescribable flows through his veins. “Wh—what d’ya mean?” He shakes his head in denial. “Like, like, it—what’d she look like?” He waits expectantly, and part of him hopes something hard and fast’ll put him out of his misery.

Richie swallows. He smooths a hand over his hair, lets it fall to the nape of his neck while his eyes dance elsewhere. “Listen, she…she just looked like—” He kisses his teeth, unsure of how to phrase it, weary of the first thing to come to mind and whether the subject was worth mentioning at all. He should lay it to rest.

But Carmen is ever the stubborn boy at heart. “Cousin.” Fingers drum against granite. “Looked like what?”

“...Like I’d just stabbed ‘er in the gut.”

The rest of the family is enthralled by you, though whether it’s because they haven’t seen you in five years and miss you, or because it finally gives them an excuse to make Lee let someone else talk, you’re not sure. But by the time they let you get a breath in it feels like three hours have gone by, though when you peek at your watch, it’s barely been thirty minutes. You’d forgotten how exhausting the family is when they’re all together. Your head hurts. It’s too hot. You could use a nap.

Cicero looks at you a little softer from his chair. “Would you like a drink, hon? I should've asked ya before we sat you down for an interrogation.”

“Oh, well,” you start, pausing to let it seem like you aren’t dying for that opportunity, “I’ll have one. Is there wine?”

“Of course there is. I’ll grab a glass for ya—” he begins rising from his chair, but you stop him.

“It’s alright,” you insist. “I don’t mind getting it—in the kitchen?”

He nods, and you’re on your way. You pass by Richie and the Faks in the foyer and try to hide the deep breaths you’re focusing on, eyes shut and shoulders shrugging as Richie eyes the kitchen before you enter like you’ll be walking into a war zone.

It’s exactly what you’d expect: Donna with a glass in hand, Carmen assisting, an ashtray full nearby. Natalie has joined them, so you must have missed her on her way downstairs, and Pete hovers beside her as she speaks to him with a worried look on her face, disjointed from the other two Berzattos.

You’ve nearly psyched yourself up enough to interrupt when Donna notices you, almost instantly placing her glass on the counter. “Oh, Birdie, I—” She looks happy, you think, but with her it’s never been easy to tell. “C’mere, honey.” She opens her arms to you and gifts you a hug, patting your back as she says, “It’s been so long, my beautiful Bird—” she pulls away to get a better look at you and plants a kiss to your cheek, just like Cicero— “Oh gosh, you’re so beautiful, all grown up.” She smells thickly of tobacco.

“Thank you,” you laugh, dazed by so much affection from her, “Cicero said the same, it’s just been a while.”

“Well—” she picks up her glass promptly after her hands leave you— “It’s true, you’re practically glowing. He knows what he’s talking about.” She takes a hefty sip like she can’t get enough, and quickly looks to her son. “Isn’t that right, Carmen?”

From where he stands nudged into the corner, focused on the countertop with nothing to do but wring his hands, his attention perks up to his mother. “What was that, Ma?”

You can’t ignore the fact that she hasn’t acknowledged Natalie nor Pete since you arrived; you’re stuck, looped in with Donna and Carmen and somehow obligated to stay there until you’ve been dismissed. You know how she is. Carmen won’t look at you, either.

“Look at Birdie,” Donna coos, and she gestures to present you to him. Your stomach turns. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” She smiles coolly, looks to Natalie only for a brief moment to rub salt in the wound.

Carmen, reluctantly, looks at you. His golden brown curls are disheveled as always, made messier by anxious runs of his fingers every few minutes. His mouth seems caught in a persistent pout that he won’t let up, and if it were years ago, you’d stay by his side until he broke you just to keep someone in his corner. Beneath his eyes rest dark circles, and he wears a forest green sweater you’ve never seen before. There’s a split second of eye contact that has your breath caught in your throat. You haven’t been able to look at him in what feels like a lifetime, let alone hear his voice—not even over the phone. It’s different than you remember, a little huskier, more fatigued. You wish you couldn’t care.

He gives a shallow nod and a shrug to Donna’s question. “Yeah.” His eyes meet yours accidentally again before looking back to his mother, apathy bordering on distaste. “She looks nice.”

You look nice. You don’t know what you thought he would say. Part of you wished he would’ve said exactly as Donna did, or that he’d use the word beautiful, or stunning, or pretty, even. But he’s never been one for words—his consolation offerings were limited to a shared cigarette and sitting beside you, and you’ve always resented that part of him since your last Christmas together. If he’d been better with words, it would’ve been just that; there wouldn’t have been the hand on your back turning into an arm wrapped around your shoulder, he never would’ve pressed his lips to your temple for the first time since you were in kindergarten, you would’ve never been close enough to smell tobacco on his breath. You never would’ve known what American Spirits taste like off of anxious lips or what it feels like to be worth everything and then nothing at all.

Donna kisses her teeth and gives you a sympathetic look as she cups her hand to your neck. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t listen to him. He’s just in a mood today.” She sips her wine again, which quickly turns into the rest of the glass.

That’s not a mood, you think. That’s just Carmen.

By the Berzatto standards, dinner preparation blows over without a hitch. The house smells divine, nothing is broken, no one has stormed out. Ma sits down with only five glasses of wine in her system. No one mentions the gaping hole in the seating arrangement at one head of the table—not even Lee.

Carmen feels the weight of it on his shoulders, and he thinks you feel it too. You sit for a few minutes as everyone settles with your head in your hands, eyes closed as you breathe. Every time you open your eyes they shoot to Mikey’s seat, only for your hands to cover them again with a sniffle. Richie keeps a good eye on you, even though they’re getting glassy from watching you, and he rests a soothing hand on your back before leaning down and whispering something Carmen doesn’t catch. You shake your head, perking back up again as you dab at your eyes with your sleeves, looking to Richie and mouthing the words I’m okay with a smile plastered on. Carmen’s skeptical.

Uncle Jimmy insists on saying grace as a way to honor both you and Carmen being in Chicago for the holiday, and instinctively he looks to you, looking for something to hold onto to let things feel normal with you, but you keep your eyes closed. Since you walked into the kitchen nearly an hour ago he hasn’t been able to get his mind off of the sweetheart neckline of your dress, or the locket pendant hanging close to your chest. Mikey gifted it to you, he remembers, when you earned your undergraduate degree—presented in a black velvet box when you saw him after the ceremony, you cried. Carmen wasn’t there; he was in Copenhagen, doing other things. He can’t quite remember what.

Grace gives way to a more quiet bustle of the dinner, where talking is more or less limited to passing plates and taking first bites, making sure everyone has said hello to everyone. He sits almost silent, taking a measly bite every few moments to avoid an excuse to talk. He notices you don’t navigate this dinner like you have the countless ones before: you’re engaged tonight, laughing with Richie beside you and looping Sugar and Pete into your banter; you’re no longer the teen you once were, who would sit at the end of the table with him to stay quiet and barely munch on dinner, the two youngest with Mikey to your sides, pestering the both of you to Eat, ‘fore Ma tells you to. And it’s not a bad thing, either. You always had that way about you like Mikey did, where you could make conversation with anyone, make them fall in love with you, make them think you’re their best friend. He’s always thought you were his, anyway. You look happier than he’s ever seen you. Ever since he could remember, he had a feeling you’d outshine him.

It’s like Ma said—you’re glowing.

It’s nearing fifteen minutes since the food being served when Sugar nudges him on his right. “You alright, Bear?” She keeps it quiet, under the radar. “You haven’t eaten much.”

He nods and takes a bite to cover his tracks. “Yeah, yeah—just not that hungry, ‘s all.” He hasn’t eaten today. It’s the nerves, really, of seeing everyone—of seeing Ma, seeing you. Brings him back to New York, where his morning ritual included huddling over the toilet and rinsing his mouth until he couldn’t taste stomach acid anymore. He’s hoping that with being in the kitchen all day, she doesn’t pry. “Thanks, Sug.”

She furrows her brows but drops the subject with a bit of a pout. “…Okay.”

“So,” Stevie starts, at the opposite corner of the table, leaning over his plate to smile at you from down the table. “Birdie—can I call you Birdie? Is that okay?”

You smile that smile you always do when you’re caught off-guard before shrugging lightheartedly and taking a bite. “Uh, sure. I mean, everyone here does.”

Richie makes eyes at you, weirded out, and Carmen tries to follow, but you only link with the older of the two. He’s shut out.

“Great. I’ve been wondering—why does everyone call you that? I mean, I know Sugar here’s got an origin story, so what’s yours?”

“Oh, this is such a sweet one,” Ma chimes in, hands over her heart. “They was so adorable, her ‘n Carmen.” The words have warmth blossoming in his chest and rising to his neck.

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I’m probably not the best person to tell you; I was really little.” You try to stifle a smile at the thought, and Carmen knows it’s the same thought as his: Mikey loved that story. “Richie’s probably man for the job.” You look up to the man on your left and pat him on the back to startle him. “Aren’t ya, Rich?”

“Uh, yeah, fuck that.” He nods to Carmen. “He can tell ya, Stevie, he was the one dancin’ with ‘er like an idiot, not me.” He shoves three bites’ worth of food into his mouth so he won’t have to talk anymore.

Sugar cuts in, “He was also five, he had nothin’ to do with picking that name.”

“Yeah?” he taunts, mouth still full because he can’t help but put up a fight, “Then you were eleven, missy, so you can tell it. You remember.”

The room starts spinning, there’s back and forth between Sugar and Richie, and Neil’s roped into it, and then Michelle’s convincing them to calm down, but Richie’s still going at it, starting to tell the story, but Ma says it’s not right, and Sugar cuts in again, and the room is still spinning and his head won’t stop pounding and there isn’t enough water in the world to clear his throat.

“Alright, alright!” It’s Uncle Jimmy now, almost shouting, waving his hands to simmer the room. Carmen would thank him if he could speak. “I’ll tell the damn story, you all settle down, eh?” He clears his throat, sips on his drink. “Our Birdie here, when she was real young, now she was a singer. All the time, some tune. Didn’t even have t’be a real song, she’d be hummin’ it anyway.”

You’re sheepish as Uncle Jimmy praises you, grinning to yourself and rolling your eyes at the embarrassment. Cute, Carmen thinks. He smiles and takes a bite of his food.

“An’ remember,” Uncle Jimmy continues, “This was late ‘90s, we didn’t have none’ah that YouTube, Spotify music bullshit, whatever’s popular with you people now—so anyway. We had this boombox for the longest time—”

“Yeah,” Richie interrupts, “Was a real piece a shit, that’s for damn sure.”

Cicero points to Richie while looking at Steve. “Correct. So one Christmas, many, many years ago—”

“Don’t make it sound so cryptic,” you giggle, and Carmen has a tiny fire lit in his chest, eyes trapped on your smile. He remembers that night—not so vividly, but enough.

“Right, right. I apologize, sweetheart.” Uncle Jimmy turns back to Stevie. “One Christmas the weather was especially bad—snow storm, crazy winds, Christmas lights flyin’ everywhere—and the power goes out. An’ our boombox ain’t workin’, got jammed or somethin’.” He shrugs, makes a face that’s unassuming. “So whatta ya do for the music, then? Everyone knows you need holiday music, eh?”

With you, Carmen laughs for the first time tonight. He likes it that way, uninterrupted by the noise of the other guests, who are all listening fondly and eating their meals. It’s like that special Christmas all over again. You’re so pretty when you’re laughing, part of him is a little jealous that anyone else gets to see you like this.

“So Mikey comes up with a great idea. We already got a singer, right? So we just need ‘er to do the holiday songs. So we get ‘er, ‘n we ask her to sing for us all—me, Donna, Mikey, Richie, Sugar, ‘n Carmen, that was it ‘cause ‘ah the storm—but she won’t do it.”

“They were tryin’ to force me, Stevie!” You smile up the table and back at Uncle Jimmy. Carmen beams back at you even though you’re not looking. Richie is.

“An’ she’s cryin’,” Uncle Jimmy continues, “An’ she’s all nervous, she can’t do it, whatever. Then our little Carmy Bear over there—” he shoots him a look with a smug and pointing finger, and Carmen flushes, grinning at his plate to hide from you— “Now he’s her knight in shinin’ armor.”

Everyone smiles at that—you, Richie, Sug, Ma, and Carmen, and everyone else—because that’s the truth. At least it was, for a while. You and Carmen keep your smiles downcast, hidden from the other, and Richie and Sugar make eyes at one another, looking between the two of you.

“He gets ‘er outta her hidin’ spot behind the couch where she was cryin’ an’ he brings ‘er a wooden spoon for a microphone, and he whispers somethin’ to ‘er—to this day I dunno what, coulda been anythin’ for all I care—and all of a sudden she wants to sing again. She sings Rudolph, Jingle Bells, Frosty the Snowman, all the stuff the kids knew, an’ she does it all with this wooden spoon, with our little Bear holdin’ ‘er hand the whole time.”

“An’ he didn’t even do anythin’!” Richie points out. “Just stood there, swingin’ ‘er arm like a jagoff—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Uncle Jimmy waves off, “But he did it for ‘er. And so,” he says, a finality in his tone, looking back at Stevie across the table, “Birdie is born. Our little Christmas song bird protected by the Big Bear. An’ the rest is history.”

Stevie smiles and nods his head. “That was sweet. Really, really sweet.”

“Oh,” Ma laments, “I just love that story. They were such babies then, so cute. It was always Birdie ‘n Carmy doin’ this, Carmy ‘n Birdie doin’ that. Always on their little adventures together. He took her everywhere.”

Carmen smiles to himself, head down as he eats his food. He doesn’t think of his childhood often, more so the teenage years if anything, when he was failing school. Hearing back such a memory brings up a sense of nostalgia—not necessarily for being a kid again, or doing those stupid things, but for how easy it was.

Ma is right: it was you and him together for the ride, up until it wasn’t. He never cared as much after reaching high school. You were in different buildings, and he saw you around but didn’t spend as much time with you anymore. He outgrew you, it seemed. Even in his early twenties when that fire rekindled, he devoted himself to his work. You were still close, closer than you were with anyone else in the family, and nothing would ever change that. But life ran its course.

And it ran pretty damn fast.

693 notes · View notes

fuctacles · 7 months

Note

sports au!!!!!

The booth was stuffy and smelled like it’s been forgotten for a decade. But the equipment was new and the glass pane was cleaned up, giving Eddie a clear view of the court.

“Is this a good moment to say I don’t know the rules?”

The coach, and his PE professor, looks one step away from murder.

“Just remember our team is wearing green.”

“Yes sir!”

The man squints at him with clear distrust so Eddie gives him his widest, purest smile.

“Good thing nobody’s listening to the campus radio.”

The joke’s on him; Eddie has garnered a lot of listeners over the past months. Listeners that he might lose after hosting a live sports event.

“Don’t be too weird. I might send you someone to help with the rules so you don’t completely ruin it.” He pats Eddie on the shoulder, his palm so heavy it feels like he’s trying to pin him into the chair, before disappearing behind the door in the back. Seconds later he’s visible walking down the steps to his team.

Eddie looks at his watch. It’s going to be the longest four hours in his academic history.

He turns to the concsole, frowns at the unfamiliar dials and switches and focuses on the ones he knows. Tunes everything to his best ability, takes a breath, and clears his throat before starting the broadcast.

“Hello, students of Indiana University! I know it’s a Friday night and you were hoping for some nice tunes to party to, but prepare your pillows for a nap instead because you’ll be listening to a football match. No, wait, basketball. I’m pretty sure.

Anyway, dunno why you’d listen to a match instead of going to see it, but ya boy needs to pass PE this term so here we are.

And here comes our team! The green ones. It’s greens against blues tonight, folks.”

“Tigers versus Roaches, actually.”

Eddie turns around and sees a tall boy enter his studio.

“First of all, who the fuck names their team Roaches. Second, we have an intruder in the studio.”

The boy extends his hand unfazed.

“I’m Lucas, your interpreter. Since I’m benching for the first half anyway.”

“Booo, I was just going to make up rules as I go. Now you’re gonna make it boring.”

But he shakes his hand anyway and lets Lucas sit on the chair next to him.

“Careful, I’m a dedicated listener. My friends too, you’d probably lose your whole audience.” He smirks. Eddie scoffs.

“I’ll let you know, tiger cub, that many people listen to Munson’s Midnight Metal Madness.”

“I meant the DnD show.”

Eddie looks at the boy, his neat haircut and team jersey.

“Really?”

“Yes, and I’d love to talk more about it later, but now let’s introduce my teammates.”

Eddie hands him the microphone to spit out names he’s never heard before and whatever their bearers' positions were. He hopes the coach doesn’t mind it. All Eddie could do was like, comment on their appearance. Which…

“Where did you get that one from? America’s poster boy catalog?”

He watches Lucas’s face twitch with the effort not to laugh.

“That’s Jason Carver. He’s vice-captain now and will take over the team once Steve graduates later this year.”

“Which one’s that?”

“He usually comes out last.”

Eddie asks about the important stuff - the team's average height and where Andy got his haircut. He looks over the group of young men appraisingly.

“You know what, if I knew y’all play in these funky white socks and guns out I might have gotten into sports commentary earlier.”

Lucas chuckles, but Eddie's on a roll.

“Especially with such a great co-host, Lucas Sinclair! He’s not on the court yet but he’s being an invaluable source of lore in the studio. Don’t think I’d forget about you, man.” He nudges the younger student. “What’s your specialty on the team?”

“Well…” Lucas scratches his cheek sheepishly. “I’m probably the fastest and my throws are pretty good,” he admits. “Oh, that’s Steve!”

Eddie looks to the right, where a dude with Harrington on his jersey walks in, smiling wide to friends and families watching.

“Damn, that’s some magnificent hair,” Eddie whistles.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what he’s known for. This hairdo lasts through the whole game, dunno how he does it.”

“He’s gotta give me some tips, because I look like a wet rat by the end of the day. And I don’t even do sports.”

“I’m pretty sure you look like a wet rat no matter the time of day.”

The jab was true but even if it wasn’t, Eddie had a more important thing to focus on right now.

“Does your captain have a tattoo?” he asks, squinting through the window. He was pretty sure it was ink that was peeking from the bottom of Steve Harrington’s shorts, but it was so out of place on a college athlete, he needed a triple take and the ‘ask the audience’ lifeline to make sure.

“Yep. The coach says it makes him look like a criminal,” he snorts, showing what he thinks about it. “Steve said he regrets not getting it somewhere more visible so more people could see tattoos are not for criminals and rockstars only.”

“Your captain is a smart guy,” Eddie grins, almost sighing into it, to his utter horror. Just a glimpse of a hot guy from afar, a peek of a tattoo, and hearing of his liberal views was apparently enough to make his heart beat faster.

“The best I ever knew,” Lucas admits and it sounds like a Story, capital “s” and all. His next words confirm that. “Our friend group is planning matching tattoos and we are still talking him out of getting it above the neckline.”

Eddie barks out a laugh.

“Sounds like a savage. I gotta meet your captain sometime soon.”

It’s at this point they notice the coach gesturing at them angrily and they get back to commenting on the game that’s about to start.

“Okay, so explain to me which laundry basket is ours…”

“Okay okay okay. So number four is a tank, yeah? He blocks the other players. Six is a rogue, who slips between the cracks. And number one, your captain, is a warrior who goes for the attack.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s like LARPing for normies,” Eddie realizes in awe and Lucas laughs so unexpectedly he starts to cough.

“Sinclair! You’re in!”

They both jump at the sudden appearance of the coach. Lucas springs up from his seat.

“Yes sir!”

“It was a pleasure to host with you.” Eddie smiles at his new friend.

“You too. Catch you after the game?”

“Sure.” He smiles brightly, his head already swimming with ideas of how to fuck over Lucas’ future DnD character. Because playing together was inevitable, the dice were thrown, and the plot was in motion.

Lucas passes by the coach who now turns his attention to Eddie.

“You’re doing good, don’t ruin it.” He looks in pain admitting that. “I might send someone else to help you out.”

“Thanks, coach.” Though Eddie doubts he’d be vibing so well with anyone else on the team.

Just five minutes later though, he’s proven wrong.

“Heard you’ve been curious about my tattoo?”

Eddie's so startled he knocks the microphone down and yanks out the cord in his haste to turn around.

“Captain!” he yells like a dumbass, faced with the hair and boyishness of no one else but Steve Harrington.

“Radio-man!” Steve yells back with a wide and teasing smile. “I’ve heard so much about you, man, you have no idea.” He steps closer. “My kids love your show.”

“Your kids?”

“My, uh, younger friends. I used to babysit them and it kinda stuck,” he admits with an awkward smile. Steve is nothing like the typical jock he’s come to expect and he’s everything Lucas advertised.

“That’s adorable, man.”

“Don’t laugh at me,” he pouts. He honest to god pouts.

“Not laughing!” Eddie raises his hands placatingly. “There’s nothing bad with a family-tight friend group.”

“Damn straight.” Steve smiles and sits on the chair vacated by Lucas. He eyes the microphone lying prone on the desk. “Technical difficulties?”

Eddie rushes to fix his equipment.

“You could say so,” he murmurs, trying to busy himself with the tangled cord. But a hand stops him before he can plug it in.

“We’re off the air now, right?”

Eddie looks over the control lights on the console.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You have beautiful eyes.”

“What?”

When Eddie woke up today, he knew his day would be weird. No day spent in a sports facility could be normal or pleasant. It was confirmed when he made a new friend with a member of the team, who was a listener of his DnD podcast. But the team captain hitting on him? That’s not your regular weird, that’s a bad strain of weed kind of weird.

“Lucas sent me over claiming a guy my type might be hiding here.”

It takes everything from Eddie not to take a look around. Logically, he knows there’s no one else in the booth. But his brain refuses to connect the dots. He licks his lips and cringes at the wet noise his mouth makes.

“What’s your type?”

Steve tilts his head and hums like he’s in thought.

“Weird, smartass nerd, as it turns out. With big brown eyes and great hair.”

“Uh, thank you?”

Steve only smiles at him, soft before it turns teasing.

“Wanna see my tattoo up close?” he offers.

“Gosh, yes,” he admits with zero shame, eyes flitting down to the man’s legs. Was he curious about what type of tattoo a gorgeous sport-type guy would get? Yes. Did he want to ogle some hairy thighs? Also yes. It’s a two-in-one kind of deal.

The coach waves at them angrily to get back on the air, but Steve promises to tell him everything about S.S. Robin after the game. And no, Robin is just his best friend, Eddie doesn’t need to worry about her.

“In fact, wanna be my date to the after-party later? The kids will freak out when they meet you.”

How could Eddie say no to his fans' worship?

And to Steve’s hopeful eyes and the slight squeeze he gave his hand.

“Mingling with jocks in my free time?” Eddie turns his palm up to squeeze back. “Sure, let’s make this day even weirder.”

#steddie #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #mine #ff #stranger things 4 #steddie fanfiction #st #request #one shot #college au #sports au #radio host eddie #ive had this idea for months and it finally got an outlet #steddie fic

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yelena-bellova · 2 years

Text

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: Violent Innocence

Plot: A separated Joel and Y/n work different angles to try and best David and his men.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, implied attempted SA, insinuated abuse, c*nnibalism, knives, guns, blood, wounds, language, loss of a child, ptsd, (16+)

A/N: This was a hard, hard chapter to get through, guys. If the quality of my writing isn’t up to its regular standard, it’s because it was truly emotionally taxing to write. I’ve also left out descriptions of certain events/discoveries/dialogue in an effort to keep the 16+ rating.

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist who does not have their age/range in their bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

I advise everyone to take a breather, or just skip to the end of the chapter, if it’s too much to handle. Ep.8 was traumatizing and I don’t fault anyone for not wanting to put themselves through it again. I’m so looking forward to finishing out this series with y’all and the finale tonight. Thank you thank you thank you for your constant support and encouragement ☀️

——————

Unlike the movies, where the main character on the verge of death is miraculously returned to the living, Joel did not wake with a start. Still lost in the haze of blood loss, hunger and medicinal side effects, his eyes hurt to open. He registered the room, remembering being dragged down a flight of stairs and falling into a mattress.

One memory dripped down before the flood unleashed.

Ellie and Y/n.

Stay awake.

Men coming.

Leading them away.

Kill them.

The footsteps on the floor above startled Joel, the ticking clock and the realization that Ellie and Y/n were gone motivated him to roll off the bed. He stifled a groan, hurrying to his feet, clutching the knife that Ellie had placed in his palm. He wobbled his way to the rear of the room, falling against a water heater that could conceal him.

Joel listened for the footsteps over the blood pounding in his ears.

They crept through the room.

He waited…until the man finally passed the heater.

Joel couldn’t have possibly known that it was the same man who, five minutes before, had clubbed Y/n and ordered David’s men to shoot her and Ellie. But he slashed his knife through him as if he’d watched it happen.

After wrestling the man to the ground and assuring that he was dead, Joel rolled off him, wheezing for breath. He tried to gather his thoughts on his back. There were more men, all looking for him, Y/n and Ellie. They weren’t back yet, which meant they’d either been kidnapped or killed. Most likely kidnapped, so long as Ellie’s bite wound hadn’t been visible. Tortured, maybe, or worse.

Joel inhaled as deep as he could and began to drag his body across the floor towards the stairs. Towards his girls.

—————————

Y/n leaned her head back against the concrete wall, wondering why the fuck there was a cage inside a kitchen.

She’d carried Ellie into it, the butt of David’s follower’s rifles pressing into her back as they forced her in. They’d both been stripped of their winter coats and weapons. She had yet to get any answers as to why they wanted them there or what they were planning to do to them. Ellie hadn’t woken up, leaving Y/n on her own to try every conceivable possibility to escape. None had succeeded.

David entered then, finally gracing Y/n with his holy presence. He pulled up a seat across from the cage, smiling politely.

“How is she?”

Y/n turned her head, indignant at the fact that David’s men had shot at them, caused Ellie’s injuries, and yet he had the nerve to inquire about her wellbeing.

David tried a different approach, “I know this all must be a bit strange…”

Y/n bristled, “I lived in Texas, I’ve seen a lot weird shit, but, uh,” Y/n took a look at her surroundings, “Yeah, a jail cell next to a butcher’s block is an unusual feature.”

“We only use it when necessary,” David held up two innocent hands, “I’d love to explain our community more to you, but it’d be nice to know your name first.”

“Beyonce,” Y/n answered without hesitation.

The preacher chuckled under his breath, “You’re very quick. Stepping in to portect your daughter, your…what, your husband? Boyfriend?”

Y/n had been interrogated so many times, had sustained so many injuries in FEDRA lockup, that there weren’t many tactics that could work on her. David trying to get a feel for her and Joel’s relationship was a waste of breath.

He sighed, tapping his hands against his knees in wait. “You know we’re not here to hurt you,” he said softly.

“Gee, I wonder where I would have gotten that idea,” Y/n retorted, “What with my fucking head splitting and my kid unconscious on the floor.”

“An unfortunate turn of events, yes,” David corrected her, “But we’re protective of our own. You can understand that, can’t you?”

Y/n didn’t move a muscle, staring David down, “Oh, yeah. We’re one and the same there,” she cracked a smile, vengeance practically dripping from her lips, “And that should scare you.”

David, however, only found her threats mildly amusing. He exhaled with a small laugh, Y/n rather preferred being underestimated. It caused people to leave their weak spots exposed. She was sure if she looked hard enough, she could find David’s.

Beside her, Ellie finally began to stir, drawing Y/n’s attention. She scurried to place her hands on Ellie’s back, helping the girl to sit up.

“Me and your mother were starting to worry you wouldn’t wake up,” David said.

Ellie’s vision was blurry and her entire body hurt, her words didn’t carry their usual edge as she told David, “Let us out.”

“Well, that’s certainly the goal,” David nodded, “Hungry?”

“Why are we in a cage?” Ellie hazily took in their surroundings.

“Because I’m afraid of you,” David gave the same calm smile he’d given Y/n, “You’re a dangerous person. You’ve certainly proven that. The others want me to kill you two for what’s happened.”

Y/n held Ellie steady as she got to her knees, neither of them particularly alarmed by David’s words.

He leaned forward, “Did you hear me say the others wanna kill you?”

“Yeah,” Ellie breathed.

“But I stopped them.”

“Fuck you,” Ellie said on behalf of both her and Y/n.

“Why don’t we just start with your name?” David asked once more.

Ellie didn’t miss a beat, “Eat shit.”

“Hey,” David’s voice rose, “Listen to me!”

As he got to his feet, Y/n did as well, coming to meet him at the cage wall as Ellie scurried to the far end of their prison. Y/n wanted to rip into him purely for startling the girl.

“You can’t survive on your own,” David continued, his eyes looking past Y/n to land on Ellie, “No one can. But I can help you,” his gaze finally flicked up, “Let me protect you two.”

“We don’t need your help or your protection,” Y/n enunciated every word clearly.

“And we’re not on our own,” Ellie added from behind Y/n.

David nodded, “Right. Your friend,” his face changed to accommodate faux concern one might use on a child, “And how is he?”

Behind her eyes, Y/n’s mind flicked to Joel, beads of sweat around his temples, breathing so frighteningly shallow, his tan skin deathly pale. She couldn’t admit to the fear pooling in her belly that against David’s men, Joel might have lost the fight.

“I can see how much you care about him, so I know it hurts,” David continued, l having broken Y/n and Ellie’s first line of defense, “But even so…you gotta face reality.”

David turned and began to circle the cage. Ellie and Y/n moved as one, Ellie crawling in the opposite direction and Y/n standing in front of her as a shield.

“That part of your lives, it’s ending,” David went on, finally stopping on the other end of the cage, “And what I’m offering you is a beginning. But if you can’t find a way to trust me, then yes,” his eyes scanned Ellie, “You are alone.”

Without another word, David walked off through a door in the kitchen, leaving Y/n and Ellie to themselves.

Y/n was on her knees immediately, holding Ellie’s face in her hands and checking her head.

“Definitely got your bell rung,” Y/n lightly ran a finger over the pink bruise at Ellie’s hairline.

“What the fuck do we do?” Ellie asked, unconcerned about her injuries.

“I’m trying to figure that out,” Y/n replied, stroking a quick hand over Ellie’s hair, “I’ve already tried to window up there,” she pointed to a small pane of glass above them, “I can’t break it. Guns are over there in the corner,” she gestured to the edge of the room. And I can’t-“

Y/n was cut off by Ellie, throwing her arms around her body. The girl pressed the side of her face into Y/n’s chest, her short breaths warming Y/n’s skin through her layers.

Of all the horrible memories Y/n carried from September 26th, 2003, there was one in particular that lived in her chest every second of every day. As she had clutched Sarah in her arms, with Joel trying to assess her mortal injuries, Sarah had tried desperately to speak. Her lips pressed together, only able to make a humming sound. Y/n had shushed her, telling her that it was okay, she was okay, they’d all be okay…and that had been the last of it.

Whatever Sarah had needed to say died on her lips, but lived on in Y/n’s mind. She had spent so long, playing the memory back, watching the girl’s mouth, listening to the buzz in her throat, unable to rest until she knew what she’d wanted to say in her final minutes.

It took her one year to figure it out, and twenty to accept.

Mom.

Y/n had failed Sarah just as Joel felt he had failed. She’d spent the last two decades telling herself she could have jumped in front of them, she could have yanked Sarah out of Joel’s arms, she could have attacked the guard…all things her brain knew there hadn’t been enough time for, but guilt and logic never agreed on anything. Y/n had begged God, the skies, the earth, the universe, anyone, for a second chance. For some miraculous, mind-bending turn of events to send her back to that day and save her daughter.

And as she cradled Ellie in her arms, pressing a kiss to the girl’s head, she knew her second chance lay not in the past, but in the future.

“We’re gonna get out of this,” Y/n said, speaking with a strength she hadn’t in twenty years, “I promise.”

David was right about one thing, they had to face reality.

Joel wasn’t coming to save them.

They were on their own.

And Y/n would be damned if she failed to save someone she loved again.

————————————

Joel had tried to keep his violent side hidden from both Ellie and Y/n during their time together. He’d slipped with the FEDRA guard in Boston, remembering the terror in Y/n’s eyes as she’d watched him beat the young man to death. Whether or not he knew it, he’d tried from that moment on to be better.

But now, with their lives at stake, Joel didn’t care about better.

Every punch he drove into the raider’s face he had tied to the chair was pure rage, the only thing strong enough to keep him upright. The pleas of the bloody pulp of a man fell on deaf ears.

“Stop…stop, please…”

Joel rammed his fist against his cheek once more, silencing him.

“Leave him alone,” the raider who Joel had yet to touch urged from the other side of the room.

“You’re next,” Joel muttered, withdrawing the knife from his belt with a spine-tingling smirk.

“Please,” the man he’d been hitting begged, “I don’t know any girls.”

Joel was a human lie detector, having seen both the best and worst of humanity. He didn’t have to second guess whether it was the right decision to drive his knife into the man’s knee.

“Marco,” the guy tried to call, his voice strained from his screams of pain.

“No-no, no-no-no,” Joel cooed, his soft tone contrasting the roughness in which he pulled the man by his hair, “He can’t help you. You focus right here. Or I’ll pop your fuckin’ kneecap off.”

The man’s breath trembled as Joel gripped him, knowing that betraying David came at its own cost. “They’re alive,” he admitted.

The hope spread through Joel, but it couldn’t outmatch the anger that doubled at the thought of Y/n and Ellie being held and tortured. “Where?”

When Joel didn’t get his answer quick enough, he reached down and twisted the knife in the man’s leg.

“Ah! Fuck,” he squealed, “Fuck! Ah! The town!”

“WHAT TOWN?!” Joel screamed into his face.

“Silver Lake,” the man panted, wincing after.

Joel reached into his pocket, taking out his map and unfolding it.

“It’s not a real town name,” his victim said, his speech slow from the ache in his jaw, “It’s a resort.”

Now that was a word Joel hadn’t heard in a long time, “A resort?”

Feeling each precious second that Y/n and Ellie were still breathing slipping away, Joel removed his knife from the man’s leg and forced his mouth open, slipping the handle in. “You’re gonna point to where we are,” he held up the map towards the guy’s head, “And where your resort is. And it better be the exact same spot your buddy points to.”

Joel had a death grip on his hair, pressing their foreheads together and feeling his near-attacker’s body tremble with fear. Trying his best, the man aimed the blade at the map, pinpointing their location. Fear could always deliver results.

Joel sat back, examining the drip of blood that served as a marker. His body ached with exhaustion, but his chest felt the same pain it had for the last three months. The kind that was usually a precursor his panic attacks, except now, adrenaline was all that followed.

“That’s where we are,” the man whimpered, “I swear. Go ask him, he’ll tell you. I’m not lying.”

There had never been a question as to whether or not Joel would show mercy. These men had seen Ellie and Y/n, knew where they were being kept, they might have even laid hands on them.

Joel slid the blade into the man’s chest without a second thought.

Marco unleashed a string of expletives as Joel caught his breath.

“Why the fuck did you do that? He told you what you wanted,” Marco whined.

Joel took clumsy steps across the room, reaching for the lead pipe Marco had carried in with him that now lay across the couch.

“You motherfucker, fuck you,” Marco spat as Joel strode towards him, “I ain’t tellin’ you shit.”

“It’s okay,” Joel nodded empathetically, calling on the same disarming tactics he had in his days as a raider, “I believe him.”

In that moment, Joel wasn’t a monster.

He wasn’t the villain.

He was a father and a husband.

And he brought the pipe down with all the fury one could possess.

—————————

Ellie was relentless.

“El,” Y/n insisted as the girl continued to try and pick the lock, “I already tried that.”

“Well, maybe you didn’t try hard enough,” Ellie replied as she tugged on it.

“Yes, ‘cause this is just so pleasant,” Y/n spread her arms out to the cage, “Look, we’re not getting out of here like that. We’ve gotta wait for him to slip up.”

Ellie looked over her shoulder, “What do you mean?”

“He thinks we’re two little lost lambs or sheep or whatever, all alone without anyone to protect us,” Y/n explained, “We’ve gotta wait for the exact right moment when he fucks up and gives us an opportunity.”

“Okay,” Ellie nodded before quickly turning back to the lock.

Y/n slapped her hands against her legs, “I just gave you the plan.”

“I thought I felt it jiggle,” Ellie insisted, shaking the lock a few more times before coming to a sudden stop and stumbling backwards towards Y/n.

Y/n caught her in confusion, “What?”

She followed Ellie’s line of vision across the room to the chopping block, falling south to the floor. Y/n’s stomach turned at the sight…

An ear.

An actual fucking ear.

In all his perfect timing, David entered just then, carrying a tray and sliding it under the cage walls. Two bowls of soup and a cup of water.

David followed Ellie and Y/n’s eyes down to the butcher’s block, frowning when he realized what they were looking. “For what it’s worth,” he gestured to the bowls, “This is just deer meat, I swear.”

Ellie and Y/n were separately connecting all the dots of why they were being held where they were. They could have been trapped anywhere in the town, their weapons stripped from them and beaten into submission. This was a purposeful choice.

“You’re going to chop us into little pieces,” Ellie stated.

“I’d rather not,” David answered, “Please, just tell me your names.”

Y/n forced herself to exhale, wondering how the hell he could be so focused on a trivial detail.

“If you wanna judge me-“ David shrugged.

“Judge you?” Ellie raised her voice to a scream, surging forward to grab the metal bars, “You’re eating people, you sick fuck!”

She kicked the tray across the floor, it landed under the chopping block. David backed away from her anger.

“Yes,” David replied, “There are only a few of us who know. But I would’ve told you, sooner or later. I guess sooner.”

“You’re a fucking animal,” Y/n seethed, finally finding the strength to speak.

“Well, yes, we all are,” David said, his sociopathic calm tone beginning to worry both Y/n and Ellie, “That’s sorta of the point,” he took in Ellie’s disgust, “It was a last resort. You think it doesn’t shame me? But what was I supposed to do? Let them starve? These people who put their lives in my hands, w-who expect me to keep them save, who love me?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Ellie shot back.

“You don’t believe that,” David shook his head, “I don’t think your friend would either. Didn’t he take another man’s life to save yours?”

“Your men fucking attacked us,” Y/n added, her tone sharp.

“He was defending himself,” Ellie replied.

“He was defending you and your mother,” David corrected, even though he was calling on Y/n, his eyes were locked on Ellie’s, “But you knew that. You see a lot. So do I. And you know what I see when I look at you?”

Y/n watched the conversation in wait, it was beginning to alarm her that he was focusing all his attention on Ellie.

“Me,” he continued, “You remind me of me. You’re a natural leader, smart…loyal. Violent.”

Ellie froze at his words, while Y/n took a step forward.

“Keep going and you’ll see how violent I can be,” she threatened.

“Now, see, your mother,” David gestured to Y/n but never once looked at her, “She is deeply afraid, faking her confidence with threats. But that’s not who she actually is. I could unlock this door, hand her her gun, and she still might not be able to do what she needs to to protect you.”

Y/n’s nostrils flared at the assumption that she wouldn’t break his neck to save Ellie.

“But you, on the other hand…” David continued speaking to Ellie, “If I let you out of that cage right now, put that knife of yours in your hand, you’d stick me in a second. You have a violent heart. And I should know…” David took slow steps towards the cage, his eyes alight, “I’ve always had a violent heart. And I struggled with it for a long time. But then the world ended and I was shown the truth.”

“Right…” Ellie muttered, “By God.”

“No,” David breathed, “By Cordyceps. What does Cordyceps do? Is it evil? No. It’s fruitful. It multiplies. It feeds and protects its children, and it secures its future with violence, if it must. It loves.”

Y/n’s blood heated to a boil, her cheeks warming with rage. Cordyceps had taken everything and everyone she had ever loved. It was the purest form of evil nature had ever created. She wanted to cut through David, whispering the names of all her lost family into his ear as she did.

But this wasn’t her opportunity.

“Why are you telling us all this?” Ellie asked, she still believed it was a conversation between three people.

“Because you can handle it,” David said, Y/n may as well have not even been in the room, “The way the others can’t. They need God, they need Heaven,” David took another step towards the cage, “They need a father. You don’t. You’re beyond that. I’m a shepherd surrounded by sheep, and all I want…is an equal. A friend.”

Alarms rang in Y/n’s head so loud, she thought they were real. But Ellie was playing the game that Y/n had told her to, and she couldn’t stop her.

“What about our friend?”

“Like I said, loyal,” David nodded before taking another slow step towards them, “I can tell the others to stop looking for him. They’ll spare him.”

Ellie looked up to Y/n, convincingly filling her eyes with hope, before looking back to David. Y/n quickly adjusted her expression to match, pretending as if Joel’s safety was the only thing that mattered.

“Really?” Ellie took a step forward towards David, “They’ll just let him go?”

“Yes,” David answered confidently, “If he leaves us in peace, they will just let him go.”

It wasn’t hard for Y/n to whip up some tears, taking a choking breath in and following Ellie towards the metal bars.

“They do what I tell them to do. They follow me,” David was getting closer and closer, his gaze fixated, obsessed with Ellie, “And they would follow us. Lord knows, I could use the help. I-“ he chortled, gesturing to below the chopping block, “Look what’s happened.”

David extended his hand, gripping one of the horizontal metal bars between him from Ellie and Y/n. They stared down at it, considering their options.

“Think of what we could together,” David said, his voice alive with passion, “As strong as we are. We’d make this place perfect. We’d grow, spread out. And we’d do whatever we needed for our people.”

Ellie reached to grab the other side of the bar, her hand perilously close to David’s. Y/n had to fight every instinct to rip her body behind her own.

“Imagine the life we could give them,” David said wistfully, moving his hand to slide over Ellie’s, “Imagine the life we could build.”

David may not have been watching her, but Y/n made effort to drop two tears down her cheeks and sniffle as if it was the most beautiful idea in the world…

“Oh,” Ellie whispered, reaching a nearly shaking palm up to David’s hand, hoping that Y/n sensed that the moment was upon them.

Ellie pushed David’s finger back, a sickening crack erupting in his hand. As he cried out in pain, Y/n dropped down to her knees, pulling him in by his belt and grabbing the keys off their hook. Unfortunately, he wriggled out of Ellie’s grasp and reached through the bars, grabbing Y/n by the throat and squeezing. Y/n gagged and choked as his fingers tightened, but she still held onto the keys.

Ellie struck a blow to David’s abdomen, causing him to drop Y/n and stumble backwards. In the sudden movement, Y/n dropped the keys to the floor and nearly fell. David was quick to come back, grabbing Ellie’s hair and slamming her face into the bars twice before throwing her down.

“You little cunts,” he seethed, picking up the keys from the floor, “Let’s see what I go tell the others now.”

Y/n coughed violently, earning each and every breath back, but bent over Ellie to make sure she was alright. The girl’s blood painted the floor of their cell.

“Ellie,” she said, crawling past Y/n and towards David.

David turned, “What?”

“Tell them Ellie is the little girl,” the girl crawled to the bars, raising her voice, “Who broke your fucking finger!”

“How did you put it?” David asked, his tone mocking them now, “Hmm? ‘Tiny little pieces?’”

He stormed out of the room, slamming it behind him and leaving Ellie and Y/n to contemplate their impending doom.

“Fuck,” Y/n whispered, rubbing her already sore neck and forming a plan in her dizzy head. “Okay, when they come in, I’ll take them and you fucking run.”

“No,” Ellie replied quickly, stumbling to her feet, “No, we-“

“You’re going to get the fuck out of here,” Y/n continued, emphasizing each of the last words, “And you’re going to run.”

“I’m not fucking leaving you,” Ellie yelled, shoving Y/n’s arms.

“And I’m not asking,” Y/n yelled back, feeling her fate slowly approaching. If it bought Ellie time, it was all worth it.

She gripped Ellie’s shoulders, wrenching her closer and locking eyes with her. “You. Run.”

———————————

The snow outside had picked up, nearly blinding Joel as he trudged through the ice, clutching his abdomen the whole way.

He’d made it to Silver Lake, against all odds, but didn’t know the first place to look. He kept his good ear peeled, trying to listen for Y/n or Ellie’s cries, but the storm made that impossible. Leaned up against one of the resort’s buildings, trying to catch his breath, Joel tried to think clearly about his next move.

Then his eyes caught the trail of blood in the snow and logic went out the window.

Joel followed the crimson that led him to the building’s door. He broke the lock with the butt of his rifle and entered, clicking on his flashlight and drawing his pistol. He crept through the shed, bending down once to search under a table and finding only old clothes and useless supplies. Then, he spotted a nearly identical trail of blood leading into the next room.

All the while his heart thudded with fear, fear of failure.

Joel made no noise as he entered the room, shining his flashlight ahead to find what was left of one of their horses. They’d captured Y/n and Ellie while riding. The picture of their kidnapping was beginning to fill with color.

Joel shone his flashlight past the horse, finding tarps over equipment and…something…hanging on the other side. He moved around the animal’s body to get a closer look…

His stomach turned.

He had to fucking hurry.

—————————

David stormed through the door with James right behind him. Ellie and Y/n scurried away from the cage’s front. Y/n hadn’t expected a second set of hands, it made her entire plan impossible.

“No! No! No!” Ellie screamed, pressing herself into Y/n’s body in fear.

David and James wrenched the two of them apart.

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” Y/n screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping someone might hear them and come running, “No!”

“Get off of me!” Ellie shrieked, kicking at both of the men, “Get off of me!”

If Y/n had been on 10, Ellie’s pleas dialed her up to 12. She picked up her entire body weight and let herself drop to the floor, bringing James with her. He stumbled, but regained his footing and dragged Y/n out of the cell, kicking and screaming.

“No!” Ellie yelled, biting down on David’s all-too-close hand.

“Ow,” the preacher cried out, but stayed undeterred in his mission. He pulled Ellie out of the cell.

Y/n wrestled against Jame’s firm grip, flailing her arms as she tried to reach around and scratch him. She’d tear him to pieces with her hands, if the chance came.

“You motherfucker,” she cried, trying to catch her leg on anything that might slow them down, but he lifted her onto the chopping block as if she was nothing. James held her hands down at her sides, giving Y/n the opportunity to spit in his face.

“Wait, wait,” Ellie begged as David dragged her towards the block.

“Shut up,” James growled, narrowly dodging Y/n’s head butt.

David lifted Ellie up and dropped her harshly on Y/n, knocking the wind out of the woman with Ellie’s weight. He forced Ellie’s hands into Y/n’s, lining the two of them up.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Ellie begged, Y/n’s coughs sputtering in her ear, “Don’t! Don’t do it! Please, don’t do it!”

“You had your chance,” David spoke over Ellie as he raised the cleaver above his head.

In her struggle for oxygen, Y/n let out a final cry. For Ellie, for Joel, for her grand failure to save all of them.

This was how it ended.

“I’M INFECTED!”

Ellie’s words echoed off the walls, David simply scoffed at her.

“I’m infected,” Ellie said once more, her voice low, “And now so are you.”

David glanced down at the bite mark Ellie had put on his hand. Y/n caught it too, fighting the urge to smile. The girl was smarter and quicker than she or Joel had ever taught her.

“Roll up my sleeve, look at it,” Ellie insisted, “Look at it!”

Biting down on his lip in frustration, David slammed the cleaver down beside Y/n and Ellie’s heads, causing both of them to flinch away. He tugged Ellie’s right sleeve up, revealing the ever-present mark that Cordyceps had left on her.

“God’s will,” Y/n strained, smirking below Ellie.

James looked up at his leader in concern, “David…”

“No,” David shook his head, “No, she would’ve turned by now. This isn’t real.”

Unable to speak without them hearing her, but needing to signal Ellie that she was on board with the plan, Y/n squeezed the back of Ellie’s hand twice.

“It looks pretty fuckin’ real to me,” James continued.

Ellie pressed her hand back into Y/n’s.

This was their opportunity.

Ellie reached to her side, grabbing the cleaver and lodging it in Jame’s shoulder. Y/n threw the girl off and kicked both feet into David’s stomach, buying them a few precious seconds to escape. Bullets chased them as they flew through the door.

Y/n and Ellie ran through the rest of the kitchen, making it out into the dining room. They went from door to door, banging and pulling furiously. Nothing.

Hearing David’s footsteps down the hall, they rushed back into the kitchen to look for any weapons. Ellie reached into a wood burning stove, grabbing one of the crackling logs before Y/n shoved her out of the room and down behind a wall.

The kitchen door squeaked, announcing David’s presence. Without her gun, Y/n knew she didn’t stand a chance at going up against David, but she could buy time. She crawled away from Ellie, ignoring the girl’s frantic looks and moved behind a table, popping up once she heard David’s steps.

“You’re very determined,” David’s calm tone continued, even as he clutched the cleaver in his hand, “I’ll give you that.”

“What a parent won’t do for their kid,” Y/n shrugged, “Right, Father?”

As Y/n put a period on her sentence, Ellie stood up from her spot and threw the burning log at David, missing him and giving Y/n the chance to duck down and crawl away. Ellie had, however, succeeded in starting a fire that quickly began to eat through the drapes of the dining room. Ellie crawled back, spotting Y/n and hurrying in her direction.

“There’s no way out, Ellie,” David called, moving away from the rapid fire, “The doors are locked and I have the keys.”

While she couldn’t see the flames, Y/n could smell and hear them. They were spreading as if nature herself had started it.

“Ellie?” David called tauntingly, “Ellie.”

Y/n knew that if there was any chance for escape, it would only come for one of them. David would have to be preoccupied with something else to let anything slip through his fingers and that anything had to be Ellie. Reaching down into her boot, she remembered she still had her knife on her.

She drew a deep breath and begged for Joel, dead or alive, to forgive her.

It was the only option that ensured Ellie’s salvation.

————————

Joel couldn’t move fast in the snow, the winds threatening to shove his fragile frame down into the ice. With every step he fought, trying to see something, anything through the gust of snowflakes.

In his mind, he was begging and pleading with the universe to give him a sign, a direction..he felt more and more panicked with each passing moment that he was too late.

Joel walked a little quicker, ignoring the stabbing pain in his stomach.

He couldn’t lose them.

—————————

“Ellie…” David called again, “I know you’re not infected. No one infected fights this hard to stay alive.”

Y/n belly crawled on the floor of the restaurant, away from Ellie and closing in on David’s voice. She clutched the knife in her sweaty palm.

“So…how did you do it?” David asked the room, “What’s the secret? Or are you just that fucking special?”

Y/n was near enough to the bar that she could see the panels swing open and Ellie’s legs trailing in. She was smart enough to try and find a true weapon.

“No one likes being humiliated, Ellie,” David continued his tirade, forgetting Y/n’s presence entirely, “You don’t know how good I am! You don’t know what I could have given you! If you had just let me!”

Y/n continued her army crawl before crouching behind the wall nearest to David, waiting for her perfect chance.

“Well, I have news for you,” the “pastor’s” tone softened back to its pulpit pitch, “None of us are dying today. You see, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided you do need a father, and your mother needs a husband.”

Y/n tightened her grip on her knife, waiting, waiting, waiting…

“So I’m gonna keep you two,” David promised, “And I’m gonna teach you.”

In her years, Y/n had heard and witnessed truly disturbing events. Nothing could have terrified her more than the sick headlines about corrupt preachers, using the Word of God as a deflection, coming to life in front of her.

Y/n leapt to her feet, spininning around the wall’s end and stabbing David’s shoulder from behind. The man cried out in pain, but didn’t fall as Y/n had needed him to. He faced her, swinging the cleaver past her before gripping her throat with one hand and shoving her up against the wall. Y/n struggled ferociously, speed kicking his legs until he dropped her. He wrenched her back, throwing her to the floor, and let one of the heavy dining tables fall straight onto Y/n’s abdomen. The pressure crushed her, stealing all the air from her lungs, and left her sputtering and choking for breath.

David leaned down, his lips grazing Y/n’s ear in a way that had only ever been reserved for Joel. “I’ll deal with you in a moment,” he growled.

Y/n was too breathless to speak and the table was too heavy for her to lift. It was almost guaranteed that David had cracked at least one of her ribs. She flailed about under its weight like a bug being crushed, frantically trying to escape.

With a lack of oxygen, her ears began to ring and her eyesight began to blur. From across the room, she could see David and Ellie’s figures fighting, with Ellie’s being shoved to the floor.

Y/n’s lips tried to form the girl’s name.

The corners of her vision began to darken just as David pinned Ellie down.

Her screams poured the air right back into Y/n’s lungs.

With strength only a mother whose child was endangered could have, Y/n strained to push the table off of her. She raised it enough to shimmy her abdomen out, letting it fall on her legs with a pained groan. She pulled and pulled her body out from under the surface, Ellie’s cries of terror giving her all the power she needed to roll the rest of the way. She grabbed her knife, stained with David’s blood and crawled across the floor.

David’s back was blissfully turned.

Ellie couldn’t see Y/n.

The flames were consuming the restaurant.

Y/n inched her way closer.

David said something Y/n couldn’t hear over the fire.

Ellie screamed louder.

Y/n reached her hand out, ripping David back by the collar, stabbing him in the chest with her knife and wrenching him off of Ellie.

Ellie reached above her head for the cleaver.

The rest passed in a set of thirty blood soaked seconds.

When it was over, Y/n stumbled to her feet, reaching down to pull Ellie up with her. The room was filled with a gagging smoke, the fames mere seconds from bringing the whole building down.

Y/n rushed them out through the kitchen, the back end was their best chance at escape. Down the hall were two large black doors, the lack of lock allowing Y/n to shove her and Ellie’s trembling forms out.

The cold air greeted their heated skin, both of them struggling to catch their breath. Y/n clutched Ellie to her as she maneuvered them down the stone steps and into the snow.

They both screamed as a pair of strong arms grabbed their bodies, tugging them backwards.

“No! Get off of me!,” Ellie shrieked, the reality of David’s death ceasing to exist under the strange touch.

“No! You fucking-“ Y/n tried to shove Ellie behind her, turning around and fighting hard against the figure before she even looked up.

Adrenaline somehow granted Joel enough strength to turn Ellie around in his arms and restrain Y/n’s hands.

“It’s me,” Joel coaxed as Ellie slapped his chest.

Y/n eyes turned up at the sound of his voice, meeting his eyes finally. “Ellie,” she breathed, awestruck.

“It’s me,” Joel repeated to Ellie, her hits finally stopping as she finally returned to reality. Joel took her face into his hand, cupping her cheek and drawing her gaze to him, “Hey, look…it’s me. It’s me.”

Ellie let out little whimpers as she took in his presence, miraculously in front of her.

Y/n ran her hands over Joel’s arm, in utter disbelief that he was actually there. His hand that rested on her back slid half an inch, the movement giving her the assurance that he was real. He had come for them.

“It’s okay,” Joel told Ellie, the girl mumbling and stuttering in shock.

Ellie didn’t think twice before looping her arms around Joel’s neck and burrowing her face into his shoulder. Y/n did the same, keeping one arm firmly around Ellie.

“It’s okay,” he promised once more, taking the full force of their embrace as if it were the very air he breathed. “It’s okay, babygirl,” he said to Ellie, “I got you. I got you.”

Y/n sniffled into Joel’s shoulder, feeling his hurried kiss press against her temple. She had gone from her most vulnerable to her most safe in the course of a single minute.

After a few seconds, wishing it could last longer, Joel pulled back to look at them both. He took in the blood on both their faces, there were big bruise marks on Y/n’s neck and she was clutching her stomach. He felt ashamed that he hadn’t been there sooner to spare them the pain of whatever they’d gone through.

“Okay,” Joel said softly, taking off his coat and wrapping it around Ellie’s shoulders.

Y/n finally noticed that Joel was carrying both his rifle and all three of their backpacks. She hurried to grab hers and Ellie’s, slipping one on her shoulder and carrying the other.

Joel and Y/n got on each of Ellie’s sides, wrapping an arm around the girl and setting off into the snow. The adrenaline began to fade in Joel’s body, weakening him once again till he was limping. The searing pain in Y/n’s chest ached with every breath, she had to time each inhale in between her steps.

But it didn’t matter to either of them. They locked their hands around each other’s arm, tightening their hold around Ellie, and took slow, unsteady steps towards the river.

—————————

That night, they sought shelter in a different neighborhood, hiding in someone else’s former house.

Y/n and Joel sat upright against the freezing concrete wall, Ellie sleeping soundly between them. They each kept one hand on her as they had soothed her to sleep, but they kept their hold long after. They needed the physical reassurance that she was okay.

All day, Y/n had held it together as they journeyed as far from Silver Lake as they could. She was too determined to get the three of them the hell out of dodge to fall apart. It wasn’t until Ellie had fallen asleep, under the safety of Y/n and Joel’s protection, that the weight of what had almost happened to them fell onto her.

Joel felt the trembling from Y/n’s hand gently shake Ellie’s body. He peered across her into the dark, the moonlight catching on her face to perfectly illuminate the silent tears down her cheeks.

As she stifled her sobs, Y/n felt Joel’s fingers intertwine with hers over Ellie’s torso. She squeezed her eyes shut, his touch sending her emotions right over their edge.

Joel squeezed, trying to tell her that in the silence, in the pain, he was there. He was there for the first time in twenty years for her to lean on.

Y/n squeezed back, savoring the press of his calloused fingers into her palm. They had come so close to losing one another, but they were alive. They were alive, they were together and if that was the only thing they had to hold onto, they’d cling to it like life itself.

——————

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us spoilers #twenty years later

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malusmagpie · 6 months

Text

Unbreakable Bonds

Pairing: Master!AnakinxPadawan!Reader

Summary: A master is supposed to care deeply for his Padawan… Right?

Word count: 3.8K

A/N: IMPORTANT: Anakin is 26 in this one. You’re 21. Okay? Okay. First. Sorry for disappearing! I’m fine and thank you so much for all the kind words in my inbox they meant the world to me. I just got uninspired for writing and burnt out from work. Second. I genuinely thought this was way longer than it is. Uhhhhh it’s a two parter. Maybe a three. No promises. Can y’all tell this is my fav trope? But i missed u guys 🫶🏼 lazy ending warning i didn’t wanna keep going i wanted to split it in two.

The sounds of the 501st yelling around you was not what you expected to wake up to. The men of the battalion had set up a camp for everybody on the remote planet you’d landed on in the Outer Rim the night before because the walk had been far too long to do in one stretch. You couldn’t even remember what the planet was called. You just knew your Master was assigned to a mission here and that meant you were assigned to it as well.

You shot out of your sleeping bag when you heard blaster shots above head. One flew through your tent, barely even a foot away from you. Your hand reached for your lightsaber on the ground and it flew into your grip as you ran through the flimsy tent door.

The bright suns of the desert planet blinded you for a moment and you adjusted your eyes before whipping your head toward all the commotion.

“They’re flanking left!” You heard Fives yell. You ran over to where you saw Anakin using a rock as cover.

“Master, why didn’t you wake me?” You yelled over the sounds of blaster fire and explosions with wide eyes. He smiled at you, a smile that didn’t aid your panic.

“Well good morning, Princess. Sleep well?” He always had time for jokes, even in an ambush. You groaned and ducked further down when you felt a blaster shot coming directly at you. “If you didn’t already notice. We’ve been ambushed, but I have a plan.” He finished and you stared at him with a blank expression.

“What would that be, Master?” You said wearily, you were preparing yourself to hear what could be considered by most to be an insane string of words in response to your question. To you though, it would be a normal Anakin thing to say. The 501st was doing a fantastic job at keeping them at bay for the short duration of your conversation but instead of responding, Anakin simply smiled before running right at the blaster shots, blocking them as if the ambush meant nothing to him.

The five year difference in your ages didn’t seem to matter. You tended to act and feel like the older one most days. It was a shame when your previous Master died, you cried in your room for days when the news arrived and you still flinched when you heard his name, it gave the council pretty much no choice but to put you under Anakin’s charge until you finished your training and completed your trials.

Regardless of who was more mature, you followed him blindly. The knowledge that you could trust him not to get you killed at the very minimum was reason enough to stay right on his heel. He was running toward a tank that was firing explosives at your camp. You tried to take deep breaths to calm yourself when he climbed up on top of it, dodging whatever came his way in the process. You followed him, doing the best you could with what you had been taught.

You stood with him on top of the tank and he used his lightsaber to cut the locked door open. It dropped to the floor of the small space inside the tank, crushing a battle droid in the process. Anakin jumped down to the bottom and you opted for climbing down the ladder, following him closely. He took the second battle droids head off with one swing of his lightsaber and took the piloting chair when the droid fell to the ground. You stood watch behind him, in case anybody came in behind the two of you.

With an aggressive turn to the handles that controlled the top half of the machine, Anakin turned the tanks artillery around causing your body to jostle around. You caught your footing and within moments, most of the battle droids around you became victim to the explosives flying out of the tank.

You heard something above head and your eyes caught sight of a droid holding a blaster toward you. You expected the thing to climb down before it blasted but when it shot at you from its vantage point you stumbled back with a stagger. Using a relatively easy Force ability, you pushed it off the tank and it landed on the ground. The tank moved as if it had gone over a bump and you safely assumed that you had done your job at getting rid of the droid.

“What was that?” He called over his shoulder and you looked down at your arm where your previously dry robe now had a small, blood-soaked patch.

“Nothing. I took care of it.” You replied with no hesitation. You heard the commotion eventually come to an end and Anakin let the 501st finish off the few remaining droids before getting up out of his seat.

“Thanks for trusting me, Y/N.” He said as he walked by you in the dimly lit space. You placed your lightsaber on your hip and followed him as he climbed up and out of the tank. You winced every time you pulled yourself up the ladder with your injured arm but you still got to the top fairly quickly. Anakin hopped down to the ground and held his hand out to help you. His eyes trailed to your stained robe as you reached your own hand to meet his.

Anakin pulled you down with both haste and caution. His eyebrows furrowed as he examined your wound as best as he could and you stared at him with an expression that screamed silent apologies.

“I’m sorry. I misread the situation and it shot me-“ You started and he didn’t let you finish.

“Next time I check in on you. Tell me the truth.” He spoke sternly as he guided you back to what was left of the camp. You closed your eyes for a moment, beating yourself up for not speaking up.

“I didn’t want to distract you.” You spoke softly and he scoffed.

“You know what’s worse than distracting me? Letting me turn around to see you bled out on the ground.” He stopped walking and his hand still held a firm grip on your uninjured bicep. Your eyes watched your shoes, feeling Anakin’s gaze bore into you.

“Never lie to me again. Mistakes happen, don’t let them fester.” Anakin’s voice was softer now. He let go of your arm and he continued walking before you could apologize again.

Your head hung low as you approached the men who fought valiantly for your Master; not because you were embarrassed, but because you couldn’t keep your head up. You felt your body begin to lose stability and you looked at your arm again, the patch had become almost the entire lower half of your arm and you were beginning to feel the pain. The adrenaline wouldn’t bring you much further and you knew it.

You opened your mouth to speak but you began to see small black dots in your vision. Your head spun slowly and your eyes fell shut. You had very little control over where you dropped, but you felt the impact right before you blacked out and you knew it was going to leave a bruise or two.

You woke up to see the interior of Anakin’s star fighter. You blinked slowly, wincing in pain. You looked down at your arm, it was dressed professionally and your sleeve had been cut off, likely to access the wound without undressing you.

“Keep still. You’re still healing.” A voice rang through the room and you turned your head to find the source. You winced when the movement caused your wound to burn. You heard Anakin sigh and stand up. He stood over you, eyebrows knitted in concern with his arms crossed over his chest.

“What part of ‘tell me if you’re not okay’ do you not understand?” He said sternly. You watched his eyes analyze your dressings from afar and you let out a sigh of your own, your voice sounded cracked and dry.

“I’m sorry-“ You started. Anakin held a hand up, signalling for you to stop speaking. His head angled itself away from you and he took a deep breath with his eyes shut. The way he always did when he had to calm down.

“I care about you.” He said after a moment of silence as he let his hand drop to his side, his voice sounded softer again. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you died under my charge. Do you understand?” He gazed at you, looking for a sign that you did in fact, understand. You nodded.

“Good.” He pulled his chair over by the small cot you were laying on and sat down. “How’s it feeling?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

You looked at the wound with a shrug. “Could have been worse.” You seethed causing him to deepen the lines in his face, resting his hand on your arm.

“Just… Rest. That’s all you can do until we get to Coruscant.” He looked at you for a moment before getting up, presumably to fly the ship. You leaned back against the pillow and shut your eyes, letting sleep take over you. All you heard before sleep took over your body were the four words he let slip earlier. They echoed in your head as you lulled away.

“I care about you.”

You didn’t dream. At least you thought you didn’t. It was a shock to you when in your slumber, your mind filled with images of your own master smiling, laughing, and holding you. Soft words were whispered behind the backs of the council. His hand reaching for yours to squeeze it because he knew you were nervous. Kisses placed on foreheads and lingering touches were halted when you heard the 501st clanging around beyond your minds eye. In the cockpit on Anakin’s ship. Your eyes snapped open and you immediately closed them again, pretending to stay asleep and trying to grasp what the hell your brain was doing.

By the time the ship arrived on Coruscant, you’d rested and the bacta-bag wrapped around your arm seemed to have worked wonders on you. You opened your eyes to Anakin shaking you softly and the sound of his voice made a small part of you fill with an unexpected warmth.

“I’ll deal with the Council by myself, let me get you to your apartment first.” He said when you finally sat up. He rested a gentle hand on the back of your waist and you felt tingles over your entire back from the contact. The feeling shocked you, causing you to clear your throat to suppress a gasp. Anakin guided you off the bed and helped you off the bridge and onto the landing pad of your balcony.

“Are they angry?” You asked with a look toward him. He smiled, the kind of smile he held on his face when he had a joke in mind.

“They’re not allowed to feel angry remember?” He muttered humorously and you cracked a half smile. “Don’t worry about them.” He finished as he sat you down on your couch.

“Master, I really am sorry.” You spoke as he mindlessly placed the throw blanket from the back of the couch over your legs. Anakin shook his head.

“Really, Y/N. I’m just glad you’re alive.” He said, settling down on the couch beside your legs. His forearms rested over his knees and he clasped his hands between them. You looked at him for longer than you thought appropriate. He looked tired and it took everything in you not to reach out and place your hand on his cheek.

He cared about you. He said it himself. Surely it was the same kind of care every Master had for their Padawan.

But it didn’t feel that way when he looked at you now.

You grappled with your thoughts, convincing yourself you were imagining things, that it was delusion. You almost didn’t hear him speak when he did.

“I almost lost you today.” Anakin said sternly. “I don’t have the time between all my meetings for a funeral, believe me.” He chuckled humourlessly.

“But you didn’t.” You shrugged and played with the frayed edge of the blanket over your legs. He shot you a look that made you smile and he followed with a chuckle. His hair pushed further into his face as he shook his down turned head.

A silence crept its way between the two of you and you watched his every move. You couldn’t explain the feeling that arose every time he smiled at you. It was like a switch had flipped and you desperately tried to figure out a way to flip it back while you watched him place his hands on his knees to push himself to his feet with a sigh. You gnawed at the skin inside your cheek as you watched him.

When he finally looked at you again, your mouth opened to say something, but it shut just as fast. You couldn’t trust your own words right now. Not with the way you were feeling. His lips thinned as he glanced at your arm again and he cleared his throat.

“Rest. I’m leaving you with C3-PO. He’ll help you get back on your feet so we can get back to our job.” He said, not bothering to look at you. You tried to ignore the pang of disappointment you felt at that. You gave him a nod as he retreated to his ship, leaving you with nothing more than a small nod in return.

You worked your jaw as he ascended and sped off. With a swift movement you pushed the blanket off your legs and stood. You felt fine, sure maybe a little bit weak from the blood loss but him calling in a babysitter for you felt unnecessary. You channeled your confusing emotions into annoyance at his childlike treatment of you. Because that seemed healthy.

As you paced your living room you swung your arm around gently to test how mobile you were. It seemed alright, nothing to pause missions or call reinforcements in for. You planned to give him a mouthful when he came back, you practiced your speech out loud as you walked around your apartment.

~•~•~•~

Anakin left yet another long winded meeting with a sigh, closing the door behind him as he left the council chambers. The meetings were a lot more tedious when he didn’t have Y/N with him. She tended to soften the blows, her charm and kindness carried them through plenty of scoldings and lectures from the council. He ran a hand through his hair as he stalked the busy hallways of the Temple.

All he could think of was how dumb he’d been. How blind he was to her struggle. If he’d just taken one second longer to check on her, she wouldn’t have that nasty bruise on the side of her face from the fall. Maybe if he’d kept a better eye on her she wouldn’t have gotten hit with the blaster at all.

Not only did he have to deal with the guilt of letting her get hurt, it was only a matter of time before he finally faced the reality of his feelings toward her. He knew it was coming, he couldn’t hold it back much longer. It already pained him immensely to hide it before she got hurt. Now, the very real fact was, he could misstep once and lose her forever. That dwelled on him and he wouldn’t let anymore time go on without telling her he cared for her in a way a Master shouldn’t care for their Padawan.

He sighed again, turning a corner and making for his speeder that was parked in the corner of the hangar. He’d give her a choice, of course. He’d tell her it was fine if she wanted to ask the council to place her with somebody else. He’d even go as far as push for her trials to be done quicker if it meant she could leave his charge if this all made her uncomfortable. He had every aspect planned but he needed to do it. If not now it would eat him alive forever, possibly until it was too late. He shook the thought from his head as he sped back to her house.

He arrived, later than he wanted, but with flowers and her favourite fruit. It showed he paid attention, at least in his mind. As if any of that would matter if she rejected him.

None of this was right, nor okay. He knew this all too well. He knew exactly what he was doing here and he’d weighed out all the pros and all the cons. Pros, he might have her. Cons, the Code. The damned Code.

He ruffled his hair nervously before taking one final deep breath and exiting his speeder. He caught sight of her pacing around and his eyebrows furrowed. 3PO intersected his path.

“Master Anakin, I fear Miss Y/N has lost it.” He said nervously. Anakin quirked a brow, smirking at the girl pacing her apartment and mouthing things.

“I’ll be the judge of that, thanks 3PO. Stay here.” He muttered as he pushed past the droids and left them on the balcony.

With a swift hand motion, Anakin opened her balcony door and placed her gifts on the table next to him. It wasn’t long before Y/N turned to face him during her paces.

~•~•~•~

“You. What have I done to lead you to believe that I would need not one, but two damned babysitters when I’m realistically only mildly hurt- What’s that?” You stopped in your tracks as you pointed to the flowers on the table. Your eyes landed back on Anakin where he leaned his shoulder against the door frame with his arms crossed.

He gave you a smile and you couldn’t seem to remember where you were in your speech. In fact, you couldn’t remember the speech at all.

“A gift. For you. I guess it’s more of an apology now though, isn’t it? Since you’re upset at me.” He shrugged, looking down at the bouquet and back at you.

“I’m not upset.” You shrugged, crossing your own arms as you took a few steps toward him. Your eyes fixated on him, you didn’t even care about the gift.

“Is that so? I could have sworn..” He trailed and you shook your head.

“Not upset. Glad you’re here.” You muttered and he chuckled as you approached him to snatch up the flowers and fruit to place them their respective places in a home.

“Right.” He nodded, that crooked smile never leaving his face. You didn’t even have to look at him to know what he looked like right now. You muttered something in agreement as you filled a vase with water and began cutting the stems. After a few moments of letting you arrange the flowers, Anakin rounded the counter to stand beside you and cleared his throat. Your breath caught as you looked up at him.

“You feel it too don’t you?” He asked quietly, leaning against the edge of your counter as your hands worked away at the flowers. His words gave you pause, and you placed the flowers neatly in the vase before sliding it to the middle of the counter.

“Feel what?” You questioned, barely looking away from your finishing touches on the arranged bouquet before you grabbed a cutting board for the fruit. His hand rested over yours where you held the board, causing you to look at him again. You studied his features and somehow you knew. You knew exactly what he was talking about, what he was eluding to. Your heart raced as you watched his eyes scan your face, looking at every inch of you to gauge your emotions.

“Don’t make me say it, Y/N. Just tell me if you want it as badly as I do..” His voice was barely above a whisper. Your eyes fell shut for a moment and you took a breath, trying to steady your thoughts. To see reason.

“Say it.” You replied without thinking.

Anakin sighed. “I care about you far more than what would be considered normal… Or.. Correct. In the eyes of the Jedi.” He said, his mouth formed a thin line as he gauged your response.

You stared at him, long and hard. You couldn’t help but feel like this was supposed to happen, that it was always going to happen, that nothing could have stopped it.

“I care about you too, Anakin. But-“

“Show me.” He breathed.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Show you what?” You asked, already knowing the answer. It was always like this. You were always one step ahead of each other. Which made this conversation feel all the more tedious.

“Show me how much you care. No buts. Use your feelings.” He said, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath shuddered again as you placed your hands on the counter next to him and pushed yourself up toward him. Your eyes watched his flutter shut and you followed suit before placing your lips against his.

You melted into him when his hands circled your waist, bringing you directly in front of himself and a small sigh left your lips between kisses. It felt perfect. It felt right. Fated, even. His warm hands sent shivers through you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer.

When you finally broke the kiss, he almost chased you before retreating and placing his forehead against yours. His heavy breaths matched your own and your eyes finally opened to see blue hues looking back at you.

“Well. Shit.” You whispered and he chuckled. “What now?” You asked.

“I don’t know.” He said quietly. “I know I’m screwed if you change your mind though.” He finished with a cocky smile.

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teyums · 2 years

Text

His Secret Admirer (Part Two) - Neteyam x fem na’vi reader

part one | part three | part four |bonus chapter

wc: 4.6k

a/n: I’m so sorry this took so long y’all, I had such bad writers block trying to figure out which direction I wanted to push this story in. This honeslty isn’t as good as I wanted to be but maybe I’m being too hard on myself. This is the first multiple part fanfic I’ve written in almost seven years. 😅

contains: angst, some language

“~~~” resembles a time skip or change of POV

Neteyam sat silently on the floor of his family’s tent, his elbows against his knees and his head held between his hands while he listened to his mother chastise him for what felt like the thousandth time today. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t tried to keep you out as long as possible, constantly bringing up new topics so the conversation wouldn’t fall off. He never meant for you to stay out past your curfew, but he got so wrapped up in spending time with you that he didn’t want it to end.

“Where were you?” Neytiri seethed, pushing his head to the side with two fingers while her son ignored her. “Do you know how many times we called for you? What is the point of having this if you do not listen?” She hissed, motioning to the necklace he wore that contained a small walkie-talkie.

He bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything out of anger, his arms now crossed in front of him while he tried his hardest to tune out her incessant interrogation. He vaguely remembered shutting it off, not wanting him or you to hear it and bring the two of you back to real life. “I was out, mother.” He mumbled.

She scoffed with antipathy, turning away from him and flicking her hand into the air with annoyance, seemingly tagging Jake into the conversation before she did something she would regret.

Jake sighed, looking down at his son with a puzzlement. “Out where? Can you at least tell us what you were doing? It isn’t like you to stay out this late, son.”

Neteyam had enough of being watched like a hawk for his entire life. When he would try to go out and have fun just like Lo’ak would do, it was an issue. He stood to his feet suddenly, his voice raised and laced with frustration. “I was with a girl, okay? Is that what the two of you want to hear? If I tell you this will you guys finally leave me alone about this whole mate thing?” He yelled, his shoulder brushing against his father’s as he stormed past him and into his room.

Jake noticed Neytiri’s eye twitch with aggravation, her mouth slightly ajar with stupefy as she watched this unusual display from her eldest son. She had never seen him act out in such away, let alone disrespect his father, this was unknown to them. When she stepped to follow him, Jake grabbed her arm and slowly shook his head, silently telling her to leave him be.

Neteyam felt no matter what he did, his parents would find an issue. For years Jake wouldn’t let him act on his feelings towards you, constantly telling him that girls were not his main priority but he would let Lo’ak run around and pursue whatever girl he pleased. And now, they’re pressuring him to find a mate at the same time multiple men have noticed and already expressed their interest towards you. He couldn’t blame them, you had developed into such an alluring woman. There was just something about you that he couldn’t shake. Your beauty stunned him, you had changed so much over the years that when he would see you prance around the village with Kiri he couldn’t even gather the courage to approach you. He had no chance competing with Ta’olu, he saw the way he looked at you, he heard the way he spoke about you during the hunting party meetings. All the years he had been gone from your life, it seemed like Ta’olu had conveniently stepped right in to take his place.

And if he were being honest, Neteyam resented his parents for putting him in this position. He didn’t want any of the other girls they were trying to set him up with, the mere thought of mating with someone he wasn’t truly in love with sent shivers through his spine and not the good kind. Not the kind you gave him, anyway.

But every time he tried to tell to them about you, about the girl he was actually in love with, he was shot down before he could even say your name. Something about “status” in the clan, and them knowing who would make the best Tsahik to stand beside him.

Bullshit.

“You got to choose who you wanted to mate with, why can I not do the same?” He would yell at his parents, but his words would constantly fall on deaf ears.

The eldest Sully boy barely knew what a crush was. He felt his entire existence boiled down to being the protector of his younger siblings and the future clan leader- what his parents wanted him to be. He hadn’t known what it felt like to be in love until the night he laid eyes on you. He passed it off as inviting you to be his friend, but deep down he knew it was more than that, Lo’ak and Kiri included. The day he was told he could no longer spend time with you split his heart into two. But all it took was two painfully short hours in your presence to mend it back together again.

~~~

Sleep had been the last thing on your mind the past two days. You spent both nights tossing and turning- all you could think about was him. A reoccurring image of Neteyam’s sweet smile flashed behind your eyelids every time they closed, the memory of his voice causing them to open despite your attempts to keep them glued shut. The brief time you two had spent together, and how special it felt after years of being reduced to rushed conversations and short glances. You groaned, sliding both your hands down your face and letting your fingers drag across your lips. You had no idea what you were going to do. But what you did know was that night was one of the best nights of your entire life and barely anything happened. You felt like a little girl again and your crush was returning with a vengance.

You thought about what your mom had said, that you should make your move and let him know how you feel. That following morning, you begged her to teach you all that she knew about being a healer and the two of you got started immediately. You figured if you wanted to be Neteyam’s mate, you had to possess skills that would serve useful to an olo’eyktan. Although, you wish you had gotten into this sooner, because now that you were older the lessons were long and grueling to make up for lost time. You had no idea mixing up a bunch of herbs with a stick required this much thinking.

“[Y/n]?” Your mother’s voice brought you back to Pandora and you turned your eyes to meet a disapproving stare.

“I’m sorry, Ma.” You sighed, shaking your head and sitting up straight now to give her your undivided attention. “I can focus, I promise.” You nodded reassuringly, in which she returned with an unconvinced grunt. You didn’t blame her.

God, this was going to be a long process.

You thanked the spirits when the lesson finally came to an end, standing up and dramatically cradling your back with your hands to stretch it.

“You will have to get used to this if you want to learn the ways of a healer.” Your mother said in response to your display, picking up the materials that laid spread out on the mat of your hut and tucking them away into their designated areas. When you had asked her to start teaching you all that she knew, she was more than overjoyed. She had actively been trying to get you to learn the medicinal ways of your clan, almost like she was playing matchmaker from the start.

Feeling bad for wanting to escape so soon, you instead decided to walk around the house readjusting the most random objects, feigning interest in the same rug that had been there for years. You stood with your hands held in front of you, rocking back and forth from the tips of your toes to the backs of your heels as you avoided her gaze with an awkward whistle.

“Yes, you may go now.”

A smile big enough to almost split your jaw worked its way onto your face and you gathered your things at the speed of light, trying your hardest not to look so excited when you made your way out of your home.

Now that the lesson was over, all you could focus on were the plans you had made with Kiri for the day. The two of you were to venture into the forest in search for small materials that could be crafted into beads for bracelets or necklaces. While you had never really been very interested in healing work, you loved to make jewelry and were a damn good seamstress. You alone had sewn together many Na’vi’s hunting attire.

You loved hanging out with someone who felt connected to nature just as much as you did. Nobody had really figured out just how connected Kiri was to Eywa, but just from watching how she carried herself you knew it was much stronger than any of the others- maybe even stronger than Tsahik.

The village was bustling with na’vi and very lively today, the simple sight of it all warmed your heart. You watched as preparations began to unfold for the clan’s annual Festival of Lights, a celebration in thanks to the spirits for a bountiful hunting season. It was your favorite time of year and everyone seemed much happier the days leading up to it- especially Neteyam. This was one of the rare times of the year he could actually relax and enjoy himself, free from all duties and allowed to simply live his life the way he wanted for a few days.

Or so you thought.

You decided that you would craft a gorgeous necklace for Neteyam with the rare marbles you hoped you’d find near one of the fresh water springs, and what better time to give it to him than during the festival tomorrow? You knew you couldn’t express your feelings to him without an offering. If a Na’vi woman favors a Na’vi male for her mate but has not been suggested to him by his parents or the man himself, she must present her love with an offering in which he can accept or decline. The clan was very big on arranged courtship, which made admitting your feelings so much more of a big deal and ten times scarier.

As you paced through the path to the Sully’s quarters you greeted the elders that passed you and smiled at the small children who were busy entertaining themselves with a friendly game of tag. Before you knew it, you were in front of the hut that housed a big chunk of your childhood memories. You pulled back one of the curtains with your hand, poking your head through as to not barge in and waving at Kiri who sat criss cross on the floor while dicing up some fruits.

“[Y/n]! Come in, come in!” A welcoming grin made its way onto her face as she waved you inside the home, quickly standing up to discard her task embrace you in a hug that rocked you back and forth. “It’s been too long.”

You hugged her back and laughed at her exaggeration, pulling back from the hug slightly to roll your eyes at her. “It’s been a week, Kiri.” You quipped.

She held onto your forearms with her five-fingered hands, an overly serious look taking over her expression. “Yes, a week too long my sister!”

“[Y/N]!” A squealing Tuk came running out from the other room, her short braids bouncing with almost as much energy as the little girl they belonged to. She squeezed herself between you and Kiri, hugging your legs with so much force you nearly stumbled and beaming up at you.

“Hi TukTuk.” You chuckled at her excitement, stroking her braids affectionately. “I swear, it’s like every time I come over here you’re so much bigger than last!”

Tuk was like the younger sibling you never had, and even though she annoyed the absolute hell out of her siblings you loved having her around you, her constant optimism was refreshing.

The little girl accepted your compliment with a toothy grin, piping up to change the subject. “Neteyam told me to tell you he said hello! Can you date my brother already so I can have two sisters?” She questioned eagerly, jumping up and down on her toes.

Your eyes almost popped out of your head hearing the words that came out of her mouth. You blushed profusely, not knowing what to say and instantly looking at Kiri for help who was already hunched over in a fit of laughter. “Kiri!” You whisper shouted, watching her straighten up instantly.

She wiped a potential tear from her eye, clearing her throat and gently pulling her little sister from your legs. “Alright Tuk. [Y/n] and I have some activities to do so why don’t you go down to the village and find Mama, hm?” Kiri suggested, resulting in the little girl shrugging her shoulders and skipping off with contentment as if she hadn’t tried to blow your life up right where you stood.

Kiri gave you a suspecting glance and a teasing smile, using her fingers to poke at your sides while you tried to get your face back to its usual shade of blue.

“Don’t you dare.” You held a hand up in her face before she could begin terrorizing you, turning on your heels and grabbing her wrist to lead her out of the hut.

~~~

“Kiri, stop taking all the pretty ones! The least you could do is save some for me, this was my idea you know.” You scoffed, watching her scoop up a handful of small, gorgeous multi-colored marbles you had finally found after almost an hour of looking and dump them into her satchel. She shook her head and snickered at you, taking half the amount she collected for herself and dropping them into your bag which contained other materials that could be crafted into beads.

“Thank you.” You smiled, laughing when she stuck her tongue out at you just like her younger sister.

“Yeah, yeah.” The snarky girl crouched down to continue her search, waving you off with a hand while she sifted through the soil beneath your feet to find more. “Why do you need these again? I haven’t seen you make jewelry in ages, last time I asked for a necklace you said you didn’t make them anymore.” She queried.

You tightly pressed your lips together and nervously rubbed your arm with your opposing hand, shrugging off her question as if it hadn’t caused your brain to try and come up with fifty different answers that were far from the truth. “No reason, just wanted to make some things for my mother. Her birthday is coming up, wanted to give her something really special.”

Kiri narrowed her eyes at you, rising up so the both of you were eye level. God, you knew her connection with Eywa was absolutely insane, but since when did she have the power to hear someone else’s thoughts too?

“You’re lying. Her birthday was almost three months ago.” She spoke, putting her hands on her hips and tilting her head at you with a smirk. “So, do you want to tell me the truth, or are we gonna sit here and act like you didn’t just forgot your own mother’s birthday?”

You let out a short huff, bringing your hand up to the bridge of your nose and pinching it. Of course she saw right through your excuse, you knew better than to lie to Pandora Jesus- at least that’s what Lo’ak used to call her. You would never say that to her face, though. Unless for some odd reason you were craving a mouthful of dirt for lunch. “Fine,” you started, looking away while you spoke and lowering your voice. “It’s for your brother.” You mumbled, the two of you deciding to start on your walk back to the village while the conversation proceeded.

“No way! Neteyam?!” She gasped dramatically, holding her hand up to her mouth as she attempted to look shocked. Your mouth fell open once realizing she was forging her surprised expression.

“Wait… you knew the whole time?” You gulped.

The look on your face made the slender girl titter with satisfaction. “No shit, both me and Lo’ak. Hell, you damn near drool every time you look at the man!” She sneered.

You groaned and threw your hands up in the air, more out of embarrassment than anything else. This was the first person you had told about your crush on Neteyam other than your mother, you truly thought no one else knew. To see her not even the least bit surprised made you wonder who else had caught on.

The two of you decided to start on your walk back to the village while your conversation proceeded. “Does he know?”

“Oh, of course not.” Kiri responded almost immediately, raising her arm to pluck a fruit from the tree above you. “You know my brother is oblivious to girls. He’s probably the most sought out in the village, yet he still finds it difficult to believe when someone likes him. He does talk about you quite a bit though.” She shrugged, taking a bite out of her newly acquired snack.

“Really?” Your ears perked up and the giddy smile on your face didn’t seem to help to hide the newfound hope brewing inside your chest. You ducked your head under low hanging branches, jogging a little to keep up with Kiri’s fast strides once you realized you were falling behind. “Well? What does he say?”

You could almost see the smile on her face from the back of her head, probably because you could hear it through her voice. “He said he misses hanging out with you, wants to do it more often. I believe that’s why he hasn’t chosen a mate, because once he does, the two of you won’t be able to spend time alone like that anymore.” The thought of your time being cut short for the second time right after the two of you had found each other again was enough to make you panic.

“I heard my parents talking last night. They’re wondering why he hasn’t picked yet.” She suddenly stopped walking and turned to face you, her hands grabbing yours with an encouraging smile. “So I may have put in a good word or two. After all, I think you’re a much better fit for him than any of the other girls.”

You finally felt as if everything was piecing itself together, your nerves began to melt away just like your heart did at Kiri’s words. Your gaze fell to the floor when you felt your face heat up like campfire and your tail began to swish with delight. “So, what I’m hearing is there’s still time?” You asked, sounding much more optimistic than you had intended.

Kiri’s eyes left your own and looked past your head, the corners of her mouth twitching into a mischevious grin when she seemingly spotted something you hadn’t. “I don’t know,” she started, grabbing your shoulders to turn you around. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Before you could even process the words that came out of her mouth, you were pushed forward with so much force that you stumbled out of the trees and into Neteyam’s line of sight. By the time you whipped your head around to hiss at Kiri, she was already gone.

You nervously turned back around, laughing to yourself at the stoic expression he carried around everywhere he went. You couldn’t help but feel starstruck every time you saw him, it was like your mind pictured him moving in slow motion simply to taunt you. He looked incredibly different from the years prior and you definitely were not complaining. And even though he hadn’t wanted to talk about it, it was pretty obvious how truly extensive and challenging his training must be. His arms had developed broad, toned muscles and you wondered if his abs would sound hollow had you knocked on them. You quickly straightened up when the solemn look on his face replaced itself with a bright smile once he picked your face out from the others.

You cleared your throat and tried to regain your composure as much as possible while he approached you, giving him a sweet smile in return and meeting him halfway.

“Hi.” You mentally cringed as soon as you heard the greeting your brain decided to choose. But lucky for you, his smile only got bigger. You could speak complete gibberish and he would sit and listen like he understood.

“Hey… How are you doing? With, you know.” He motioned down to your foot.

You tilted your head at him in confusion and it took you a few seconds to realize what he was referring to. Once it finally clicked, your cheeks flushed a bright red, remembering the predicament your injury had gotten the two of you into. “Oh! This old thing? Pshh.” You babbled like an idiot, looking around to try and focus on anything other than the handsome face in front of you.

He laughed at your display, the air around the two of you settling while you both tried to think of the words to say next.

“So I-“ Two voices overlapped as you guys opened your mouths to speak at the exact same time, making the both of you burst into a fit of laughter. You covered your mouth to hide your grin, shaking your head at him rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“You first.” He smiled.

You nodded your head and swallowed your pride, building up the courage for your request. “I really enjoyed flying with you on your Ikran the other night. And I was wondering if… maybe we could do it again sometime?” You questioned reluctantly, not entirely sure of what his answer would be. You figured spending some more time with Neteyam to prepare yourself for tomorrow would do your nerves some good.

“You’re not afraid anymore?” Much to your surprise he actually looked interested, his eyebrow raising along with the pitch of his voice. He couldn’t believe someone who had previously shown so much fear wanted to do the exact thing they were frightened of, again. Ikran rides were very exciting though, so really he was having a hard time believing you wanted to do it with him, again.

“No, I’m not.” You turned your head to the side a bit as you blushed. “But only because the mighty warrior helped me overcome my fear.” You teased.

Watching Neteyam trip and stumble over his words was like being able to come face to face with a Palulukan and not die. So in other words, extremely rare and not a common sight. He took your hand in his and looked down at you, hoping the loud beating of his heart would answer your question since his voice was having trouble staying steady in your presence. Your cheeks were sore now from how hard you were smiling.

“I would love-“

Just as he was about to agree to your proposal, an ear-bleeding voice made the both of you wince.

“Nete-yammm!” You watched as Eyiti waved her arm above her head like a madwoman and damn near sprinted in you and his direction. You cursed to yourself and rolled your eyes, which Neteyam did not happen to miss. Little did you know, he felt the exact same way about her as you did. Once she approached the two of you she batted her lashes at him and you swear you almost threw up in your mouth. Her eyes shot down to your intertwined fingers, the both of you begrudgingly releasing the other. You felt the urge to tighten your grip, but you knew it wasn’t a good look for the olo’eyktan’s son to be seen displaying public affection with a woman who had not yet been suggested to him.

She cleared her throat with satisfaction, completely disregarding your presence and continuing to eyefuck him. “Are you busy, ‘Teyam?”

The sound of her voice using the nickname you had reserved for him was enough to make your eye convulse as you felt irritation overwhelm your previously good mood. You dipped your head to the side a bit to catch her gaze, waving a hand in front of her face to break the trance she was in. “Uh, hello?” You spoke up, tilting your head to the side with a tight lipped smile once she glared at you. “Yeah, hi. It seems you’re missing a few letters there. You know, the ’N’ and the ‘E’.” Neteyam looked at you with an astounded expression, and even you were surprised at the fact that you managed to speak up. If you weren’t mistaken, you heard the slightest chuckle from him too.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and you felt a hint of accomplishment from ruffling her feathers a bit, only for her to turn her attention back towards him. “You promised you’d finish organizing preparations with my parents to be my date for the festival, remember?” She spoke, her hand now finding its way to stroke his arm.

Hearing those words come from her of all people felt like a knife driving right through your chest. You looked to Neteyam with disbelief clouding your eyes, hoping for something, anything to let you know that what she had just said wasn’t true. He only shut his eyes for a brief moment, opening his mouth to speak but a deep exhale followed instead of words like you expected. Her mouth curved into a sinister grin only you could notice. After dealing with her for so many years, you knew she would hide her true intentions behind fraudulent innocence.

You felt betrayed and you hated yourself for it. The two of you weren’t even together, you hadn’t even been suggested to him. You scolded yourself for even thinking the few hours the two of you spent together after years apart meant anything more than a friendly catch up to him.

He shifted his gaze to you, the look on his face more than apologetic. “I’m sorry, [Y/n]. I can explain this…” His voice was filled with remorse but his heart yearned to say more. There was something more than an explanation dancing behind his eyes, but you were much too embarrassed to look at him and discover it. He desperately felt the need to rectify the situation but you simply shook your head and took a step back.

You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling exposed all of a sudden and not caring if you had failed to look unbothered. It was impossible to hide how you truly felt from him, your efforts would have been futile regardless of how hard you tried. “It’s fine, go.” You stopped your voice from cracking, daring not to look at him while you felt his stare only grow stronger.

You felt his fingers brush against your forearm as he reached for you, resulting in you raising your arms slightly to avoid his grasp. “I hope the two of you have fun.” You choked out, excusing yourself before you became subject to further humiliation. You heard his voice call out for you but there was no way you could turn back to face him, the tears you had made such an effort to keep unshed were now threatening to spill over.

You kept your head down as you walked, nearly falling back onto your bottom when your body came in contact with a ridiculously hard surface.

“I’m- I’m sorry. I should have been watching where I was going.” You blinked away your tears, looking up to see none other than Ta’olu staring down at you.

The tall male peered at you with a confident smile, amusement written all over his face, not at all minding that you had used him as an anchor to not fall over. “No worries, I was actually coming to find you.”

You cocked your head to the side with interest. You weren’t entirely sure why he would have been looking for you, seeing as the last time you had asked him to hang out he ditched you for some random girl he had met the day before. “Okay… what’s up?” You cleared your throat, trying to set aside what had just happened a minute ago.

His stance shifted slightly and he grabbed hold of your hand, the interaction not being nearly as enjoyable as it was with Neteyam. His hand on yours was enough to make you want to crawl into a hole and hibernate for the rest of the year. His gruff voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his question being exactly what you feared.

“Would you be my date for the festival tomorrow?”

a/n:Isn’t Eyiti just the worst? And who the hell is this Ta’olu dude? 🙈*mischievous laughter* I’m so sorry for leaving y’all on a cliff hanger but I had to end this chapter here! I wonder what’s gonna go down in part 3 🤔 I’m sorry if i missed your tag! I wrote them down but when I entered it in some of them wouldn’t pop up 💔

Please like + reblog if you can it’s much appreciated 💞

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