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inmyfxith · 1 year

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Neteyam dating a female human

A/N -> If you disagree with something I wrote in it, don't hesitate to tell me. I would love to discuss it with you.

-> Requested - I dare to imagine that the person who asked me for the same headcanon for Lo'ak also asked for this one, if so, could you tell me if this is what you expected? If not, don't hesitate to let me know!

Your mother is an important scientist who specializes in the fauna and flora of Pandora, following in the footsteps of the legendary Grace Augustine. Slightly out of touch with reality, she managed to get you on the trip by falsifying papers, making you the youngest scientist on the expedition. You were eager to learn from the best and to contribute, even just a little bit, to the ongoing efforts to understand and protect Pandora's unique ecosystem.

One day, while conducting field research (a discovery for you) on the direhorses - massive, grey-skinned creatures resembling elephants - you stumbled upon Neteyam, the eldest son of Jake Sully, who was out hunting with his brother Lo'ak and other young members of his clan. You were immediately struck by Neteyam's tall, muscular build and piercing yellow eyes, and you couldn't help but be drawn to his confident and assertive demeanor. As you watched him expertly track and hunt an animal that looked like a Terrian gazelle, you couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for his skills and knowledge of Pandora's wildlife.

Neteyam's heightened senses as a Na'vi allowed him to detect your presence in the forest, and from the moment his large eyes met yours, you were both drawn to each other despite your main difference. You couldn't help but feel a deep connection to Neteyam, despite the fact that you were from different worlds. You were fascinated by his culture and way of life, and you were drawn to his strength and confidence.

You couldn't help but feel a bit of sadness as you watched him disappear into the forest, wondering if you would ever see him again. But fate had other plans, and the next day you found yourself reunited with Neteyam in the laboratory. He had accompanied Kiri, his younger sister, to see her mother's avatar. As you stood together in the lab, surrounded by the whirring machines and flashing screens, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and possibility.

As you got to know each other better, you began to learn about Neteyam's life as a member of the Omaticaya clan, and you were impressed by his dedication to his people and his home. Neteyam, in turn, was fascinated by your curiosity and your thirst for knowledge, and he enjoyed sharing his insights and experiences with you.

As the weeks went by, Neteyam began to visit the laboratory more and more often, always making sure to stop by when he knew you would be there. At first, Dr. Patel was intrigued by Neteyam's frequent visits, wondering what could be bringing him back to the lab so often. But as he observed the two of you together, it became clear that Neteyam was there to see you.

As you spent more time together, exploring Pandora and learning about each other's cultures, you couldn't help but feel a growing sense of love and connection. Neteyam was everything you had ever wanted in a partner, and you knew that he was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

The two of you sat together on a grassy hill overlooking Pandora's beautiful landscape, Neteyam turned to you and asked if you would like to explore more of his world together. "I know so many beautiful and hidden places that I would love to show you," he said. "There are so many wonders of Pandora that I want to share with you, and I want to learn more about your world as well." You felt a sense of excitement and joy at the thought of exploring Pandora more with Neteyam. You knew that being with him would be an adventure, and you were eager to see all that Pandora had to offer. You smiled, saying, "I would love to explore Pandora with you. There's so much I want to learn and see, and I know that being with you will make it all the more special."

Neteyam was always very attentive to your needs and desires, and he was always striving to make you feel safe and protected. Whether it was by standing guard over you while you slept, or by carrying you across treacherous terrain to keep you from harm, he was always there for you. He knew that being a human on Pandora was not without its challenges, and he was determined to do everything in his power to make your life as comfortable and safe as possible.

Despite the strong connection and feelings that you and Neteyam shared, Neteyam was hesitant to start a relationship due to the troubled history between your two species and the mistrust that many Na'vi held for humans. He knew that being with you would not be easy, and he was worried about how his people would react.

Neteyam was also concerned about how his mother, Neytiri, would react to your relationship. Neytiri had a well-founded dislike for humans, and she had always been very protective of her children. Neteyam knew that she would not be pleased to see him with a human, and he was worried about the potential consequences of your relationship.

As Jake Sully watched his son, Neteyam, he couldn't help but notice the changes in his behavior. Neteyam had always been a strong and capable young man, but lately, he seemed to be more distant and preoccupied. Jake had a feeling that something was wrong, and he knew that he needed to find out what was going on. One day, Jake decided to confront Neteyam about his behavior. He pulled him aside and asked him directly if something was wrong. Neteyam hesitated at first, but eventually, he admitted that he was in love with a human. Jake immediately feared for his wife's reaction. Neytiri had always had a well-founded dislike for humans, and Jake knew that she would not be pleased to see her son with one. He also knew that many members of their clan would not accept a human as their Olo'eyktan’s mate, or female leader, and he was worried about the potential consequences of Neteyam's relationship.

Neteyam believed that being true to his feelings was the only way to create a future together, and he was willing to fight for that future no matter what. He was confident that, with your support and your shared values, you could overcome any obstacle that came your way. He was also keenly aware of the importance of communication in any relationship, and he made sure to keep you in the loop about any developments or challenges that arose.

Neteyam's openness and honesty were key to the success of your relationship, and they helped you to build a strong and lasting bond that could withstand any challenges that came your way.

As Neteyam's partner, you could expect physical displays of affection from him on a regular basis. He might hold your hand as you walked together, cuddle with you as you lay in a natural place, or sneak kisses when you least expected it. These gestures were Neteyam's way of showing you his love and affection, and they were always sincere and heartfelt.

Most of the time, you found a way to hide in a corner of the lab where you didn't have to wear your exopack. So he could touch your face as many times as he wanted.

As you spent more time together, exploring Pandora and learning about each other's cultures, it became clear that your relationship was something special. You were deeply in love, and you knew that you wanted to be together forever. You, personally, didn't feel the need to make your relationship "official" in any traditional sense, as it had always felt like a given to you.

In addition to physical affection, Neteyam was also a supportive and comforting presence for you. He was always there when you needed someone to talk to, and he was happy to listen to your concerns and offer words of encouragement and comfort. Even when he couldn't find the right words to say, his presence alone was often enough to help you feel better.

Neteyam was fully committed to you, and he made it clear that he wanted to be with you for the long haul. He had no interest in anyone else, and he was content to focus all of his attention and affection on you.

Neteyam wanted to bond with you in a way that will satisfy his family and prevent them from causing problems in your relationship. In order to prevent any conflict or difficulties, Neteyam wanted to formally bond with you in a way that is recognized and accepted by his family. Regardless of the form it takes, he believed this bonding process would be an important step in solidifying your relationship and ensuring that it is accepted and supported by Neteyam's family.

At a certain point, you asked Dr. Patel about the possibility of creating a Na'vi avatar in order to experience the same sensations as them and, especially, but obviously you kept it to yourself, to participate in the bonding ritual of tsaheylu with Neteyam in order to form an emotional bond with him that would last all your life.

But the cost and especially the danger of such an operation, creating an avatar and bringing it back to Pandora without informing the competent authorities, seemed impossible for Patel. Despite this initial failure, Neteyam has not given up on the idea, offering other ways for you to connect to the collective memory via prayers, spiritual practices, and meditation.

You sat cross-legged on the floor of the small, secluded clearing in the forest, your eyes closed and your breathing slow and steady. You had been practicing meditation for months now, hoping to find a way to connect with the Pandoran collective consciousness and bond with Neteyam. Despite your efforts, you had yet to experience the same deep connection that Neteyam seemed to feel so naturally. But today, as you focused on your breath and let go of your thoughts, you began to feel a sense of peace and clarity wash over you. You felt your body relax and your mind open, and you could sense the presence of something larger than yourself. As you opened your eyes, you saw Neteyam sitting across from you, his queue glowing softly in the dim light of the clearing. You reached out to him, and he took your hand in his own. "I can feel it," you whispered, tears of joy streaming down your face. "I can feel Eywa."Neteyam smiled and squeezed your hand. "Welcome to the collective consciousness, my love," he said. You felt a surge of happiness and gratitude wash over you as you connected with Neteyam and the collective consciousness. You knew that this was a bond that would last a lifetime.

#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam headcanons #neteyam x reader #jake sully #avatar headcanons

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palesweetscherryblossom · 2 months

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Surprise adoption

Warning: Mentions of violence, non consensual hypnosis and kidnapping.

Even as a young kid, the forest always creeped you out. With all the urban legends about monsters roaming around, hunters disappearing or ending up gravely injured, it certainly didn’t help your bias against it.

So imagine your horror that your older brother, Izuku wanted to take you on a little expedition in the damn place. You and Izuku were orphaned, but were generously taken in my Toshinori, head hunter and beloved icon of your town.

Whereas you preferred to stray clear from all the gritty things hunting entailed, Izuku was fully invested in it.

“I wanna go home, please Izuku?” You asked, hands tightly clutching your clothes.

The moon hung overhead, sounds of chirping from birds, water flowing through streams and crunching of leaves highlighted your surroundings.

Izuku looked at you, his hand reassuringly patting your H/C locks.

“Don’t worry Y/N! Just one more thing and then we can go back.” He said, handing you the lantern.

You frowned as the two of you walked on. One thing Izuku noticed was how pungent the air was over here, it reeked of venom and rot. He cracked out his notebook from his satchel, quickly writing it down. “How weird.” He muttered, you huffed.

“Izuku, it smells over here.” You whined, visibly cringing at seeing a rabbit’s skull.

“D-do you think we might be in naga territory?” You asked, Izuku’s breath hitched at the possibility. Ah, naga. Fearsome creatures with deplorable reputations to boot. Half man, half serpent.

Toshinori once recounted his encounter with a naga once, who was bold enough to attack him head on. Long fangs, red eyes that rivaled rubies, shaggy blue hair.

Many legends circulated about this particular naga, especially about his thirst for destruction and murder. Izuku looked down at you, a friendly smile on his face.

“Probably not, it’s probably just some poisonous frogs or something. But even if it was, I would never let them hurt you.” He assured, you felt a little better.

“We’ll sock them in their faces and skin them for boots!” You announced, Izuku nervously smiled.

“Probably not sis.”

Another notable thing about naga is how some tended to hunt at night, at least Tomura Shigaraki did. The most feared creature in the jungle, by man and beast alike.

It didn’t help that he was accompanied by his equally violent and dangerous mate, Dabi. A alluring, handsome creature but equally deadly.

Blue and black scales slithered across the floor, as the two searched for a late night snack. “Seriously Tomura, I don’t know why you insist on doing this at night. It’s too damn late for this.” Dabi complained, Tomura regarded his mate with a mere look.

“The big and juicy rabbits tend to come out at this time of night. Besides, those stupid, fucking hunters drive away our larger game.” He said, sniffing the air.

Dabi shrugged, his mate did have a point. Possums, sloths and the occasional taste of human flesh wasn’t cutting it. “I thought that those dumbasses would take the hint from the last time.”

Shigaraki gave a raspy chuckle. He really outdid himself that time, they still had the chunk from the hunters leg in the den! “You’re quite the sadistic bastard.” Dabi said in a loving way.

“Which is why you mated with me~” Shigaraki taunted, nuzzling Dabi’s face before narrowing his eyes and sniffed the air again.

“What? What do smell?” Dabi asked before sniffing the air himself. Humans, filthy humans. Shigaraki loathed them, Dabi loathed them.

The two followed the scent, eventually finding themselves in a tree, spying on you and Izuku.

“Oh, it’s Toshinori’s brat.” Shigaraki hissed, his rattle shaking slightly. His hate died down a little once he saw you, clutching onto Izuku’s hand as he gave you some facts.

Oh, how you looked utterly adorable to him. Shigaraki and Dabi had been wanting some hatchings of their own, as nagas tended to feel that way. “She’s precious.” Dabi muttered, a paternal spark igniting in him.

Shigaraki nodded, turning towards his mate. “I’ll go greet our guests.” He said, slowly slinking into view.

“Well now, it’s a hunter in training!” You froze at hearing the raspy voice, Izuku flinched as well. He turned around and was met with the sight of the naga. “GAH!” Izuku yelped, nearly dropping his lantern as you gave a yelp.

“Now now, there’s no need to be scared.” Shigaraki said, Izuku frowned whilst you hid behind your brother. “I’m a friend, always eager to assist with a weary traveler.” He assured, his red eyes looking at you.

You whimpered and hid behind Izuku. “Aw, what’s a little cherub like you doing out so late?” Tomura cooed, Izuku cleared his throat. “Back off, we don’t need your assistance. Besides, we all know what you really want.”

Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed, Toshinori sure knew how to raise a stubborn brat. “Oh? Would you mind telling me then?” Shigaraki taunted, inching closer to Izuku.

Their noses barely touching. Izuku could smell the venom from Shigaraki’s breath, he remained firm. “Tsk, tsk, so stubborn.” Shigaraki said, his tail prodding at you softly.

You yelped as Izuku stood protectively in front of you. “L-leave us alone!” He snapped, Shigaraki didn’t flinch, only giving an amused look.

“You must be so tired, let me fix that.” The naga purred, inching closer from his branch perch. Izuku instinctively stepped back as you hid behind your brother. “No need for the fear fawns, you’ll fear as right as rain once we’re through..” Shigaraki assured, his voice raspy yet sweet. Like candy covered poison.

Shigaraki had a variety of powers but his most useful one was hypnosis. Often used to ensnare his victims into a state of calmness. It was his method to use if he was feeling lazy. Izuku stepped forward, a dagger in hand. Oh, how naive was this poor boy? No worries, Shigaraki and Dabi could make it right.

Izuku attempted to speak but nothing came out, his body felt heavy, all thoughts of resentment, escape and fear slowly melted away. It was like he was trapped inside his own body. His mouth felt unusually dry, like it was stuffed with cotton. Yet, he felt nice? Oddly relaxed even. His joints went relaxed and posture was lazy, his legs felt like jello.

“Izuku?!” You cried, tugging on your brother’s clothes. “Zuku!” You helplessly whined. Shigaraki frowned before inching closer, Izuku couldn’t hear you. He stumbled around like a newly born deer before ultimately dropping his weapon and almost collapsed to the floor himself. If it wasn’t for a black tail with horrifying purple scars, which caught him with ease, it wrapped around your brother’s torso. Much to your horror, you attempted to run but Shigaraki tripped you and swiftly coiled his tail around your ankle. The flaky and rough scales dug into your skin, causing you to whimper and wince at the pain.

“Don’t worry fawn, he’s alright and soon, you’ll be too.” Shigaraki said, quickly ensnaring you in his power as well. You weakly fought back as your defiant words withered away into weak whines and squirms. Your body eventually succumbed to Shigaraki’s control, your vision hazy and eyes droopy. “Zuku..” You muttered softly. You wanted to go home, the smell of the venom and dirt made you sick.

You craved the crisp vanilla and poppy smell of Toshinori’s manor. To be tucked into your bed, surrounded by the comforts of knowing that the monsters couldn’t get you.

“Aw, my sweet hatchling.” Shigaraki crooned, picking you up and cradling you. He nuzzled you, obviously excited to bring you to his nest. Dabi joined Shigaraki’s side, a lazy smirk on his face.

“She’s quite precious.” He mused, kissing Shigaraki’s cheek. “But, what about her brother?” The two looked at Izuku, who was still in Dabi’s grip. The black haired male frowned. Izuku kinda reminded him of someone he desperately wanted to forget. Shigaraki handed you over to Dabi before taking Izuku in his own grip. He regarded his mate with a devious smile, his fangs on display and crimson eyes filled with satisfaction and plotting.

“Well, you know what they say, two is always better than one.”

You and Izuku should’ve stayed home

@thecuriousquest

@messedupcookiejar

@yanderefangirl

#platonic yandere #yandere mha #yandere shigaraki #naga shigaraki #naga dabi #yandere dabi #izuku x reader

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pretty-red-garnet · 7 months

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Angel

Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader • France • Light Angst/Fluff

!Spoilers! For The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon episode one! Don’t read this if you haven’t watched yet! Also, thank you so much to the anon who requested this. I had a lot of fun writing it.

PS: Ignore the canon divergence lol.

Heavy limbs is all Daryl feels as he begins to become conscious again. He's huddled on an overturned boat, his frozen fingers gripping your waist to keep you afloat with him. It seems even unconscious, he's always thinking of you and your safety before anything.

The coast is close, and he fights against his droopy eyes to look towards you. Your eyes are still closed, and he panics and swats at you to wake you. When you do, your groggy too, glazed over eyes looking towards his.

"We gotta get to the coast," Daryl tells you, his voice rough with thirst. You nod, still disoriented, but he appreciates that you don't fight him when he lugs you off the boat and drags you towards shore.

You and Daryl crawl on the sand, fingers ripping into the sand in an effort to ground yourselves. Sand sticks to the icy water soaking the two of you. Daryl spots a little sand bucket full of water ahead, and rushes to it. After a single eager gulp, he hurriedly hands it off to you. He watches the water drip down your chin, giving himself just a moment to relish in the fact that you're ok and breathing.

You and him had gotten in quite a bit of trouble since venturing off in an effort to find his brother. It ended in getting taken aboard a huge boat and— thankfully— escaping on a much smaller paddle boat. And now your landed on an unfamiliar shore.

"Where do you think we are?" You ask, breaths still heavy and fast. Daryl shrugs, leaning back onto his hand and grabbing the bucket when you offer it.

After a quick moments rest, you and your partner are back on your feet. You both wander the area, looking around for any sign of where you could be. The town you end up in is small. Buildings surrounded by the sea. It looked like it would've been a spot out of a travel pamphlet from before.

"Y/N," Daryl suddenly says, looking towards a sign. You step next to him, eyeing the sign to try and read the words through the age and decay.

"Is that..." you start, examining the unfamiliar language. "French?"

You and Daryl both look towards each other, both having an expression that could only be described as exhaustion. It seemed to Daryl that you and him just couldn't catch a damn break. How the hell would he get you home?

"Looks like we're not in Kansas anymore," you say, deadpan. Daryl's frown deepens and gives you a halfhearted thwack on the shoulder for you ill-timed joke. "Tough crowd."

You and Daryl spend that night in a little fishing boat. It's long abandoned, dirt and dust covering every surface, but it gives some cover from the biting wind. After eating a fish Daryl caught, you both huddle together under layers of blankets on a little cot. You're wrapped around him and despite the exhaustion that drapes over you, you still can't sleep.

"Judith would like that," you mumble. Daryl follows your eyes and sees you gazing at the penguin plush. "She's never seen a penguin. Well, just in books."

Your voice is quiet, thoughtful. Daryl knows what your thinking about, he's good at that now. After so many years with a person, you can almost read their mind. And Daryl knows that you're missing Jude and RJ, especially after listening to that tape. That you're thinking about the childhood they're missing out on, about trips to the zoo and seeing penguins, begging their parents to buy them an overpriced souvenir. The childhood they should have.

The childhood you and Daryl are missing out watching.

"We'll have to bring it back for them," he says. You don't say anything back. "I'm gonna get you home, alright?"

You tilt your head to look in his eyes. Daryl hates that he sees fear and worry in yours. He tries to ebb it away with gentle caresses.

"I'm gonna get you home," he repeats, firmer and while looking you in the eye. You relent, nodding and smiling softly at him, and he leans to brush your lips against his in a silent promise.

It seems the bad luck that hangs over you and Daryl like a dark storm cloud isn't planning on dissipating anytime soon. You and Daryl venture deeper into the city and stumble upon a big abandoned building.

"Maybe I should've taken French in high school," you murmur, eyes squinting at the unrecognizable words written on a sign outside of the building. Daryl just shrugs, and carefully begins to enter the building.

It ends up being filled with walkers. Guttural groans and decomposed flesh surrounds you and Daryl. You and Daryl are taking care of your own groups, dividing and— hopefully— conquering.

"Daryl!" You screech out, the sound of a body dropping following. "These are not normal walkers!"

Daryl looks at the dead walkers and sees what you mean. Something leaking from them is burning the ground. Acid.

It's not a second later Daryl is grabbed roughly, acidic fingers clamping down on his forearm. He lets out a yelp in pain, one that makes you kill your batch of walkers in half the time with the help of the extra adrenaline. Daryl sees you in the corner of his eye rushing towards him after he's able to pry the walker's hand off his arm.

"Oh my God," you say, breathlessly staring at the burned hand print on his arm. Your fingers shake violently as they move to touch him, before they move away again. You look up at Daryl, his face pinched in pain. Tears collect at the corners of your eyes.

Daryl's heart clenches in his chest at the sight of you, nervous and scared. Teary eyes and trembling like a leave. He reaches up to lightly dab at a few stray tears that leaked from your eyes, shaking his head.

"I'm fine," he says, slowly and quietly. "Just a burn, I'm not infected or nothin'." His fingers now stroke your hair, trying to get that terrified look out of your eyes. "It's somethin' on the walkers, it's not a scratch or bite. 'M fine."

You nod, and throw your arms around his waist. He hugs back without a thought, hiding a wince when your coat brushes against his wound. He doesn't mind, he'll take the pain if it means your arms are around him, holding him so tight he's afraid he'll lose feeling in his legs any second. Your face is buried in his chest, and he leaves little kisses on the crown of your head.

When you finally pry yourself away, you're quick to pull a bandage out of your bag. Forcing Daryl to sit, you tentatively wrap the bandage around his arm. You place a sweet kiss on the outskirts of his bandage when you're done, smiling at Daryl when he huffs out an amused snort.

You were always like that. Kind, and attentive. Always putting him and your family ahead of yourself. It was something that Daryl fell in love with first all those years ago. Although it tends to worry and annoy him on occasion.

"I'm gonna be fine, alright?" Daryl reassures when he sees the worry isn't completely washed away from your face. You nod, lacing your fingers with his and leading him out of the building.

Just when it seems the day couldn't get worse, it does. You and Daryl find a girl with her father, and thankfully she knows enough english for a trade. A little med kit for some apples and rabbit.

What at first seems like the first score of the day ends in Daryl and his partner sprawled out on the damp ground. Both have matching knots on the side of their heads and Daryl a gunshot wound, yet both look and reach out towards each other. Daryl's eyes slip close before he can help it.

Daryl wakes to a start. His limbs and eyes are heavy, and he hears a woman talking— chanting?— in French. His eyes are blurry, but he's pretty sure he's looking at nuns surrounding him, one of them— the one that's speaking— has a heated fire poker, so hot the tip is a bright orange.

He yelps and shouts, trying to break free from the women's grip, but between being outnumbered, in pain, and exhausted, he doesn't move much. Daryl's eyes fly around the room in a panic, trying to catch sight of you, but there's no such thing. Once the molten poker hits his skin, the pain blinds him and he's out again.

Daryl wakes again much later. Maybe hours, maybe days later, he's not sure. He spots a nun pouring water from a basin in a large tub. Despite his body not functioning up to speed, he sits up anyway. At that moment, she turns towards him.

"You feeling better?" She asks, a foreign accent marking her words.

"Where is she?" He grumbles out, voice like sandpaper. "Y/N, where is she?"

"She's in another room, eating. She came to see you, you were still sleeping," she explains. "I'm Isabelle."

Isabelle explains the situation to Daryl. How the cauterization to prevent the spread of infection from that acidic walker, where he was, and how you were, all while removing the bandage on his arm. She makes some other conversation, but Daryl is mostly quiet, too busy with thoughts of you. However, Daryl isn't panicked, just concerned.

He doesn't feel the woman or any nuns at the abby had ill intent. They could've just left you both to die, but they didn't. Instead taking total strangers back to their home. Daryl does just want to see you. To make absolute sure you're safe and alright.

After Isabelle leaves, he takes her up on her offer of a bath. He can see the steam from here, and after the freezing cold ocean water from the other day, he needs it. He also doesn't need you worrying about his wound, so keeping it clean was a good first step.

He makes it quick and hasty, already out with a towel when Isabelle enters with clean clothes. Daryl feels a little exposed, only dressed with a towel, but Isabelle is quick to exit once she gives him the clean clothes.

Daryl hurries out the door once he's dressed. He doesn't really know where he's going, but he follows the noise of chatter. He peeks his head in the room he hears the most noise and spots you, talking with a couple of the nuns and eating soup.

"Hey, Angel," you say, dropping your spoon in your soup when he makes his presence known. You stand, placing your hand on his cheek and pressing a sweet kiss to the side of his mouth.

"You alright?" Daryl asks, tentatively touching the bruise on your temple. You nod, smiling when you kiss his wrist.

"Isabelle said your arm looks good." You sit down and Daryl follows suit. One of the women places a bowl in front of him, and he's quick to dig in and slurp up his soup.

"Told you, 'm fine."

"I know, but if I don't worry about you, who will?"

Isabelle gives you and Daryl a tour of the convent. She introduces Laurent to you both and explained the miracle of his birth, how he's special. Daryl scoffed, but he could tell you were a little intrigued with Isabelle's plan of getting him to a better place. Somewhere safer and where he could be happier.

Daryl would've flat out refused if it weren't for you. You convinced him to help out the women on their journey. Isabelle promised she'd help get you and Daryl back home, or at least access to a radio. It didn't seem very promising, but one look at you and he folded.

You always called him your angel, but in truth, you're the real angel.

After all the introductions and outlining the plan of getting Laurent to wherever he needs to be, it's dinner time. Laurent was a strange kid. He liked to talk and sometimes he'd get all philosophical and ask Daryl deep questions. His odd questions and badgering took up most of the day. You mostly just giggled at Daryl and his usually half-assed answers.

At dinner, the other nuns regard Daryl nervously. You had quietly joked to him that's it's his 'intimidating energy,' as you called it.

"But don't worry, I find it really hot," you had said in a whisper while the nuns set the table. Daryl blushed and moved to hide his face from you, which just made you giggle.

The only ones that speak English are Isabelle, Laurent, and another nun named Sylvie. The three translated any conversation between you, Daryl, and the other women. It was mostly them asking questions to learn about you and Daryl.

"She wants to know how long you two have been married," Isabelle asks, translating a question from the oldest nun, Mother Superior.

"Oh," you had said, stumbling a little. Daryl could feel heat flush his cheeks and ears. "We're not married."

Sylvie and a few of the other women had made a slightly surprised face, and Mother Superior looked just aghast when Isabelle translated.

"Don't you two live together?" Laurent asks, ever on top of things. "And haven't you been together for years?"

"Yeah..." you say with a shrug. "Guess we just never thought to."

"There even a point?" Daryl asks. "No courts, no paper to sign."

It seemed nobody had to translate for the oldest nun this time. Maybe it was his tone or nonchalant shrug while he said it, but it seemed she got the point. She made a noise of astonishment, shook her head while muttering a player and making the motion of a cross. Daryl honestly thought it was a little comical, never did he think he'd be discussing marriage with a bunch of nuns, in an abby, in France no less.

"It's about taking a vow in front of God," Sylvie says. "A show that you love each other and you'll be together forever."

Daryl could feel the awkward tension radiating from you in waves. You moved your food around your plate, slightly unwilling to make eye contact with the nuns. Daryl just shrugged. He knew he loved you, he knew he would be with you forever, he knew you felt the same, he didn't need a big show to prove that.

Daryl never gave marriage a huge thought. Before he met you, he was sure he'd never even fall in love. After you, he was so deeply head over heels for you, he never thought he needed a big wedding to prove how much he loved you. He showed it everyday, at least he tried his best to. Maybe he wasn't the most romantic or emotionally inclined, but he tried to make you feel loved and happy.

Besides, you'd never hinted at marriage. If you did, maybe it'd be a different story. You'd never said you wanted a wedding, did you want one? Did you want to be married, and thought he wouldn't want it? Daryl's not sure.

Now that he's thinking, really thinking during the semi-awkward silence that replaced the once lively conversation, maybe you did want marriage. Daryl remembers all those years ago when Maggie and Glenn married. They didn't have a huge wedding or anything, just a ring and a small celebration with some scavenged champagne. He remembers how happy you looked, how fondly you gazed at the happy couple.

He remembers how he made a comment similar to the one he just made, about no point of being married. You had nudged his shoulder and told him to be quiet, that it was romantic. That it didn't matter there were no marriage licenses or wedding gowns or honeymoons, they were happy and in love. How they just wanted to be husband and wife, just because they were committed to one another.

Daryl looks at you seated next to him, and it's like something changes. Maybe calling you his wife wouldn't be so bad.

Isabelle leads you and Daryl to separate rooms. After the big news of you and Daryl being unwed, Mother Superior didn't want you both staying in the same room. It was bizarre to Daryl, but you wanted to respect their wishes. So he conceded, and allowed Isabelle to take you away from him.

You blowed him a dramatic kiss as you walked away, like you were going off to war or something. He played along anyway like he always did with you, grabbing the kiss and bringing it to his chest just to see you laugh.

Now, laying in bed without your steady presence beside him was unwelcome. He felt strange, like he was missing a vital part of him. He couldn't even remember the last time he's slept without you. Even those years he was out in the woods looking for Rick, you were there, always right beside him.

He tossed and turned, fiddling with a little scrap of stained white fabric he had clutched in his hand. It was from his angle wing on his vest. A small piece had peeled off after the long trip in the ocean, and he had shoved it in his pocket without thinking.

Eventually, Daryl stood. Maybe he'd get in trouble with the nuns in the morning, but he doesn't care, he needs you. He carefully pushes open his door before making his way towards your room. He enters your room without knocking, letting out a relived sigh when he sees you laying in bed.

"You didn't even knock," you say, sitting up in bed. "What if you had just barged into one of the nun's rooms? Don't think they would've liked it much."

"I must have God on my side." You snort and shake your head. He walks over to you and sits on your bed, pushing you back into the pillows.

"What're you doing here anyway? Got lost?" You tease, a smirk on your face that Daryl kisses away.

"Missed you," he murmurs against your lips, before pulling away just barley to trail feverish kisses from your jaw to your neck. You groan.

"They won't like this much you know," you say, heated breaths fanning out across the top of Daryl's head. "We should respect their wishes. We're in their home."

"Whatever, we're helpin' them with their mission, ain't we?" You push Daryl away lightly, and so he pulls away. You're giving him a concerned look that makes Daryl worry.

"Yes, but they're also helping us. They're helping to get us home, and I don't wanna risk anything." Daryl sighs, the breath causing your messy hair to flutter slightly. He smooths it down tenderly.

"I'm gonna get you home. Don't gotta worry." You grasp his hand playing with your hair and kiss his fingertips. He curls his fingers around your hand and lifts it to his lips, placing careful kisses to your knuckles.

"I do hate sleeping without you," you admit, voice quiet. He nods, placing your hand gently to rest on your stomach, still holding it.

"Guess I just have to marry you then." Daryl had intended it as a joke, but realized he was serious about halfway through. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he gazes at you, hair fanning out on the pillow with an adorably confused look on your face.

He's not sure what took him so long to realize. But he's never been so sure of anything in his life. He wants you to be his wife. You're already his everything, his forever, he wants it to be official. He wants to hear you call him your husband, he wants you to be his and him yours in every sense there is.

"Are you joking?" You ask, a furrow to your brow and a tilt to your head. He shakes his head, his insecurities begin to evade his mind.

"I love you," he starts, unable to meet your questioning gaze. "I never thought about marriage, never thought anyone could love me like that." You push his hair from his face and caress his cheek, regarding him with a look so full of love he knows he's made the right choice. "But I wanna do it with you, if you want."

"Why now?" You sit up, pressing your palms on either side of his face. "Is it because of what the nuns said?"

"Kinda." He shrugs, and you smile softly.

"Daryl, I don't need us to be married to know you love me. You show me that every day. You don't need to prove anything." He shakes his head, holding your hands in place by grasping your wrists loosely.

"I want to be married to you. I never really thought about it before this s'all, but I do," Daryl confirms, holding your gaze steadily now. "I wanna be with you forever. You're everything to me."

Tears collect in your eyes and Daryl is terrified he messed up, that maybe you didn't want this. Maybe this would feel too possessive to you, like you'd be tied down, like he'd be owning you. Before his thoughts can spiral too out of control, you kiss him. You kiss him so hard and so passionately, Daryl almost falls backwards.

"I'd love to marry you." Daryl grips at your hips and you clutch at his shoulders. He rests his forehead against yours.

"I don't have a damn ring," Daryl says. He pulls out the little scrap of fabric from his vest, taking hold of you hand. He ties the little scrap around your finger, rubbing over your ring finger when he's done. "That'll have to do for now."

"It's a piece of your vest?" Daryl nods, and you grin so brightly, you almost light up the entire room. "Now I always have a little part of my Angel with me."

Daryl smiles, his chest feeling warmer than ever before. He shoves you down into the bed and follows quickly, pulling you up to lay on his chest. You laugh and admire the makeshift ring adorning your left hand.

"You're my Angel."

Daryl's eyes crack open to the sound of a door creaking and is immediately met with bright sunlight. A deep sigh is what causes him to open his eyes fully. Isabelle is standing by the door, fresh clothes in hand with a disappointed look on her face.

"Mother Superior won't be happy," she says. Daryl looks to your form curled up next to him, and he couldn't care less. You roll over to face Isabelle and grin so brightly, Daryl's heart might just burst.

"But we're married," you say, your voice still sleepy, while throwing out your hand from under the covers to show off the 'ring.' You look so proud Daryl can't help but smile. "Got married last night."

"What?" Daryl isn't sure if she looks more confused or shocked. "You got married? Last night?"

"Yeah," Daryl replies nonchalantly, throwing his legs off the bed to stand.

"You need someone to marry you, you can't just decide your married." Isabelle looks amused now as she places the clothing on the dresser.

"What for?" You ask, sitting up. "Like Daryl said, there's no marriage licensing or anything."

"Yes, but you could still be married in the eyes of God," Isabelle says, a thoughtful look on her face.

"We ain't catholic," Daryl says, reaching to grab the clothes Isabelle placed on the dresser. She pushes his hand away.

"Humor us," she says, getting met with confused looks from both you and Daryl. "Let us put something together. I'm sure no one will mind a little wedding."

You and Daryl tried to refuse, but it seems nuns are very convincing. Or maybe it's just because they're all women. Soon you and Daryl are getting set up in makeshift wedding attire. Daryl is getting prepped up in the clothing closest to a tux while nuns are creating a dress for you. Sewing and pinning up a white garnet they found to resemble something of a wedding gown.

Daryl was less than ecstatic, but he saw how happy you looked when you rushed by him to get fitted into the gown and he was suddenly ok with it all. The next time he saw you, it was while he was at the alter.

The women had made a trail of different fabrics to make a sort of carpet trail to the alter. Your white dress stands out against the multitude of colors of the carpet. Daryl's eyes flit from your dress to your sparkling eyes to your contagious grin before settling on the fabric tied in a knot around your finger.

He can't take his eyes off you.

Even when you finally make it across from him and Mother Superior begins to read from the Bible can he focus on anything but you. The foreign words are the last thing on his mind.

"I love you," you mouth to him, smiling with tears glistening your eyes. Daryl feels tears begin to prick at his own.

"Love you, too," he mouths back. He's nudged slightly by the young boy, and that's what brings him back. "Huh?"

"Say 'I do,'" Laurent mumbles, causing the nuns to laugh.

"Oh, yeah, I do," Daryl says, feeling a blush creep up his neck. You smile at him, causing him to smile back and forgetting the slight embarrassment. After a few more words read from the holy book, the officiate turns to you.

"I do," you say with a watery laugh. A tear finally falls and Daryl is swift with wiping it away. After a few more words, the book is closed, and she motions for you to kiss.

Daryl crashes his lips to yours without a seconds hesitation. You hum into his lips and Daryl can feel your tears drip down. He pulls away, to realize it was his own tears he felt. You grin happily, brushing away his tears with your thumbs.

"We're married," you say, quietly. Daryl feels his heart miss a beat and he can't help press another firm kiss to your lips.

It's decided the journey to deliver Laurent will begin tomorrow. One day of resting up and celebrating the newlyweds. You're the happiest Daryl has seen since you left to look for Rick. He keeps finding himself grinning to himself seeing you so happy, chatting with Isabelle and Sylvie and eating delicious food. Even indulging in a little homemade wine tucked away for special occasions.

"Hey, you," you whisper, winding your arms around Daryl's neck. You teeter on your feet, just a bit tipsy on the wine. Your grin is so happy and free, so infectious, Daryl grins back. "Having fun?" He shrugs.

"I like watching you have fun." He twirls a little piece of your hair. You frown, Daryl rubs it away with his thumb which results in a kiss on his finger tips. "I'd have more fun if we were alone," he murmurs in your ear, kissing the shell. You smack him lightly on the shoulder and giggle.

"This is a house of God, Daryl." He shrugs at your teasing. You rock back and forth between your left and right foot, fingers twisting around the curls at the back of his neck. Suddenly, you look thoughtful as you gaze at him.

"What?" He questions.

"I just wish Carol and Maggie could be here, our family." You shrug, looking down. "I miss them, Jude and RJ, too. All of them." He kisses your forehead and gently lifts up your chin to meet his eyes.

"We'll have to have a party when we get back." Daryl kisses your forehead again, lips moving down to your temple.

"Yeah, ok," you say, nodding and smiling again, happy at the thought of celebrating with your family. "A nice party after our honeymoon."

"Honeymoon?" Daryl asks with a smirk. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Uh, we're in France," you say, a look on your face screaming 'obviously.' "We're going to Paris on our way to deliver Laurent, right?" Daryl nods and snorts.

"You think the Eiffel Tower's still standin'?" You drop your hand from the back of his neck to poke his side, a shocked expression on your face.

"Don't burst my bubble! Of course it's still standing!" You exclaim. Daryl concedes and nods, lifting his hands palms out to put them in a surrendering stance. "I've always wanted to go to Paris. I never imagined I'd have a destination wedding."

Daryl never imagined he'd have a wedding in general. Never thought he'd find someone so loving and amazing as you. As Daryl gazes lovingly into your eyes, hands spread out on your back, he knows he's made the right choice.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x you #twd #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon oneshot #the walking dead: daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl imagines #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon fic

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zialltops · 12 days

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honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

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You chance a glance over at the outlaw in the driver's seat while he scans his surroundings like he’s done this before, the rear view mirror and the road ahead never leaving his sight. “What if they catch up to us? I don’t want to get arrested, Joel!”

a/n: howdy folks! I’m pulling my head out of my ass and getting back into writing. These last few weeks have been leveling put for me and I’ve been feeling a lot better compared to how my life HAS been. These two were the perfect break even though this took my two whole months for only a few thousand words. I’ll be back sooner than last time with an update, but you’ll see me before then for another wip. Much love, hayhay 🤍

Chapter 8: What Was I Thinkin?

Three hours ago, if you asked Joel how the night would come to its end, he’d tell you he’d probably be in the cabin, laying in his cold bed, staring up at his ceiling fan, alone—with his right hand working his dick to the tune of the farmer’s daughter. In fact, three hours ago, he’d told Tommy something similar.

“Joel, man—I promise It looks fine.”

He adjusts the buttons on his shirt another time, stuck between leaving one undone and letting the opening linger down his chest. “Fine ain’t gonna cover it, Tom—ain’t no way in hell I’m walkin’ up to her lookin jus’ fine.” Tommy huffs from behind him and starts to go through the closet beside Joel while he stares at himself in the body length mirror behind the door.

“What about this one?” Tommy beams, He’s holding up a black shirt on a hanger, slight dust on the shoulders from it’s lack of use. He’s half surprised the moths haven’t gotten to it yet. Its buttons are made of iridescent pearls that snap in place, labyrinthian embroidery adorning the breast pockets. “Ain’t worn it since before the accident.” He lifts one of the sleeves in his hands, lingering on the fitted cuff.

His mind takes him back to half forgotten nights under neon lights, long neck bottles and ropers calluses on his rodeo-worn hands. To money wasted on buckle bunnies and broncs, to years taken off his life under the sharp hooves of a one ton animal—years he’ll never get back. Years he wishes he’d never taken for granted.

He was a more confident man then, not cocky—but proud of his abilities in the arena, proud enough to walk tall, speak surly. He was a master in his sport because he trained religiously, fully immersed in the idea that this was his only shot at making it. He still believes that, even now. He wishes you could have met him then, when he was that Joel—Rodeo buckles and spurs, cowboy hats and stadium lights. When he was a white straw hat and chaps, an unsullied grin with a thirst for adrenaline and belt buckles.

He holds the black cotton between his well worked fingers and longs to be that man again—if only for one night. Would you like him? A cowboy in his prime with worked muscles, before his beer belly and the softness in his chest really set in? “This one’s good,” he huffs, brushing the dust off the shoulders before unbuttoning it enough to remove it from the hanger. “Lemme help you.” His brother offers. Joel’s not naive, he knows the fear is visible atop the surface of his flushed skin, in the deepened frown lines and the shake in his hands.

Tommy is a lot of things, but once in a while he softens around his selfish edges and he bends a little, reaching out for the weeping limbs of his brother, struggling with all his might to keep himself standing up straight in the storm, a resilient and irrepressible figure to look up to. Tommy sees the way the longing shines through the perforations in his irises, the way his shoulders slump with oppressive burden—and he takes pity on the older man. “I’ll wash it real quick while you shower. It’ll be good as new, fresh outta the dryer by the time you're done.” He looks up at Joel, who’s still transfixed in the forgotten token of his former youth, of the man who he used to be. Items he’d left in storage down in Austin that Hank had so graciously shipped to Jackson.

He almost wishes he’d never gotten it all back, it was easier then—to hide from who he was when he wasn’t reminded of his past every single day, but once in a while—that reckless, spotlight chasing cowboy grasps for the surface. And tonight? Tonight is your birthday, the town dance, where you’re going to be, probably looking like something Joel doesn’t have a shot in hell with. It’s your damn birthday and he wants to ask you to dance but he’s not sure the fee quick dance lessons he got will suffice. What if he stumbles? Steps on your pretty little feet? Drops you?

“Joel—“ there's a snap in front of his face and he pulls himself out of the chaos inside of his mind. “Man, you are loosin’ it. I’ve never seen you this wound up over some girl—“ his eyes snap up to his brothers and he huffs lowly. “She ain’t just—some girl. She’s Hank and Lou’s daughter, people I think of as family. She’s smart and resourceful, sometimes a little reckless but she makes me feel like…like I’m alive for once.” Tommy sets the black shirt down and sit on the side of Joel's bed. Beside him, Joel's weight sinks onto the mattress. “M’gettin’ old, Tom. I don’t have a lot of good years left in me and I don’t know if I’ll ever have a opportunity like this again.”

Tommy takes a glance over at the distant look in his brothers eyes. “Opportunity?” Joel's eyes flick over and he sighs. He wishes Tommy had a little bit of what he had built inside of him, the innate goal of settling down, finding where he belongs and who he belongs with.

“At bein’ happy. Good memories for my restless nights.” If he fucked this up and missed his chance, he’s not sure he’ll have it in him again, if it will ever feel like this with anyone else. He thinks he’s done, thinks you’re it. He thinks he could give you forever if you’d let him.

“S’that why you’re so messed up in the head? What, do you think she’s going to shoot you down?” Tommy’s voice picks up in pitch, offense used like a weapon to get his point across and Joel appreciates the gusto. “Think I’m gonna go home alone tonight. Think it’s just gonna be me and the crickets and this damn hand again, dreamin’ bout how damn sweet she is.”

Tommy’s hand reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt and he retrieves a silver flask, offering it to his older brother who takes it with unsure fingers. “Just be yourself, man. Walk up to her like you belong there. Just need a little bit of confidence, don’t let her think you’re second guessing yourself. I don’t know her like you do—but I know that girl is more than willing when it comes to you.”

Joel takes a long swig of rot-gut whiskey, lets is sink into his bones and find the will to drag himself into the shower and wash away the saw dust lingering on his skin from the floor of the dance hall, ease some of the soreness in his knees and back from learning how to dance.

When he’s finished, there's a clean shirt and a flask laying on his bed. Joel finishes off the whiskey before he fastens the first button.

Liquid courage is the only thing that gets him to town.

He’s everywhere—everywhere. His hands burn on your thigh, on your hip where they dig in just a little too roughly when he pins you to the wall beside the back door. The second it closed behind you, there was a desperation clinging to the early spring air, perforating the slight chill until it shimmied beneath it and took life in the form of heat dripping across your exposed flesh. It was sticky and hot, sucking you in like a vortex straight to the center of what your world revolved around—Joel Miller and his touch that feels like fire.

He tastes like alcohol and tooth paste and part of you wonders if that’s what's changed about him, why he was so willing to let go of his reservations in-front of half of the town. He’s been drinking, drowning his insecurities enough to throw himself at you bravely.

Will he still be this Joel when you open your eyes in the morning? Will he regret it?

His teeth dig into your bottom lip and your brain goes fuzzy, stars forming behind your closed eyes. Insecurities can wait until tomorrow, you decide. His hips press forward ever so slightly and the outline of his cock can’t go unnoticed, not with the way it makes the fabric of your panties drag against your clit tantalizingly. Behind your closed eyes, the stars morph into crackles of fireworks, filling your senses with bright pleasure and desperate desire to chase those lights into the night.

You hike your legs higher, trying to drag him into the delicious delirium with you. The movement pulls a guttural groan out of the broad cowboy. “Joel—Joel,” you need his hands to leave brands on your skin where they’ve touched you, setting fire to your soul. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” Is he crumbling like you, throwing himself into this very moment right here? Is he as desperate as you are? Does it feel like a travesty and a triumph? The yearning you’ve endured, for the victory of finally knowing what he feels like when he kisses the breath from your lungs.

It’s more than you know how to articulate—more devastating than you anticipated and yet—it’s still not enough. It won't be enough until his heart beats in time with your own and you feel him wrapped up in your body

His teeth dig into your jaw and your body reacts before you tell it to, searching for the release only he can bring you.

“Touch me, please—please, touch me.”

And suddenly, in the time it takes to flip on a light switch, he’s gluttonous, insatiable and voracious—a wild predator set loose just to turn on its careful handler. The only thing that comes to mind, in comparison, is a pack of wolves frenzied to sink their teeth into the supple flesh of their prey.

In your case—Joel is the starved pack—and you? You are but an unsuspecting doe, practically sacrificing yourself to his uncontrollable famine.

Those thick digits, adorned with callouses earned from laborious work, hastily push aside the fabric of your dress in search of your covered center. He feels so fucking good when those digits push their way past the hem of your panties and he gasps against the shell of your ear. Like it feels just as good to him, letting the pads of his index and middle finger tease the seam of your lips before slipping between and dragging those rough digits over your hardened clit. It’s all the built up want, longing, needing that makes him feel so other-worldly, you’ll never experience something like this, the rush of relief to finally be his.

His fingers dip lower, searching for the source of all this slick adorning his knuckles, when his thumb drags idly over your already sensitive clit. Its like an electric shock straight to your sternum, arching you forward in search of anchorage to this reality altering interaction. There's a hint of alcohol swimming behind your fluttering eyelids, but his shuddering groan is sickeningly sobering. You want to say something, tell him how good he makes you feel, but the words bubble up in your chest and hang in your throat in the form of a silent sob, your mouth hanging open and your toes curling against your shoes.

“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” Where the hell has this Joel been hiding? He’s never been so vulgar, so vocal and confident in himself. His fingers tease the soft ring at your opening, smearing slick around on his fingers when he leans against your front to press his face against your heaving chest and neck. His fingers plunge in—and your body jerks against his solid form. He lets you shudder and tighten up against him while his thumb moves steadily, never coming off the peak of your nerve—locked on it with such perfected percussion that there is no jerky catch, just steady—drowning pleasure. His rough pant of breath paints your shoulder in sticky warmth and your thighs tighten around him, begging to draw him into your desperation.

“She’s just cryin’ for me, ain’t she, Honey?” His drawl sounds like sweet tea on a hot summer afternoon, like your sight set on the Austin sunset from the seat of an old saddle, driving cattle through tall grass and endless horizons.

Being touched by Joel Miller feels like coming home.

He finds a steady pace, working his fingers in and out, each drag punctuated by the ridges of his knuckles and the rough pads of his finger tips. Just faintly, you can make out the wet sound your sex makes every time he fucks his fingers into you intentionally. Its instantaneous the way heat blooms in your pelvis, knotting up in your stomach until you’re so overwhelmed, you’re trembling in his grip. “She’s so fuckin’ greedy, pretty little cunt needs to be stuffed, don’t she? G’damn, you’re quiverin’—you gonna cum f’me already?” His words are like a dirty secret, never meant to be revealed—knowing exactly what kind of storm that truth would bring. Let the rain pour down, let the thunder crack and the gusts rip the apprehension from your bones—because Joel Miller wants you and you’ve been waiting for this moment for two years.

You’ve imagined this a million times, slipped your fingers between your legs to the mere idea of this revered and dignified southern gentleman—more once you’d put a face to the elusive cowboy. No matter how deeply you lost yourself to your imagination, none of it will ever amount to the way cold brick feels against your exposed back, the way denim jeans ruffs up the insides of your smooth thighs, the way a felt Stetson bumps against your temple when his fingers curl against a spot inside of you no man has ever found, dragging the air from your lungs, robbing your vocal cords of their melody. With your eyes rolled back and your desire strung tight, you manage to string together enough sound to produce words.

“Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum! Please!”

A third, assured finger slips in right beside the other two and slam forward, sending you spiraling down that one way path towards pure ecstasy. His fingers curl again and his thumb quickens, pushing you up and up until you’re sure you’re about to melt through his finger tips, a weeping puddle at his feet. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.”

His command is your saving grace, the final twist that undoes the well wound rope holding you together. A variation of his name rips from your throat and consumes the space around you, invoking a bright euphoria that shrouds every nerve ending you possess. He doesn’t even know what he’s just subjected your body to—a life altering experience that you will never be able to recreate with another person. “S…s’the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” is the only thing your mind conjures up once you’ve come down enough to speak. He’s still holding onto you, slowly slipping his fingers out and letting you down with a satisfied chuckle.

“Wunna taste you,”

How will you handle another assault from that honed attention? How will you ever unsee that unruly tousle of curls between your thighs?

He doesn’t give you long enough to form a protest before he’s rushing you through the parking lot, a determination in his step that you’ve never seen. He’s surpassed the point of antsy when he yanks open the passenger door and finds leverage on your hips to hoist you up, then toss you down on the torn upholstery. You should say something—tell him to slow down before you pass out from the burn of his hands—but fuck you don’t want him to stop, consciousness be damned.

Instead, you watch him set his cowboy hat on the dusty dashboard, the silver trim of the band shimmering with luster in the golden street lamps. He drinks your body in visibly, relishing in every curve and inhale of breath. When his vision finds yours, they are nearly black with desire—his pupils having consumed every inch of bourbony brown. When his big hands find your thighs again, the resistance bleeds away and gives way to insurmountable, greedy hunger.

“C’mere, girl.” The hands on your thighs dig into the flesh, leaving finger shaped dimples in your sensitive skin. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.” Jesus christ.

If your friends could see you now, they’d all laugh at how easy you are, but right now—it’s just you and your cowboy—you’ll never be anything but easy for him.

His hands move with fever, hastily pushing your dress up your hips. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” That same ferocious want consumes you, possessing your hands to work on their own accord, helping Joel shimmy your panties down your thighs and over your heels.

You have enough time to register the way he stuffs the black lace into the front pocket of his wranglers before that head of his is forcing its way under your dress. He spreads your legs easily, pushes and pulls with his hands until his mouth seals over your clit, drenching your nervous system in blinding heat.

He’s good, so good at this. His tongue slides through your dripping folds with a tedious, monotonous rhythm. He’s licking for a taste, for his own glutinous thirst based on the way he groans and sighs against the softness of your lips. His eyes flick up at the same time your body starts to quiver, trying to adjust to so much honed desire narrowed in on you. “J-Joel, please don’t st-top.” Your eyes start to leave his in favor of rolling back in your head when your chest arches out, searching for a breath of sobering air, for something to hold onto so you don’t crumble apart. “Feels so good—you feel so good.”

His mouth closes over you and he sucks, pulling your clit against the smoothness of his tongue as he flicks it over and over, soothing the sensitive bud, while actively robbing you of any coherent train of thought. The only sounds that leave your lungs are sharp gasps and whines, fueled by the low groaning sound he’s muffling between your thighs. He releases you and your body reels, drawing in breath after breath to catch up with your racing heart.

“Wunna split this little pussy open on me,”

Oh fuck, oh fuck fuck—fuck.

You have long enough to gaze down at him, watching as he slides the flat of his tongue through your lips, over the sensitive bud, before your head is dipping back again.

“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” you heave and he pulls away completely, shocking you into a mewling, whining mess. “You got what, baby, use your words.”

Your body bares down on nothing, /wish he would just give it up already, unbuckle that belt, push down those wranglers and fuck you like you deserve. Joel grunts while he watches, letting it rumble through his whole body. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”

His whole demeanor shifts, alternating from this brazen, confident cowboy to the man suddenly lost between your thighs, sucking and slurping, licking and moaning to himself. He’s gutless, starving and desperate, he whimpers when you squeeze your thighs and cry his name, holding on tight until the flash of blue and red and the sound of a loud voice rips him from his mission.

“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”

Joel rips himself away from your body before you even have a chance to cover yourself. “Fuck-fuck,” he looks around sharply, eying the lone officer in a tan blazer with flashing lights fastened to its hard top. The sheriff has a light in their hand, leaning over the side of the blazer. You manage to pull your dress down and scoot back, trying to hide yourself from the light shining on the two of you.

Joel's gaze falls away from the officer, parked behind the truck, blocking it in. Instead, he looks forward, into the clearing in front of the parking lot, half lit by the street lamp. His jaw clicks and he looks set on whatever is going through that big brain of his. “Put a seat belt on.”

What?

Joel grabs his hat and slides across the bench seat quickly, slamming the door behind him. He makes it across you and throws himself in front of the steering wheel, finding the ignition quickly to turn the keys in the shaft.

The chevy roars to life at the same time that he slams the gear shifter into drive and plows over the parking block. Before you have a chance to register what's happening, the blue pickup is sliding through mud and grass, leaving tire tracks in the field as he cuts through it towards the highway.

“Joel, what in the—fuck!“ you shout, reaching up for the oh-shit handle, while the other hand reaches for the solid form beside you, grasping him by the bicep as he snorts nervously. “Just—calm down for a second, we’ll lose ‘em.”

Your heart races and your nerves radiate through your entire body. You’re a good kid, you’ve never ran from the cops before, never been in trouble for crying out loud. You did your best in school, tried to make your parents proud despite your small side of rebellion. And yet, here you are—trying your best to hang on while he cuts corners and runs stop signs, old alleyways and back roads through the thickets. The truck roars past speed limit signs, loosing rodeo flyers pinned to telephone poles when he slams the gears—orange papers fluttering in the settling dust.

He snorts, taking another random left and speeding down the street. “Ain’t gonna get arrested, honey. Just trust me.”

Trust him? How could he even ask you that, like that wasn’t what this was all along. You trusted him like you trusted the sun to set and rise again, like you trusted the birds to sing and the rivers to run—you’d trusted Joel with your family’s dream and he never let you down.

Somewhere along the way, you lose the ability to fight off your grin, Joel manages to leave flashing red and blue in a cloud of dust. He cuts through a group of trees leading into a clearing and shuts off the lights. He drives by moonlight, effectively covering his tracks and making his way onto another road, leading up the mountain towards the ranch. He pulls off another dirt road that is cut out along the side of the hill, but he isn’t in as much of a hurry as he was before. He takes a last left, bringing the truck to the edge of the hillside that overlooks the entire town of jackson—from the dance hall—to the bar—to the red and blue set of lights on the south side of town, still looking for you and your cowboy.

The world grants you a few silent moments to catch your breath, before it completely robs you of tingling in your muscles, the conscious connection between the two of you. The reality of being truly alone with him is sobering, with nothing but the trees and the wildlife to offer a distraction.

Now that the air has cooled and your heart has finished pounding in your ears, you can make out the faint hum of the stereo, the FM dial lit up by the soft glow behind it. The station is still the same as it was when you were a girl, riding in your daddy’s pickup, playing old country music like it did in the days of your youth.

Now, it rings in your ears with the nerves seeping into your bones, settling into an uncomfortable dust. Right now, of all times? Anxiety has to claw up your chest and wrap around your throat while his saliva is still drying on the inside of your thighs?

Fuck, his beard is still glistening in the green-glow of the stereo.

“You’re starin’ at me.” He says almost quietly. You expected him to tease and flirt, maybe boast, but his voice waivers halfway through and you start to pick up on his slight nerve. Under all that charm and intensity is starting to give way to a much more vulnerable Joel—a man you know all too well.

“You’re just, uh—“ you swallow thickly and try to find the courage to meet his deep brown eyes. “Your beard is…wet.” When you do find his irises, his mouth picks up in a half smirk. If he’s as scared as you are right now, he’s doing a good job of hiding it. He’s giving it everything he’s got to hide it from you.

It’s been so long and you need this. Need to be touched, appreciated, worshipped.

The look in his eyes tells you that he’s eager to kneel.

“And who’s fault is that, hmm?” That sweet, sultry accent drags you in, sliding closer on the seat until you're nearly tucked into his side, leaned back against the seat while he looms over you. He’s still nervous, you can see it floating around in his dark eyes, but his jaw clicks like he’s trying to rein something in.

Silence falls upon you once more, but unbeknownst to the cicadas and the crickets, your dancing gazes say everything you need to hear. His eyes drop to your lips and yours to his. His tongue peaks out unconsciously, wetting his bottom lip ever so slightly—like he’s tasting you there.

His mouth clicks shut and it's then that you glance up. His eyes are back on yours, suddenly so much softer with a lulled arch to his eyebrows. In the depths of his eyes you find renewed hunger, fire burning in those pools of smooth chocolate. Your body relaxes, succumbs to the form of his plains of muscles adorning his body. When you tilt your head up to him in offering, you sink so deeply into those dark pools you can nearly taste the sweetness of him like velvety candy melting against your taste buds.

“Joel—“ you choke out, deciding then that if he waits a second longer you’ll suffocate.

There's things about this life that can never be stopped, inexorable phenomenons that are unavoidable. The seasons will always change. The storms will always come, lightning will always strike. The days will always end and the sun will rise again on the next.

And Joel Miller will always, always break when you say his name like that.

He falls into you with a sharp intake of breath, crashing his mouth against yours with surprising accuracy. It’s so easy to let him take over with the perfect combination of rush and savor he puts into the way he envelops you. His mouth is soft, but persistent, wrapping around your bottom lip when he sucks it between his teeth for a soft bite that makes you want to live in this moment forever.

You nearly do because you get absolutely lost in kissing him, you don’t protest when he leans you back on the bench seat, you don’t put up any sort of fight when he spreads your thighs with his wide hips. When his hands grip your knees, you know you’re completely done for.

He pulls away from your mouth and his eyes find yours in the low green glow and there, you find everything you’ve ever longed for.

“I…I think,” Joel shifts, looking down at his hands like he’s just woken up from sleep walking straight into your heart and soul. “I think I should get you home, s’gettin late.”

Late? Your poor muddled brain cannot keep up with how quickly he fades in and out of doing anything to have you, to be terrified to touch you. How quickly he slips into a starved desire to shaking in his boots.

Not for the first time, you wish you could reach right into his brain and pull out whatever it is that makes him think you don’t want those rough hands all over your bare body. He’s already had a taste of you, already kissed you—what more could be standing in his way?

“Home? Joel, we were just getting started—“ he clears his throat and sits up, trying to slide away from you but your heels dig into his tailbone and drag him back. “Started down a road we both know only leads to nothing but trouble and regret.”

What, the, fuck?

“I’m—you think this is a bad idea?”

The uncomfortable air settles back in between you and your legs around him loosen. “Think you're going to realize really quickly this ain’t what you want and this—I’ve got…too much on the line.”

He has too much on the line? What about the ranch? Your childhood home about to be lost to the bank? What about the dance hall where he’s built a new floor to make you smile? Does it all wash away with his assumed doom?

“What are you saying? This…this was a mistake? Joel I still have your fucking spit drying on my pussy and you—you regretted it already?” The realization feels like a dull blade straight to your gut, forcing it way in and twisting you from the inside out. It burns with shame and agony and you pull yourself out from under his sturdy build.

“I didn’t mean—I regret anything, fuck knows I don’t—“ no, no. You’ve given this man so much of yourself, committed so much to be thrown around and have your feelings stomped on.

“Then what the fuck does it mean, Joel! You—you made me cum while telling me you wanted to stuff my cunt but now you think this is…” you have a realization then, that maybe—just maybe, he does actually regret it. What does he think, you’d turn around and throw him out on his ass? If he truly thinks that low of you then maybe…

“This was a big fucking mistake.” You say coldly, making up your mind as you right your bunched up dress and adjust your fixed gaze on the passenger side window.

“Take me home.” It’s not a request.

It’s not an invitation, either, Joel understands as he watches you close the front door behind you later that night, settling his made up mind.

He presses his palm to his crotch twice and comes in his pants right there in the driveway, just like he knew he was going to.

And he feels like a fucking fool.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel the last of us #joel tlou #archive of our own #cowboy!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut

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lillaluna · 3 months

Text

back door ch.1

Pairing: Wriothesley x f!Reader

Summary: will he heip you find your way out or will he destroy you to the end?

Tags: modern au, heavy family relationships, references to beatings and physical violence, references to blood, deviations from canon, relationship hints, romance, dramma, everyday life, hurt\comfort, deth of minor characters

Heavily slinging his gym bag over his shoulder, Wriothesley leaned his hand against the loose wall. He looked down at his battered knuckles and smirked. The last fight had been surprisingly easy on him in terms of technique, but even through the sports bandages, his knuckles had hurt and were now slightly baked. But it was a small thing, because the pocket of his black trousers was warmed by the cash, which was much more than for the last fight.

Wriothesley looked at himself in the dirty mirror that hung on the wall of the room that was called the locker room, but in fact it was just a room, with an old bunk, a rickety chair and a sink with a dirty mirror.

The boy's face was lit only by a dim yellowish light, which made the black eye and busted lip look worse than it really was. Wriothesley ruffled his dark, grey hair with a healthy hand, smirked at his reflection in the mirror, and left the room, which greeted him with the creak of the door.

Stepping out into the fresh night air, the guy shoved his hands into the pockets of his lightweight jacket. The weather was abominable, and judging by the fact that there were puddles on the ground, it had recently rained. Its last drops still glistened on the asphalt, creating mirror-like reflections of the streetlights.

As usual after a fight, Wriothesley began to think that he was lucky for the time being and that he should quit underground fighting as soon as possible. But it seemed like he was about to save up enough money to get out of this small, musty town, but every time that "about time" slipped through his fingers and Wriothesley went into the cage on Sunday for the umpteenth time, risking everything. But there was also a different fear from that of his enemies in the ring. He was afraid of losing himself in indifference. To become a monster, unable to feel joy, tenderness, love. His fighting spirit, his frantic thirst for victory, began to permeate every cell of his being, breaking down the lines between a winner and a regular guy.

He stayed there, standing on the edge between the destruction of a crushed opponent and himself, between light and dark. In his soul, the typhoon seemed to warp reality, cutting him off from communicating with the rest of the world, pulling him into his own abyss.

…

You ran down the street, panting. Your quick steps were lost in the deserted space, and the streetlights flickering overhead were like fireflies telling you where to go. Your lungs burned, but you couldn't stop, not now that you'd dared to run, when you had the chance. Your eyes filled with tears that rolled down your cheeks, seemingly against your will and you couldn't even explain why. Was it resentment at your stepfather for beating you? At your mother for not protecting you? From happiness that you would never come back to this house you called your own again? But salty drops rolled from your eyes in hail, covering your vision with a veil.

Your side stabbed, and you stopped, breathing hard. With your hands on your knees, you gulped for air, glancing around warily and straining to hear. You were like a hunted animal, ready to bolt at any moment.

The air was soaked with the scents of your surroundings, becoming more and more stifling. The smells of rubbish bins, mustiness and dampness wafted in. It all blended into one foul-smelling mass that haunted you like an insistent ghost.

Somewhere in the distance you heard the howling of police sirens, and you levelled yourself and held your breath, staring into the distance, trying to understand where the sound was coming from. It was unclear, but you didn't need to, you were already off and running, hoping to put the past behind you.

The unfamiliar streets changed one after another, not that you were watching where you were running, but even so you knew it was a completely unfamiliar neighbourhood.

The sounds of sirens drove you forward, adrenaline fuelling your heart rate and making you run faster and faster. You turned back while your legs carried you forward, and the moment you wanted to turn around, you crashed.

At first you felt like you hit a wall, but considering you didn't smash your forehead or break your nose, it was something much softer, but dense enough.

And then the 'wall' spoke.

"Hey, watch out…" A gruff male voice sharply bellowed.

You sitting on the pavement rubbed the spot on your face that you had hit the guy with, then looked up at him with a startled look. You blinked confusedly, like a doe in the headlight looking up at the figure far above you.

Wriothesley was standing at his bike, half-turned toward you, holding his black motorbike helmet in his hands, apparently ready to put it on, just until you slammed into him. His scowl and sharp look immediately softened as he realised who had made the attempt to knock him down.

Looking down at you, almost sitting in a puddle on the pavement, the guy stomped uncertainly from foot to foot. You were breathing heavily, staring unwaveringly at the guy in front of you. Worst-case scenarios were forming in your head despite the fact that despite his looks the guy didn't look like someone who could hurt you. Especially now that his gaze was noticeably softer.

Wriothesley silently put his helmet on the motorbike and bent over, silently offering you his hand. After a second's hesitation, you hesitantly reached out your wet palm toward the guy, and felt the gentle touch of his massive palm, which gripped yours tightly. Pulling you towards him, the guy almost brought you to your feet in one motion.

"You okay?" Wriothesley asked, looking at you carefully with his piercing blue eyes. His gaze lingered on the scar on your upper lip, then slid over the bruise that had just begun to fade, spreading from temple to eye. The boy returned to your frightened eyes, tactfully not mentioning the beating.

You wiped your palms of sweat and dirt on the back pockets of your jeans and shook your hair out of habit to at least hide a little of what your stepfather had adorned your face with.

"Fine," you muttered to yourself and in the silence that ensued, your stomach rumbled shrilly. You couldn't really remember the last time you'd eaten. I think it was… Friday? You'd visited a friend, where she'd treated you to pizza.

"Hungry?" Wriothesley cast a questioning look at you, picking up his helmet again. He had no intention of lingering any longer than this ridiculous situation demanded.

"No," you lied, wrapping your arms around yourself. Your stomach made a shrill sound again, actively protesting your lie. You awkwardly averted your eyes, away from the tall, and not to be hidden, handsome guy who was smirking.

"Suit yourself," Wriothesley shrugged, "I was going to take you to a roadside diner, but it's far enough away, but they make some great chops I'd sell my soul for," he tossed his head back dreamily, covering his eyes and smiling at the night sky, but then returned to his original position, "but I don't insist."

At the mere mention of food, your mouth filled with saliva, and you felt with every fibre of your soul that your stomach was about to explode with noise if you thought of refusing the invitation. Plus, the guy had mentioned that the place where you'd be eating was far enough away, which was exactly what you needed.

"You're not a serial killer, are you?" you raised an eyebrow and squinted your eyes.

"Depending on how many people you have to kill to be a serial?" the guy spoke with a frown on his eyebrows, giving his face as serious a look as possible. He was already pulling out a spare helmet before holding it out to you.

"Five times?" you surmised, accepting the item from the stranger's hands.

"Oh, no then," Wriothesley smiled a charming smile, after which he pulled on his helmet. You almost smiled, but quickly restrained yourself from the idea, after all that wasn't why you were here. Since that was the circumstances you could eat and get away, flirting didn't fit into that plan.

You put on your helmet, to which Wriothesley shook his head disapprovingly. He took a small step towards you, keeping his distance. His hands reached for the strap, which appeared to need tightening to make the helmet fit snugly on your head. Rough and strong, the guy's hands seemed almost made for destruction, but surprisingly Wriothesley's fingers, deftly and gently made a couple of quick manipulations tightening the strap just right. His every movement was precise and extremely careful not to damage anything. Your gaze caught a glimpse of battered knuckles with fresh bruises.

Not at all like a gentleman, Wriothesley acted purely masculine, offering you his hand and taking you onto his bike before getting on it himself.

"Hold on to me tight," the guy commanded as he put the key in the ignition.

In defiance, you moved further away from your unexpected driver. Then Wriothesley himself found your hands behind his back and put them around his waist.

"Hold on, I wasn't planning on scraping anyone off the pavement today."

After those words, only afterwards did you realise how much of a terrible and reckless venture this was.

…

As the waitress put the dishes you and Wriothesley had ordered earlier on the table, she glanced frowningly at you and the massive figure of the guy sitting on the other side of the table. You almost chuckled loudly, imagining what you looked like from the outside. A huge, compared to you guy with bloody knuckles and an obviously smashed face, and you, with a large bruise on the right side of your face.

"Is that it?" A full-bodied, stocky woman asked, placing a glass of juice in front of you.

Wriothesley threw you a questioning look, which you willfully ignored, waiting for you to start eating. Nodding to the woman the guy picked up the utensils and moved closer to the table.

A few minutes passed in silence. The space around you was filled with the sounds of the kitchen, the muffled singing of the radio, the occasional chatter of people sitting around you and the clinking of utensils on plates.

"Well," Wriothesley said, leaning back on the soft surface of the worn sofa. The boy watched intently as you happily devoured the chop you'd brought, which, by the way, tasted truly divine. "What would make such a young person go with a strange guy, not the most disposable looking, to the outskirts of town to eat at a roadside diner?"

You stopped chewing abruptly, almost choking on the meat that was still in your mouth. You sucked in air noisily through your nose, and with a loud clinking sound, you put the cutlery down on the white plate, which was smeared with the remnants of ketchup.

"Nothing," you snapped back sharply, taking your gaze away from the piercing eyes of the guy across from you, who was nonchalantly sipping the tea you'd just brought.

"Hmm," Wriothesley stretched out deep in thought, raising his bushy eyebrows, "let it be nothing, it's none of my business after all. And I think if I'd asked you what was wrong with your face, you'd have said you'd fallen."

"Yes," you said simply, throwing your hair forward deliberately, trying to hide your bruise.

Seeing how nervous you were, so as not to embarrass you any further Risley turned away to the large window that overlooked the road and was on the guy's left hand.

"Eat," Wriothesley commanded.

You would have liked to protest now, to throw the utensils away and defiantly refuse to eat, but you realised that you were in the wrong position now, and there was no telling when you would next be able to eat properly. So, a moment later, you took up your meal.

…

Standing on the porch of a roadside café you turned around for the tinkle of a bell, which jingled softly as Wriothesley stepped outside. He was walking towards you carrying a small box in front of him and as he neared you, the guy held it out to you.

"What's this?" You asked, looking sceptically at what the guy was holding out to you.

"It's a pie," Wriothesley replied simply, but with a smile, "thought you should try it." And after saying that, the guy forcefully shoved the box into your hesitantly unclenched fingers, and then went to his bike.

"Why are you doing this?" you blurted out, staring at Wriothesley 's broad back, covered in a leather jacket.

The guy was fiddling with something by his bike when he turned to you in surprise and gave you a strange look, examining you from head to toe. Turning back around, Wriothesley silently threw one of his legs over the bike and removed the footrest that the bike was leaning on so he wouldn't fall over. For a moment you thought you weren't going to get an answer, but the guy spoke up:

"I've been in tough situations," the guy put the key in the ignition, "but my advice to you is don't trust people just like that, they may have very different intentions."

The guy took his helmet and put it on his head before turning the key and the motorbike came to life, filling the quiet night street with noise.

"Thank you," you said loudly, trying to shout over the noise of the running engine, "for the pie," you shook the box you were holding, trying to squeeze out a pathetic semblance of a smile.

Because of the noise of the motorbike and the helmet, you couldn't make out the sound Wriothesley made, but from the slight shake of his shoulders and the way he shook his head from side to side, you assumed it was a chuckle.

Wriothesley stalled the bike again and took off his helmet.

"Do you have somewhere to go today?" The guy asked.

"I'll figure it out," you said, a little too playfully cheerful, "I've got this," you twirled the pie box in your hands again and twitched your eyebrows meaningfully. In truth, you didn't even have a rough plan of action and fear was spreading inside you. Your dream of leaving your home had come true, but as it turned out, you were completely unprepared for it.

"Sit down," the guy commanded, patting the seat behind you with his large palm.

You blinked in surprise and frowned.

"You just said not to trust people," you repeated, Wriothesley's words.

"Oh, sure, you can distrust me and stay in this lovely place. I think one of the helpful truckers will be sure to help you out," and without further hesitation, Wriothesley slipped his helmet on, preparing to turn the key in the ignition.

When you realised it, you took a quick step towards the bike, and a moment later you clumsily jumped on it, this time wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's waist more tightly.

…

As soon as you entered Wriothesley's flat, you had an immediate sense of comfort and ease. The studio flat of a typical bachelor is a small but cosy space where every detail reflects his personality and lifestyle. There were posters of bikes and bike parts hanging on one wall, fingerless biker gloves on a small table near the entrance and a worn helmet on the floor below that had clearly been in an accident.

The main room, which was the living room and bedroom at the same time, had an atmosphere of relaxation and freedom. A modern, large-screen TV took centre stage on the wall, with a PS 5 resting underneath. A comfortable sofa invited you to relax.

Noticing you looking round the room Wriothesley said:

"The curtains better not be open," the guy glanced sadly at the spot where in all likelihood there should have been a window, "the view is awful."

"It can't be worse than what I've seen every day," she mumbled peering into the small kitchen. You weren't at all surprised to see there, a mountain of dirty dishes, and a few fast food boxes that stood on the table.

"Here," you heard behind you and turned around. The guy stood holding out what appeared to be his own black t-shirt to you, "you can change in the bathroom," Wriothesley pointed to a room you hadn't even noticed initially.

You took the t-shirt from Wriothesley and went into the bathroom. It was small and narrow, but clean and tidy. After changing quickly you went out into the living room. Wriothesley was sitting on the sofa staring at the TV, he turned to you as soon as you spoke.

"Thanks," you said, "I feel much better."

The guy nodded and leaned back on the back of the couch and covered his eyes. You tightened your lips as you looked around the room, shifting from heel to toe in indecision. Biting the inside of your cheek, you softly treaded the cool floor with your bare feet and moved towards the boy.

Wriothesley sat in silence with his legs spread wide. From the outside you might have thought he was dozing. His chest rose and fell with his breathing, and his manly face remained impenetrable and peaceful.

You slowly approached the guy who was sprawled serenely on the couch. Your heart was beating hot rhythms, doubt and indecision enveloped your thoughts. Finally, you made up your mind and sat down on his attractive thighs, resting your palms on Wriothesley's firm breasts, the relief of which could be easily felt through the thin fabric of the burgundy longsleeve. A moment, full of tension, hung in the air as you leaned forward awkwardly, aiming for the guy's neck, emitting a pleasant and seductive male scent. Your breath shook and trembled as you touched your lips to Wriothesley's skin boldly kissing him.

He, feeling pleasantly confused, spoke in an unexpectedly soft voice without moving or opening his eyes.

"What exactly are you doing right now?"

You moved away from the guy's neck, and sat up straight dropping your gaze to your hands, which you rubbed your fingers with in embarrassment. Wriothesley returned his head to its normal position, he looked at you with an expressionless stare waiting for your answer.

"I… I…" you mumbled, picking at your fingernail, "I have nothing to repay you for your kindness except… Well, except," you sighed hesitantly raising your gaze to the ice-coloured eyes that were studying you, "well, you know."

"Thank you, that was enough," Wriothesley replied tilting his head to the side. He frowned, and then jerked forwards, and you almost fell backwards away from him, but Wriothesley swiftly picked you up under the armpits and set you on the floor as if you weighed nothing. "You can take my bed," the guy nodded towards the large, and seemingly soft bed.

"I'm not comfortable…" You started, but the guy shook his head.

"I often get insomnia," Wriothesley explained, "and the TV lulls me to sleep quite well, I don't use the bed much for sleeping."

"Oh…" You said grimacing and casting a wary glance at the bed.

"God," Wriothesley rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, "I wasn't talking about what you were thinking, I…", but after a half-word, the boy exhaled tiredly, "I've had a hell of a day and a hell of an evening, so lie on the floor, I don't care, I'm taking the couch."

With those words Wriothesley walked around you and made his way to the bathroom, from where the sound of the shower running could be heard a few minutes later. You took another look around the guy's small but cosy flat. And it clicked in your head how much had happened tonight and how you'd ended up here. Fed, clean, wearing a stranger's nice-smelling T-shirt that reached almost to your knees, and you were going to spend the night in a soft, big bed, in which you would be alone! Where did you get your karma so cleansed that you were so lucky? Even if it was just for one night.

You almost jumped on the spot, clenching your fists and opening your mouth in a silent squeal of joy, shaking your head a few times, then glancing around warily to see if Wriothesley had noticed. But the water in the bathroom continued to rumble, and with that accompaniment you walked towards the bed.

…

You were mindlessly flipping through the news feed on your phone, completely immersed in the virtual world. Completely confused in your thoughts and absorbing every line, you did not notice anything around you.

Opening the door of the cramped bathroom, a tall and exceptionally athletic guy in only black boxers walked into the living room. Visibly trim, with an engaging physique, Wriothesley walked over to the wardrobe. Of course you couldn't help but pay attention to what was happening right in front of you, and as the guy got ready for bed, you studied his body from a distance.

The scars. How many were there. You were creepily curious about where they came from, but you couldn't afford to ask about anything in person, despite the fact that technically, you were now lying in Wriothesley 's bed.

He was silently getting ready for bed, ready to fall asleep on the cosy couch. The determination was readable on the guy's face, in his eyes, in every muscle tense from being trained. You couldn't take your eyes off this manly sight, watching Wriothesley 's every move with a sense of awe.

"I'll charge you," the guy said with a cheerful note, tossing a pillow, and a blanket onto the couch.

"What?" You asked, coming out of your trance.

"If you keep staring like that, I'm going to charge you for such a barbaric use of my gorgeous body."

You opened your mouth silently, not knowing how to respond to this ridiculous accusation. Did you really stare that hard?

Wriothesley smirked at your reaction, and noisily collapsed onto the couch, making himself comfortable. After a moment, he switched on the TV and turned the sound as quietly as possible, so he could hear you without disturbing you. You put the phone away, and seemed to fall asleep almost immediately.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley

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silverskye13 · 2 years

Text

Do people know how hard it is to survive the apocalypse? No really, do they? Because Joel really, really rather thinks they don't.

"The Mezalian King is dead guys," he says to nothing in particular. The universe. The sky. Everything. "Get over it."

It was the apocalypse. The world ended, and also his heart was broken, and he lost everything. The Mezalian King, that is. He lost all that. Joel didn’t.

Do people know how hard it is to survive that, though? All the empires fell, everyone died, the end. That's how the apocalypse works. The oceans dried. The fields burned. People escaped, or they didn't. It was the end of the world.

Do people realize?

It's hard to survive the end of the world. It takes a lot of effort. You’re starting from nothing. Less than nothing, really. The sky falls on your head and you dig your way out of it just to realize, wait, everything’s gone? A lot more people die in the aftermath than the explosion. A meteor falling only strikes a single town. The shock wave shakes the earth for a few miles out of it. But that’s not all the damage it does, is it? What happens to everyone who relied on that town for trade goods? You can’t gather food, idiot, the one city that wove good baskets and made good tools is gone! That river you fished in has been so diverted by the mudslide from the shock wave, it doesn’t even give you water anymore.

(This is a metaphor. The end of the world wasn’t a meteor. It was two friends finally admitting they were friends. The effect was the same, though, in the end. Now there are no friends, because everyone is dead. Or gone. Or wish they were. Anyway, back to the metaphor.)

All the water is gone. Now you’re walking ten, twenty, thirty miles to find some in the low places of the world. What happens to all the people who can’t walk, climb, delve? What happens to all the people that can? Surrounded by monsters, and other desperate people willing to do anything to save their own, and you’re not their own anymore. What happens to the King, looking out at his shore, wondering how he’s going to provide for an entire blooming desert when water has decided because of some stupid prophesy it doesn’t exist anymore? He tries his best to rule, but he has nothing. You can’t give someone gold to heal a wound. There’s no apples to guild, all the trees are dead. Terracotta does a great job of getting in your eyes, your mouth, your blood, and stinging everything when it’s crushed to powder. All those alliances you made to fill the gaps your country couldn’t, well, they’re gone. Even the clothes off your back can only go so far.

It takes a lot to survive the end of the world. You rally your people. You inspire them with your stubborn grit, your insistence the world isn’t ending because you’re here! Obviously if we were all going to die, we’d be dead. Plot armor. He’s the Mezalian King. He doesn’t die, and if he does, he comes back. He comes back again and again. Don’t worry I don’t need food, I can, in fact, starve. I don’t need water. I can thirst. I don’t need medicine. I don’t need anything. Give it to someone else. Please, please, give it to someone else.

Can’t you see I’m fine? Take care of your bloomin’ self for goodness sake!

That’s... probably what the Mezalian King said. Joel wouldn’t know. He’s not him.

Anyway it doesn’t matter. The Mezalian King is dead. His heart was broken. His kingdom was in ruins. The world ended. He begged his people to stand together, to care for each other, to walk and keep walking. They fled their burning world to other Empires in similar shambles. They walked. They kept walking. They talked about their King who couldn’t die. How could he? if he died, they wouldn’t be a kingdom anymore. They wouldn’t be a people. So he’s alive. He’s walking with them. He’s insisting they keep moving. Fetch water. Make food. Build shelter. Live. Survive. Thrive.

He’s not a King anymore. He’s an idea. The King is wrathful. If you don’t pull your weight, he will haunt you. The King is sacrificial. We have plenty because he refuses to eat. The King’s heart is broken, so his people aren’t. The Mezalian King is dead. But he’s still here. They build statues of what he looked like, and those fall to dust. They build houses in colors as close to terracotta as they can. Those fall to dust as well. They don’t call themselves Mezalian anymore, but they remember him. It’s been years. Decades. Centuries. Eons. The world is unrecognizable. It’s gods, however, are.

"The Mezalian King is dead guys," Joel, a god of sky and thunder, says to nothing in particular. The universe. The sky. Everything. "Get over it."

It takes a lot to survive the end of the world.

#the barking writer #EmpiresSMP #empires s2 #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #mezalea #Sometimes one of the 80 ccs you watch says something that hits you like a meteor to the face

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guillotinebypierre · 8 months

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Joy was a woman on a mission. She was having issues with her relationship. Crush was horrible in bed and he was lacking in certain areas.

She was frustrated, sexually frustrated, and being that she was surrounded by attractive people all day due to her job as an idol, she lusted for other people.

One person in particular had caught her attention, though.

Y/n L/n. Also known as THE IT boy of kpop, the nation's celebrity crush, Korea's husband, every person's wet dream. He had many aliases.

Y/n was a soloist, someone 5 years her junior, but someone who practically the whole nation of South Korea thirsted over.

What made her believe that she had chances with him, you ask? Y/n had publicly stated that he only got into Kpop because of Red Velvet and when further asked upon it revealed that she, Miss Park Sooyoung, was his bias.

That and the fact that he was on his way to her studio right now in order to record a collab song with her.

Little did he know that Joy had a different kind of collab tape for them to create in mind.

Suddenly her phone buzzed, pulling her back from her train of thought.

"Ms Sooyoung, Mr L/n is in the lobby. I sent him up now."

After thanking her manager and telling her that she'd call if she needed anything, Joy opened her camera and did last minute 'fix ups' for her appearance.

*Knock Knock*

"Come in Y/n!", Joy screamed.

The door opened, revealing Y/n who wore a basic but very stylish outfit and a smile that made Joy all hot and bothered.

"Hi Noona, thank you so much for having me", Y/n told her with his husky voice while walking towards her.

"Aish we haven't even started and you're thanking me already", Joy replied while pulling him into a hug, making sure to press her breasts into him.

"Still it's an honor to make music with you noona. You and the rest of your group are the reason I'm here today, this is like a dream come true.", Y/n replied while taking his jacket off, revealing his big arms and veiny forearms and hands.

"Well let's get to recording then!", Joy replied while smiling.

Throughout the recording session Joy made sure to tease Y/n. She "accidentally" dropped her phone a few times, making sure to arch her back and show Y/n her ass while grabbing it again, dropping things and asking Y/n to pick it up for her, giving him a good look at her panties or bending down in front of his face and showing him her cleavage.

She also made sure to be as touchy as possible, grabbing his thigh or his arms before laughing when he told her a joke or sitting really close to him when helping him mix.

-time skip to when they finish the song-

"Woah noona I really don't know how to thank you.", Y/n told her while smiling.

"It's fine Y/n, seeing you this happy is more than enough for me.", Joy replied while looking at him.

"No really noona I feel like I have to repay you for this", Y/n replied with a serious expression on his face.

'It's now or never Sooyoung. May as well try it now.'', she thought to herself

"You know, there is a way with which you can repay me, if you insist.", Joy said while standing up and walking towards the door, making sure it was locked.

"I insist noona.", Y/n instantly replied.

"Well, you know Y/n, your noona has been having a few...problems...that have left her very frustrated recently. And she feels like you could help her relieve some stress.", Joy said in a sultry tone while climbing on Y/n lap

"B-But noona what about your boyfriend.", Y/n replied while looking her in the eyes.

"I don't give a shit about him, baby. Right now all I want is for you to fuck me.", Joy replied before grabbing Y/n's face and kissing him roughly.

His hands instantly made their way to Joy's ass, grabbing and massaging it, making her moan into the kiss in the process.

It was like all of his shyness and second guessing went away the moment Joy grabbed his face because now he was starting to become the dominant one.

His tongue slid across her bottom lip, asking for entrance, which she naughtily denied.

Sooyoung smirked into the kiss, not wanting to give in without a fight but also wanting to see what he'd do next. However, she didn't expect him to suddenly spank her ass.

This move surprised her, causing her to slightly open her mouth, which gave Y/n the leeway he needed to stick his tongue down her throat.

While all of this was happening, Y/n started to take off his partner's clothes, one piece at a time.

He struggled with her blouse, so much so that he just ripped it off her body- literally.

"I'll buy you another one noona", He said after quickly taking his lips off of hers to take his shirt off.

The atmosphere was just as heated as it had been while recording, only that now it wasn't due to work focus.

Y/n moved down from her lips to her jawline, then her neck, sucking on it, making sure that she'd get hickeys.

Meanwhile Sooyoung was in heaven. Her face showed a look of pure ecstasy, eyes rolled back into her skull and mouth agape, head tilted towards the roof.

Y/n travelled further down and took of her bra, now kissing one of her nipples while pinching and playing with the other one.

They didn't care that they were sitting on the audio mixer and risking potentially damaging it, at the end of the day either one of them could replace it if needed.

Y/n continued moving down, now itching closer and closer towards her hot core. He kissed her stomach, making sure to lick and suck all around her abs before diving down and giving her inner thighs the same treatment.

He looked her in her eyes before pulling down her now soaked panties with his mouth and finally diving into her.

Y/n masterfully used his mouth, latching onto her clit while using two fingers to pistol in and out of her soaked snatch. He slightly curved them, hitting her sweet spot and making his lover combust on the spot.

Not having had enough and wanting to make sure she was paid back for her feature on his song, Y/n continued stimulating her, now adding a third finger and also using his second hand to play with her nipples.

The wave of pleasure came down crushing Joy like a tsunami once more, resulting in her second orgasm in quick time, making her thighs, which were resting on Y/n's broad shoulders, violently shake and tremble.

Y/n took a step back and gave Sooyoung some time to recollect herself while also cleaning his face with tissues.

"Let me treat you now Y/n", Joy said while pushing him back onto the chair.

She crawled towards his lap, making quick work of his belt and with one swift motion took off his pants and underwear.

She was- quite literally- hit in the face with Y/n's cock.

"If I knew you were hiding this all this time I would've asked you for a feature sooner. No wonder they call you 'every person's wet dream' ", Joy told him while stroking his now fully erect dick.

"Baby can you take your phone out please?", Joy continued telling him while sucking his balls.

"How about you film this so I can show Crush how he should actually treat me in bed?", She told him while innocently smiling at him.

"Is it filming?", Joy asked

"Yeah noona", Y/n's voice could be heard from behind the camera

Not wanting to spend more time talking, Y/n grabbed a handful of Joy's hair in a messy bun and pushed his 9 inches down her throat. Her head bobbed up and down while loud gagging noises could be heard all the while Sooyoung displayed a large grin on her face.

She used one of her hands to play with her dripping pussy while the other one was used to play with Y/n's heavy balls.

Meanwhile Y/n was now the one whose face depicted pure ecstasy. Much like Sooyoung had done prior, his eyes were rolled back, his mouth was agape and his head, too, was tilted towards the roof.

He pressed Joy's head down on his dick, making her take as much as she could and held her there, only getting her back up after she tapped his thighs, indicating that she couldn't breathe anymore.

She came up gasping for air, her make up already smudged and chin full of a mixture of saliva and precum. She stroked Y/n's large, veiny rod while smiling at the camera before speaking.

"Hey baby. I have been very much frustrated with you and your performance in bed recently. You have not made me cum in years and your tiny dick is nowhere near enough for my pussy. This is why I called a senior of mine for help, you see, his dick is more than enough for me"

Joy smiled at the camera before sucking again, this time switching between deepthroating and sucking on the tip, swirling her tongue around his head.

"Noona I'm close where do you want it?", Y/n's husky voice could be heard from behind the camera again.

"I want it on my face, make me your slut baby", Joy replied before taking his cock into her mouth once more.

After a few minutes she felt him pulsating inside her throat, which meant he was close. Sooyoung took him outside of her mouth and started stroking him while playing with his balls.

"Come on baby, give your dirty noona what she deserves. Paint my face white with your hot, sticky cum. Make everyone know how slutty I am. Claim me as yours. Show that weak excuse of a boyfriend that I have how a real man treats his partners. Give it to me baby", Joy said while speeding up her jerking.

And just like that, Y/n erupted. Thick spurt after thick spurt, streak after streak shot out of his dick until all the semen from his balls had been splattered across Joy's beautiful face.

"Thank you so much baby but your noona still isn't satisfied. Lay that phone away and come pound this pussy please", Joy told Y/n

Y/n threw the phone away and made his way towards Joy, who was scooping up the cum on her face with her fingers and eating it.

He motioned for her to stand up and bent her across the audio mixer before sticking his hard cock inside her soaked pussy and ravaging her insides.

It was like her pussy was made for him as he felt every single fiber of her insides contracting around him. Her insides, hot as hell itself clung onto his cock and sucked him even further into her body.

He slammed into her body, making the whole table shake and her screams get stuck inside her throat, just like he had been moments prior. With every stroke he gave it was like a ripple effect went through her body, creating waves of pleasure that cursed from her core all the way to the neurons of her brain.

Y/n was crushing Sooyoung's insides, giving her the joy she had been missing with her boyfriend.

Any thought, any doubt, no matter how minuscule long gone, the thought of this situation being wrong long thrown away as no matter how wrong it was, it felt so right to them.

Joy's face once again displayed ecstasy, driven by lust, almost animalistic in the way she gave into her primal instincts. She didn't care whether or not they were caught, she didn't care if anyone passed by the studio and heard her screaming Y/n's name. All she cared for was that Y/n continued giving her the hardest back shots she had ever received.

Y/n, too, was in heaven. Joy's pussy was like nothing he had ever felt before. It evoked sensations in him that were foreign up to this point. It was like she was a fountain of dopamine, a gift that kept on giving.

The way her breasts swayed with every single stroke, the way her peachy butt jiggled with every thrust, the way she moaned his name, the way she sucked on the fingers he put inside her mouth, the way her walls clamped onto him whenever he smacked her ass, everything about the older woman in front of him screamed perfection.

Realizing he couldn't keep up with this much longer, he used one of his hand to play with her clit while using the other one to grab a handful of her hair and pulled it, making her look up at him.

He sloppily kissed her, sucking on her tongue and feeling her moan into his mouth. She came quickly and came hard. Her legs trembled and she almost fell to the ground if Y/n hadn't held her waist. Her pussy creamed his dick and her juices dripped down her legs. She tightened around his shaft, making it almost impossible for him to thrust in and out of her.

His cock started pulsating and Y/n felt a familiar sensation broil up inside his core. He knew he was close.

"Noona I'm close where-" "Do it inside me, baby. I'm on the pill. Just paint my insides white.", She interrupted him.

Y/n continued fucking her, his strokes becoming sloppier and more drawn out.

With one final stroke he buried himself as deep inside her as he could, gripping onto Sooyoung's waist for stability until he finally, with one loud moan, dumped all of his semen inside her womb.

Streak after streak left his dick, erupting inside her walls, almost mimicking the earlier scene. He painted her like a canvas and stayed inside her for what felt like eternity. It was so much that it started dripping out of her and down her legs.

After a good minute of staying inside her and hugging the woman, Y/n extracted himself out of her, leaving a steaming hole that leaked his cum.

Y/n fell onto the chair behind him, soon being joined by Sooyoung, who desperately needed to catch her breath.

"Noona"

"Yes baby?"

"What will you do with that video?"

"Oh I'll send it to him before breaking up."

"But won't he use that to blackmail you? Or send it to someone?"

"He's not stupid. It would hurt his pride too much if more people knew he had a tiny dick that can't satisfy his girlfriend. And if he for some reason does decide to send it to someone I'll just sue him."

The two lovers looked at each other before laughing, both at the absurdity of the situation they were in and at the fact that they had just turned a recording session for music into a different type of recording session.

"You know Y/n, I can still walk", Joy started before crawling onto his lap again

"How about you change that?", She finished before grabbing his face and kissing him again.

--3 months later--

"Korean Rapper 'Crush', who had been dating Kpop Idol and Red Velvet Member Park Sooyoung, better known under her stage name 'Joy', just released his new album 'Rush Hour' with the lead single 'Fuck You' containing direct disses and name dropping Kpop mega star 'Y/n L/n'. How will the nation's celebrity crush respond to this?-"

Y/n was back in the studio with Joy. This time not for a collaboration but for the recording of his response to Crush's diss. He wanted title it "Fuck You Too" and was just finishing recording the last few lines.

"-oh and just for good measure, you should ask your new girl how my dick tastes.", Y/n finished the track.

"That last line will definitely open up some wounds baby", Joy said while laughing.

"Well, he started it. Maybe I'll sample you saying he has a tiny dick on the next song if he decides to respond to this, who knows", Y/n replied while giving her a kiss.

He sat on the chair, yes, that chair, before sighing and throwing his head back. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, oblivious to the fact that Sooyoung had just locked the door.

She walked towards him and sat on his lap before talking.

"You know baby, how about we reminisce a little bit ourselves? I'm not frustrated anymore but I've still been a bit stressed the past few weeks with our comeback and whatnot. You think you can do your noona another favour baby?", Joy said while running a finger across Y/n covered abs.

"I think I have something in mind that could help you out noona", Y/n replied before kissing her.

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#kpop fanfic #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpopfap

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strwbrythoughts · 1 month

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i knew you'd come to me tonight | kaeya

After a night at the symphony, Kaeya finds himself asking you out on a date.

A/N: omg!! berry writing about someone that's not alhaitham?? unbelievable, absolutely impossible!! fun fact; kaeya was my og man to thirst for before alhaitham came :D rusty writing ahead!! GN reader, do let me know if I slipped up and used he/she/anything else that isn't GN.

Divider by @/osqrie

Kaeya didn't think he belonged in a place like this.

A reasonably sized orchestra ensemble was on the stage in front of him. Every man, woman and child were adorned in stylish and luxurious suits and dresses, topped with extravagant accessories. The crowd's eyes were glued to the performers. Only a few young children and teenagers - whom he assumed were forced by their parents to tag along - were dozing off, some even full on asleep.

He looked down at his attire. He always thought of himself as a cooler guy, with bolder fashion sense than a typical suit and tie. Of course, it mattered not if the people around him agreed with this personal take. He wasn't particularly bothered. If anything, the fact that he was dubbed as one of the two 'most wanted and sought after bachelors of Mondstadt' only assured him of the positivity of the public's opinion about him.

The orchestra eventually ended the somewhat upbeat piece. Applause from the crowd roared throughout the hall, but Kaeya wasn't contributing to the noise. He was adjusting the tie that seemed too tight on his neck. Even after decades of living in the Ragnvindr family's home, he still felt constricted in formal gear that he would call 'uptight'.

The crowd eventually calmed down for the final piece of the night. Most of the attendees of the show were here for this one performance. A special performance, accompanied by the beloved singer of Mondstadt, [Y/N]. Adorned in their most beautiful clothes yet, the audience once again filled the room with their cheers. Some, both men and women, were even yelling out their name, hoping for their gaze to land upon them.

The singer seemed used to all of the attention they were getting, but Kaeya swore he could see a glint of something else in their eyes. Perhaps it was the way their smile didn't reach their eyes. A shy person with a beautiful singing voice that easily captivated the nation's hearts, quite the interesting combination. He couldn't take his eyes off the figure on the stage, who scurried off after a few moments.

He decided that it wouldn't hurt to see that shy singer around. That shy smile never looked as beautiful on anyone else compared to on you. Feeling somewhat satisfied, he left the concert hall with a smile tugging on his lips.

Kaeya's boots clicked against the pavement of Mondstadt City's streets. Stood in front of the Knights' headquarters in no time, his keen eyes couldn't help but observe a rather unusual sight.

A person was hiding behind the bushes surrounding the building. He could see the cautious stance the person had while ducking behind the bushes. He couldn't help but chuckle at the comical scene he was seeing.

"Where are they?" "Ah, I could've sworn they turned here a moment ago!" A reasonably large group of citizens came into his view. Their eyes frantically searching here and there, for what - or who - he had no clue. He kept silent until one of them approached him. A man with blonde hair, presumably in his early 20's, started the conversation.

"Cavalry Captain Kaeya! Oh, what good timing to run into you now."

The captain narrowed his eyes slightly. "Is there a problem you might've gotten yourself into?"

The man shook his head eagerly, eyes lighting up before continuing. "Actually, no. But have you seen [Y/N]? We swear we saw them turning the corner here, towards the Knights' headquarters." As he ended, the group of citizens flocked over to the captain, eager for a positive response.

It was Kaeya's turn to shake his head. "I'm afraid no. You're better off searching for them elsewhere." He waved them off dismissively, much to their disappointment. The captain waited for their footsteps to disappear from hearing range, before approaching the occupied bushes.

He took careful steps, not wanting to alert the person. "[Y/N], is it? You can come out now. Your fans aren't here to chase you down anymore." He spoke with gentleness, none of his usual smugness present. The bushes rustled for a bit before the person in hiding decided they could trust this man.

"Thank you...Cavalry Captain. How...can I ever repay you?" [Y/N] couldn't even look into his eyes, but still wanted to repay him. 'How adorable,' he chuckled to himself. A genuine smile bloomed on his lips; he had the perfect idea of how you could 'repay' him.

"Before we talk about that," he began, "let's drop the formal title and just call me Kaeya, eh?" Your eyes widened significantly. That was the somehow the least expected yet most expected answer from him all at once. You nodded slowly, as if hesitant. That was good enough for him.

"A date, at the Angel's Share perhaps? We don't need to drink alcohol if you don't want to. My treat. What do you say?" He held out his right hand to you, lips shut tight. If you had observed him a bit closer, you'd notice the slight tremble in his hands. He was nervous for a reply. Your reply.

To his surprise, you put your hand into his. His smile broke out into a full-on grin. "Oh, I'm the happiest man alive in Mondstadt! Would you like me to pick you up?" You shook your head at that.

"I-I'll meet you there...8 pm?" Kaeya had no objections. The way he nodded so quickly at every word you uttered was probably showcasing his small crush on you.

"I'm looking forward to tonight."

He waved goodbye before entering the Knights' Headquarters.

The hands on his watch showed him the time: 7.58 pm. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. It was rare that a man so desirable and loved by many like him to turn up before the promised meet up time with anyone. Even Diluc was surprised to see him, if the way his eyes glared sideways at Kaeya was anything to talk about.

"What are you doing so early here? It's not the usual time to see your unsightly face here in my property."

"Ah, you're too cold-hearted, brother. Melt it down a little, and maybe you could score yourself a date...like me."

Kaeya's face was devoid of any obvious signs of emotion, yet Diluc swore he could hear the smirk in his words.

"Who?"

"Just the most talented person here...[Y/N]."

"Are you sure they will turn up? They're known to not show up on dates. Which, I don't blame them. I don't think they would like to spend alone time with a complete stranger that knows everything about me and keeps saying 'I'm your number one fan!'."

"Oh, I have the utmost belief that they will."

"Whatever you say."

Diluc huffed under his breath before turning back to clean the dishes behind the counter.

8 pm, 8.15 pm, 8.30 pm. Not even your shadow was spotted around the tavern. Seeds of doubt were starting to sprout in the captain's mind, but he ignored them nonetheless. It was a bit difficult to do so, especially with the burning stare of his brother shooting right into the back of his head.

With the intention to clear his mind, Kaeya stepped out of the tavern. Perhaps the cool breeze of the night could calm him down. He was sure. He was sure you would turn up. He was so sure...

But for what?

Now that he thought about it, why was he so sure? Technically, he was a stranger in your eyes. Maybe it was because he wasn't like your fans who knew every detail from the hairs on your head to the tips of your toes? Surely you would accept him; or maybe he was just overconfident in himself...

Huffing out a breath, his feet started to move and took him away from the tavern. His eyes were glued to the pavement, he didn't want anyone to see the sadness in them.

Out of nowhere, the sound of quick footsteps were heard. They seemed to come from in front of him, as if they were running. Before he could raise his head to see the commotion and possibly avoid it, he felt the impact of a body colliding with his.

"Ouch!"

The two yelped. As Kaeya had a pretty strong build, he wasn't taking the blow too hard. His eyes opened...only to see you. You looked stunning as you bathed in the moonlight.

He couldn't tear his eyes away, until you let out a small whine.

"Ha~ my outfit! I spent so long wanting to look perfect today, too..."

As you were complaining, you felt a pair of arms envelop you in a hug. Seeing the familiar dark blue hair was enough to tell you who it was.

"Cap-captain..! I mean, Kaeya..?"

"Oh, I was worried sick for nothing. I knew you'd come to me tonight." He spoke with so much emotion in his voice. You could definitely hear the dominant feeling of gratitude in his voice, mixed in with bits of relief and perhaps even...happiness? You felt your cheeks heat up, the heat eventually spreading to your whole face. Whatever he meant by that, it got your heart racing.

"Sorry I'm late. I was just..."

He kept his embrace on you. It wasn't tight, but wasn't loose either. If you had to describe it, it felt like a perfect hug. Almost.

"Kaeya, um...we're still sitting on the pavement here?"

"Oh, right. Silly me."

He snapped out of his trance, immediately letting go of you. He stood up before you could, holding out his hand to pull you up. You gladly took it. The both of you stared into each other's eyes. Perhaps, the love bug had bitten not one, but two today..?

A scoff. "What a great first date impression, brother."

"Oh, you absolutely didn't have to ruin it like that, Diluc!"

Thank you for reading!

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya x reader #gender neutral reader #berry writes

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