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tightjeansjavi · 4 months

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Forsaken, Forgotten Without Any Love

A/N: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. THIS FIC IS VERY DARK AND MAY BE TRAUMATIC FOR SOME READERS. PLEASE READ EACH INDIVIDUAL WARNING BEFORE PROCEEDING TO READ. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CHOOSE TO CONSUME. Thank you to my pookie @syd-djarin for betaing and the beautiful moodboard <3 this is for my June writing challenge lovers to enemies

word count: 15.3k

Summary: you and Joel Miller met in the springtime. You were as naive as a fawn, and he was a ruthless guard dog. You were willing to do anything to survive, and he could offer you protection for the exchange of your body and whatever else he wanted. The mutual understanding you had worked…until it didn’t.

Pairing | dark!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: ‼️DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT‼️GRAPHIC NON/CON, HEAVY COERCION AND MANIPULATION, VERBAL ABUSE, THREATS, TRAUMATIC VIRGINITY LOSS, CANON TYPICAL VIOLENCE, GASLIGHTING, MISOGYNY, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF WOUNDS, LANGUAGE, IMPLIED AGE GAP (READER IS OF VOTING AGE WHEN THE OUTBREAK HAPPENS), SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, THANATOPHOBIA (FEAR OF DEATH AND DYING) MENTIONS OF GUNS/KNIVES, SEX IN EXCHANGE FOR PROTECTION, NO HAPPY ENDING, HEAVY, HEAVY, HEAVY ANGST & GRAPHIC THEMES, readers nickname is little fawn, +18 MINORS DNI!

We met in the springtime when blossoms unfold. The pastures were green and the meadows were gold. Our love was in flower as summer grew on, her love like the leaves now have withered and gone.

Forsaken - abandoned or deserted

When you and Joel Miller first met after the world had gone to shit, and the home you once knew was no longer, it was springtime in the Boston QZ. The name Joel Miller rolled off the tongues of many residents of what remained of Boston. But who was Joel Miller really? Just another survivor haunted by the looming shadows of his past? A man hardened by loss, grief, and indescribable pain? Or was he more than just his brute strength, quick tongue, and menacing stature?

You never intended to find out what laid beneath his defensive façade, but like most things, it all happened…unexpectedly.

“I can’t.” You whispered solemnly through the drenched fabric of the bandana secured around your face. A makeshift mask to help with the constant stench of rotting flesh, death, and charred bones. It was one of the many grueling jobs the QZ had to offer, but it was not meant for those with a weak stomach as you learned very quickly.

He turned to you, a ghost of a scoff painted on his cracked and dehydrated lips. He barely acknowledged your presence with a slight roll of his shoulders. His piercing brown eyes hardened on your face, and then the culprit of your reason to bother him. A child, wrapped in a dirty cloth to be discarded with the rest of the dead infected, lay in the open bed of the truck, face covered completely.

When you opened your mouth to speak again, perhaps an explanation as to why you couldn’t dispose of the adolescents body, Joel Miller let out a grunt, brushing against your shoulder rather roughly. His arms tucked under the child’s limp corpse, lifting it from the bed of the truck with ease. He felt nothing, no remorse, not a lick of empathy washed over him.

“Move.” He snipped unkindly.

Your jaw went slack at his harshness, teeth grinding down and catching on the sensitive flesh of your inner cheek causing a burst of copper to ignite on your tongue. You stepped off to the side, body working on autopilot at this mystery man’s gruff command.

Joel could have shown that his latent Texas gentleman manners were not completely buried. He could have, but he didn’t. Instead he marched past you, carrying the corpse to the nearby pit. He paused, looking straight ahead with a dull expression on his face before he dropped the corpse from his arms and into the smoldering flames below.

He walked back to the truck where you were left dumbly standing looking like a lost lamb in all of this surrounding death. He wiped the dirt and grime from his hands with an old rag that was sticking out of the worn denim jeans that clung to his thighs like a vice. “Jus’ a word of advice, don’t let anyone around here know your weakness. They’ll tear you apart before you even see ‘em coming.” His unmistakable Texas twang reminded you of home, a simpler time when the world was normal and each day was promised, or so you used to believe.

“Thank you.” You nodded, reaching your hand out as an offering, an extension of friendship that sent his right eye twitching at your meekness.

“Ain’t a reason to thank me. Didn’t ask for it.” He eyed your outstretched hand suspiciously, eyes narrowed and brows tightly furrowed across his forehead.

You frowned, unable to conceal your immediate reaction to his denial of your kindness. Despite the world fucking ending, and your own losses, you were softer than most, and that made you an easy target. You were as soft as salt water taffy melting on someone’s tongue. Or the gooey center of a charred marshmallow on a stick. Joel Miller wasn’t accustomed to someone of the likes of you. You were foreign, something taboo—too soft for his liking. How the hell you managed to survive the cordyceps outbreak was beyond him.

He didn’t even give you the chance to respond when he abruptly turned on the heel of his steel-toed boots, and stalked off in the direction of where the ration cards for the day's work were being distributed. He staggered at an angle that looked mildly uncomfortable, especially in his lower back, and you could see that he favored his dominant side based on his gait. The words you planned to present to him died in your throat. You couldn’t help but feel miffed by his dismissal, but all the more intrigued to know what this grumpy, guarded man was really all about.

Every resident in the QZ had their means to get by in life. Some kept going for family, others for power and brutality—authority above all. Some were like Joel Miller; holding little value to their life, and spending their days drinking like a fish, and popping smuggled pills to alleviate the constant emotional and physical pain that they carried like a heavy burden on their shoulders. As for you? You simply were just trying to get by unscathed. Death terrified you, haunted you even in your dreams. Your survival was purely based on luck, with little to no survival skill sets. It was a fucking miracle that you had survived this long on your own.

That’s why you were the perfect candidate to join the elusive Fireflies. Marlene sought you out one evening before curfew in the QZ’s makeshift community circle. It was an open space sheltered between two buildings where residents could converse freely for a short period of time. Marlene and the Fireflies had one goal in mind; to overthrow FEDRA and liberate all of Boston’s QZ residents from the government's cruel and unjust authority.

Marlene could sense that you were weak minded and naive the second she laid eyes on you from across the way. The way you nervously fidgeted with your fingers in your lap, glancing around every so often as if you had something to hide. You stuck out like a sore thumb, the ugly duckling in a sea of normal…people.

The chair adjacent from where you were sitting scraped along the concrete like nails on chalkboard and your posture immediately stiffened at the sudden intrusion. Your invisible safety bubble had been popped, and there was nowhere for you to hide.

“Easy, friend.” Her tone was a complete juxtaposition to Joel’s innate harshness. Marlene’s eyes were kind, soft in the low light of the slow setting sun. You felt like you could immediately trust her, and maybe even view her as an ally? “Mind if I sit?” She gestured to the chair across from you, the same chair that dragged across the concrete and made you alert in the first place.

You eyed this stranger warily, glancing around before you meekly nodded, not finding your words quite yet. Marlene pulled up the chair, sitting down quietly with her forearms resting against the table in a casual motion.

“So.” She started, “you’re fairly new to the QZ, aren’t you?”

“…yes, how did you know?” You weren’t aware that you were sitting across from one of FEDRA’s most wanted, and the leader of the rebellious group known as the Fireflies.

“Sweetheart, I have eyes and ears all over the QZ.” She gestured to the surrounding area with her hands in emphasis.

“Really?” Your eyes widened slightly in shock and for a moment you were questioning whether you should get up and leave, or wait to hear what this woman had to say. “Are you…FEDRA?”

“No, not FEDRA.” She shook her head, reaching her hand out across the table in your direction, “I’m Marlene, leader of the rebellion, and commander of the Boston QZ Fireflies.”

Fireflies. You had heard the hushed whisperings of the ‘terrorist’ group that was at war with FEDRA. Sometimes there were calculated bombings, planned attacks, all for the cause of liberation and justice for the QZ residents—so you had heard.

You reached for her outstretched hand, giving it a gentle, yet firm squeeze before retracting your own hand back to your lap. You’re just about to tell Marlene your name, when your attention is stolen by something-someone. That someone being Joel Miller. He wasn’t alone. A woman walked alongside him, and from the angle you were sitting at, you could see his hand resting protectively against the small of her back.

His eyes were looking ahead, not behind or the area surrounding him. He was intently focused even as his companion leaned in close to him, her lips moving but you couldn’t make out the words. His chin dipped towards her, thick fingers flexing against that sliver of skin between the top of her jeans and the hem of her shirt.

You found yourself transfixed by his subtle movements, his natural authority permeating the small space. No one even dared to look directly at him, no one except you. He could feel a pair of eyes burning into the side of his face and he clenched his jaw tightly, cocking his head in the direction of the last empty table before he nudged his companion in that direction.

Marlene had said something to you, but you didn’t hear her the first time because you were frozen in your seat when Joel Miller’s piercing glare landed upon your face. He scowled, grinding his teeth together. He recognized you, that was a fact. But just as quickly as you had his attention for a fleeting moment, it was gone and he had sauntered off, taking the seat across from his partner.

Marlene watched the whole silent exchange go down from her seat. She observed your body posture intently, brow raised in curiosity. She leaned forward over the small expanse of the table, tone low, almost at a whisper, “do you know that man?”

You shook your head, meeting her curious gaze. “No—I mean, not really. He…sorta helped me out the other day though. I don’t have a strong stomach in the slightest and—”

An incredulous look crossed her face immediately to hear that Joel Miller ‘helped’ someone? She called bullshit immediately.

“Joel Miller did you a favor? That’s unlike his character. Only good thing that man has ever done is introduce me to his brother.” Marlene said almost bitterly.

So, that was his name. Joel Miller.

“He has a brother? Is he in the QZ as well? I guess…maybe it wasn’t a favor necessarily, but in my eyes it was.”

She nodded. “Yes, his brother's name is Tommy. He’s in Wyoming now. Tommy, like myself, was a firefly and Joel…he wasn’t too keen on his brother joining a rebel alliance. I tried to get him and his partner, Tess, to join our cause as well, but they wanted nothing to do with it. So, Joel and Tommy had a massive falling out, and Tommy left the QZ shortly after.”

“Marlene, when you said that the only good thing Joel has ever done is introduce you to his brother, what did you mean by that exactly? Is he…dangerous?”

“Sweetheart.” She started, almost in a patronizing tone, “he and Tess are the kinda folks you don’t want to associate yourself with. If you’re not careful, you’ll get caught up in their web. They ain’t good people. Did a lot of bad things before they ended up here. Killed a lot of innocent people and now they practically have FEDRA wrapped around their finger…most days.”

You mulled her words over in your head, falling into a silent thought of determining whether Joel Miller was who she said he was, or if he was more than just his past. You imagined he, like most of the surviving population, did what he had to do to keep himself and his kin alive. How could Marlene judge him for that?

“You tell me to look for the light, and I’ll break your jaw.”

His low, menacing tone rumbled like thunder in the distance, and the person he was addressing immediately scampered off into the shadows like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“Marlene, I mean no offense by this, truly, but didn’t everyone have to kill innocent people at some point to survive?” You couldn’t help but question her logic and reason to judge.

“Let me reiterate what I mean by that. You know what raiders are, don’t you?”

You nodded.

“Well, Joel and Tess were raiders at one point. Tommy as well, but Joel was the driving force of their operation. He was ruthless—still is.”

All you were hearing from her words was that Joel Miller was a capable man. More capable than most. He had a history of violence, and whether that was solely for the means of survival, or because he was a murderous, blood thirsty psychopath, did not concern you in the slightest. Joel Miller was exactly the kind of man that you were looking for. The kind of man that would lay down his own life for yours. The kind of man who would tend to your wounds, and then rip your enemies apart limb from limb, and then come home to you drenched in their blood; a badge of his conquest at exacting revenge.

Joel Miller was the type of man who would ensure your own survival above all else.

“If it’s protection you’re looking for, the Fireflies can offer you that.” Marlene interjected after you didn’t initially respond to her previous statement.

You chewed on your lower lip, gnawing on it for a moment feeling vulnerable and exposed when Marlene was easily able to read between the lines. You thought you were more discreet than that. More guarded, not a weak minded damsel in distress.

“What makes you think that I’m looking for protection?” You quipped back, opting to lean into the defensive side, rather than admit that you were in fact seeking just that.

Marlene stifled a laugh, briefly catching the attention of Joel from across the way. “You’ve been on edge since the moment I sat down. You stick out like a sore fuckin’ thumb, and I’m surprised that you haven’t realized sooner that you’re practically a fawn in the midst of a pack of wolves.”

Marlene was right. She hit the nail right on the fucking head. You weren’t cutthroat like Joel. You survived this long purely based on dumb fucking luck. Not because you were skilled with a weapon, or had fists of steel. You were not violent in nature, you had only killed when necessary, and you stayed hidden when trouble arose; much like a fawn in the dense thicket. Marlene didn’t need to know that you were seeking protection, that every night you lay awake fearing death and ending up pitifully alone; unloved.

“You don’t fucking know me, or what I need.” You hissed, finally finding your voice and standing your ground. You pushed your chair back abruptly, the bottom of it scraping on the concrete, and catching the attention of everyone in the secluded, intimate space.

Marlene shrugged at your defiance, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. She may have not been successful in this first attempt, but she got under your skin, and that was only the start of it.

Unbeknownst to you or Marlene, Joel had silently eavesdropped your entire conversation, growing stiff suddenly when he picked up on Marlene’s little ploy to manipulate you to join the Fireflies. You may have been a nobody, bare bones and all, but he’d be damned if another naive soul would end up wrapped and constricted in Marlene’s web of empty promises and lies.

Preventing you from joining the Fireflies was about to become Joel Miller’s personal vendetta, and you hadn’t a fucking a clue. As far as he was concerned, the only person in this entire shithole QZ who would ever get close to sinking their talons into your flesh, was himself.

He watched you storm away from the table, your fists clenched tightly at your sides. You feel someone’s eyes locked onto the back of your head, but you didn’t dare turn around to see if your assumptions were true; you just knew.

The following morning you and the rest of the QZ residents were required to attend a public execution before work would begin for the day. Three individuals were sentenced to death for breaking curfew, and attempting to leave the QZ without authorization. The three guilty perpetrators stood in a row, their faces covered with a cloth loosely draped around their heads so they could not be identified.

As the charges of the crimes that were committed were read out, you could feel your knees grow weak, and nausea bubbled deep in the pit of your stomach. Could you be next?

Joel Miller was in the crowd as well, concealed and aloof, but you could sense his domineering presence immediately, and he could sense you as if he was like a moth drawn to a flame. He imagined you couldn’t stomach the prospect of a public execution, and his assumptions were true when he saw you slipping between bystanders and fleeing towards the nearest alley.

He was quick to follow you, feeling more intrigued than anything when you scurried away like a little mouse. He took his time as he was in no rush, and well—there was nowhere else for you to go. He shoved his hands deep within the caverns of his jean pockets, his footsteps were heavy and calculated when he turned the corner to the alley.

You were waiting for him with your trusty pocket knife armed at your side, whipping around to face whoever had left the crowd to follow you. Your teeth were barred as if you were a cornered animal ready to attack if provoked.

He slipped his hands out of his pockets, holding them up so that you could determine that he wasn’t an immediate threat. His dark pools of brown locked onto your face and his head was slightly cocked to the side. “Easy there, little fawn. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He rasped.

You took a shaky inhale, palms beginning to sweat and your grip around the worn hilt of your knife began to slip from the clamminess. You took a timid step back, closer to the impending brick wall behind you. “Yeah? I’d believe that if you—”

“If I what?” He challenged, taking a step closer to where you stood.

“If you didn’t follow me here like a goddamn stalker, Joel!” You half yelled.

“Hey!” He snapped calmly, “easy. Don’t wanna be drawin’ any unwanted attention to ourselves, do we? And for the record, I do believe that you were the one stalkin’ me the other night.”

“Excuse me? I—I don’t even know you! Why the hell would you think I was stalking you?!” You took another step back, the hem of your shirt just barely grazed against the exposed brick wall.

“Oh, so that wasn’t you sittin’ with Marlene?” He questioned you dryly, shaking his head with a grin tugging on the corner of his lips. “It wasn’t you prying for some information on me? Guess I oughta go get my eyes and ears fuckin’ checked then…oh, wait! Can’t really do that, huh?” He scoffed, crossing his arms against his chest.

Who the fuck did he think he was?

“If I’m not mistaken, it sure as hell sounds like you were the one spying on me.” You quipped back, nearly stumbling when the heel of your boot made contact with the brick wall; now he had you trapped.

“No, you are mistaken. M’jus’ a real observant guy. Plus, sniffin’ out a snake in the grass like Marlene ain’t rocket science. She give you her whole ‘liberation’ for all bullshit?”

“I don’t know, Joel. Did she?”

He looked amused by your response, not expecting you to bite back so fast, but at least now he knew you had a little gumption to work with, but instead of indulging you in your insignificant win, he danced around the subject to catch you off guard.

“That’s a pretty dull fuckin’ knife you got there, little fawn. Ain’t gonna do much stabbin’ with it lookin’ like that. When’s the last time you got it sharpened?”

You did not appreciate, nor like how he effortlessly changed the conversation on you in a blink of an eye. You glared at him, struggling to hold your ground when he was nearly on top of you, one step closer and his chest would be pressed against yours.

“I think it’s more than capable of doing a considerable amount of damage to you if you don’t back the fuck up in the next five—”

“Yeah?” He pressed, looming over you like a shadow blocking the sun, “I’d love to see you try.” He snarled.

And well, you did. A pitiful attempt that he immediately saw coming. It took nothing for him to overpower you as if you were a helpless bug beneath his steel toed boots. The knife was yanked from your grip, your wrists pinned in one of his large hands like a dart on a board. His eyes were a shade darker up close and they were locked onto you.

“Now I understand why Marlene wanted you in the first place.” He snickered, “you really are that fuckin’ gullible.”

“Y—you don’t know shit about me! You think you do, but you don’t!” You tried to push against his chest, but he was like a slab of concrete or an unmoving mountain.

“No?” His eyebrows quirked upwards in amusement. Toying with your fragile mind and now wounded ego was easier than he imagined. “Think you’re wrong, little fawn. You’re pretty damn readable, and that ain’t somethin’ that you want to deal with ‘round here. You might actually be the most transparent person in the entire fuckin’ Boston QZ.”

“W—why are you calling me that?”

“Because, you remind me of a fawn. You’re meek, quiet, and…naive.”

You wanted to yell and scream till you were blue in the face, but what was the point? Marlene saw right through you, and so did Joel. Maybe…you could use this to your advantage, somehow.

He backed off you then, dropping your wrists from his grip and gave you the space to breathe finally. He flipped your dull pocket knife over a few times, brushing his thumb against the unsharpened steel with a light scoff and subtle roll of his eyes. “You can’t even kill a clicker with this thing. You realize that, right? What was your plan if someone else followed you back here, huh?”

He was making your head spin, all this back and forth bantering, and him getting under your skin was becoming too much. Why the hell did he care, anyway? Did he always prey on the weak minded? Or did you just happen to become his unfortunate target?

“I didn’t really…have a plan.” You said quietly under your breath, taking a moment to rest your head back against the cool brick wall.

“Good god, girl. You didn’t have a fuckin’ plan of action?! You really are a damsel in distress.”

“I am not a damsel in distress! You’re just some asshole that clearly has nothing better to do except prey on the weak minded! So, how about you just go pick on someone your own size!”

“So, you agree that you are weak minded? Yeah, Marlene sure as fuck would have had you wrapped around her fuckin’ finger and indoctrinated into her fuckin’ terrorist cult.”

“Sounds like you have a fucking problem with Marlene, and not me.” You attempted to walk away for good, but his palm reached out to stop you, pressing flat between your breastbone, leaving you both feeling surprised.

“Relax, would ya? I see right through your little tough girl gimmicks, and so does everyone else. I also happen to know that you, my dear, are terrified. It’s written all over your pretty face, and of what exactly? I can take a few educated guesses, but I think I’ve already humiliated you enough for one day.”

You were stunned into silence. Pacified by his words and the weight they held over you.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He concluded. The rational part of his brain was telling him to ease off and let it fucking go. Hell, maybe you wouldn’t fall into Marlene’s trap after all. The other part of him? Well, you can just imagine how it was telling him to proceed with tormenting you. “If it were anyone else that followed you back here, they would have the means to hurt you. And I don’t mean just by killing you, little fawn. You think that just cus’ we’re under the governments ‘protection’ that evil people ain’t just roamin’ around here freely lookin’ for their next meal?”

“Yeah? And are you one of those evil people, Joel?” If he was gonna go for your jugular, you were gonna go straight for his.

“Might be.” He shrugged indifferently. “If I had the means to hurt you, I would have already done it.”

He did make a fair point. He was a capable guy, and if he had ulterior motives to cause you harm, you would surely be dead already. Still, you were weary nonetheless, but also intrigued.

“Okay, so you don’t have the means to kill me and that’s great, Joel. I’m relieved, but I’m failing to understand…why did you follow me back here in the first place?”

“Because, little fawn, I have exactly what you’re looking for, what you need. No reason to lie to ourselves here, right? Especially when I’ve already got you figured out. You can deny it all you want, but I know a terrified person when I see one. You ain’t gonna last long lookin’ like a fuckin’ target to every passerby.”

“And what exactly do you think that I need, Joel?”

“Protection.” He stated simply.

“And what's in it for you?”

He thought about coming up with a lie, something that sounded convincing so you wouldn’t question his motives, but he chose the latter in the end.

“Means that Marlene doesn’t get to sink her fuckin’ claws into another naive person such as yourself. Less Firefly scum for me to deal with, and you’re too pretty to end up with a bullet between the eyes.”

Maybe it was the way that Joel Miller was looking at you like you were about to be his next meal, or maybe it was the fact that no one had ever called you pretty before. This guard dog of a man was the first person to ever truly take in your physical appearance, and man, did that feel fucking good.

“You think I’m pretty, do ya?” Your tone came out teasingly, mildly playful, and not what Joel was expecting from you at all.

“Christ.” He laughed, “is that really all you fuckin’ got outta what I was jus’ sayin? That I think you’re pretty? Don’t let that feed your little ego now, alright? That‘ll get you killed, too.”

You wanted to tell him that no one ever called you pretty before, but that felt too personal, too vulnerable. So, instead, you shrugged your shoulders and raised your brow suggestively in his direction. “I heard you loud and clear, Joel.”

“Good. Cause I ain’t gonna repeat myself.” He glanced around the secluded alley for a moment, mulling his thoughts over before he returned your knife to you with the blade facing downwards. His rough, calloused fingers brushed against your own when he returned the hilt of your knife to your palm. “For starters, let’s get that pathetic excuse of a knife sharpened.”

You nodded, tucking it back into your concealed holster around your waist. “Lead the way, Miller.”

He looked you over once more, brows tightly furrowed together, shoulders stiff before he turned on his heel and started to walk towards the opening of the alley. “Hurry up, little fawn. We ain’t got all day.”

You had just secured yourself your very own lethal guard dog, claws and all.

Up until this point, you hadn’t thought about the prospect of Joel Miller wanting to fuck you. In your mind, he truly was just inviting you to his shitty little apartment to sharpen your knife and send you on your way. You were beginning to believe that his little fear tactic in the alley was just his bark, but you were about to experience his bite very, very, soon.

He said no more than a few words to you, a few grunts here and there when you ended up rambling because you finally had someone to talk to. He acknowledged your existence, and that was good enough for you to at least be seen.

“Do you always talk this fuckin’ much?” He gruffed out from where he was hunched over at the kitchen table, dragging the edge of your knife along what appeared to be a large, flat stone.

“Sorry.” You muttered under your breath, sinking further against the old, musty couch that had seen far better days.

“Thas’ better.” He mused.

A man of few words…unless he wants something.

“It’s getting late…I should probably head home before curfew. Can we pick this back up again tomorrow? FEDRA is gonna start patrolling soon and—”

He looked up from where he was focused on dragging the edge of the blade at an angle against the stone to gradually sharpen it. The glare he sent your way immediately had your blood running cold.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually that fuckin’ naive to believe that my generous services are free of charge, little fawn.” He tsked under his breath, shaking his head in disappointment.

Maybe you were the naive one to follow the wolf right back to his den.

Your eyes widened, fists clenching at your sides when the realization that you willingly followed this…stranger back to his apartment hit you and sent the warning alarms in your brain blaring immediately.

“I—I have ration cards.” You meekly responded.

He cocked his head to the side, lips curving upwards into a wolfish grin. “My god.” He chuckled, “you really are that fuckin’ naive, huh? You think I’m doin’ this because I’m a good man or somethin?’”

“Well, you said that you—”

He rose from the chair then, the hilt of your freshly sharpened knife clutched at his side. His eyes stayed locked on you as he staggered forward, coming closer to where you were sitting on his couch.

“And you really believed in every word that came out of my mouth?” He questioned dryly.

“I—I didn’t see a reason not to, you said that if you wanted to hurt me, you would have already done it.”

“You’re right, little fawn. I would have already hurt you if those were my true intentions, but you’re so foolishly naive to believe that I’m doin’ this out of the goodness in my heart.”

You were frozen on the spot when he stopped at the edge of the couch, bending down to meet your eye level, towering over you in such a menacing way, you truly thought right then and there that this man did lie to you, and you were going to die at his hand. Your body flinched on instinct when one of his big palms came to rest against the wall alongside your head, while his occupied hand that was still grasping your knife stayed glued to his side.

“I—I don’t have anything else I can offer you, Joel.” You met his gaze, trembling when he leaned in closer.

“Don’t tell me now that you’re truly jus’ beauty with no brains, sweetheart.” He cooed softly.

Your lips parted open in shock as you began to read between the lines of the words coming out of his mouth. He didn’t want your ration cards, he wanted you, and not just a piece. He wanted all of you.

“There she is.” He preened, “Knew you weren’t all that dumb. Those gears in your pretty little head finally turnin’?”

You wanted to bite back, to snap at him so that you wouldn’t feel so fuckin’ small, but he had you locked in a trance right where he wanted you, and deep down…you liked it.

“…you want me?” You whispered through the thick growing tension.

“Mhm.” He nodded in confirmation. “You didn’t think that I just said you were pretty without havin’ some ulterior motive in mind, did ya? You’re the one who decided to trust me so easily. The second I confirmed that I didn’t want to hurt ya, you wrote me off as a good man. Well, sweetheart, I hate to break the pretty picture you painted of me in your head, but I ain’t a good man. I don’t have the means to hurt you, but I have every intention to take what I fuckin’ want from you.” His forehead was nearly pressed against yours now, hot breath fanning your face. “Jus’ remember that you willingly followed me back to my apartment, and take this as a warning to not be so easily swayed to trust a fuckin’ stranger.”

You swallowed the lump that was gradually growing in your throat as your flight or fight instincts were in full swing. You briefly eyed your knife in his hand, thinking that maybe…you could get out of this, but he would be quicker, surely. He’d overpower you in a heartbeat.

“I’m a virgin, Joel. Are you sure you still want me, knowing what you know now?”

He stalled briefly, caught off guard by your admittance. He thought that maybe this was your cheap way of trying to get out of this situation all together, but based on your trembling, and overall demeanor, he could tell you weren’t lying and he took some satisfaction in knowing that he was about to be your first; completely his.

“You think thas’ gonna stop me from wantin’ to fuck you, little fawn?”

You shook your head quickly and pressed yourself as far against the couch as you possibly could. “No—no, I—I just wanted you to know.” You squeaked out.

He nods, flipping your knife in his hand a few times while his other hand slowly drops to rest against the crown of your head, “if anythin’, it makes me want to fuck you even more now. Can take whatever I want from you, and make you mine. How’s that sound to you, hmm?”

“Can you…promise me it won’t hurt? I’ll—I’ll do whatever you want, Joel.”

Whatever I have to do to live another day, I’ll do it. Keep me alive, and you can take whatever you want from me.

“It’ll hurt a little, sweetheart. Better me than anyone else. I’ll only be gentle till you’re adjusted. After that, I ain’t gonna hold back.” While his words were blunt and straight to the point, his tone was soft, gentle even.

“Okay. I trust you, Joel.”

“Good. Thas’ good to hear, little fawn.” He gently dragged his thumb against your hair, feeling the texture of it beneath his hold, and how if he truly wanted to, he could crush you like a bug beneath his hand.

Your hands worked on autopilot to reach for the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head, fingers shaking against the fabric.

He shook his head, brows raising in slight amusement. “No.” He rasped sternly, “I’m going to undress you. Hands off, and keep ‘em where I can see them, got it?”

You nodded, dropping your hands to rest along your jean clad thighs.

“Wanna show you just how sharp I got your lil’ knife now. Can cut through just about anythin’, I reckon.” He mused, secretly hoping to ease your impending fears just enough that your body would naturally begin to relax.

You took a shuddered inhale when the edge of your freshly sharpened knife rose and rested against your concealed breastbone, sending your heartbeat racing and rattling out of your chest like a stampede.

“Relax.” He whispered, careful to not apply too much pressure, but just enough that the blade easily cut through your flimsy top as if it was made of cheap paper. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Your words were lodged in your throat as tears began to spring to the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t help it, you were terrified. One wrong move…

“Joel…please.” Was all you were able to get out. His hand that was gently resting on the crown of your head dropped down to gently cradle your face. His big thumb brushed directly under the tears leaking from your eyes, gathering them up with a soft sigh.

“If you listen to me and relax, this will feel good for you, little fawn. You jus’—gotta let me have my fun first, alright?”

You let out a silent sob, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you tried to wrap your mind around how this could possibly be fun for him. “This—this is fun for you?”

His nostrils flared, reminding you of one of those animated bulls from the old cartoons you used to watch as a kid on Saturday mornings. He let out a sigh, grinding his jaw and shaking his head. “Course this is fun for me. I told you already, little fawn. I ain’t a good man.” He carelessly yanked the scraps of your shirt down your arms and torso before he dragged the knife upwards towards your flimsy bra straps. “Only reason I’m choosin’ to be somewhat merciful on you is because you’re a virgin. If you weren’t, I would have shoved my cock so far down your throat, you’d be chokin’ on it, sweet girl. Gonna save that for another time.” He reassured you.

“I’d…prefer if you never did that.” This was your weak and fruitless attempt to try and gain any semblance of control in this situation.

“You ain’t in the position to be callin’ the shots on me. Keep it up, and I won’t be so fuckin’ nice. I’ll stuff your pretty little virgin pussy with my cock like you’re a fuckin’ pig on a spit.” He snapped. “Secondly, I’d prefer if you’d quit your yappin’ and start makin’ yourself useful by takin’ your jeans off—nice and slow for me. Make it last.”

“But you said—”

“Know exactly what I said, sweetheart. M’changin’ my mind, we clear?” He sternly asked while he sliced through one of the bra straps, watching with hooded eyes as it fell from your shoulder.

“Crystal.” You shakily reached for the button on your jeans, slowly undoing it followed by the zipper while he sliced through the other strap.

“Good girl.” He praised you, “you’re a fast learner. Thas’ real good, little fawn. That’ll keep you alive longer.”

“Thank you…sir.” You whispered, feeling your tears begin to dry on your cheekbones when you slowly began to shimmy your jeans down your thighs.

“Mmm…no.” He scoffed at you calling him sir. “Not sir. Jus’ call me Joel. It’s gonna be the only name you’re gonna be sayin’ for as long as I decide you’re worth keepin’ around. Best start gettin’ used to the way it tastes on your tongue.”

“Yes, Joel. I—I understand.”

He was kind enough to help you finish removing your jeans completely so you were left in just your cotton panties that were well worn. A touch of innocence could be found on the little faded pink bow right in the middle of the hem. His lips quirked at this, finding it endearingly…cute.

What remained of your bra fell away in pieces, the clasp old that was old and frayed, came undone easily. Now your breasts were bared to him for the first time. He liked that they weren’t magazine perfect, nothing like he had seen in his teenage to young adult years. They were natural, beautiful, and you.

“I know they aren’t—they aren’t anything special…” you trailed off, moving your arms up to cover your chest.

He shook his head and reached one hand out to stop you from covering them from his perfect view. “They’re beautiful. M’glad they aren’t perfect like the shit I would find in the old playboy magazines.”

“Really?…thank you, Joel.”

He didn’t acknowledge your gratitude and his eyes trailed southwards once more, right between your thighs. “Thought about cuttin’ these off, too.” He casually gestured to your panties, “But I think I wanna keep ‘em as a souvenir.” He mused with a wicked grin. “Don’t go all shy on me now, alright? Spread your thighs, sweetheart.”

You obeyed his request, your thighs falling open to his prying eyes. “You want to keep my panties as a souvenir?”

“Mhm.” He reached behind him briefly to set your knife down along the coffee table so both of his hands were free. You watched as he slowly lowered himself onto his knees between your spread thighs. “You won’t be needin’ them when you’re here, anyway.”

Before you could respond, his warm palms came to rest along your hips where his thumbs gently dipped beneath the hem of your panties and slowly began to peel them down your thighs. “Can’t remember the last time I had the pleasure of tasting virgin pussy.” He chuckled. “Been too goddamn long.”

“I thought most guys weren’t into eating…pussy.” It was your turn to giggle now, and Joel was secretly relieved that you were finally relaxing.

He slipped your panties down your ankles making quick work of stuffing them into the back pocket of his jeans. “What makes you say that, sweetheart?” He shifted his hands from your hips to rest between the apex of your thighs, spreading you open further at his leisure.

“Well, uh—before the outbreak, I had a boyfriend, and all my friends at the time told me that I should ask him to go down on me. I didn’t know what they meant at first, so my friends and I bought a porno from an adult film store to watch, and then shortly after I asked my boyfriend if he would go down on me, he said fuck no.”

Joel laughed, a real hearty laugh that sent a warm vibration and tingle creeping up your spine. He used his thumbs to spread your inner lips apart before he peppered kisses against the inside of your thighs, inching closer and closer to the seam of your pussy. “No offense, sweetheart. But your boyfriend sounds like he was a fuckin’ tool that didn’t know the first thing to pleasin’ a woman and makin’ her sing, and for that reason, I hope he got infected.”

Despite the gravity of the situation you found yourself in, it felt good to confide in someone and laugh about the past. “I hope he got infected, too.”

The tension flipped once more when Joel’s darkened pools of brown flickered up from between your thighs. His hot breath was directly fanning your exposed core, and you watched as he licked his lips. “I take a lot of satisfaction knowin’ that I’m gonna be your first for everythin’, little fawn. You belong to me, your tight virgin cunt belongs to me. Jus’ want you to understand what that means before I defile you, piece by piece.”

You found your words lodged in your throat when you felt Joel Miller’s hot, wet, and skillful mouth press directly against your clit. His thick, dark lashes fluttered shut, and a groan bubbled from deep within his chest. He was immediately a man starved at the first taste of you. Lathing his tongue through the seam of your pussy as if he was a cat lapping up warm milk. And once he got a taste, he couldn’t stop, and you didn’t want him to.

“Sweetest fuckin’ virgin cunt I’ve ever tasted, little fawn. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re like honey.” He rambled on, slurping and obscenely sucking on your sex. He meant it when he said he was going to defile you, and this was just the beginning.

Your fingers naturally found themselves tangled in his salt and peppered streaked curls. They were softer than you ever imagined them to be. And in that moment, when your orgasm rippled through you like a tidal wave, and your pussy drooled along his tongue, you were grateful that he at least took the time to make you feel good first.

But like most good things, it passed just as quickly as it came when he pulled his mouth back from your cunt, a translucent strand of his saliva mixed with your release hung from his lower lip like a thread from a spider's web. The strand reached all the way to your glistening clit and disappeared when he licked the taste of you from his lips.

Your cheeks felt hot to the touch, and there was a sheen of sweat coating your skin when he reached for his belt and began to unfasten it. That’s when the fear began to creep its way back in.

“Joel, do you think that maybe we can—”

“No.” He gruffed out over the sound of his belt buckle clanking open, and his zipper being yanked down in a haste.

You could see just how hard he was through his worn down briefs, and when you finally got a first glance at just how thick and large his cock was, you were immediately trying to clamber off the couch. There was no way he was going to fucking fit.

He let out an annoyed growl, one hand quickly darted out and grabbed your ankle with a roughness that immediately had you yelping in surprise. “Do not fuckin’ test me, or I will really fuckin’ make this hurt for you. Do I make myself absolutely clear?” He glowered, tightening his steel like grip on your ankle. “Get back to how I had you spread open. Don’t make me ask you twice.”

Only when you reluctantly abided by his request did he loosen his grip before releasing your ankle completely. He rose to his full height, kicking his jeans and boxers off to the side as his heavy cock bobbed between his thighs. “Try anythin’ funny again, and I’ll bend your ass over this fuckin’ couch faster than you can say stop.”

“I’m sorry, Joel—I didn’t mean to upset you I’m just—”

“Afraid?” He mused. “Yeah, I gathered that. But I told ya that it’s only gonna hurt a little. All you need to do is relax for me. Thas’ it, and the pain will only be temporary. I promise, little fawn.”

He leaned over you, grasping your thighs in his hands and molded your body exactly how he wanted to take you so that he could easily wedge himself between your thighs. Now your back was against the side of the couch, the arm rest acted as a makeshift pillow for your head while he wrapped your legs around his hips for support. “Missionary is gonna cause ya the least amount of pain, but after today we ain’t gonna play it safe anymore.”

“Joel, can we please—I’m not ready for this. There has to be someone else that I can offer you…right?” You glanced down between your thighs, right where his thick cockhead was lined up at your tight opening. There was a drool of arousal that pooled and dripped down from the seam of your puffy and stimulated pussy right into the already soiled fabric of the couch.

“You jus’ don’t fuckin’ quit, do ya? I’m about five seconds away from fucking you like you’re just a piece of meat. Do you really want that, little fawn? Do you want me to fuckin’ hurt you? Is that it? You’re so goddamn lucky that you didn’t get captured by a group of raiders who would take turns gang raping you, and ripping you apart like a fuckin’ ragdoll. Show some fuckin’ gratitude for the fact that I’m not like them.” He hissed between his teeth. “You are mine. Get that through your pretty little brain sooner, rather than later.”

“You’re not going to fucking fit! There’s no fucking way that you’re going to fit without ripping me apart from the inside, Joel!” You cried out, fists clenched so tightly at your sides, that your blunt nails were digging into your skin hard enough to draw blood to the surface.

“I sure as fuck ain’t gonna fit where you’re so fuckin’ stiff. Ya don’t want it to hurt, d’ya? Well, more than it’s already gonna. Jus’ relax for me. That’s all you gotta do.”

It did fucking hurt. It felt like you were being ripped apart seam by seam when he slowly started to press himself inside of you. Your body seized up around the intrusion, clamping down on his cock like a vice as tears began to leak down your cheeks again.

“You gotta let me in, little fawn. Or so help me god, I will fuckin’ force my way right into your tight little virgin cunt.” He growled out of frustration, wanting this part to be over already because that very minuscule part of him felt bad for what he was doing.

“I—I can’t, Joel! Please! It hurts! You’re hurting me!”

He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping forwards and his forehead came to rest upon your own. His hand that wasn’t wrapped around the base of his cock came to gently rest upon your cheek, a moment of tenderness that sent your mind reeling. “I ain’t tryin’ to hurt you, little fawn. Please jus’ relax. Take a deep breath in and out. Focus on this instead, alright?” He dropped his hand from your cheek and slowly slipped it between your parted thighs so his thumb could gently thrum your clit. “Focus on how good that feels, and not my cock splittin’ you apart and takin’ what’s mine.”

Maybe you were the masochist, and he was the sadist. The mixture of pleasure with pain was something you never had experienced before, and when your body finally began to relax and let him in fully, that’s when you finally understood what he meant earlier about the pain only being temporary. It was numbed the second he started to piston his hips into you, stretching you open more and more with each heavy and calculated thrust. His thumb stayed glued to your clit, rubbing you in steady circles to keep your stimulation present in your mind.

He did defile you, piece by piece. Taking and taking while you continue to give and give. You want to be good, you want him to like you, to want you because if he does, maybe he’ll keep you around. Maybe he’ll fuck you again, protect you, keep you safe, and maybe you’ll never have to live in fear again.

Sometime after Joel had fucked you till he felt satisfied and spent, you passed out on his couch purely from exhaustion. He didn’t tend to you right away. He didn’t kiss your forehead, and he certainly didn’t kiss your lips. He left you there, stained in his cum and completely ruined for anyone else. That’s how he intended to leave things, but his need to care and tend to you ultimately won when he appeared from his bathroom with a wash rag in hand. His footsteps were soft as he padded into the living room and knelt beside you as you slept. In comparison to earlier, his movements were very tender as he gently spread your thighs apart so he could wash between them.

You stirred only slightly, mumbling in your sleep when the wash cloth gently dragged across the seam of your pussy and everywhere in between. And even after he was finished he sat there for hours in a deep contemplation over his decisions. He was a complicated man, with conflicted feelings driven by grief and loss. And that was the reason for his unkindness. His ability to remain aloof and cold. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the notion that someone as innocent as you, had survived the cruelty of the world for this long.

Your relationship with Joel Miller, or lack thereof, turned into a mutual exchange. He offered you his protection, and you offered him your body and some semblance of control. It was his driving force, after all. To feel like he was in control of his life and the remaining frayed threads of it. The more times he fucked you, the more you began to enjoy it. You liked his meanness, and he liked how compliant you were. It was simple, no emotions tied up and he could simply just be.

Sometimes you did talk, and other times he just took what he wanted. You were like his personal punching bag, his means to get his frustrations out through having you beneath his sheets, molded however he saw fit.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“Yeah, thas’ it, little fawn. You can take all of me. Know you can.” He huffs out a hot puff of air against the shell of your ear. His broad shoulders, hard chest paired with a soft stomach, cage your softer frame like a protective shield. He’s drilling into you from behind, strong hips are flush against the soft curve of your ass, where he’s molded the shape of your body into the old, squeaky mattress. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through his tiny apartment, and your mind begins to grow hazy, consumed with pleasure, and him—Joel. He’s got you right where he wants you, where he can take, take, take, and you’ll give, and give, and give. The heady stench of sex, sweat and Joel swarms your senses like bees in a hive. He drinks in the wet, familiar sound of your pussy squelching around his cock, dragging him in further like a never ending vice.

He paints your insides with hot ropes of his seed, spending himself completely before he’s collapsing on top of you, drenched in sweat. His cock pulses inside of you for a few seconds longer before he draws his hips back and sits back on his thighs, resting his weight along his forearms as he catches his breath.

You lay flat on your stomach like a limp fish while you catch your own breath. He has your attention when you feel his hand gently curve around your ankle and you immediately roll over onto your back, silently begging him with your eyes alone to let you breathe a little longer. “I can’t go another round that fast, Joel. I need to catch my breath.”

“I wasn’t gonna suggest that, sweetheart.” He rasped softly, stroking your skin gently with the pad of his thumb. “I was—uh, gonna ask if you were hungry?”

You blinked a few times, trying to understand if you were hearing him correctly. Was he…offering you a meal? Did hell freeze over?

“Oh.” You couldn’t help but smile a little. “Yeah…I am a little hungry.”

Maybe he’ll ask you to make him a sandwich, hah!

“I ain’t got much to offer, unfortunately. But I think I got a couple cans of Chef Boyardee and some stale bread?” His cheeks are flushed from exertion, but there’s a hint of nervousness in your tone. It’s not like he said he loved you, he was just offering to feed you.

“Oh, man. That guy was great!” You sat up on your elbows watching his lips begin to curve upwards into a half grin from your enthusiasm.

“I actually agree.”

You ate in his bed, sitting across from one another in comfortable silence. Your knees were lightly touching, but neither of you seemed to mind the closeness. He even offered you the last half of his bread and you felt your heart swell at his selfless gesture.

A dog only bites when provoked. Maybe your guard dog was growing soft for his little fawn.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” He asked suddenly, breaking through the comfortable silence like a knife.

“Of course you can, Joel.”

He was never good at this sorta thing; talking about his feelings and emotions. He swallowed his last bit of food before reaching across to set both of your empty plates on the nearby nightstand.

“What are you gettin’ out of this? And don’t lie to me or try to give me some bullshit.”

“You make me feel safe…and protected.” You murmured softly, looking directly into his eyes for the first time that entire night.

He scoffs, gnawing on the inside of his cheek with his canines, “I ain’t a fuckin’ charity service, or your knight in shining armor.”

“You’re right, Joel. You aren’t. And that’s okay. I don’t need you to be either of those things. But—you’re all that I want, all that I need.”

His face softens slightly, that permanent frown between his brows and pout of his lips is almost not so permanent before his scowl returns.

Deep down in that black pit of his heart, he wants that too. To be relied on, wanted, needed. He likes that what he has with you is something that he doesn’t have to fight for. He could get all of this and more from Tess, but she always challenged him and wanted more. She would lay her life down for his own and he hated that. He was the type of man that would rather lay his own life down in the place of someone else. He valued his life very little at this point, and here you were acting like he had done something monumental by keeping you safe, fucking you, and providing you with a meal.

“Joel, can I ask you something?” You interjected through the silence, hoping that he wasn’t upset with your honesty.

“Depends what it is that you’re about to ask me, little fawn.”

You want to reach out and grab his hand, to feel his fingers lace through your own. You wanted him to hold you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. You were his, but only under his terms. He wasn’t yours and he would never be. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t inclined to try and break through his nearly impassable walls that he had laid down himself, brick by brick.

“Why do you wear that watch on your wrist…if it’s broken?”

He froze like a deer in headlights as his ears began to ring, the blood rushed in his veins and his heartbeat began to race. His fingers twitched at his sides, and by the way his eyes began to darken, you realized very quickly that you had crossed a boundary. He didn’t speak, he didn’t even scold you. He ignored you completely and threw his legs over the side of the bed and snatched up the two discarded plates.

“Never fuckin’ ask me that again.” He muttered in the doorway, his back facing you and you could only see his side profile before he stomped off towards the kitchen.

Moments later you heard the sound of the plates breaking in the sink, one by one. You had never heard him sound so…violent before. He was yelling, but you couldn’t make out the words he was saying. He might have been crying at one point, but you didn’t dare investigate.

Only when you could no longer hear his pained yells, did you finally reach for your discarded clothes and quickly redressed before tiptoeing out of his bedroom. Your plan was to slip out the front door of his apartment undetected and never look back.

That plan went to shit when you stumbled upon the massacre in the kitchen and a broken man standing amongst shattered plates and shards of glass. He looked defeated, unmoving amongst the wreckage. His hand was trembling as small droplets of blood dripped from the open wound on his palm, the same hand where his broken watch was strapped to his wrist. The crimson droplets landed on the scuffed up floor beneath his feet. He heard the floorboards creak beneath your weight and he whipped around, eyes rimmed red from his incessant, crestfallen tears.

“Where the fuck are you goin?’” He croaked out, his voice sounding like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper.

“Home?” You didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but even you couldn’t determine exactly why you were trying to leave.

“Did I say you could leave?” He took a step towards you, somehow avoiding the stray shards of glass.

“N-No…I just thought that—”

“Yeah?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side as he observed your timid demeanor. “Well, unthink that. Please.”

He was…asking you to stay? Not only that, he said please?

“You’re bleeding.”

He glanced down at his hand in surprise. He didn’t even feel the glass cutting through his palm or the familiar wetness from the blood dripping from the fresh wound.

“Let me patch it up for you, okay?” You took a small step forward in his direction while he wearily watched you. He brought his injured hand down to his side, holding it out of your reach.

“Are you going to stay?”

You nodded. “Yes, Joel. I promise I won’t leave.”

So, he chose to trust you and allowed you to touch him and guide him to the couch where he was forced to sit down while you rushed to the bathroom to grab his first aid kit. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling when you gently grabbed his hand and rested it palm side up on your knee and began to tend to his wound. He wasn’t capable of love, not after she died. He wasn’t capable of softness and kindness, not when he watched the light fade from her eyes, and yet he sat quietly under your soft touch and gentle eyes. You had become like his supply, a new addiction, a craving, a need that could only be satiated by you. It scared him down to his very bones.

The personal vendetta was long since forgotten and was replaced with his latent nature to protect and care for. You had given him that purpose again, and maybe he could do better and become a good man again because of you. Maybe you were the answer to it all.

And unknowingly, and unintentionally, you had tapped into his inner psyche, one soft touch and gentle gaze at a time. And he was beginning to believe that maybe he wasn’t better off being alone and forsaken, after all.

When Tommy Miller hadn’t returned any of Joel’s radio calls for two weeks straight, Joel was facing a tough decision that he ultimately was going to have to make. His kin was out in bum fuck Wyoming, he could be dead for all Joel knew. Despite how rocky his relationship with his brother was, he was still family, and now Joel was going to leave the QZ and find his younger brother.

This was the beginning of the end of yours and Joel’s mutual understanding, and it was happening before your very eyes.

Tonight he was in a haste after fucking you for hours. Usually he would stay in bed, his limbs tangled with yours, locked together like two puzzle pieces. You learned that sometimes he liked to be the little spoon, but he would never ask, not verbally at least. He’d turn his back to you, reaching for your hands to wrap yourself around him. Tonight, neither of those things happened while you watched him gather up his discarded clothes, throwing on his briefs over his thighs and hips.

You sat up slowly, using the old sheet to cover your breasts. Your heart began to sink when he sat on the edge of the bed, revolver in hand and bullet cartridges in the other.

“Joel?…” you asked in an unsure tone. Would this turn into another one of his meltdowns? You had hoped that it wouldn’t.

“What?” He gruffed out, reloading the bullets one by one.

You recoiled at his tone, chewing on the inside of your cheek to try and distract your mind from assuming the worst was about to happen.

“Is everything okay?”

He sighed, rolling his shoulders forward as he finished loading the revolver and looked over his shoulder, refusing to meet your eyes and instead focused on the peeling wallpaper along the walls.

“Everythin’ is peachy, little fawn.”

Even he didn’t sound too sure of his words. You had been around him long enough to pick up on his changes in demeanor. Sometimes they were subtle, less easy to detect, but tonight it was clearer than day that there was something deeply troubling him.

“You’re acting really fucking weird, Joel.”

He laughed dryly and turned to face you completely. “That’s because I got something to tell you, but you ain’t gonna fuckin’ like it.”

Your face fell immediately and your loose grip around the sheets became tight, as if the fabric between your fingers was the only grounding source available in the vicinity.

“Please, don’t look at me like that. Like I’m about to break your heart or somethin.’” He sighed. “You can’t look at me with those—eyes.”

“Well, are you about to break my heart, Joel? Cause if that’s the case, just rip the fucking bandaid off already.” Your voice cracked, and tears were already threatening to spill, but you held them at bay.

“I need you to understand that I don’t have any choice in this, alright? Tommy hasn’t returned any of my messages in two weeks. It usually only takes him a day to respond, and he’s gone completely radio silent. I’m leavin’ the QZ as soon as Tess and I can locate a truck battery, and I’m goin’ to Wyoming to find him.”

He didn’t have any choice?!

“Joel, do you realize how fucking insane you sound right now?! If Tommy hasn’t responded in two weeks he’s probably—”

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ say another word, ya hear me?!” He growled, cocking his revolver and stood up abruptly from the edge of the bed. “You don’t get a fuckin’ say in this! You ain’t my family!”

His words stung, slicing your heart in a million tiny pieces from the venom dripping from his lips. Maybe this was the wake up call you needed. The rose colored glasses were beginning to lift, and the ship that you and Joel had sailed for so long, was finally sinking.

“You’re right, Joel.” You agreed with him. “I’m not your family. So, what the fuck am I then?”

He looked at you coldly, eyes narrowed into slivers. His jaw clenched and unclenched. He didn’t want to be having this conversation with you right now. He needed to focus on finding this damn truck battery and going after Tommy. But of course you just had to be fucking stubborn about the whole thing.

“You’re nothing but a goddamn liability.”

There was no emotion in his tone, just the cutthroat truth of what you truly meant to Joel Miller.

“You don’t mean that. You’re just trying to hurt me!” You tried to convince yourself that this man did care for you in a sense. That he thought higher of you than just someone he fucked, someone he held, someone he shared his meals with.

“Why are you makin’ this so goddamn difficult, huh? You want me to stand here and tell you that I love you?! That I care for you further than what our relationship is?! Would you like me to spell it out for you?!” He yelled exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air out of frustration.

He didn’t even flinch when you scrambled out from under the sheets, desperately reaching for your discarded panties and shirt. You felt more exposed than ever in front of him as hot tears flooded and rolled down your cheeks. The same cheeks he had tenderly held between his calloused palms.

“You’re practically…a prostitute.”

You reached for your own gun that was resting on the nightstand closest to your side of the bed, and once you had a firm grip on the base of it, you whipped around to face him, gun aimed directly at him, mirroring his own.

“How—how fucking dare you! I’m not a prostitute, Joel! We—we have a mutual understanding! That’s how it’s worked, that’s how it’s always worked!”

“Had.” He corrected you coldly, cocking his head to the side. “And mutual understanding?! You mean our exchange?” He laughed and shook his head, “you offered me your fuckin’ body, and in return I’ve kept you alive! That ain’t a mutual understanding, sweetheart. Thas’ an exchange of services.”

“So, the time that I patched up your hand, and stayed with you even though I knew I shouldn’t have, meant nothing to you?!” You were full on screaming now, seeing red through your blurred tears. “My kindness meant jack all to you, Joel?!”

“Don’t stand there and act so surprised! I told you from the get-go, I am not a good fuckin’ man! You made those choices, sweetheart! I didn’t hold a fuckin’ gun against your head and force you to stay!”

You laughed, throwing your head back slightly because you couldn’t believe how fucking delusional he was being. As if he ever gave you a choice in the first place?!

You took one bold step in his direction with your gun still aimed and at the ready. “Choice?! Oh, please enlighten me on what choice you’re speaking of when you never even gave me a choice in the first place, Joel!”

“I ain’t got time for this. It’s fuckin’ done, alright? We’re done and you’re just gonna have to find someone else to keep you alive, little fawn. You can be someone else’s liability!” In the midst of his yelling, he eyed your gun wearily, already mentally planning in his head how he was going to disarm you if you made the stupid decision to lunge at him.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, JOEL MILLER! I HATE HOW YOU HAVE MADE ME FEEL! DON’T YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME?! I—I HOPE THAT YOU NEVER FIND TOMMY. I HOPE HE’S DEAD, AND I HOPE YOU DIE ALONE, AND UNLOVED. I HOPE SOMEONE HURTS YOU THE WAY THAT YOU HAVE HURT ME AND—”

He wasn’t ready to admit just how shattering your words were. How it felt like someone had just ripped his heart out and tore it apart, piece by piece. But this is how he got by in life, by hurting those who he loved.

“I’m so fuckin’ relieved that you’re finally wakin’ up from whatever fairytale land you’ve been livin’ in, little fawn. There’s some hope that you won’t end up with a bullet between your eyes. Congratulations on joining the rest of society.” He muttered condescendingly. “Now, you’re gonna get that fuckin’ gun out of my face and go home, and you’re gonna forget all about me.” He deadpanned.

You did just that. He stood there just watching you quickly redress and tuck your gun into the waistband of your jeans. You strode past him, shoulder checking him on your way out.

“Careful. You might end up shootin’ your damn ass off.” He commented from the open doorway.

You didn’t have the strength to snap back at him. You felt broken, beaten, and defeated. He had taken all of you, and you felt like all that was left was your shell; withered and cracking away under his harsh cruelty and scrutiny.

You grabbed your backpack from the hook alongside the door and yanked the handle open, swinging it open loudly on its hinges. He waited till he heard the apartment door slam shut before he left his bedroom, padding quietly down the hall. He went straight to the door and locked it for good measure.

When Marlene found you, you were in a drunken stupor after spending a day in lockup because you had stupidly punched a FEDRA officer in the face, oops. You traded a few ration cards for a cheap bottle of hooch, and proceeded to drink it in broad daylight in a deserted alley. It was nearing curfew now, and the bottle you had been nursing was completely drained and discarded by your feet. Marlene found you slumped over, covered in dried blood, vomit, and tears. You were curled up like a little fawn hiding in the thicket. She checked your pulse before you sputtered awake, lashes fluttering and eyes squinting through the massive hangover you were experiencing.

“M—Marlene?” You croaked out as you tried to wrap your drunken mind around how the fuck she found you here in the first place.

“He broke your heart, didn’t he? Told you he was bad news, sweetheart.” She sighed with a disappointed shake of her head. “Take my hand and we’ll get you cleaned up, okay?”

You neither confirmed nor denied her assumptions of why you were piss drunk in an alley. You simply reached for her outstretched hand and let her help you up from the ground. You were wobbly on your feet, like a drunk Bambi on ice, but she let you lean your weight entirely into her side.

A week later, you were officially a member of the Boston QZ Fireflies and under the direct protection of Marlene. If only you had known then that you had signed off on your own death certificate.

You were assigned to Riley’s position in the QZ mall making bombs for the Fireflies to use on an upcoming attack on FEDRA. When you asked Marlene what had happened to Riley, she cut right to the chase and told you that Riley had been bitten by an infected person. You didn’t ask for any further explanation, or where Riley had been bitten. Had you known that she was bitten in the mall, you would have begged Marlene for a different post instead.

When you proved yourself loyal to the Fireflies, Marlene decided that you were ready to be on the frontlines of the attack. Right in the midst of it. One of the bombs that you made with your own hands was about to be used in warfare; what a twisted turn of events.

Tess Servopolous was having a shitty fucking day. After being jumped by a couple of Robert’s goons, and then finding out that he sold the truck battery that her and Joel needed, she was ready to go home and drink the whole thing off, when an explosion went off directly outside of the building that she, Robert, and two of his men were occupying.

She stumbled out of the wreckage, dazed and confused when she saw a FEDRA vehicle demolished and in flames. She squinted through the blinding sun when someone from a nearby rooftop yelled, “free Boston now, motherfuckers!”

And then, directly across the street, she caught a glimpse of you; Joel’s ex little fawn turned rebel scum. You were fleeing the scene just as FEDRA had shown up. Tess claimed she wasn’t a Firefly, but they threw her into lockup, anyway.

“He sold our battery to someone else, Joel.” Tess was sitting across from Joel in their shared tiny apartment. She had just disclosed to him that the men that had jumped her were with Robert, and she was in lockup all day. Joel was fuming.

“Who the fuck did he sell it to? That fuckin’ snake. Swear to god I’ll—”

“Joel, I need you to take a breath.” Tess said plainly, rubbing her sore temples with a sigh.

“I need that battery, Tess. It’s the only way we’re getting to Tommy and without it, we’re shit out of luck. He could be fuckin’ dead out there already for all we know. Where the fuck are we gonna find a battery now?”

“I saw her.” Tess said above a whisper to draw his attention.

“Don’t.” He warned her.

“Joel, I fuckin’ saw her! She’s—Firefly scum now. She was across the street when the bomb went off. She’s with Marlene now. She was fleeing the scene like a goddamn coward, too.”

It felt like Joel’s entire world was crashing down around him all at once. He hadn’t thought about you since your ugly departure from his apartment, but to hear that Marlene had sunk her venomous claws into you after all? He was furious, disappointed, and above all, he felt betrayed.

“You swear that you saw her?”

“On my life, Joel. It was her.” Tess would never lie. She had no reason to.

He swallowed the thick lump growing in his throat. It felt like hot bubbling tar was melting his insides away, melting the flesh from his bones and leaving him bare and brittle. He could taste the bitterness of betrayal on his tongue, and the dull ache in his heart. His fists clenched and unclenched, his brows furrowed tightly and his lips were in a straight, emotionless line. He looked across the table at his partner, giving her a slight nod of acknowledgment. “If I ever see her face again, I will kill her, Tess. I’ll make it hurt. I’ll kill her with my bare fuckin’ hands.”

He was a man of his word, but he was secretly praying that day would never come because he wouldn’t have the guts to do it. Not even after he promised Tess to her face that he would kill you. You were that weakness that he couldn’t shake free from.

“Good.” She nodded. “Now let’s go hunt that motherfucker down, and get our battery, our truck, and then we’ll go find Tommy, alright?” She reached for his hand that was clenched in a tight fist along the table.

“Alright.” He nodded.

Joel and Tess had a stash of weapons and supplies scattered about in different areas in and outside of the QZ. One of these areas included the boarded up mall, and this was Joel’s first stop. He had heard rumors sprinkled about that there were a handful of infected roaming the mall, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He snuck into the building the same way he always did and retraced his steps purely from memory.

His confidence only began to waver when he approached the same door he had entered through over a dozen times and saw the unmistakable Firefly logo spray painted right across the frame of the door.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath and withdrew his concealed gun before pushing the slightly ajar door open with his broad shoulder.

On the other side of the mall, you were dealing with trouble of your own. Why hadn’t you asked Marlene more questions about Riley’s death—specifically where Riley had been bitten. Would Marlene have even told you the truth?! You were beginning to question the Fireflies true motives when you overheard Marlene and a few others talking about taking this girl out west to be tested in a hospital. This wasn’t just any random girl; she was immune to the Cordyceps infection. She could possibly be the cure to save the world, but even you were smart enough to know that Cordyceps grow inside the brain. This poor girl was going to die, and you wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.

From that point forward you decided that you were going to sabotage Marlene and Fireflies plans. After setting off a bomb in the QZ, you fled back to the mall to dispose of the rest of the bombs you had made that week and then you were going to leave the QZ for good. It was supposed to be simple and go exactly as you planned it to, and it did up until the point when you ran into an infected person.

Your gun was knocked from your grip leaving you with only your knife for protection when the infected person shoved you against a nearby wall, knocking the wind from you. You fought like hell, stabbing wherever you could reach till the infected collapsed to the ground after you jabbed your knife directly into its neck before you sank down against the wall to catch your breath. Its body lay in a heap at your feet, blood pooling and leaking from the deep gash in its neck.

A few minutes later you heard a door nearby open and close followed by heavy footsteps. You scrambled to your feet, wiping your knife along your jeans and snatched up your gun that was on the floor a good few feet away. Your boots slipped in the puddle of blood and created a trail of crimson footprints. So much for remaining concealed.

Joel appeared shortly after you had taken off. He could smell the stench of blood and death permeating the air upon his approach. When he found the dead infected, he kicked it with the toe of his boot, checking to make sure it was actually dead. When the body didn’t move or twitch, he let out a brief sigh of relief before he noticed the trail of bloody footprints and followed them.

It didn’t take him long to find the room that you had been occupying. The trail of footprints had led him straight to another door and that’s when he noticed the fresh blood on the handle and proceeded with caution. When he pushed open the door, he expected to find a person on the other side but there was no sign of anyone. He was drawn to the table in the corner of the room where he recognized a plethora of materials used to make a bomb.

Jackpot.

He surveyed the small room with his gun still drawn at his side as he crept around. You were hiding in the supply closet which was an uncomfortable tight fit. You had no idea who the fuck was on the other side of the door, but you didn’t intend to find out anytime soon. Through the small gap in the metal closet, you were able to make out a pair of all-too familiar black boots.

No, no, no. Please. Anyone but him. Anyone but—

your foot slipped from the blood causing something from the top shelf of the closet to fall and cause a loud racket. Moments later the janitor closet doors were yanked open leaving you exposed. Joel didn’t see your face at first when he grabbed your arm and yanked you out onto the ground with his freehand.

You let out a yell, trying to claw at the man when he yanked you onto the floor. You scrambled to sit up, raising your arms above your head when he trained his gun on you. Your eyes simultaneously widened in shock. The masochist and the sadist together again.

“You have got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.” He let out a scoff. “So, Tess wasn’t lyin’ huh? You really are…Firefly scum?”

“You are quite literally the last person I ever wanted to run into, Joel.” You hissed between your teeth while you were at his mercy.

“Well, sweetheart, that makes two of us.”

“Hilarious, I’m absolutely dying with laughter right now.” You rolled your eyes and he scowled at your sarcasm.

“Turned into a joiner just like Tommy. How fuckin’ predictable.” He shook his head in disappointment. “I promised Tess that I would kill you with my bare hands if I ever saw your face again, but…I can’t bring myself to do that, little fawn.” He lowered his gun slowly just as you began to lower your arms.

“You were leaving me behind, Joel. What—what else was I supposed to do, huh? Marlene found me in an alley, covered in blood and vomit because I had gotten my ass thrown in lockup after punching someone from FEDRA in the fucking face. I had nowhere else to go, no one to turn to, and Marlene offered me protection.”

“You punched someone from FEDRA in the face?” He couldn’t help but feel a little amused with this knowledge. “Never expected those words comin’ outta your mouth.”

“Yeah, well, things have changed, Joel. I did what I had to do to survive. I’m sure you think I did it to betray you, right? Not everything is about you. And even if that were the case, why would you even care, considering I’m just a liability in your eyes.”

“You’re right.” He stated simply. “I do think you did it to betray me, but clearly Marlene’s war ain’t goin’ to peachy with you fuckin’ it up. If I’m not the one to kill you, then I’m sure she’s hot on your trail already.”

“You’re probably right. After I set that bomb off I decided that I was fucking done with the Fireflies. I came back here to destroy the rest of the bombs and then I’m leaving the QZ tonight.”

“Wow.” His eyebrows rose in surprise and he couldn’t help the grin that slowly tugged over his lips. “Look at you havin’ a plan of action. I’m impressed.”

“And I take it you haven’t located that truck battery, huh? Man, that’s gotta suck.” You snickered softly.

“Watch it.” He snipped, “We ain’t friends or nothin’ and I still can kill you.”

You both fell silent as your emotions swirled like a dust bowl. You could only imagine the hate that could spew from his lips next.

“Did you…” he was referring to the dead infected that you had killed earlier.

“Yeah, I did.”

He took a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he observed you from where he was standing. “And you didn’t get bit, right?”

His question hung heavy in the air between you. You don’t remember if you were bit or not. It all had happened so fast—

“I—I don’t think so.” You were unsure as you slowly rose to your feet and that’s when he noticed your hand and the obvious teeth indentations in your skin. The same hand that patched up his wound, the same hand that wrapped around his middle when he wanted to be the little spoon.

“Oh Christ.” He whispered in disbelief, taking a small step back from you, his instincts kicking in immediately.

You looked down at your right hand, noticing the bite and the blood slowly leaking from the grooves in the indented marks. You quickly wiped the blood away, thinking that the bite mark would suddenly just disappear.

“No, no, no!” You yelled a broken cry, “I don’t—I don’t want to turn into a monster, Joel!” You continued to furiously wipe at the bite mark, growing more and more frustrated—afraid when it wasn’t going away.

His heart sinks and he doesn’t know what to do, or how to react. His eyes are fixated on the bite mark and what it means, and he isn’t sure how much time he’ll have left with you. The one thing that he does know for certain is that he won’t let you turn into a monster. He’ll make it quick, painless. You won’t feel a thing. It’s the least he can do for you after all the pain he caused. It’s really starting to hit him now, all the hurtful things he said. The cruelty he thrashed upon you. God, how could he do such awful things to someone like you?

“I—I need you to take a deep breath for me, little fawn, okay? Please. You need to calm down.” He tried to reason with you as he took a half step forward.

“Calm down?! You—” tears began to profusely roll down your cheeks when you faced your own realization that it was only a matter of time before you would turn into one of those monsters.

“I’m—I’m not going to let you turn into a monster, okay? I swear on my life, I’ll make it quick. You—you won’t feel a thing, okay? I’m so sorry—I’m so sorry that I’ve been nothing but cruel to you. I pushed you away, I forced you to leave. I’m the reason you joined the Fireflies. It’s all my fuckin’ fault.” He was struggling to hold his own tears at bay when he saw your body begin to tremble.

“Let—let me be till…my last breath, okay? Please, Joel. Can—can you do that for me? I’m—I’m so afraid.”

He nodded and slipped his gun into his holster. “Until your very last breath, little fawn.”

You slowly sank to the floor and despite every cell in his brain telling him not to join you, he ignored his instincts and found himself sitting alongside you.

“Will—will you hold me? I—I want one last comfort before my mind and body is no longer my own.”

How could he say no to your final request? He knew it was risky, and the Cordyceps were already laying their claim inside of your body. “Of course I will.” He whispered softly.

You slipped into his arms as if they were made for you, and he held you close, resting his chin along the top of your head.

He told you about his daughter Sarah and how he closed himself off to all feelings after she died. He told you that she died in his arms on his 36th birthday and that he wore the broken watch on his wrist because it was her birthday gift to him. He was wearing it when she died, and the bullets ripped through her body. A stray bullet had pierced the glass on the watch and her time of death would forever haunt him.

The last words you spoke to him were of forgiveness, and the last touch you felt from him was his lips pressed to your forehead before your mind and body were no longer yours.

He could sense that your time was up, and that you were no longer with him. He had gone numb when he reached for the gun in his holster and quietly removed it. When the infected head turned towards him and he was met with its dead, glossed over eyes, this was his final confirmation and nail in the coffin that his little fawn was no more.

He mouthed, I’m sorry, before he locked the infected in a headlock. They tussled on the ground momentarily before he pressed the barrel of the gun between its eyes and pulled the trigger.

The body went limp in his loosened grasp, slumping into his arms like a bag of bricks. He broke down into silent tears that wrecked through his body as he cradled you in his arms, rocking back and forth to try and calm himself down.

“I’m so sorry, little fawn. You deserved so much better.” He pressed one last kiss to your forehead before he lifted your corpse into his arms. He wanted to lay you to rest someone soft and comforting in hopes that wherever you were now, was filled with nothing but peace, love, and no pain.

He found a bed of moss nearby and gently laid you down upon it. His fingertips brushed across your eyelids, pulling them down gently so that it would appear as if you were sleeping peacefully. He placed your pocket knife between your hands and said his final goodbyes.

When your body rotted and decayed, you became one with the moss and only your bones remained.

Years later, Joel still thinks about you, his little fawn. He wonders if you’re dancing amongst the stars when he sits out on the back porch of his home in Jackson. There’s frost in the air, but it’s a clear night with the moon shining bright. His guitar sits off to the side and his mug of coffee has steam billowing off the rim of it. He catches a glimpse of the tail end of a shooting star striking brilliantly against the jet black sky. He knows in his heart that it’s you up there.

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bosbas · 5 months

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Chapter 11: tell me I've got it wrong somehow

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.3k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, idiots in love!!, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), mentions of blood

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: FINALLY. except not really. oops!

June 30, 1816 – If last night’s ball was any indication, it seems Lady Y/N has lost interest in finding a husband this season. More than a few whispers indicate that the Montclairs will journey to Spain to find better prospects for their youngest daughter. Let this be a call to action to the eligible bachelors of the ton so that they might consider being more… enticing suitors for our beloved Y/N. All this, of course, is to ensure that the Montclairs do not flee to the Spanish sun at the conclusion of the season. If nothing else, the Montclairs must stay so we can avoid losing Lady Y/N’s much-needed sense of style.

Colin stared in disbelief at Lady Whistledown’s column, letting it fall from his hands as he leaned back in his bed. If you were going to Spain at the end of the season anyway, why was he still here? He’d much rather be as far away as possible from anything that even remotely reminded him of you.

Unfortunately, Daphne had given him some sort of misguided hope that staying in England would magically make you like him. Or perhaps make you hate him a little less. But it was becoming increasingly apparent that this was not the case.

He wasn’t exactly sure what had changed from one day to the next, but you could barely look at him now. After your promenade, Colin thought you’d finally put your differences aside, and he could, at some level, be grateful to Lord Barlow for that, even if the man had acted completely indecently.

But the truce didn’t last.

Just three days ago, he’d run into you on the way to your father’s study to discuss pearl diving, and his heart had nearly skipped a beat when he saw you. You looked beautiful as ever, of course, and he was just staring at you dumbly, wanting to take in as much of you as possible.

You’d been humming as you walked down the hallway, smiling softly to yourself as you passed by a particularly large flower arrangement you had most likely received from a suitor. At that moment, Colin was sure that if you ever looked at him like that he would never recover.

Colin had tried to call out to you. Maybe if you were out of sight of the rest of the ton, you’d be more willing to speak with him. But the words had died in his throat as you had looked up and spotted him, just staring at you, across the room.

Your eyes had widened, and your demeanor had instantly changed. A switch from serene to shaken so sudden that Colin had barely had time to react before you had clutched your skirts and ducked into the nearest room.

And though Colin had traveled halfway across the globe largely on his own, he had never felt so far from someone.

Even now, in his room, away from Montclair House, he couldn’t help the deep shame that washed over him as he recalled how immediately you had rushed to get away from him. And Colin still had no idea why.

That was the worst part of it all. If he only knew what the problem was, he’d fix it. He’d do anything to be with you. Colin had had more than his fair share of escapades during his time abroad, but nothing even came close to the feeling he got when he was around you. The only person he’d known to dislike him. It was a cruel twist of fate, and he’d think it was funny if he didn’t physically ache with the need to be near you.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Colin. The more he was consumed by you, the more you pulled away. He’d been doing his best to avoid social functions for this very reason, but he feared he would not be able to do the same tonight.

“Colin?” called Violet, peeking her head through his door. “Is everything alright? You look a bit…”

“I’m fine,” insisted Colin, wiping his slightly damp eyes and sniffing as he sat up.

“Anthony and Kate are hosting a ball tonight,” said Violet carefully. Colin’s recent absence from balls had not escaped her notice, but as much as she felt for her obviously lovesick son, he was not excused from familial duties.

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“And you will be in attendance.”

Colin groaned. “Must I really be there? It’s one ball!”

“Actually, it’s been something like fifteen balls,” Violet shot back, unimpressed. “And I have graciously allowed you to be absent from them, but you will not miss your brother’s ball. You are still a Bridgerton. We do not miss family events.”

Sensing he didn’t quite have a choice, Colin sighed, “Very well, then. Could I at least continue sulking before we go?”

Violet laughed softly and gave her son a sympathetic smile. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Being in love. Even if it’s a complicated situation such as this one.”

“I’m not in love!” lied Colin. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not love.”

Violet raised her eyebrows pointedly but said nothing, closing the door quietly as she left her son’s room.

Once he was alone again, Colin let out a frustrated groan and rubbed his temples. You would more than likely be in attendance tonight, and he needed to prevent what had happened in your hallway from happening again. He didn’t think he could bear having you practically sprinting away from him as soon as you saw him again.

Colin would simply have to stay out of sight of you. It was the only way he could stay at the ball. He didn’t ever want to look into your eyes and see the disdain and hurt that he saw three days ago. So, he decided he would be a wallflower tonight. Anything to keep you from seeing him. He would need to exercise a gargantuan amount of self-control to stay away from you when being near was the one thing he wanted, but the pained look in your eyes that haunted his sleep was enough to keep him in check.

---

Viscount Bridgerton’s ball was proving to be a supremely amusing affair. Your mother had decided that Louis should start looking for a wife, never mind that he was only two-and-twenty, and you were thoroughly enjoying watching how he was passed around from eligible lady to eligible lady.

After nearly an hour of dancing and politely chatting, your brother finally stumbled over to where you were standing. Of course, you couldn’t help but snicker as he muttered something or other about needing a drink.

“Tais-toi,” muttered Louis, crossing his arms over his chest as he crossed his breath (Shut up). “Maman veut aussi que tu danses avec quelqu'un” (Mother also wants you to dance with someone).

You turned to him, eyes wide. “Vraiment?” (Really?).

“Oui, c'est un autre duc,” Louis nodded and smiled evilly, gesturing toward where your mother was speaking to someone who looked to be at least Philippe’s age, if not older (Yes, it’s another duke).

“Non, mais je peux pas,” you whined (No, but I can’t). You thought your mother had given up on finding you a husband for this season, but you supposed she couldn’t help herself if it was a duke. Even if he were a prince, you were not so sure that you would want to speak with him.

Nigel Berbrooke and Lord Barlow, and you supposed Colin Bridgerton, too, had significantly dampened your excitement for the season. At this point, you were just looking forward to going to Paris for a few months once the season was officially over and trying to find a husband again in Spain next year.

But you didn’t even want to think about that. It felt like you were preparing for a prison sentence. One last year of traveling before you were limited to the confines of your future husband’s home with no escape other than your own mind. It was a chilling thought, and you were trying your hardest to avoid thinking about it. However, having your mother chatting you up to a duke was complicating that a bit.

Standing beside you, Louis was feeling quite annoyed after one grueling evening of speaking to unmarried ladies and their mamas. However, he knew that you had experienced about fifty times that many. So, taking pity on you, he leaned down and whispered, “Va dans le jardin, vite. Avant qu'elle ne revienne” (Go to the gardens, quick. Before she comes back).

Your eyes looked to the open doors leading to the gardens, and you decided the slightly nippy air was worth it if you could escape your mother and the unnamed duke. There were enough people outside that there was no risk of being caught in a compromising position, but it was far away enough from the ballroom that you knew your mother wouldn’t be able to find you immediately.

Flashing your brother a grateful smile and squeezing his arm, you practically ran toward the exit, wanting to get away as soon as possible. Once you were outside, you maneuvered yourself so you were hidden behind a fairly large plant, but still had a view of the ballroom through the window.

As Louis had predicted, your mother had come back to where you had been standing, duke in tow. She gave Louis a questioning look when she didn’t see you, and he simply shrugged, pointing to the other side of the ballroom. You sighed in relief, silently thanking your brother and promising to stop being quite so irritating toward him.

“Y/N?” you heard a voice say behind you.

Your stomach dropped. You turned around slowly, growing nervous as Lord Barlow came into your line of vision.

“Lord Barlow,” you said, feigning politeness in an attempt to avoid a scene. Your last interaction with him had not gone so smoothly, and you were afraid of what he would do now.

“So it is you,” said Arthur Barlow, his face contorting into an ugly sneer. He had never sounded so chilling when you were courting him, but you supposed at that time you hadn’t done yet anything to make him act so abrasive.

You cleared your throat nervously, looking around to see who else was nearby. But it seemed that everyone was too intrigued by this confrontation to put a stop to it. You internally cursed the duke for showing up at the exact moment that you wanted to be inconspicuous, but you smiled politely anyway.

“I hope you’re doing well,” you said awkwardly, not quite sure what else to say.

It seemed like the right thing at the moment, seeing as how no one, not even Lady Whistledown, knew what he’d been doing since he proposed to you. However, Barlow’s quickly narrowing eyes clued you in to the fact that it had actually been the exact wrong thing to say.

“You hope I’ve been doing well? You hope? I’m sure you do, Lady Montclair,” he said sarcastically, fury evident in his voice. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to learn that the Barringtons are positively drowning in debt. Sorry, were drowning in debt, since I had to pay off all of their debts once I was forced to marry into the family. And now I’m in financial ruin, all thanks to you. You, Y/N, have brought on the downfall of the Duke of Monmouth.”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit pleased that things had turned out poorly for Arthur Barlow. But more than satisfaction, all you felt was indignation as you looked at the pathetic man in front of you.

“I believe it was your decision alone to go outside the night of the Bridgerton ball, Lord Barlow,” you said, trying to sound as biting as possible. “It is a shame that your hubris has ruined your dukedom, but kindly leave me out of it.”

Barlow’s frown deepened and his eyes narrowed further, if that was even possible, as he practically shook out of barely contained anger.

“You harlot!” he screamed at you, raising his hand and reaching out to you.

“Barlow, you will cease at once!” came a commanding voice next to you.

You turned to see Colin Bridgerton at your side, and you couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach that you felt every time you saw him. But now was not the time to get distracted by inconsequential feelings.

“It’s alright, you don’t need to do this,” you urged Colin. “It’s not worth it. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

And surprisingly, you meant what you said. As much as you disliked Colin Bridgerton, you had no desire to see him hurt, even less so because of you. In some twisted way, you cared about this man. Far more than you cared about Lord Barlow, whom you had been ready to marry at one point in time. And more than anything it made you impossibly frustrated.

Upon hearing Colin, Arthur scoffed and turned to face him. “I see you’re happy to be next in line for my cast-offs, Bridgerton. But let me tell you, she’s far too uptight, that one. Won’t even put out when you tell her to.”

Immediately, your spine stiffened, anticipation tingling through your nerves as you sensed the mounting tension in the air. Colin growled lowly, clenching his fists and stepping closer to Lord Barlow. Yet, just as it seemed he might strike, the duke swiftly sidestepped, causing the Bridgerton to stumble.

Your lips parted in a silent scream as you saw Lord Barlow aim his fist at Colin. You watched, as if in slow motion, how Arthur’s knuckles made contact with Colin’s nose, and you felt tears welling in your eyes as he fell to his knees, his head thrown back with the force of the duke’s punch.

“Colin!” you screamed, finally finding your voice. You could barely breathe, feeling like your heart was beating out of your chest.

You rushed to his side, only vaguely registering that Lord Barlow was being roughly escorted out of the garden and likely out of the ball as well. Your eyes were glued to Colin, who was groaning in discomfort and bleeding profusely out of his nose.

“Colin, are you alright?” you gasped, kneeling beside him, and clutching his arms as you choked back sobs, your heart still beating out of your chest. “You shouldn’t have done that,” you scolded, tears running down your face as you found yourself unable to be civil with him even when he was kneeling on the ground with a bloody– and most likely broken– nose.

Colin, who was clutching his nose and groaning in pain, shot you an amused look. “Do I at least get some credit for trying to defend your honor?”

He sniffed, wiping away some of the blood with his hand, and reached for a handkerchief by his breast pocket. You were staring at him, horrified, as the blood kept streaming and he winced in pain. You had stopped sobbing now, but a steady stream of tears remained on your face as the panic mounted in you.

“Colin, you shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered again, trying and failing to sound upset with him as you instinctively reached out to wipe some blood off his cheek. You hiccupped as you reached over, trembling slightly as you did, but his hand caught yours before it could touch his face.

He suddenly smiled wide, and you rather thought he looked a bit deranged. There was blood on his face and his hands and he looked more than a little banged up, but he was still smiling widely at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Can you say that again?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

“Say what? That you shouldn’t have done that?” you sniffled, wanting to cross your arms over your chest in annoyance but not wanting to let go of his hand.

“No, the part before that,” he said, smiling cheekily as he intertwined your fingers with his.

“How are you smiling after someone broke your nose?” you said, growing irritated with him but not quite letting go of his hand yet. “You could have gotten seriously hurt. That was a stupid thing to do, Colin-”

“Yes, that. Again,” he pleaded, the yearning evident on his softly smiling face as he grabbed his handkerchief with his free hand, holding it up to stop the flow of blood from his nose.

“Colin-”

“Yes, that’s it. Just say that again.”

You shot him a confused look. “Colin?”

Is that what he wanted you to say? His name?

“Yes?” he pressed, smiling wide at you. “Can you say that again, please?”

“Again? Colin, why-”

“You hadn’t ever called me Colin before,” he said, looking at you wistfully. “I like how it sounds when you say it.”

“Oh,” you gasped softly. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Bridgerton, I forgot myself. It-”

“No, please,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t bear to have you call me Mr. Bridgerton one more time.”

You averted your gaze and bit your lip, suddenly feeling very conflicted. This was Colin Bridgerton. This was the man who had jumped at the first opportunity to compromise you once he heard you didn’t put out for Lord Barlow. You could not be on a first-name basis with him.

“Y/N,” he said softly, cautiously.

And suddenly you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. Maybe you could allow yourself to be on a first-name basis with him. Maybe it felt too good to hear him say your name. Maybe you weren’t strong enough to hold him at arm’s length, and a half arm’s length would have to do.

“Colin.”

“I didn’t give him access to that terrace, you know,” Colin spoke, a hint of indignation lacing his words.

You nodded, lifting your gaze to meet his. “I know. I was looking for anyone to blame when Lord Barlow was the only one who wronged me. Your mother told me he forced the door open.”

“I could never have done that to you, it would’ve been unseemly” Colin insisted, gripping your hand tighter.

But you froze. Couldn’t he have done that to you? Based on what you knew about him, he certainly could have. But it was so difficult to parse the man who had just now defended you against Lord Barlow, who was sitting on the ground next to you and holding your hand, with the man who had wanted to continue Nigel Berbrooke’s disgusting conversation at the Danbury ball.

Feeling you stiffen, Colin’s heart clenched. This couldn’t be happening again. What had he done wrong this time? He was here, on the ground, literally bleeding for you, and you still had something against him.

“Please talk to me,” Colin begged, suddenly feeling very desperate to fix whatever was happening between you once and for all. “If you want me never to speak to you again, I will do that, but I must know. I must know why you hate me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, retracting your hand from Colin’s and placing it on your lap as you looked anywhere except for him.

“I don’t hate you-” you started weakly, but he was having none of it.

“Oh, spare me. I am not a fool. You hated me from the moment you saw me in Lady Danbury’s ballroom, even before our rivalry properly began.”

You bit your lip anxiously. If you were to tell Colin why you truly disliked him, and he was to take it in bad faith, you would be finished. Colin could tell everyone that you had been unchaperoned in the presence of two men of the ton, and given his place in society, no one would hesitate to believe him.

But it was exhausting. Hating him was far more difficult than anything you’d ever done, and you weren’t particularly eager to keep doing it. Perhaps this was the only way to let go, and trusting Colin right now would make things infinitely easier.

You finally met his gaze, feeling his blue eyes boring into yours. There was no anger in his expression, just a look of concern, with a hint of something else you couldn’t recognize.

Resigned, you sighed. “I saw you with Nigel Berbrooke at the Danbury ball before you even asked me to dance,” you explained.

A look of realization came over Colin’s face, and his lips, caked in dried blood, parted to make a perfect circle.

“Oh heavens,” he said, sounding terribly embarrassed. “I apologize that you had to see that. Honestly, I would feel worse about what happened, but he really deserved it.”

“I beg your pardon?” you said, frowning. “He really deserved what?”

Colin’s eyebrows furrowed and he sent you a questioning look. “You saw me break his nose in the gardens, right? That’s what you’re talking about? I promise I’m not usually a violent man, though I’m not particularly proving my point tonight. I apologize if I scared you off; it was not my greatest moment, but I do stand by my actions.”

“You- You broke his nose?” you said, your confusion growing as you tried to piece together what Colin was telling you.

“Well, yes. That’s why he left town for a month. His face looked something awful, and he was too embarrassed to say why. Though that won’t be a problem for me, since everyone already saw my nose get broken anyway,” he shrugged, wincing as he lightly touched his nose. “That’s what you were referring to, no?”

“Oh, dear. Oh, no,” you said, mortified as the realization dawned on you.

“What?” he pressed. “What is it?”

“I didn’t see any of that. I heard you talking with Mr. Berbrooke in the hall. He said that you could have any girl you wanted and that you just had to look for one with a big dowry and good hips. And then you asked to continue the conversation outside. And I thought- I just thought-”

Colin’s eyes widened. “And you thought I actually wanted to continue the conversation.”

You nodded, barely able to meet his eyes because you were so embarrassed. “But I suppose you just went out to the gardens to... Oh, no. And when he came back into town, he told me the only reason you were- the only reason anyone was pursuing me was because they wanted what I wouldn’t give Lord Barlow.”

“Y/N, I would never-” Colin started, fury in his voice, but he was too mortified to continue.

All this time, you had every right to resent him, and yet he stooped to childish antics to spite you. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t actually said those things; they were completely vile, and Colin understood that Nigel implicating him in that kind of talk would have been a glaring warning for you.

The incessant teasing, snide remarks, and rude comments were a grave misjudgment. How could he have treated you so poorly? How could he have treated anyone so poorly, for that matter? He had presented the most unbearable side of himself, sometimes descending into cruelty, all because he felt insecure. You had a valid reason for your hatred, and his behavior was nothing but a misguided attempt to mask his own insecurities.

What a complete mess.

“I’m sorry,” he said, resigned.

You shook your head quickly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I-I misunderstood and let that guide my actions. The fault is all mine.”

“Except it really isn’t, is it?” he said, reaching for your hand again, desperate to have contact with you again.

But you drew your hand back, too embarrassed that you had rushed to assume the worst so quickly. How differently the season would have gone if you hadn’t spent half the time trying to get under Colin’s skin.

“Either way, I’m so sorry,” you said, mortified as you saw just how much blood was on his face.

Colin had been willing to put himself in harm’s way to protect you and your honor. And you had spent months thinking he was one of the men who had no respect for you. You shook your head in disbelief, chiding yourself for your headstrong ways.

“I’m sorry, too. You had a real reason to dislike me, and I was just being childish,” Colin said, his eyes dropping to your mouth as you anxiously bit your lip.

If he wasn’t caked in dried blood, he might have tried to kiss you right now. He knew it would probably hurt like the devil, given that his nose was most likely broken, but he would have been willing to endure that just to feel your lips on his. But he couldn’t do it. Colin could still taste the bitter metallic taste in his mouth, and he knew he was in no state to be kissing anyone.

You nodded at Colin, fixing a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of place. “Can we be friends now, then?” you asked, half-smiling. “And not just as a favor to Eloise.”

Instantly, Colin’s heart dropped. He scolded himself for thinking you could ever consider him as a suitor. It was a well-known fact that you were looking for a titled gentleman with a large fortune. And, as a third son, he had neither of those things.

“Yes, friends,” he smiled wide, not wanting to fracture the fragile peace he had been waiting for since the moment he met you.

Friends was alright. Colin could do friends. He’d take anything at this point.

But as you turned away from him to see Anthony rushing over to scold his brother for starting a fight in his home and nearly giving Kate a heart attack, Colin felt his smile falter.

Oh heavens, he really did love you.

—

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risuola · 1 year

Text

DO YOU WANT TO STAY? — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

After the painful breakup with Satoru, your friends dragged you out for the party to have you loosen up, but the night went very wrong and very right.

cw: smut, hurt/comfort, unprotected sex, creampie, cursing, mentions of alcohol, brief violence, mentions of blood and very, very minor injuries (like scratches), little bit of post-breakup depression but nothing major; angsty vibes nonetheless, reader discretion is advised — 5,5k words

In the coldness of the dark night, you tried to get to your apartment, kick off those high heeled torture devices you’ve decided to put on earlier that day and just sink into the softness of your bed. Maybe right after washing away the concoction of cologne that lingered all over your figure, resulting from the awful experience that was clubbing with your friends. Fed up with all of the drunk assholes that tried to get into your pants with no shame whatsoever, you left, sending just a short text to Suguru. Resigned after trying to catch a taxi for few minutes, you moved by feet, cussing under your breath for the shoes you wore and if not for the filthy ground that disgusted you, you’d already be barefoot.

Padding in short, quick steps, you dumbly decided to cut the way with the shortcut that led you through the dark, stripped of most lights side-street-areas, the ones that nobody in the right mind would choose at any circumstance, but you were far from the right mind, when your feet felt like they were bathing in their own blood, with skin peeling through each and every step you pushed forward. And you thought you’re being lucky that night, seeing nobody in your way as you strode through the dark alley, before your hopes crushed in pieces as few men twice your size stepped right in front of you. Instinctively, you backed out and glanced behind yourself, thinking that maybe it still wasn’t too late to run back to the main street, but as you did that, the way closed by another wall of muscle. Trapped in the circle of misfortune, you noticed the metallic shine of bats few of them held loosely propped on their shoulders as they measured you out with their filthy eyes, grinning so wildly, you could see their teeth reflecting light even in the darkness of the alley.

“What do we have here, huhh?” one of them spoke and a mixture of laughs and chuckles, huffs and groans followed the question, along with many disgusting comments that made the horny men in the club look nearly innocent, as you thought about it.

“I’m just passing,” you said, swallowing the shake of your voice down to at least look like you were keeping composure, which you definitely didn’t. Resignation began flooding your system whilst the circle tightened around you, invading your personal space, making you feel smaller than you really were and causing your brain to forget all of the self-defense skills you had. It wasn’t much, but anything could possibly be better than just giving up, but you were already broken, doubting that any more damage could make things worse.

Just a month ago, you broke up with your boyfriend of twelve. It was heading towards the first real anniversary of your seemingly joyful relationship when everything crumbled right in front of your eyes, collapsing like a house made of cards. Satoru Gojo was everyone’s favorite – truly, everyone loved him – girls wanted to be with him, boys wanted to be him; students admired him, he was teacher’s favorite with his perfect grades, the know-it-all, the golden boy and even his enemies, that he had a lot of, would give everything to just once wear his skin and be him, be the infamous Satoru. And he was yours, for a year before the bubble burst and everything you tried to build with him shattered, along with your whole world. He was your whole world, you loved him sincerely, with all his flaws that he had quite a few, with all of his charms and wits, all of his handsome looks and every single one worn out, tired picture he hid from the outside world, but you were his inside world so you saw all of him.

When the break-up happened and the ground underneath your feet crushed, leaving you in shock so deep that you bluntly agreed to staying friends, as he briefly suggested in between his venomous spits, considering your shared group of close friends, but it turned out that staying friends after being so close and intimate wasn’t necessarily possible, at least for you. With memories of many nights filled with exploring each other’s bodies to the point of nearly passing out tattooed inside your mind, you couldn’t just watch as he poured his natural charm onto someone else than you so you quickly cut him off, removing his socials from your followings, removing him from your sight and retracting from any group activity with people that you called your friends as well. You couldn’t be in places where he was present, couldn’t see how effortless flirting was for him just days after he became free, how well he was presenting himself when you tried your best not to cry at the thought of him alone, not to say the sight of him with the crowd of thirsty girls at his feet.

It’s been a month and you still felt broken, so broken, in fact, that you were deliberately giving up fight in the threatening situation you found yourself in. It was your fault, after all, to try and cut your way short when you should never step into one of those side-alleys, aware of what Tokyo darkness’ hides. Silently, you hoped to just die here quickly, as you wished many times in the past few weeks, the heartbroken feeling slowly suffocating you inside the walls of your apartment that you trapped yourself in before your friends forced you out to club that night. And you pulled yourself together earlier that day, made yourself look presentable and even put on those fucking heels, determined to drown your sorrows in the sweet alcoholic drinks, to open up to new people, to feel like yourself once again and maybe, just maybe, find yourself a man, even if it’s just for the night because no one could replace Satoru. And you failed miserably, unable to have any fun in the crowded, sweaty space full of swaying bodies and disgusted at the thought of having sex with anyone there. You were never a party nor quickie kind of girl, you only began attending clubs with Satoru as he liked those loud musical gatherings and you found comfort alongside him, with the safe shelter of his protective arms the crowd around you seemed nonexistent and now, as the barrier of his muscles was taken away, you felt almost threatened by the drunk-dazed atmosphere so you ran away, giving in to your self-preservation instincts that clearly wore off when you turned into the alley off the main road.

“What should we do with you, princess?” one man asked, grinning widely and you felt the coldness of his steely bat underneath your chin that forced your head up enough to face him. “Oh, don’t cry, it’s gonna be soooo fun,” another added and it's at this point that you realized that a tear run down your cheek so you quickly wiped it away, wondering if it was caused by the fear or the wave of regret following the rush of memories that just a second ago flooded your system as you tried to recall why you even ended up in that situation, reminding yourself of the post-Satoru depression. “For us, at least. For you maybe not so much,” a laugh reached your ear from the back as you felt a hand gluing itself to the curve of your waist, and you flinched uncontrollably while your whole body was declining you anything above that movement. Cursing yourself, cursing the world around you, you tried to force your muscles to contract again, to move at any direction, to run if you’re lucky. Maybe the high heeled shoes could make for a weapon, maybe you could at least poke someone’s eye out, maybe you could do something, but instead, you did nothing. Squeezing your eyes shut and lowering your head, resigned and slowly agreeing to enter hell that was about to open right before you, you froze once again hearing a pained whine right behind your back. The palm that just a second ago was pressed disgustingly to your body was now gone and you were too scared to look at what happened so you stood in place, hoping that a black hole opened behind you, swallowing the man that threatened you.

“I’ll say it only once,” a voice you heard made your eyes snap open, but you kept them fixed on the ground, convinced that your brain, influenced by alcohol, fear and despair, was making things up at this point. “All of you, keep your hands off of her, understood? It’d better if y’all just run so nobody gets hurt.” You heard it again, you heard him again, the strict tone with honeyed undercurrent, and the shadows consumed your trembling figure as his towering body stood in front of you, effectively creating a barrier between you and the gangsters. You raised your head, your eyes run over the lines of his broad back until they finally landed on the messy head of snowy-white hair that even in the murky area stood out. He looked relaxed, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his varsity jacket and his head tilted slightly to the side. You took one step back but your feet met something that block it – that something being an unconscious body of a man that previously was touching your side. Stunned, you looked forward once again, only to see the scene of calculated violence playing out as Satoru easily dealt with hooligans. With quick, impressive displays of agility and strength, he put down one by one, effectively clearing the way for you to go home, but you stayed where you were until he finally finished the beating.

“Y’alright?” he asked and all you could do was nod when he grabbed your forearm, pulling you to leave the place of danger. Your body barely moved, tensed painfully and you felt the burn spreading along your skin from where his fingers were wrapped around your flesh. Forcing your legs to move, you tried to match his pace as he was leading the way towards your flat, hand still keeping a secure hold on you as he looked forward.

It’s in front of your building when you finally jerked your arm out of his grasp and he looked down at you, almost offended at how desperately you distanced yourself from his touch when before you’d lean into it instantly. Standing there, you finally locked eyes with his crystalline blue ones, that were looking down at you through the light strands of his hair and you couldn’t help but notice they’re longer than he’d usually keep them, crossing the length of comfort – as he used to call it – with the pukes irritating his eyes when below it. His seemingly neutral expression hid some tension, you noticed his brows creasing just slightly and his jaw flexing underneath the light layer of his skin.

“I leave you for what, few weeks, and you’re already getting in trouble?” he snapped rolling his eyes out of habit, but you could tell it was far from his usual teasing tone and he hated the way you were looking at him, or rather, through him. Your ability to see through every single of his little lies never annoyed him more than in this very moment, whilst you two stood awkwardly underneath the block you live in – the same one he used to live in with you, finding it convenient because of the shorter route he had to take from your place to college, comparing to the one he had from his own. “No wonder you’re in hot water when you walk naked through the shadiest alleys available.”

“I’m not naked, Gojo.”

“Gojo, huh?” he hummed in displease and chuckled bitterly at the unfamiliar sound of his last name rolling off your tongue. “That’s what you revoke me to? Not even a ‘thank you’ for saving your dumb ass a moment ago?”

“I don’t recall calling for your help,” you snapped, feeling the sudden wave of anger washing over you, as his words stung just as they were a month ago, but the angry feeling was gone as soon as it flowed in, when you noticed his hands. Knuckles stained in red, glistening in the street-lights as some spots were still bleeding after he punched down a little group of hooligans barehanded. In your defense. “You’re bleeding.”

“Another reason why you should be a little more thankful”, narrowing his eyes, he tried to hide his hands from you but you grabbed one of them and as you examined the damage, guilt began making your eyes wet, your mind unable to bear with the thought of any hurt happening to the man you still love so much it began killing you the second he was gone. Blinking the tears away, you exhaled. “Come inside, I’ll-“

“No need,” he grunted instantly, taking his hand back by force but you insisted, “please, let me at least clean these.”

Satoru started to regret the decision as soon as he stepped into your apartment, with all of the memories hitting him like a brick the moment he looked around the place. It looked all too familiar, everything so similar to how he left it a month ago, he was almost convinced you didn't change anything since that day. A blanket he bought you still hung loosely on the couch back rest, a cup from which he used to drink his morning coffee still was standing on the kitchen counter and even the chair in the living room was still pushed near the sofa, serving no real purpose for you whilst he liked to put his legs up while watching TV, being too tall to fit comfortably on your furniture. Everything felt so similar, like it was his home but now it wasn’t anymore.

“Come”, you snapped him from the trance and he followed you to kitchen island, where you already pulled the first aid kit to dress his injuries. You made him sit on the high-chair, while you kept standing on the ground and as you focused on cleaning his knuckles gently, Satoru could shamelessly analyze your features. Unable to deny your cute concentration, the corners of his mouth curled up just slightly as he noticed your brows furrow when you discovered more and more scratches along his skin. If it was his decision, he would just wash his hand at home and call it, but you always liked to take care of him and he often got home with scratches, sometimes getting them just to be tend by you, making you laugh at the unwise effort. If he wanted more attention from you, he could have asked – you always said, joking that although you’d try, you’re not sure if more attention was even possible as he took all of your mind. Now, as he looked at the precise movements of your gentle fingers, he wondered if he’s still appearing in your thoughts sometimes or have you pushed him out completely.

With a cloth and warm water, you cleaned the blood off his knuckles, revealing many little wounds that although shallow and harmless, will sting like hell when you use the disinfectant so you sighed quietly, already hating the thought of hurting him more. “There was no need for all that,” your voice was quiet enough, that if not for the complete silence of your apartment, he might have missed it. “You just got hurt.”

“And you might have been hurt much more than I am now,” he forced his tone to sound somewhat calm but his insides were burning. How could you say such things? How could you prioritize his well-being over your own, after what he’s put you through.

“I kinda wish I was,” you blurted out, pressing the gauze soaked in alcohol to his knuckles but it caused no reaction, as Satoru looked at you stunned. The words that just left your mouth were sinking in, and he found himself unable to speak.

“What do you even mean?” he forced finally, his voice lower and angrier and you tensed at the sound of his usual soft, melodic tone now stained with rageful undertones. “What do you mean, ‘you wish you were hurt’?”

“Pain that’s physical is easier to bear,” you replied quietly and cleared your throat, changing the subject as you finished wrapping his hands with thin, protective layer of bandage. “It should be good.”

"And what makes you so unhappy that you're that desperate for your body to hurt, huh?" Satoru asked, his face twisting in annoyance. "Surely, it cannot be me." The thought alone, the very idea that he might be the reason for you wanting to feel physical pain just to dull the mental made his insides turn with guilt but his effort to sound unbothered caused you to shut down and step back.

"No," you lied, packing up the first aid kit, looking strictly down. "It's nothing, forget it."

"It's not nothing, I want to know-"

"Not everything can always be as you want it," you snapped, walking away to put the kit where it belonged in the kitchen cabinet, silently hating yourself for the tears that moistened your eyes, hating the heartbroken feeling he fueled so skillfully with his nonchalant speech. You exhaled shakily, "y-you should go."

"Yeah. I think I should," he got up from the chair but instead of heading out, he circled the island in few large strides to catch your shaking hands and pull you into his chest. "But I won't. I need to talk to you. I have to."

"You said everything a month ago. You said enough back then, do you truly have anything to add?", the question rendered you hopeful that he's not going to say anything more because you couldn't take anything more. You were hurt through and through, your soul was crying and bleeding every second of every day since the one that broke you and you knew that you were way too close to the edge to take any more stabs of his sharp tongue and not fall down.

"Yes, I have," he kept you close but you don't fight. With your cheek pressed against his heartbeat and his strong hands secured around your shoulders and back, you kept yours down, hanging alongside your body afraid to touch him because if you’d allow your arms to embrace him, you might never let him go, risking another tear of your soul if he ripped away. "I want to apologize. For everything I did and I said then and now, and any time. I'm constantly talking shit, I don't know – fuck, I feel like sometimes my brain just shuts off. I'm sorry."

"You're what?", stunned, you forgot how to breathe and only whisper pushed through your mouth as you listened to his rambling.

"I'm sorry, y/n, sugar. I'm sorry, I've never... I didn't mean to- I don't know, I don't even know how explain it."

He spoke and your world stopped.

"What does that mean?", you asked, unable to hide the spark of hope that crawled into your voice as you breathed in his scent, absorbing his aura full of familiarity and warmth that you used to bask in every day since you got together. Your relationship always was heavily physical, it was the love language you both shared and you loved the way his hands never seemed to not be touching you, whether it was keeping you pressed against his chest or just smoothing over your hand with his fingers.

"It means I'm an idiot, that's what it means. No one ever I can love like I love you; I can't stop thinking about you, I can't sleep, god, I feel like I can't breathe. What I'm trying to say, uh... Fuck, I miss you, 'kay?"

"But you told me to go to hell", you reminded yourself and him as well, in your head replaying the cruel record that broke your world into pieces. "You told me-"

"I know", he stopped you from talking and you felt his body shifting slightly as his hand found your cheek, cupping it tenderly and lifting it so you looked up at him. Locking eyes with his light blue crystals you searched for the truth but couldn’t see anything. Satoru's heart broke once again when he noticed the intense shine of your eyeballs, wet from tears that you desperately tried to hold back. "That day I was... It was a bad day; nothing justifies it but I wasn’t thinking clearly. That day I hurt everyone around me, you, Suguru, Shoko, I even insulted Mei and she’s hard to hurt. Chain reaction of my stupidity, I ruined everything and as they forgot about it quickly, I couldn't bring myself to face you after what rolled off my tongue. And then I couldn't find you."

"I couldn't be seeing you so shamelessly flirting with everyone around you. I cut myself off", you said quietly, laying your hand over his own pressed against your cheek as his thumb smoothed over the damp skin underneath your lower lashes, wiping the salty residues away.

"I was being stupid," he sighed. His eyes lowered a little to glance over your lips, suddenly unable to resist you, losing the last bits of self-control the longer he looked at you. "It's you that I love, sugar." With that, his head lowered slowly, giving you enough time to push him away if you really wanted to, but you stayed in place, as if you were expecting what follows so he pressed his lips against yours, squeezing the gasp out of your chest and you couldn’t fight him when he was kissing you like he's starved.

The moment your mouths connected made you feel dizzy and you felt your knees buckling underneath the weight of his feeling. Instinctively, feeling you lose your balance, Satoru grabbed you by the hips and lifted you effortlessly, sitting you on top of the kitchen island and wiggling his way in between your legs to keep your body as close to his own as possible. You whined quietly, feeling the cold marble underneath your naked thighs where the dress rolled up. The kiss became messier, burning with lust and longing and you wrapped your legs around his middle, pulling him even closer, already tugging at his t-shirt that realistically you couldn’t take off because of the jacket still hugging his broad shoulders. Gojo read your intentions and pushed the garment off, breaking the kiss just for a second so you could take the black blouse off of his toned body, revealing the light skin strangely clear of any nail marks and love bites that you usually adorned him with and he wore those with pride. Your hands glued themselves to the softness of his flesh, examining the bumps of muscles flexing beneath your touch, and he crashed his lips against yours once again, kissing you messy and teethy as your tongues danced to the fiery melody of desire. Satoru was quick to encourage your dress to come even higher, his hand reached to the back, where he knew a full-dress-length zipper was waiting to be pulled down and he grinned into the kiss whilst exposing your velvety skin completely to his disposal. Wasting no time, he took you closer, smoothing over curves of your perfect figure, squeezing your supple flesh and you melted into the touch of his warm fingers with a soft whine that you couldn’t stop.

Satoru moved down, smearing kisses along your face, through jawline and onto your neck and shoulders and you couldn’t hold back a quiet moan at the feeling of his plush lips sucking spots on their way down. Brushing through his silky white strands, you allowed him to push down the straps of your lacy bra and before you noticed, it was off and on the ground as the man lifted you up from the cold counter, heading towards the conjoined living area and soon dropping you onto the soft couch, following you closely. You bounced slightly off the pillowy seats as he hovered above you, his lips glued to your skin, marking and exploring every inch as he moved down to take care of your chest and you stroked his strong shoulders, scratching them red.

Your body jolted up when suddenly you felt pressure of Satoru’s fingers over your clothed clit, as he rubbed circles over the sensitive bud while his mouth worked your perky nipples. The way his tongue danced around the pebble and how his teeth grazed the delicate skin continuously made you forget your own name, but for him it mattered only if you remembered his. Your mind became hazy, you felt like nothing else existed except for the man above you and you made your way down to unbuckle his jeans, impatiently diving your hand right into his boxers and wrapping your cold digits around his already hardened shaft. His cock was thick and leaking, begging for attention and it sprung out long when you pulled him out the trap that was his underwear. Satoru moaned against your breast, for a moment forgetting about the nipple in his mouth that he was in the middle of teasing, when he felt your grip moving up and down his length just right, spreading the pre-cum over it, and he knew he cannot wait any longer. He raised up on his knees, taking the panties off your body and finally kicking away the rest of his clothes before he fell back over you. His face met yours in another passionate, wet kiss and you moaned into it, as he worked his fingers between your folds, bullying your tenderness shamelessly and forcing many more sweet whines and whimpers from your chest.

“Satoruuu”, you mewled and he grinned at the sound of his name coming from you. “Don’t tease me so much, please”, pleading, you tugged at his hair and he chuckled at the eagerness in your tone. But he knew how big he is and even sleeping with him regularly, he more often than not had to prepare you for the stretch that was Gojo Satoru. “Don’t wanna hurt you, yeah?”, he smiled, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking softly at the pulse and you just wanted him inside, no matter the consequences. “I can take you”, you ensured, “please, ‘toru.”

And what kind of man would Satoru be if he denied a pretty lady what she wanted and if feeling the burn is what you truly desired, he was going to give it to you. Being desperate himself,he stroked his length few times more before he smeared the head along your soaked folds and aligned the tip at your entrance, already knowing he’s gonna see tears very soon. And he did – your cheeks dampened as the burning stretch paralyzed the nerves all along your body and the tearing pleasure waved over your entire existence. Satoru groaned low through his clenched teeth at how your velvety walls were squeezing around his shaft as he slowly bottomed out. “God, I love you so much,” he growled into your ear and your dead-grip on his shoulders softened, letting him know that he’s good to move so he dragged his hips back almost completely, engrossed with the way your tight pussy tried to suck him back. Hot wave rushed through your body, as he began thrusting slowly and purposefully, clawing at one of your hips to ground himself before he loses composure in the way your cunt swallowed him whole time after time. He supported his weight on the other hand on the armrest behind your head, and gven the access to his body, you allowed your hands to wander all over his well-build form, leaving scratches and crescent-moons here and there with your long nails. Your fingers moved on their own, subconsciously tracing over the familiar musculature, refreshing the memory of a body that was burned into your mind. A whimper left your mouth when Satoru rolled his hips into you quicker, picking up the pace gradually and it almost hurt how deep he reached, kissing every sensitive spot inside you and it made your mind go blank of anything that wasn’t him. You smoothed over his flexing biceps, squeezing it tightly when he adjusted the position of your hips to ram his own into them harder.

Smearing kisses along your jawline, Gojo tasted your skin with pleasured hums, drowning in divine feeling of your pretty cunt eagerly taking him in, listening to the whimpers and mewls intertwined with little I love you’s that slipped through your parted lips in breathy tones. Warmth began pooling below his stomach as he praised you for doing so well after such long time and you cried out a moan when his hips buckled up sharper and rougher. He was drunk in the godly presence that you were, intoxicating himself with everything that was you – your taste, the scent your delicate skin held, the image of your flushed cheeks glistening with tears that his size caused and those were the only tears he accepted on your face. Beautiful crystals of wetness gathering along your lashes as he split you open with the unforgivable pace he has set, pushing up against every sweet spot inside of you and making you lose every last bit of real-world connection.

Blissful daze suited you and Satoru couldn’t get enough of the sight of your fucked out expression, wearing the same one himself, as his pace stuttered due to the delightful series of twitches and flexes your pussy did around him. Your toes were curling, thighs shaking and it only made him go harder. In a messy cacophony of pants and whines, you managed to unknowingly call his name again and again, ridding Satoru of every last bit of clear-thinking as suddenly, he wanted to hear only that sweet sound of your breathless voice. The voice he’s been dreaming about for the last weeks.

His cock twitched and thickened inside of you, pressuring your sensitive walls even more as he collapsed on his elbow next to your ribcage, sliding his forearm below your arched back and reaching new angles as your hips rolled forward. His fingers curled over your soft flesh as he was slamming his pelvis into your own, his pace became messied, more rushed, as he felt your orgasm approaching. You creamed all over his shaft, the white gathering at the base of it, as your pussy tightened and squelched delightfully in waves. Your gaze was heavy and you couldn’t focus on where your hands were landing as you felt the bliss washing all over your figure. Your thighs were trembling, your nails run over Gojo’s back, leaving red marks that for sure will sting later and you held onto his shoulders for dear life when he picked up the tempo even more, chasing his own release. Smearing wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your chest, Gojo leaned into the dip above your collar bone, groaning and breathing heavily as in few more pushes, his orgasm snapped, rushing hot with his load spilling inside of you. You felt his teeth sinking into your skin right where your neck connected to the shoulder and you couldn’t help but moan once again at the new painful pleasure. His brute pace slowed down, becoming messy and languid and his body fell over you, weighing you down onto the couch. You wrapped your arms around him, keeping him from lifting up, not at all caring about his weight crashing your own. Last drops of his load were squeezed by your walls before he slowly pulled out, exhaling deeply against your skin and you laughed joyfully.

Your voice was tired, your entire body ached from the unexpected activity but you felt happy for the first time in a month, suddenly grateful for your friends to take you out that day. Satoru at first basked in the sound of your chuckle before he joined, overwhelmed by the blissful daze. Both of you were worn off, sticky and completely fucked out and yet deeply satisfied and although still far from good as a pair, it already was much better.

“Fuck, I love you so much”, Satoru breathed out, planting few soft, ghosting kisses over the imprint of his teeth that already began to bruise up, coloring your smooth complexion with reds and purples as the mark was blooming.

“Do you, uh-“, you started but voice died down your throat; you were terrified of an answer. Gathering the strength, you continued, “do you want to stay…? With me…?”

Satoru grinned handsomely as he lifted his head up and your sight met the crystalline blue gaze of his eyes. His white eyelashes fluttered when he blinked, mesmerizing you all over again with the magical look of his features, his cheeks still stained with the faint blissful flush and you looked at his face with hope. “Yes”, he finally spoke and you felt your heart banging against your ribcage, as if it wanted to jump through it and kiss him itself. “I want to stay with you. Forever.”

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amorgansgal · 3 months

Text

Doing Something Unholy

So, as inspired by a post @waterdeepwhiskey and with encouragement from @waterdeep-weavemoss I have written some glorious smutty filth, involving Gale and a Female Reader/Tav fucking in front of Mystra's statue. Hope you all enjoy some nice, vindictative fucking!

Gale x Female Reader/Tav

CW: Sexual content, oral sex, sex in public

It seemed like no one in camp wanted to tell you where Gale had gone off to. Granted, you both weren’t possessive of each other or needed to know where one another was at all times. But everyone was acting very oddly. You’d narrowed your chosen targets for interrogation to Halsin and Karlach. Most would likely keep the matter a secret, but you felt like an appeal of the heart might win Karlach over and a plea of just wanting honesty would work with Halsin.

You headed over to Karlach’s tent, tucked away between two buildings and she immediately began to fuss with her belongings, as though she had changed her mind on where everything should go. ‘Karlach,’ you began warningly.

‘Hey soldier!’ she said brightly. ‘I… um… I have to… Wyll wants me to help with dinner, so…’

‘You burnt dinner last time you helped with it,’ you pointed out.

‘I know, that’s why I’m on chopping duty. He thinks I can manage that, so I ought to get going, those carrots won’t-!’

‘Karlach, please, where’s Gale?’

She sighed and looked over to the others. You glanced behind you and saw Shadowheart watching you both, a troubled frown on her face and by the looks of things having just shook her head. You snapped your head back around to look at Karlach.

‘Don’t lie to me, where is he?’ For a horrible minute you wondered if he was at Sharess Caress, it seemed so unlike him, even the way the Drow twins had spoken to you had made him deeply uncomfortable. He had said so. But where the hell could he be if he wasn’t there? And why hadn’t he told you where he had gone or what he was up to?

‘He… you remember we visited Stormshore Tabernacle where there was the statue of Mystra?’ Karlach said, evidently deciding it was better to tell you and risk Shadowheart’s annoyance.

‘The statue of Mystra?’ you repeated, almost dumbly.

‘Yeah, he said he wanted to… uh… go and look at it.’

‘Why does looking at a statue take the better part of an hour?’ you asked, Karlach gave a bemused shrug.

‘I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll be back soon.’

‘And he wanted to keep this a secret from me?’

‘Well, I don’t know about a secret…’

You scowled formidably, snatched up your cloak from a pile of clean laundry and began to head back out to the city. You evidently needed a good talk with your lover, if that was what he was up to. Karlach called out to you to wait, but you decided to forgo travelling with the group and shouted over your shoulder, ‘We’ll be back in a minute or two!’ Thankfully no one followed you after that.

***

Stormshore Tabernacle was quiet after dark, the door was still open, but the priest was gone for the evening. Flickering candles illuminated the now subdued hall, casting shadow and golden light over the faces of the stone gods. You snuck in through the door, closing it behind you and immediately spotted Gale, who hadn’t even noticed your presence. His gaze was transfixed on the carved visage of Mystra and if you hadn’t known better you would have assumed he was hexed or frozen to the spot by a spell.

‘Gale,’ you murmured, and he jumped, quickly turning around to look at you.

‘Gods, I thought you were-’ he coughed and looked sheepish. ‘Well, I hardly know, an enemy of some sort. Spend half our days fighting that I’m starting to look for them when they aren’t even there.’

You carefully approached the statue and looked up at Mystra. The same electrifying jolt that you had felt when you first visited sent a shiver down your skin, the weave was stronger here with just her depiction alone. It both warmed and cooled you at the same time, made you feel a little dizzy and jubilant with the sweet promise of power.

‘Not so much an enemy,’ you said, looking at Mystra’s face. Even you wouldn’t admit to being an enemy of a god, that was far too risky and undeniably tempting for a god to put you in your place. ‘But something of a rival I suppose.’

‘Ah,’ he replied. ‘Look you have no reason to fear-’

‘Do I not? Most people would not take kindly to their supposed lover spending the better part of an evening staring at a depiction of their ex-lover.’

‘No, and I understand why you would fear my loyalty, but you need not doubt me. I came here to work out a few things in my head.’

‘A few things you couldn’t talk about with me?’

‘I didn’t want to talk to you about them because I fear I talk about Mystra too much and I didn’t want you to feel like that’s what I always do. But perhaps I should’ve,’ he admitted quietly.

‘Yes, or at least told me that’s what you had planned to do! And not made everyone in camp keep it a silly little secret.’

He hummed in agreement and nodded. ‘I’m sorry, it does feel silly now. I just… I look at her and I don’t feel how I felt a long time ago. My feelings towards her are complicated, but love doesn’t feel part of it, I don’t feel I can love her anymore. I don’t feel I want to love her anymore.’ He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to him, you were caught between the altar for Mystra and Gale’s firm chest under the warm softness of the velvet cloak he wore. ‘I love you, entirely, completely. You have my heart in the palm of your hand and I can do nothing but beg you to keep it.’

You couldn’t help smiling at his declaration and he seized the opportunity, cupping your face and kissing you. It had been a sweet, gentle kiss at first, but as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and his hands found your waist, he pressed you up against the altar. He nipped your lower lip, a silent plea to allow him access to your mouth, and you conceded, letting him slip his tongue between your teeth. His hands drifted further down to your thighs and butt and he lifted you up till you were sat on the altar.

Perhaps you should have questioned whether this was a good idea, perhaps you would have advised it not be worth risking the anger of a goddess for momentary pleasure, but the part of your brain the quite frankly couldn’t stand the goddess and what she had done to Gale won out. Let her deal with you fucking her ex-lover, let her deal with the fact that you had stopped Gale from detonating the orb, that he wanted to give you the whole world and his loyalty to her as a worshipper was shaky at best!

You had already made light work of the laces on his breeches and slipped your hand inside, stroking his already hard cock, pre-cum already slick on your fingers, you ran it down the length and smiled as Gale groaned against your mouth. He pressed hot, needy kisses down your neck. ‘Gods, we shouldn’t do this,’ he muttered, though he didn’t sound very convinced by the suggestion.

‘Do you really want to stop?’ you murmured enticingly and stroked him again, he let out a delightful, tremulous breath he let out as you did. You would’ve stopped if he said no, but instead he scrabbled with the material of the dress you wore, tugging up the skirt till it was around your hips. His fingers easily found your slit and he bit back a groan finding you wet and wanting. Gale trailed them up to your clit and you let out a quiet moan in the temple at the heady rush of pleasure you felt. Perhaps it was all the more delicious and delightful to be doing something so wicked and sinful in a temple of the gods.

He pulled you forwards, closer to the edge of the altar and then went to his knees. You bit back a smile and his eyes gleamed in the half-light. ‘I’ve heard tell that love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling. Consider me a humble worshipper,’ he said and began to kiss up your thigh.

He reached the apex and kept a tight hold on your legs, pressed his mouth against your slit and began to lap, kissing and sucking on your clit and making you gasp and moan and squirm on the stone table. Your hand knocked off a necklace that someone had left as an offering as you desperately tried to find purchase, even as your head dropped back from the pleasure Gale’s clever, well practised tongue was easily drawing from your body. You would’ve happily let him continue, but you didn’t want to risk being interrupted and your body felt like a taut bow string.

‘Gale,’ you panted. ‘We can’t… we need to be quick…’

He let out a groan of frustration and drew back a little. His face was flushed and his lips and chin were covered with your slick, even that sent a shiver of desire running through you.

‘I like taking my time,’ he pouted.

‘And I like not having my pleasure interrupted by a priest who might overhear us and come looking!’

Gale got up and wrapped a tight arm around your waist, kissing you frantically, his fingers dug into the meat of your thighs and he groaned as his cock brushed against your sopping wet clit. You shifted your hips just a little and he easily slipped inside you. Gale let out a quiet moan, his face buried into your shoulder and he bit down, trying to quieten himself as you whimpered at the feel of him.

‘Fuck,’ he breathed against your neck. ‘You feel so good.’

‘Better than all the heavens and anything Mystra could offer?’

He raised his head, a wicked smile on his lips. ‘Far better.’ He fucked you hard and fast, hips slamming into yours, his fingers fumbled against your clit, working quickly to bring about your pleasure and it was all you could do to keep one hand gripping the stone altar to stop you from falling back and another hand fisted into the material of Gale’s shirt. The quiet temple was filled with the sound of skin on skin, the soft pants and moans from you both as you rushed to find your pleasure. Until finally Gale let out a rather loud groan as he buried himself to the hilt within you and you felt his release, you shuddered around him as he easily brought you to your own bliss. Your head fell backwards and you saw the cold, stony face of Mystra.

‘Fuck you, you fucking bitch, look at how well he fucks me on your precious little altar,’ you thought in your head, though even after all that you had done you dared not say it aloud. It was petty of you, but truth be told it made you feel good. You both got your breath back and once Gale had tidied himself away, he offered a hand to help you down from the altar.

‘Ah,’ he said, and on turning, you saw you had left a rather sizable wet patch on the stone. Gale lifted his hand, presumably to cast prestidigitation to remove it, but you caught hold of his arm.

‘Leave it, consider it our offering to her,’ you insisted.

‘Tav,’ he warned. ‘She will not be pleased.’

‘Is she ever? Besides, it’s a little too late for that, and what’s she going to do, stick another orb in you?’

He chuckled and shook his head. Gale gazed at the wet patch for a moment longer, then placed his arm around your waist. You thought he would insist on cleaning it up, but instead he guided you from the temple and you both made your way down the steps and back to camp.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #gale x you #gale x female reader #gale x f/reader #gale x f!reader #gale dekarios x female reader #gale dekarios x f/reader #gale dekarios x f!reader #gale of waterdeep x tav #gale of waterdeep x female reader #gale of waterdeep x f!reader #gale dekarios x tav #gale x tav #gale smut #tav x gale #gale bg3

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theemporium · 1 year

Text

It was an unwritten rule for vampires to not get attached to humans.

There was the logical side of it: the vampire would outlive the human, so there was no point of getting attached. There was the moral side: if there was no intention to turn the human (which albeit, many vampires looked down upon), then it was an unnecessary bond to form. There was the superiority side of it: why would a vampire spend time with a lesser creature?

And above all, there was the weakness side to it: if you get attached to a human, you are giving yourself a weakness for enemies to exploit.

But you were far too irresistible for Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen to avoid.

For hundreds and hundreds of years, they always had each other and that was more than enough. Through different decades and centuries, they were each other’s person. They turned together. They fought together. They lived and loved and experienced the world together. There was never a need for anyone else when it was each other.

And the night they met you, it should have played out the way the rest of them had. The hour was late, the sky was dark and the slight chill in the air added to the thrill of the hunt. It had been weeks since they last fed straight from the vein, and both of them were starting to get angsty. They wanted some fun. They wanted some entertainment.

And then you entered their lives and completely threw them off their axis.

You were a human. You were lesser than them. You were weak and fragile and in a few decades time, you’d be a blip in their memories and lives. They shouldn’t care about you. They shouldn’t have even cared about you when they first saw you. You should have been another victim on their list, and that was all.

But you weren’t.

You were their human, their pet, their far too trusting toy that they could corrupt and mould and manipulate into everything they wanted.

You were theirs.

“Fuck,” Charles let out a low groan as he lifted his head from your neck, blood messily dripping down his chin. “That’s it, pet. Fucking hell.”

Your head lolled back onto his shoulder, a little bleary as the rush of the feed washed through your body. But it was short-lived when you felt a hand squeezing your face, lifting your head up as you tried to work through all the overwhelming feelings inside you.

“Such a stupid, little thing,” Max hummed, one hand holding your face in place whilst the other one stroked his cock as he stood in front of you and Charles. “You are too soft on her.”

“She’s a weak creature, cherie,” Charles retorted, his hands gliding up and down your torso as you shivered beneath his touch. “Don’t wanna break her.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what we need to do,” Max stated, his voice a little strained and breathless as he watched your hooded eyes lock on his dick, a stare of longing and neediness in your eyes that made him smirk a little. “Isn’t that what you want, pet? You wanna be good for us?”

You nodded dumbly.

“She’s perfect the way she is,” Charles muttered, his large hands feeling ice cold against your tits as he squeezed and groped them, letting out a soft string of curses when he felt you clenching around his cock. “Our perfect whore.”

“So fucked out she doesn’t even know what’s happening,” Max continued, letting out a groan as he felt himself tipping close to the edge, seconds away from coming when you stuck your tongue out obediently for him. “Fuck, look at her.”

“Atta girl,” Charles grumbled in your ear. “A perfect slut, squeezing around my cock and desperate for him, aren’t you?”

“Please,” you choked out, a fuzziness in your head that never really disappeared since you had met the boys.

“Blood whore,” he remarked with a sinister grin before his head dipped back down, fangs pricking your skin before they sunk in.

You let out a choked gasp, a wave of pain and ecstasy washing through your body as you felt him drink from you. But that’s exactly what you were for them. Their little human to do with as they please. To sit on their cock and kneel before them when they come. To offer a vein and fresh supply when they felt even a smidge of hunger. To obey and follow their every little demand because at the end of the day, they were them and you were just human.

“Our pretty pet,” Max groaned out as he finally reached his edge, tipping over as he came all over your face and tits. And just when he thought you weren’t perfect already, fucked out and on a blood high, you gave him a sleepy grin and offered your wrist as Charles continued to slurp from your neck.

“Please,” you pleaded, your tongue darting out to lick a bit of his release from your chin.

And who were they to deny their little human what you craved most when you had been an obedient thing, just absolutely perfect for them.

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gloomwitchwrites · 2 months

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Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, describing a man’s size, brief alcohol, non-descriptive mentions of sex, intimidation

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Part Twenty-One of Ink & Needle

The past resurfaces. Simon's enemy shows his face.

Chapter Twenty

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Three Years Ago

“Confess, bitch. Give us the details.”

Sam takes a towel to a bottle of prosecco, the cork popping as she dislodges it. Jade collects four tumblers from the mini-bar and sets them out on top of the low dresser the television sits on.

“Don’t leave anything out,” adds Jade, tossing her blue hair over her shoulder.

All of you are freshly showered and wearing the fluffy hotel provided robes. The softness is absolute heaven. Like wearing a cloud.

You sigh heavily and fall onto your back on the plush hotel bed, hands pressed over your eyes. There is a pleasant ache between your legs—a reminder of your wraith. His scent still lingers even though you stood under scalding water and scrubbed the day away. There is a hint of mint. Of black tea. A whisp of smoke.

Maybe it’s in your hair.

Maybe it’s embedded into your skin.

Thorns that have burrowed and only time will push them out or leave them to fester and infect.

“What do you want to know?” you groan, rubbing your temples.

Already, the alcohol is beginning to creep from your system, leaving a tension behind that signals an oncoming hangover. It’s not piercing yet. Just a nuisance. Sam tops off the glasses and the prosecco is distributed. The bubbly drink burns your nose a bit but it drives off the blooming headache.

Begrudgingly, you push up to a more seated position, your three best friends staring back expectantly. It’s the moment of truth. You’re facing the jury. This is your judgement.

“Was it good?” asks Sam, one eyebrow arched in question. She takes a sip of her drink, leaning slightly to the right, adjusting the front of the robe.

“Yes,” you reply slowly.

“And?” she prompts, waving her hand in a signal to go on.

“Do we have to talk about this right now?” you mutter, staring down into your dwindling glass of prosecco. If you’re going to get through this conversation, you’re going to require more.

Jade sets her glass down on the side table between the two beds. She goes up on her knees, excitement buzzing through her bones. “How big was he?” she asks. “What did it look like?”

“Jesus Christ, Jade,” you groan.

Yes. More prosecco will fix this.

“Just say when,” interrupts Jade. She brings her hands flat against each other, and then slowly starts to move them away.

Sam snorts, and then chokes on her beverage, nearly rolling off the bed as she goes for a tissue. You stare dumbly at Jade, not saying anything.

“Just say—seriously? Seriously?” Jade’s hands are unrealistically far apart. “This is impossible. I’m starting over.”

“Stop,” you laugh, grabbing her hands. “He was…decent?”

“Decent?” snaps Sam. “We don’t get any details? Color? Length?”

“Girth,” adds Jade. “A prominent vein?”

Sam rolls her eyes. “Girl. Give us something!”

You glance over at Evie. “Are you going to help me at all?”

She shrugs and sips on her prosecco. “I’m curious too,” she says softly.

You down the rest of your prosecco and immediately regret it. A wave of indigestion hits you and you swallow down a burp.

“Okay,” you concede, holding up one hand placatingly. “Fine.”

The three women settle onto the bed, all their attention on you. It takes a moment—a deep inhalation before you begin. But you do, and you tell them most of it. You talk about Ghost’s proposition out in the alleyway and of where he took you to. You describe the positions he put you in, and how damn good the man was at tonguing orgasm after orgasm out of you.

They sigh and swoon. They giggle or simply stare open-mouthed.

There are some things you don’t say. You don’t tell them how you felt in your heart when you left or the circumstances of why. The sense of needing to run was insistent and strong, but looking back—you now feel shame.

You regret not staying even for a few extra minutes.

“Damn,” sighs Sam, leaning back on one elbow.

Jade just blinks, her mind still trying to process the information.

Evie smiles behind her glass, and you know that look. “What?” you prompt, lightly smacking her thigh.

“Sounds like you had fun.” She lightly smacks your thigh back. “Aren’t you happy we went?”

Now

“Bag packed?”

“I think so. How’s Lillian?”

Evie takes a bite of her sandwich and glances down into the bassinet. “Asleep. For now.”

“How are you feeling?” you ask softly, walking around to the side of the bed. Sitting down on the edge, you lean back slightly, staring at your friend.

It’s been over a week since Archie’s parents came to visit. The rest of the day and the following, Evie was a mess. But her cheeks have color to them now, and the bags under her eyes are almost non-existent. She’s always been the mediator, but it doesn’t seem like she’s willing to the mediator in this anymore. Her fuse no longer sparks.

While Evie hasn’t spoken it out loud, her actions indicate her willingness to separate from Archie’s family completely. It would be better for everyone, but mostly for her mental wellbeing. She’s dealt with too much of their bullshit, and it’s time that she breaks away from them for good.

It’s their own fault. Their own behavior that has caused all this. It never had to come to this, and now they likely won’t see their granddaughter at all.

“Better,” she sighs. “A bit nauseous.”

“Headache?” you ask.

She nods. “I just need a little caffeine. Maybe something carbonated.”

“All the paperwork signed?”

“Yep. On the table in the kitchen.” Evie takes another bite of her sandwich, chewing slowly. “Thank you for doing this.”

“It’s fine, Evie. I’m happy to do it.”

“I know,” she says quickly. “And I know I keep thanking you, but I do mean it. Having Amelia around is wonderful, but she wouldn’t be able to do everything you’re doing for me.”

It’s true in a way. Amelia has been integral in helping with Lillian, but it is you that has spent all your time taking care of the financial end. Mister Grant calls you. The estate agent contacts you. You are Evie’s voice at the moment, and you’re more than happy to do it.

“I’m not the one packing anything up,” you laugh, throwing up your hands. “All I have to do is point and Jennifer’s assistant will label it.”

“That’ll be easier,” sighs Evie. “I can’t imagine trying to go through all our belongings by hand.”

You shrug. “I get to eat lots of takeout in the meantime. I’ll be fine.”

Evie reaches out and squeezes your hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Evelyn Green.”

Her grin is infectious as you push up from the bed and snag the backpack you packed. Hefting it over one shoulder, you salute Evie and walk out of the room backwards. You hear her giggle all the way down the hall.

Once the paperwork is in your hands, Amelia drops you off at the train station. You spend the entire trip hunched over the paperwork and reviewing the list you made of all the items Evie wants to keep. She’s giving you liberty to make the final call on most things, but you know it’s because she’s doesn’t want to deal with any of it.

It’s understandable. Everything in the home reminds Evie of her dead husband, and she’s already emotional delicate. If she doesn’t want to look at or deal with any of it, you’ll carry the burden.

When you arrive in Cambridge, it’s a quick taxi ride to the house.

The quiet is almost ominous, and the dark rooms seem bigger without anyone here with you. For a moment, you consider calling Simon to ask if he’d like to come out here and join you. But the idea is quickly dismissed. Simon has work. He has a job to do. Already he’s made numerous changes to his schedule just to accommodate your needs.

It’s not like he wouldn’t come if you called. You know that if you picked up the phone right now and dialed Simon’s number, he wouldn’t even hesitate. Simon would come like a moth to a flame.

But moths are often consumed in fire.

You think better of it.

The estate agent, Jennifer, and her assistant are supposed to arrive early in the morning to start the pack-up process. There isn’t time to dwell on your feelings or how much you wish Simon was here with you.

On the kitchen island, you set out the paperwork, organizing it now so you don’t have to deal with it in the morning. You just want to sleep—to have as much quiet as you can before the work begins. Lillian keeps Evie up, but the little one keeps you up as well. The lack of sleeping is starting to eat away at you.

It’s a fresh start in a way. You sleep deep and you sleep hard. When Jessica and Mollie arrive, you’re refreshed.

“Evelyn wants these packed?” asks Jessica, gesturing toward an array of kitchen appliances.

“Yes,” you confirm.

Jessica nods and Mollie writes “pack” on a sticky note before attaching it to the mixing bowls. Plenty of things are going into storage for now—at least until Evie is confident enough to find her own place that is uniquely hers.

You haven’t broached the subject explicitly. It’s only been mentioned in passing, and Evie agreed that she didn’t want to sell everything off only to have to replace it later. What she truly wants is for the house to be sold. To create a space that doesn’t constantly remind her of her dead husband.

You and Jessica walk around the entire house and garden with Mollie trailing behind, her arms loaded with tape, paper, and sticky notes. It takes several hours to go through everything, and by the end you’re starving. The coffee and croissant you ate for breakfast are out of your system entirely.

Jessica taps away at her phone, a frown on her face. “I swear. I’ve been having issues with this thing all morning,” she grumbles.

Mollie shrugs. “Want me to reach out to them?”

“Please,” sighs Jessica. “They’re supposed to deliver the boxes for us. Find out from John what time.”

Mollie nods and grabs her tablet, her fingers tapping away furiously. She gives her back, one arm clutching the tablet while her other hand unloads the pens from her coat pocket.

Jessica turns to you with a bright smile. “I’ll find out when the boxes are supposed to arrive.” She lifts her phone in the air. “If this will cooperate. Bloody technology.”

“It’s fine,” you laugh. “They’ll get here when they get here. I can manage until then.”

“Too true,” she beams. “At least you have a few to start with.”

“But the rest will be boxed up independently?”

“Yes,” confirms Jessica. “Just take the things that Evelyn wants. Leave the rest. I have the keys. When the team is ready, I’m meet them here. We’ll take care of everything else.”

“Wonderful,” you sigh, as you say your goodbyes and escort Jessica and Mollie to the front door.

The boxes do arrive, but so do an endless parade of people. Mister Grant stops by to review the paperwork before handing over more for you to take to Evie when you return to London. The appraiser comes to evaluate the house, and several different contractors arrive to assess potential fixes that Jessica suggested during the walkthrough.

It’s an avalanche of faces—and the only one you want to see is Simon. It’s the face you think about when you slip into bed that night. It’s the face you imagine when the ache between your thighs grows and you need some sweet relief. It’s the face in your dreams that night, and the one that lingers when you wake.

You need Simon like plants need the sun. He is your light. Your sustenance. This love blooming in your chest is a twisting beast that intends to devour you whole. It is lovely. It is consuming.

All you want is him.

When you return to London, the first thing you’re doing is heading for 141 Ink to spend an afternoon in his shop. Watching Simon work is a pleasure. You’ve only witnessed it a few times, and it was hypnotizing when you did.

“Really?” you mutter, staring at the text message on the phone screen, stuffing the rest of your breakfast into your mouth.

It’s Jessica! New phone! Sending the assessor out to you today! One last walkthrough!

“They were just here,” you groan, staring around at all the empty boxes. “Why is this necessary?”

The boxes were delivered, but they were all flat. At least packing tape came with. Otherwise, you’d be out of luck. Evie wants some things to come to Amelia’s and those are the items you’re supposed to be collecting. That is supposed to be your focus at the moment.

And a new number for Jessica is annoyingly inconvenient, but you’ll deal with it. Her phone was acting up yesterday.

“Whatever,” you say to the ceiling, updating your contact information for Jessica.

You continue to pack, taking breaks every so often to check work emails. You’re in the zone—a flurry of activity—so when the doorbell goes off, you nearly flinch at the sound.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, sealing a box with packing tape.

Pushing up to standing, your knees pop. The doorbell rings through the house again and you sprint to the front door, legs a bit achy from crouching.

You open the door, a little breathless. “Hi!”

A man in his mid-thirties stands on the other side. His dark hair is cropped short and he wears a polo with khakis. On the left side of the polo is a little logo that says “Heisman Consulting.” He clutches a clipboard in one hand and has a utility belt hooked around his hips. Behind his right ear is a sharpened pencil.

“You must be the assessor Jessica mentioned,” you greet.

“That’s me,” he says, presenting his hand. “I’m Jack.”

You take it, giving him your own name. It’s a firm, strong handshake. His eye contact is intense. It’s a bit strange actually. You’re not sure why he’s staring like he’s trying to see into your soul.

“We just had the assessor here yesterday. Did Jessica give a reason for another visit?” you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

Jack just grins and it’s disarming. “Second opinion.”

“I see,” you say slowly, not understanding at all.

What’s the point of a second opinion? Did the first one already come back? That seems unlikely. These things don’t happen overnight. But you’re not the expert on real estate. This is out of your depth.

What you want is to leave this conversation as quickly as possible and return to your task. “I have a few things to take care of. I’ll make sure to stay out of your way while you walk around the property.”

“That won’t be necessary,” replies Jack, his smile still in place.

“I’m sorry?”

“Jessica wants you present for the inspection.”

You laugh, the sound awkward as it leaves your lips. “No she doesn’t. I’ll be around. Just come grab me if you need something.”

Jack shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders casually. “Jessica isn’t happy with the last assessment. Wants someone else observing.”

“Like a witness?” you ask.

He shrugs his shoulders again, and the unease only grows. Why does he want you to stick around so bad? If anything, you shouldn’t be in his way at all.

“Fine,” you concede, attempting to give him a smile. “Not sure I’ll be of much help.”

Jack glances down at his clipboard and removes the pencil from behind is ear. “S’all good, love.” He winks and notes something on the clipboard before his gaze scans the room.

Love.

In Jack’s mouth, it sounds like an insult. It doesn’t sit right. The only person you enjoy calling you that is Simon.

You try to smile, but it falls flat.

There are too many things to do, and you only have a few days to complete them. You’re supposed to be in Cambridge for the weekend—returning at the latest on Tuesday if necessary.

“Where would you like to start?” you ask, taking a cautious step back, edging toward the paperwork sitting on the counter.

Jack takes another gander of the kitchen and living room. It’s strange, really, how he’s observing the space but not really looking at it. It almost appears passive, like he’s not interested in it at all.

You tuck the loose paperwork into the binder Mister Grant left and lean against the counter, arms crossed over your chest.

“Let’s cover the outdoors first,” Jack finally says. “Weather is all right for now. Never know when it might rain.”

“Sure,” you reply. “Let me grab my coat.”

You quietly excuse yourself, heading for the guest bedroom. It’s at the end of the hall. Tucked away. Even though you don’t sense a presence at your back, you keep checking, glancing over your shoulder like Jack will suddenly appear.

It’s silly, really. Why are you uneasy about all this? Jessica sometimes gets back to you last minute on things. It’s just a little tight. A little odd. But it’s not completely unusual.

Grabbing your coat, you return downstairs, finding Jack near the patio door. He’s hunched over a bit, blocking your view of the handle.

“Want to start in the backyard first?” you ask loudly, tugging on the coat.

He turns sharply, his mouth a firm, flat line before morphing into a smile. He’s still blocking your view of the handle.

Reaching behind him, he slides the patio door open. “Sounds great.” He moves with it and stays there. “Ladies first.”

You slowly approach and brush past him. Jack is far too close and you wrap your coat a little tighter around you as he exits after you. With clipboard in hand, the two of you begin walking the perimeter of the house.

Jack never removes any tools from his belt. He doesn’t measure anything. He only observers and makes notes on his clipboard. There are no questions asked. Nothing. The silence is excruciating, and while you’re itching to break it, you don’t dare do so.

There is a chill beneath your skin, and it’s not the cool December air. It might be cold out but it’s not that cold—not like it can get in the States. This is a creeping chill. One that starts at a point in your chest and slowly spreads outward until the tips of your fingers and toes feel numb.

Jack isn’t wearing a coat, but perhaps he’s simply used to the weather. He doesn’t appear bothered by it.

“Anything I can help with?” you finally ask once the two of you make it back to the patio area.

“Just keep close,” he winks, stepping inside the house.

You stand just outside, unsure if you want to go in at all. Your phone burns a hole in your pocket. The urge to call Jessica is intense—nearly stifling.

You step inside, glancing back the interior handle. The screws are gone. And the lock is clearly broken.

“What the fuck,” you mutter, whirling around to find Jack standing nearby, a hammer clutched in his fist.

Jack isn’t smiling. His frown is deep. A scowl. Your gaze darts to the hammer in his hand and then back up to his face. He’s between you and the front door. The only way out is through the patio door. It might be directly behind you, but you still have to run along the side of the house to make a break for the road.

If you’re fast, you could do it. But you’ll have to give Jack your back. And he’s wielding a fucking weapon. Even if you’re out of swinging distance, he could still hurl it at you like a javelin.

Slowly, you slide your foot backward.

Jack remains utterly motionless.

“I’m calling Jessica.”

Again, Jack doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

You take another slow step backward.

Without taking your eyes off of him, you fish out your phone, holding it up in the air. With Jessica at the top of your message list, it’s not difficult to hit the “call” button. There is a pause before you hear the muted ring coming from your phone.

But that isn’t what unnerves you.

A ringer goes off. Loud. Near.

It’s not Jack. He still stands there in the middle of the room with hammer in hand. Unfazed.

It’s coming from behind you.

The muted ring from your phone and the loud, audible one sync together. Jack’s gaze slowly shifts from you to a point over your shoulder.

Your eyes burn and you don’t realize that you’re crying until the salt of them sting your cheeks.

Jack isn’t looking at you anymore. His gaze is beyond. Absorbed elsewhere.

Twisting, you glance over your shoulder and find a man standing just outside the patio door. He holds up a ringing cellphone and half of his face is covered in burn scars.

“Hello, love,” he says, voice gruff like he’s smoked an entire pack of cigarettes. “The name’s Kit.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

the girl next door 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You gnaw on your cheek as you read over the letter. Final warning. You really didn't think much of the first five but that word catches your worry; litigation.

Your mother grunts and clicks her pen, dropping it as she curses under her breath. She tosses the crossword book away from the chair. For all your life, you remember her working on her puzzles. Now, she can hardly hold pen steady enough to put in a single clue.

"Mom, you want another coke before I head out?" You ask.

"Where are you 'headed out' to?" She scowls.

"Just outside. Try to figure out the mower."

"Piece of shit," she sneers and for a moment, you're not sure if she means the machine or you.

"So..."

"Just go," she snips.

You purse your lips around the cut of her tone. You leave her in her recliner and you go down the hallway to the back door. You shove your feet into your stained vans and let yourself gently outside.

You come down the steps and cross the overgrown grass to the garage. You prop the door open with an old paint can and drag put the mower. You haul it over to the little patch of pavement by the house as the sunlight raises beads of sweat across your forehead.

You shade your eyes and squint. You don't get the thing. It's not even motorized, it just started catching. You can't push it hard enough to make it go. It only bounces uselessly across the ground.

You squat and put it on its side. You examine the blades, nervous to dig between the mulching teeth. You grab a stick and poke around. It breaks and you rip it out.

"Dang it," you whisper.

You stand up. It's too hot to think. As much as you miss the sunshine in the grim winters, the heat is less than welcome.

"Hey, excuse me," a voice startles you. You ignore it, thinking maybe it's just the neighbours on the other side of the fence. "Um, miss?"

You turn towards the voice and find a man peeking through the loose slat in the fence. You sigh. Yeah,

that needs to be fixed too.

You stare dumbly. You recognise the man. It takes a few seconds to remember where you saw him. He was with the realtor. You hadn't see much yet, not that you ventured outside often. The sign changed to sold and that was that.

"Hi, uh, so this," he touches the plank, swiveling it on the hanging nail.

You nod and go to the edge of the patch of pavement but no further. You nibble your lip and search for something to say. Talking to mom is easy, you know what to expect, but strangers are different.

"Gonna fix it," you assure him flatly.

"Yeah, well, I was actually thinking, I'm just doing a few touch ups right now and I could spare a couple nails or two."

You tilt your head and bring your hands together, mashing your palms anxiously, "it's rotted."

He wiggles the wood and little slivers fall away. He hums disappointed, "sure is." He smiles as his blue eyes shine in the sunlight, "no problem then. I'm sure I can find something at the hardware store."

You hesitate. You should mention you can afford even half a plank. Grandma left you the house and enough to cover property taxes, but mom's monthly cheques are already stretched thin. If he doesn't ask, you won't offer.

"Steve," he stretches his arm through the opening.

You look at his hand. Your stomach flip flops. You don't want to be rude as much as you don't want to touch this strange man. Well, no use in making another enemy around here.

You lift your feet as you trudge through the high grass. As you near, the sweat slakes down your back. You gently shake his hand, just for a second, and pull back.

"And your name? Neighbour?"

You stare at the collar of his grey tee shirt and eke your name out.

“Is it just you over here?” He asks.

You shake your head. You bend your arm to pick at your sleeve. You don’t mind introductions but you’re not much for conversation. You don’t need him prying into things. If anyone really saw inside those walls, they’d only feel bad for you. You’d rather their apathy.

“Oh, you got kids? A husband?”

You wince. It’s almost a flattering assumption yet a reminder of everything you don’t have. You’re not old enough to really think about all that anyway.

You glance back at the side of the house. You should hose that down and get rid of the mildew. Another tick on the endless list.

“Mom,” you say.

“Ah, makes sense. You in school?”

You shake your head again. He’s quiet. You sway listlessly.

“Anyway...” he says.

You put your head down and back away. You go back to the mower, bending down to fiddle with it again. You could see if anyone would lend you one but that means asking and as much as the neighbourhood paints itself in friendly smiles, they aren’t genuine. The letter on the kitchen table is proof of that.

“Not working?” The man, Steve asks. You cringe and stand up. He’s still there.

You shrug as you look at him. You turn back to the mower and lift it by the handles. You try to ignore the nosy neighbour and line it up with the grass. You push and it doesn’t move easy. You grunt and it rolls over the grass. You think maybe it’s working but as you turn, you notice the grass stands back up, only slightly bent.

“You know, I got a nice electric one. Isn’t here yet but I can bring it tomorrow on the truck,” he offers, “I wouldn’t mind doing a once over, if you need.”

You huff and push the mower over.

“Can’t pay you,” you stomp back towards the house.

“I didn’t say anything about money,” he chimes.

You stop by the steps and cross your arms. You look at him, “too much.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you can just come knock on my door,” he says.

You nod and spin around again. You climb the steps, fighting to keep your steps even. You want to run inside and hide but you don’t want him to see how desperate you are to get away.

The screen door snaps shut behind you. You kick off your shoes and go down the hall. Your mother huffs from her recliner.

“You figure it out?” She asks.

“No,” you flop onto the couch.

“Knew ya wouldn’t,” she snorts as she stares out the window. “Man’s back. Musta bought the place.”

“Uh, yeah,” you lean back, pulling the collar of your shirt over your face to sop up the sweat. “It’s hot.”

“Nah, you’re just whiny,” she snickers.

You don’t respond. You know better than that. You let her have her truth. Whatever she thinks of you, you can’t disprove. The world is she says it is.

🏠

Your bedroom window shines yellow with the noon sun. The heat beams down on the folding table, warming your hands as you scratch charcoal onto thick paper. You still have grass stains on your fingers from another fruitless attempt at fixing the mower. Another day and you expect another letter isn’t far behind.

As you focus on the lines and curves left by the pencil, your anxiety subsides. Drawing is the only thing that helps you forget. Really forget. You don’t think about the house or the lawn or the HOA or your mom. It’s just you and the pencil.

You lean your forehead in your hand as you cross hatch the shadows. The chirping birds and the soft breeze deepen your trance. The world around you is distant and dim. You’re only awoken but the sudden and unfamiliar ‘ding dong’.

You sit up. It takes a moment before you realise what it was. The doorbell? No one ever rings it. No, even Marge from the HOA waits until you come out to get the mail to accost you.

You put the pencil down and get up. You go out and peek down the hallway. You creep along and stop at the doorway to the front room. You mom sniffs and wipes her eyes. She must have fallen asleep in her chair.

“Who is it?” She snarls with grogginess in her throat.

“I don’t know,” you go to the door and pull the curtain away from the long window beside it. You peek out at the figure on the porch and quickly hide behind the fabric. Too late. “It’s... the neighbour. I think he saw me.”

“Ergh, don’t be stupid, girlie,” your mother barks, “help me up.”

“Oh, uh, okay.”

You go to her and offer your hand. You get her to her feet. She slightly hunched and slow but she makes her way to the door. She pauses and turns to the mirror above the little bench against the wall. She tidies her hair and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

She leans on the door as she grips the handle. She opens it and the man from next door, Steve, greets her with a grin.

“Hello?” She sweetens her tone.

“Hello, miss, sorry to bother you,” he says, “I just moved in next door and I’m getting settled in. I was just about to do some lawn work and I thought maybe I might offer to do yours? It’s no trouble, I just thought I’d offer.”

“Oh, what a honey you are,” she preens, “of course, that would be lovely of you. My daughter,” she sighs and shakes her head, “I’ve been nagging her for weeks to get it done.”

“Really, it’s not a bother,” he assures her, “I’m Steve by the way.”

His smile is just as charming as his introduction.

“Holly,” your mother returns, “I’ll make you some lemonade for your trouble. It’s a hot one, isn’t it?”

“Sounds good,” he agrees, “I’ll try not to make too much noise.”

You peek out from behind your mother. Steve’s eyes meet yours for an instant before she blocks her out, no doubt eager to hide the state of the house from him. You back up as she turns to you.

“What’re you doing hanging on like a rodent?” She hisses, “go make some lemonade.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the girl next door #mcu #marvel #captain america #au #silverfox au

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celestialprincesse · 7 months

Note

can we get a mid/plus size reader feeling insecure x Soap :,) i love how you write his accent btw

UGHHH I forgot how much I love writing for Johnny he's just the cutest ever I want to squeeze his cheeks and live inside his ribs💕

Warnings: afab reader, tooth rotting fluff🎀

The mirror feels like your worst enemy today. You know, rationally, that you're being nitpicky and self critical, something that you're trying to stop, but today is just - it's not happening. Between PMSing and the giant crater of a pimple that decided to darken your day, you find yourself sniffling, glaring at your reflection like it's her fault.

"Hey, hey, hen?!" You didn't even realise Johnny had come in until you'd felt his calloused hands around your biceps, turning you to face him with his fingers tilting your head this way and that as though to discern what's wrong. "Now what's got ye all sniffly, hey? Ye gonna tell me?" He croons, brushing errant hairs that had been stuck to your face by salty tears. When you look at him, really look at him, at his unfairly blue eyes, framed by thick lashes and sheltered under brows furrowed in concern, you only serve to make yourself feel worse. He's so so beautiful it makes your gut wrench, and you're just you.

"It's nothing. Stupid." You grumble, trying to wrench away and hide your despair. Johnny, like a dog with a bone, won't have it. He's seen you're upset, and now he'll do everything in his power to make you happy again, anything to see that soft smile and a flush on your lovely soft cheeks. "Nah s'no nothin'. If it were nothin' ye wouldn't be crying now would ye? Hm?" It's practically impossible not to melt under that ever soft voice and the warmth of his palms cupping your cheeks, guiding you back out of your mind and towards him. "Just -" You grumble shyly, coaxed by a thumb brushing loving strokes across your cheekbone. "I dunno, I just feel insecure, I guess. Like I'm not pretty enough, good enough. I see all these girls online and on tv and stuff and they're so - so perfect. Why can't I be like that." "Right, ok." Johnny hums, taking a moment to process your words, looking at the wall as he tries to gather his thoughts, which are currently full of 'what the fuck' and 'how could she ever think that'.

"Ye're no perfect." He says bluntly, but the look in his eyes tells you he's far from finished speaking. "Ye're no perfect the same way I'm no perfect. The same way no one's perfect. So what if ye don't look like some shitty model or pornstar or whatever, ye hear me?" Johnny looks at you with an expression somewhere torn between reverence and frustration. "You think that?" You sniffle pathetically, wiping at your ruddy cheeks. "I think that if I wanted some perfect girl with no flaws whatsoever, I'd have to buy some fuckin' freaky sex robot or some shite. But I don't want perfect - and anyone who claims to be a man, but won't go near a woman with a pimple, or fuckin' - shite, I dunno, hairy pits or a wee bit of cellulite - is no man. You hear me?" You nod dumbly, a little surprised by the passion in his outburst, the way his blue eyes burn like the hottest part of a flame. "Real men want real women, and you, my beautiful, beautiful hen, are as real as they come, okay?"

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metranart · 3 months

Text

Ask me nice... and I might think about it.

Draken x reader, Toman! Draken x Enemy gang! Reader, enemies to lovers, TOKYO REVENGERS, raging hormones and secret obsessions, Draken has a breeding kink.

- 𖦹 Warning tags: Toman! Draken x Enemy gang! Reader, rough sex, shameless smut, dominance, glorious orgasms, creampie, Draken has a breeding kink, breeding, explicit sexual consent, sexual tension, obsession, possessive behavior, shameless flirting, unprotected sex, marking, hair pulling, scratching, enemies to lovers, unrequested pregnancy. -

Draken had curse a thousand times since he had had to stay to take care of you: a member of the enemy gang who would be interrogated for information on Monday…. unfortunately, it was Friday and there were two days left until then… so there he was, playing babysitter with you: the impertinent brat.

More than once you had already tried to attack him, and in the last attempt, he had to tie you to him with handcuffs. Between the struggle, things had gotten out of control.... not to mention, that the heat wave sweeping through Tokyo wasn't helping him keep a cool head either.

Both were heavily panting, limbs tangled in each other as Draken’s gaze drank you whole. Your pants were out of place, lower than should have been, revealing what seemed to be the matching lingerie for the destroyed bra, your hair was taunting mess, sweat rolling down your flushed skin… the image you gave was tempting as hell, ordering Draken to fall over the edge and take you with him.

"D-Draken?" your feeble voice muttered breathlessly.

“Ken.” He corrected, “Not Draken.”

His free hand started to travel down slowly. Giving you ample time to pull away before he was softly cupping your cheek, tilting his head to the side as he studied you attentively.

“We'll still be enemies in the morning-” He cleared his throat and you blinked, dumbly.

“We are still enemies now.” You clarified and that sharp, toothy smile on his face told you everything.

God, your heart was racing, your chest filling with flames.

“—Then the handcuffs stay.”

You were about to complain when he slowly yanked at your handcuffed wrist in a gentle pull and began to guide it down. “In exchange, I’ll give you this,” he murmured, bringing it down to cup his cock over the pants. “I won’t be gentle. But I, sure as hell, will make you feel good.”

Fuck, he was rock hard under your palm, throbbing and swollen for you. You gulped, and he licked his lips.

“What if you…-” Your hand carefully breached under the hem of his pants, and his whole body trembled when you began to caress his cock. His warm skin felt like silk under your hand, pulsing with life. “-What if you uncuff me and I can use both my hands?”

“No,” he grunted immediately. “No until I can trust you, it’ll be a—” his breath caught when you give him a good, rough squeeze. “—a show of good faith.”

“Are you sure you don’t want both my hands on you?” you reasoned, wrapping your legs around him to bring him closer. He allowed it cautiously. “One to jack you off while the other plays with your balls—”

“I know what you’re doing,” he told you flat out, though he made no attempt to stop you at all. He just growled low in his throat when you bit down onto his neck, one of his hands landing hard on your thigh and locking down onto it tight. “And it won’t work, darlin’… not with what I have planned for the evening.”

“I could try crying again,” you teased breathlessly, squeezing his cock once more and feeling him shudder.

“Ngh! I knew you were faking it before—” he gasped when you brushed your thumb over the swollen tip, dampening the fabric covering his neck with your hot breaths, it was your turn to smirk.

“If you knew, why did you follow along?” You wondered, slowly starting to jerk him off.

Draken didn’t answer, how can he tell you that he had a soft spot for pretty, cunning woman. He just panted like a dog next to your ear, your grip tight and strong, and he practically succumbed bracing on one arm at the side of your face to be able to hold himself up.

“What if I just ask you really, really nicely, Ken?” You whispered, speeding up your hand. “Will it work if I ask you to please fuck me without the handcuffs? Please? And then If you want, you can tie me to the bed? Or maybe…. You fancy something else—”

Draken abruptly groaned, pinning you down with a way, too aroused glare. “—I want to cum inside you.”

You held still as a fucking statue under him. Cum inside you? You weren’t on the pill, you could get pregnant, it was very risky, but it was even riskier being tied to him. If he took off the handcuffs you could at least try to escape once he fell asleep and then you would go to the pharmacy for a 'morning after' pill, that sounded like a good enough plan.

You squirmed a little bit under his unreadable gaze, before you decided. “You need so bad to fill me with your pups, Subcommander?”

“Unbelievable,” Draken murmured softly. He sounded truly mystified by you. Almost reverent.

You blinked at him, confused and suddenly he grinned again.

“I´ve been looking so hard for a person to call m-mine…” He seemed like he was trying to find the right words to describe what was going through his mind, but he couldn’t. “…a-and finally found it-… in my enemy.”

Your heart skipped a beat, to then ran rampant against your ribcage. The way Draken was looking at you should be illegal, so endearingly, so devoted, so— NO! you couldn’t be his. You scared the tempting thoughts of belonging to this tough gang member and instead bring your hand back to wrap tight around him, beginning to pull up and down in strong, steady strokes once more as a way to change the subject. The nails of his hand scrapped against the floor.

“Please,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss the tip of his nose. “Please, Ken.”

He stayed like that for just a split second more and then he was whipping his free hand to grab your cuffed wrist, “Then I’m breeding you, yes?” he wanted to seal the deal first and when you nodded, a click was heard, and the handcuff fell to the floor with a metal clack.

“I won’t be gentle,” he assured you once more, voice coming out hoarse and shaky. “I can’t—”

You nodded your head and you couldn’t even get a single word out before Draken used both hands to grab your hips, abruptly yanking your pants off your legs, his shirt was discarded as well and his own pants pooled down and then he was spinning you around and practically shoving you right back onto the floor, facedown, his huge body on top of you, but somehow it wasn´t uncomfortable to feel this caged.

Something thick and blunt pressed up against the tight ring of your pussy, and slowly pushed forward, and oh, HOLY FUCK—

READ THE WHOLE (8000 word) OF DRAKEN BREEDING YOU AND FALLING IN LOVE IN THE PROCESS, IN MY PATREON (here you will also find NSFW art of this story) .... Plus, more stories of tokyo revengers and other anime, each with a NSFW illustration from a scene of the story, PLUS! 'Spicy Foreplay tier reward' like: voting poll privilege for future stories, couple pairing selection for the stories and artworks, exclusive smut fanfiction and animation like THIS ONE and my eternal gratitude for your support!!!

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boughkeeping · 2 months

Text

That Itoshi Sae!

"you're a pain in the ass"

"I'm YOUR pain in the ass"

Itoshi Sae x fem!reader enemies to lovers but it's actually one sided :p high school au let's pretend he studied 💀 songfic

Listening to your currently favourite song Everybody's talks by Neon trees and walking hurriedly to your school, ball just smacked the back of your head almost making you tumble and instead of being greeted with an apology you got a simple "pass the ball"

♫I could hear the chit-chat

Take me to your love shack♫

"I'm telling you- if I wasn't in a hurry that day..." Your friend concerned at your current rising blood pressure gave you a playful pat on your back "okay calm down do you know his name?" You hissed "that's the issue, I don't I was in a hurry that time"

She sighed "Do you at least know what he looks like?" You bit your lower lip "of course! Pink or red head with ugly bangs" "I think the only one with that hair colour in our school is Itoshi Sae" "He's gonna get it- THAT ITOSHI SAE!" and that's exactly when someone coughed behind you.

A very familiar guy behind you two. "You......" do you call him a cunt? Asshole? Would it be too hyper for you to do so? "...have no manners!"

He simply put his pinky finger in his one ear and walked away squeezing himself between you two to make way.

♫ I'm a sorry sucker and this happens all the time

I found out that everybody talks ♫

You swore you don't want to see his face again but as if the fate and universe collaborated together to make sure nothing goes your way here you were with that Itoshi Sae cleaning the grassy grounds at the back of your school as a punishment for being late again.

He was too quiet, you disliked that. Because it prevented you from getting any reason to go off at him. "saysomethingsaysomethingsaysomething" you stared hard into his back profile as he was brooming away the leaves.

You didn't know but he felt goosebumps up his spine, he turned back to look at you with an eyebrow up a 'something the problem?' expression but you just looked away and pretended to ignore him.

After a good twenty seconds which wasn't even long you couldn't hold it in anymore, the incident embarrassed you, your airpods falling into the drain as the ball collided with your head. It all flashed in ur eyes again.

"hey." You called out, he didn't respond. "Is he for real?" "Hello?" You called out again but he didn't respond, you wondered if he was deaf. "Earth to Itoshi???" Still no response you walked with heavy steps and pulled him by his collar "Excuse me mister you're surely not deaf?"

"tch" he hissed, "Wow you're seriously gonna pretend nothing happened yesterday?" He dug his ear again "What happened?" He played dumb.

Seriously that Itoshi Sae....

♫Hey honey, you could be my drug

You could be my new prescription♫

This was severely getting out of hand now, your lunchbox just got knocked out by that Itoshi Sae again. Him and his dumb ball. You got up and marched towards him, all eyes on you two.

You grabbed his collar "See I don't know if you're doing this on purpose or not but get that stupid ball anywhere near me again and the consequences won't be good"

He dumbly tilted his head towards where your lunch had fallen down "oh?" Was all he uttered, "Is that all you have to say!? You have no manners do you!?"

He sighed and put his hand over yours to remove his collar from your grip "I'll treat you to lunch" normally you'd refuse but you were seriously hungry this day because you skipped breakfast, you could swear you saw a smirk for a split second on his face. You huffed and marched towards the canteen "I'm robbing your wallet dry by the way"

♫Hey sugar, show me all your love

All you're giving me is friction ♫

He didn't come to school for two weeks, probably busy with his football bla bla bla stuff you hated it even more, the fact he's actually almost professional at something.

But hey why are you suddenly reminded of that fool? Is it because you saw reddish brown roses on the way? "That Itoshi Sae....cabrón" you hissed as you got into the bus and then again as if fate wanted to tie you two together regardless of your wish,

he was right there in his seat at the corner.

All the seats were empty. You'd want to pick the seat farthest from his. He was sitting at the corner like a loner his earbuds were in, seems like he didn't notice you entered. It hit you, you could do the funniest thing right now.

You sat next to him with a stupid smirk on your face, but he paid no mind. In fact, he didn't even flinch. You waved your hand in front of him that's when he finally turned his head to you.

He didn't even say anything but the 'what do you want?' expression on his face was clear. "I came here to piss you off" you announced and he simply pointed his finger towards his earbuds and waved his hand, it gestured 'I can't hear you over my music'

You just gave a quick sigh and opened your phone, to turn your Bluetooth on but it hit you that your airpods were done for good, obviously because of the guy next to you right now, wait why is an earbuds open to connect on your screen?

You quickly plucked an earbud from his left ear and it was the first time he had an expression other than that dumb deadpan face, his eyes looked a little shocked.

You put that earbud on your ear and.....nothing was playing.

"Were you pretending to not hear me all this time?"

He looked away "yeah."

He looked away expecting you to be mad or start yelling already but instead for the first time his open left ear where you just snatched his earbud from was graced with a genuine laugh from you instead.

You connected your Bluetooth with his, "Seriously? You're so stupid....hah"

A music played, he usually doesn't listen to this type of song but he liked this one for some reason. Maybe because you played it? Or not who knows who cares.

♫Never thought I'd live to see the day (ooh-ah)

When everybody's words got in the way, oh!♫

The song was over and you got up, what surprised you was he grabbed your wrist, "My earbud" you slightly pulled out your tongue and removed your wrist from his grasp. "Not returning till you get me one, payback bye!"

♫I could hear the chit-chat♫

Take me to your love shack

The club meeting was over and being the vice president it was your job to close the classroom after putting the files in place, that's when you saw the magenta haired guy with the badly cut bangs stand firm and in a straight position behind one of the pillars.

"Sae? What are you doing h..." He put a finger over his mouth as his eyes moved toward his right, the teacher was there in a distance.

After a few seconds the teacher left. "You're bunking classes? Not so very academic weapon of you"

He relaxed his shoulders and crouched down "I don't even look at my report cards" you chuckled "You don't look at it because you know you're too good or because you know you're too cooked?"

He put a hand over his cheek and looked above at you, "What do you think?"

Fuck he was kind of cute "wait what?" You realised "what?" He asked.

You immediately gave a disgusted look at him and started to walk away "shut up!" He mumbled "I didn't even say anything..."

Unknown footsteps were heard and the both of you like scared deers looked at each other.

The teacher opened the door to be greeted by an empty classroom. "No one's there? I swear I heard... whatever" he left.

Now currently under the table "why are you hiding?" Sae asked. "You're right why am I hiding too?" You asked as well. "And you're the one who called me stupid..."

You laughed "If you were smart you would've realised I'm giving you company right now"

He looked at you with doubtful eyes "yeah right..." you defended yourself "Hey don't look at me with those eyes, you know what your eyes make up for your bad haircut"

"They're pretty"

The table was a little small and your heads were close, Sae too for some reason his demons told him let him be possessed.

♫It started with a whisper

And that was when I kissed her

And then she made my lips hurt♫

He put his hand over your chin and SMACK!

"ARE YOU CRAZY WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO SOMEONE YOU HATE" you immediately got up banging your head on the table, but recovering quicker than super glue you got up again and ran away.

♫Hey sugar, what you gotta say?♫

He didn't appear to school for three weeks again, you were worried he dropped out because of last time. 'haha no way he'd drop out because of something like that right?....right?'

You banged your head hard on the table concerning your friend beside you, in doing so something made a noise beneath your desk.

It was brand new box of airpods with a note

"Sorry and also,

I don't hate you. Never did."

You didn't need a name on the note to guess who it was, You got up immediately and shook your friend "Hey which class is Itoshi Sae in?"

♫It started with a whisper♫

He heard the heaviest footsteps of his life as he was leaving the class at last in the empty corridors. Turning around who else could it be if not you?

You were panting so hard your words were heard in a ghostly whisper "f...uck...the stairs agh hahah" you walked to him and slapped his shoulder very hard "I don't hate people who don't hate me either stupid"

He rubbed the place you slapped him at looking like a victim, you hissed "You're a sports kid you can take that much!"

He suddenly leaned into your face.

"So you don't hate me?"

"not anymore....but!"

"It's wrong to kiss people you hate?"

"...uh...yeah!"

"but now we don't hate each other anymore?"

"you're twisting my words now-"

"So I can't kiss you still?"

"That's not what it means... you're so insuffera-"

And that was when I kissed her♫

Already cut off with a kiss, but you didn't smack him this time, you gave in.

"You're a pain in the ass"

"I'm your pain in the ass"

And then she made my lips hurt♫

I could hear the chit-chat♫

"He looks happy today" you talked about Itoshi Sae that was walking towards you, your friend raised an eyebrow squinting her eyes "Huh? He looks the same what do you mean"

You opened your mouth "He clearly looks like he's in a good mood today" she couldn't believe you "he looks the same okay? Yeah sure only you can read him"

"Oh that Sae he's calling for me, see you later!" You hurriedly scurried to his side.

It doesn't take long for your friend to get hundreds of questions of the same kind "didn't they hate each other?" To which she simply responds "Would take one to know one"

♫Take me to your love shack

Mama's always gotta back-track

When everybody talks back♫

#sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae drabble #sae drabble #itoshi sae fluff #itoshi sae oneshot #bllk oneshots #bllk drabbles #blue lock oneshot #blue lock fluff

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superlarva · 1 year

Text

They're totally paying attention! :)

Welp, I'm starting to think I don't know what day Sunday is...

Regardless, here's Chapter 9 - School Visit of Raising Dominoes.

Prologue: 00 Previous chapter: 08 Next chapter: 10

Summary: Rex and Fives visit the local elementary school.

CW: Implied/referenced child abuse, a very minor curse (I wouldn't really consider it a curse, but just to be careful... also, it's said in narration, not dialogue)

Chapter 9 – School Visit

“I want to see Echo.”

“I know, bud,” Rex sighed, trying not to let the exasperation show in his voice.

Fives had been at it since he woke, refusing to move, eat, or say anything that did not express his want for his twin. Now they sat in the elementary school parking lot, two hours late for their appointment with the principal.

“Fives?”

The boy did not stir from his position curled up in his car seat.

“Fives, look at me,” Rex said, exhaustion allowing some of his usual sternness to slip into his tone.

The kid’s shoulders tensed and his eyes reluctantly wandered over to Rex’s.

“We are going to go see Echo as soon as his doctor tells me it’s safe to see him, okay?”

“Want Echo n-now,” Fives whispered.

His words lacked the high-pitched whiney quality Rex had been expecting and he blinked dumbly, taken aback. The last thing Rex wanted to do was keep the brothers apart. He knew the feeling that accompanied the separation from one you admire, trust, need. He knew the feeling well, and he would not wish it on his worst enemy, let alone his child.

Rex slumped back into the seat and began unconsciously picking at the sleeve of his jacket, mind whirring and leg bouncing erratically, “When- when I was your age, me and your Uncle Cody—er, Cody and I—we, uh, didn’t really have a mom or dad to take care of us.”

Rex paused to take a breath, still unsure where exactly he was going with this story. He could feel Fives’s eyes boring into him and he squirmed, unable to meet the boy’s gaze, “We got sent to a lot of different homes where different people would, uh, take care of us, but sometimes… sometimes they would split us up. Sometimes we wouldn’t go together.”

Rex stole a quick glance at Fives. The boy was staring, waiting for him to continue. Rex attempted a smile, but could not help but feel like it more resembled a grimace. He sighed, hands moving to fidget with the zipper of his jacket, “Every time they separated us, I felt so lost and powerless. There was nothing- nothing I could do, and I never knew when I would be able to see Cody again. And- and I hated it. It was the worst feeling.”

Rex turned to meet Fives’s eyes, “So, I get it. I really do. I know you want to see Echo. I want to see him too. If I could do anything I wanted, I’d bring you to him right now.”

“…you would?” Fives asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“I would.”

“I-I don’t want to go without Echo,” Fives mumbled, turning his attention towards the elementary school.

“We have to go take a look at the school because I told them we were coming and they are all super excited to meet you,” Rex said, starting to regret his decision to not include Fives when he and Cody called the school to set up a meeting and tour. “It’s going to be really fun. They’re going to show you around and tell you about all the cool things you’re going to learn.”

Fives made a face, “Echo should be here. Not me.”

Rex felt as if he had just been stabbed in the heart, “No. No, you should be here.”

Fives scoffed and turned his head so his face was obscured from Rex’s view.

“No, Fives, listen to me. You should be here. Echo should be here too, but you should be here. I- you-” Rex sighed, letting his head fall into his hands. He wished Cody were here. He would know what to say.

Cut would know what to say too. He had kids. Little rascals, if Rex remembered correctly. He had to make everything into a game for those kids to do anything. Putting away dishes: who can stack them the neatest? Time to get in the car: who can get there the fastest?

A game.

Of course.

Rex lifted his head out of his hands, “If we go in and take the tour and you remember what they tell you, then when we go see Echo this weekend, you can tell him all about it. Think he would like that?”

Fives turned to face Rex again and hesitated, eyes searching Rex’s for something, before nodding seriously.

Rex smiled, “Sounds like a deal.”

The secretary had them wait on a bench outside the principal’s office until he was ready for them. Given the fact that they had arrived later than expected, Rex had thought the principal would leave them waiting, but almost as soon as they sat, the door opened.

“Good afternoon, young one. I am Mr. Plo Koon,” A tall man that Rex recognized as the principal of the school greeted, smiling down fondly at Fives.

The boy jumped to his feet and stood stiff as a board, almost as if he were standing at attention, “G-good afternoon, Mr. Plo Koon, s-sir.”

The principal’s smile deepened, “My, what lovely manners. You must be Fives?”

Fives nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“Many of the students here call me Mr. Plo, but ‘Mr. Plo Koon’ or ‘sir’ is alright too if that’s what you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh-Okay Mr.- Mr.-” Fives looked up at Rex uncertainly.

Rex nodded and smiled encouragingly.

Fives turned back to the principal, “Okay, Mr. Plo.”

“Very good,” Plo said, beaming down at Fives and clasping his hands together. He then shut the door to his office and began leading them down the hall, “Shall we begin our tour?”

The school was nice. It had clearly been remodeled a few years ago as it had a very modern interior design and was relatively free from wear and tear that would denote that it was the home of tiny grade schoolers for eight hours a day.

They were shown the cafeteria, auditorium, gym, library, and the rooms for the various different extracurricular activities like art and music, all of which Fives marveled at for their large open spaces, walls and walls of books, or amenities.

Mr. Plo was clearly taking pleasure in Fives’s wonder and Rex could not help but enjoy the boy’s delight as well. He was glad that the tour had allowed his mind to wander from Echo, even if just for the good part of an hour.

At the end of the tour, they circled back around and stopped outside of one of the classrooms they had passed on the way to the library. Plo turned to address Rex and Fives, “This one of our second-grade classrooms. If you want, the teacher of this class volunteered to let us sit in on a few minutes so that you could see what it would be like to go here. Would you like that?”

Fives nodded eagerly.

The principal smiled and opened the door. Fives bounded in after him and Rex followed quickly, pulling the door shut behind them.

When Rex looked up he found a class full of 7 year old twisting around in their desks trying to get a good look at him and Fives. The class was eerily quiet and Rex was thankful when the teacher standing at the front broke the silence, “Good afternoon, Principal Plo.”

Mr. Plo nodded, “Good afternoon, 99. Good afternoon, second grade.”

The teacher—99—led the class in a chorus of “Good afternoon, Principal Plo” as Plo ushered them to an empty table in the corner of the class.

Once they were seated, 99 resumed his lesson and Rex scanned the classroom. It was as well put together as the rest of the school. It was bright and colorful, and there was plenty of stimulus for young children.

Rex also got a better look at 99. At first from his voice, stature, and the wrinkles lining his face, Rex had thought the man old like his name, but as he looked closer, he realized the man was not elderly, just had some sort of facial deformity. Perhaps a muscle one as well, as he looked awfully thin and hunched over oddly as he walked.

The children in the class appeared to be engaged and attentive, save for a group of similar-looking boys in the other back corner.

The big bald boy was playing with a toy half hidden under his desk, his face lighting up with joy occasionally from his own, internal musings. His stature was intimidating for a seven-year-old, but such an innocence played out in his eyes that Rex had to believe the kid would not hurt a fly. At least, not on purpose.

The second boy had long wavy hair, pushed back by a red bandana. He was staring out the window, boredom etched across his features. Rex thought he looked a little like Cody when he was fed up someone’s bullshit.

The scrawny one with glasses appeared to be scribbling notes in the margins of a book. He might have been taking notes on 99’s instructions, but Rex doubted it, as no other children had books out to take notes in and the boy was hunched over it like it was the only thing that existed.

The fourth boy was sleeping. Wispy white hair sticking out in all directions as his head rested on his folded arms across the desk. Even through the oversized hoodie Rex could tell by the boy’s pointy elbows that he practically had Fives and Echo beat for the “most emaciated kid of the week” award.

Mr. Plo noticed the direction of Rex’s gaze and gave him a small nudge, “Those are the quadruplets. They transferred here this year. Bit of a special case, those boys. Not so different from yours, perhaps.”

Rex took one last look at the brothers before turning his attention back to 99’s mini lecture. He hoped Fives and Echo would behave differently from those boys at school. He hoped they would at least try to pay attention.

After sitting in on 99’s lesson, Mr. Plo lead them back to his office and had them sit across the desk from him. He laced his fingers together and leaned his elbows on the desk, smiling warmly at Fives, “Did you enjoy the tour?”

The boy nodded, “Mm-hmm!”

“I’m glad,” Plo glanced quickly over at Rex, then turned his attention back to Fives, “Now, your father told me that you’ve never been to school before, is that true?”

Fives looked to Rex before cautiously letting out a small “uh-huh.”

“Okay, that’s alright. Would it be okay if I asked you a few questions?”

“What kind of questions?”

“Well, your dad told me you were really good at math, so I wanted to ask you some math questions. Then we might play a couple games. Is that alright?”

Fives’s brow crinkled and his eyes darted between Mr. Plo and Rex. From the look Rex didn’t doubt Fives knew this was a test, but the boy eventually shrugged and muttered a quiet affirmative.

Fives made it all the way through to multiplication before he started having problems answering the principal’s questions. He clearly did not know his times tables, but from what Rex could remember, that still meant he was on track for second grade.

After the math questions Mr. Plo pulled out a few logic puzzles and had Fives complete them. Fives seemed to do so without difficulty, filling in the picture with the correct puzzle pieces and picking the right color to finish the pattern.

The principal seemed quite pleased with the boy as he put the puzzles away, “You did a very good job, Fives. I just have one more question for you if that’s okay.”

Fives nodded, though Rex could not help but notice that the kid looked tired.

Mr. Plo slid a piece of paper and a pencil across the table, “Could you write your name for me?”

The boy visibly deflated a bit, but he said nothing and reached out, gripping the pencil awkwardly. At first Rex had no clue what Fives was writing; the lines were large and wobbly, curving in places they should not. By the time the boy got to the second vaguely “s” shaped letter, Rex realized what “name” he had been writing and reached out gently to still Fives’s arm.

Large brown eyes looked up at Rex in confusion.

“Fives…” Rex started softly, “That’s your other name. Could you spell ‘Fives’ for us?”

Fives squirmed in his seat, looking down at the paper for a long moment before meeting Rex’s eyes, “This is the only one I’ve seen before.”

“Okay, that’s okay,” Rex whispered, and he honestly was not sure if that was for his son’s benefit or his own. He reached out and flipped the paper over, “Do you know what letter ‘Fives’ starts with?”

The boy opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. The room was so quiet Rex could practically hear the tears welling in Fives’s eyes before he saw them. He sprung into action, scooping up the already shaking boy and shushing him softly, hoping to stay the torrent of “I’m sorry”s that were sure to follow.

“It’s okay,” Rex soothed, shooting an apologetic look to Plo before turning his attention back to Fives. “It’s alright if you don’t know. Nobody’s mad. I’m not mad. Mr. Plo’s not mad. It’s okay.”

Fives sniffled against Rex, but Rex could tell the boy was already calming down, his breathing slowing to his usual rhythm.

Rex set Fives back down in his seat, but kept his hand on the boy's shoulder, “Today was a tough day, but you did a really good job, okay? A really good job. I’m proud of you.”

Fives wiped at his eyes, his ears turning a bit red as he mumbled a shy thanks.

Mr. Plo cleared his throat, “Thank you so much for answering my questions, Fives.”

The boy nodded.

Plo continued, “I would like to place you in the class that we sat in on today, if that sounds good to you. The other children will be your age and will be on similar levels in most subjects.”

The principal paused and studied Fives, “Now, Fives, you’re a smart boy and you’re probably going to notice that the other kids in your class are better at reading than you, but can I tell you a secret?”

Fives frowned and looked from Rex to Mr. Plo.

Plo leaned over the desk and lowered his voice conspiratorially, “Your intuition and logic skills are beyond those of many children twice your age.”

Fives shifted in his seat, “R-really?”

The principal nodded, “It’s quite impressive. You'll be reading in no time.”

Fives left the school with higher spirits than when he had entered and that was enough to convince Rex it was the right place to send the twins. As he was setting up for Fives to start the next week and for Echo to start after the holiday break his phone rang.

It was Kix.

"What?" Fives asked after Rex hung up.

Rex smiled, "Go get in the car, we're going to go see your brother."

@marierg @stressed-cherry @ffdemon @renton6echo @bambambunny @tearfulsolace @rndmpeep @brokenphoenix99 @nerdy-valkyrie @xylionet @tazmbc1 @eyayah123 @the-bad-batch-baroness @sarcastic-nebula @ihaventpickedausername @sexysmeagolshitposting @emma-1409 @marcadamia

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blingblong55 · 1 year

Text

Pride -141 + König

Based on a request:

BLING!! *runs into the askbox* Blingy, a cuteass adorable reader but then when the guys turn around she just looks this with anyone who wants to fuck around and find out with her man.

F!reader, established!relationship, soldier!reader, fluff?

Dating him is probably the easiest of tasks, he is loyal, attentive, responsible, fun, and always respects your boundaries. If another woman is giving him attention, he is so oblivious to it and thinks it's all friendly but of course, you don't. There have been times when he has had to stop you from fighting a girl because she couldn't get the message that he is clearly taken. You know he is loyal, there is no doubt in that. But what really annoys you is how those women make him uncomfortable, if he is dating someone, then his love and attention go to his someone.

"Hey, handsome, here by yourself?" a woman in her early 20s tried to flirt with him but all he did was shake his head, once more oblivious to the flirtatious look she gave him. "I'm here with my girlfriend actually." She tries to play his comment off and smiles, "But she isn't around now, is she?" He looks at her confused, did this girl not understand you were literally in the establishment? "She is, she's just talking with her boss." He always referred to Laswell as the boss lady, which Laswell hated. "Whilst, she is busy, you and I can do something~" she tries again. "Oh, well, maybe you can call the waiter? I'm sure my lady would like a drink. He isn't paying attention to me but I'm sure if he sees us both call then he'll come over." The woman rolls her eyes and walks away.

You watch the woman leave him and walk up to her. "Hi, is that guy your boyfriend?" you dumbly ask. She sounded annoyed, "No, he is stuck on his bitch girlfriend." You smile, content and once more you are his one. "That's what I thought, well maybe next time you shouldn't fucking talk to my man when he is clearly stuck up on me, you bitch." He grabs you by the waist and carries you out of the establishment. "My love, do you really want to fight that girl?" You sigh and shake your head, "No but I mean, I just think it's stupid. You clearly told her you are taken, why can't she just move on?" He chuckles and cups your face once he puts you down, "It's clear she wants what only my love has, and you my dear have my devotion, now let's go eat elsewhere, yeah?"

----

Gaz:

When you two are in the field and the enemy either hits him or shoots in his direction, you are someone else. R/N is his sweet kind and caring girlfriend. Grim is the soldier who hits back, protects her boyfriend against everyone in that room and is a mean killer. "Don't you fucking dare!" she punches the enemy soldier and then after the poor man is on the floor with a bruised face, he makes him apologise. "You say, 'I'm so sorry, Gaz.' y'hear me?!"

There have been times when he has had to physically stop you from hurting Soap after sparring. Now, you know he can fight, he is after all good at what he does but there are days when you feel extra protective. One scratch and it takes Ghost, Price, some rookie and Gaz to stop you from knocking Soap out. "Fucking let me go! I just wanna talk!" All men hold you down. "Nope, we know what you'll really do"

Soap:

He is a natural flirt, no lie there but all that flirting is to you. So when a recruit is trying to flirt with him, and he seems very uncomfortable, you walk to him, assert that he is taken and then he has to grab you by the hips. "Not, 'ere my lass." He kisses your cheek and you give the girl a clear fake smile. When she walks away, you sit on his lap and caress his face. You aren't the overly jealous type but unfortunately, because he does feel uncomfortable and these girls are desperate to become the barracks bunny, you have to take all these extra measures. He loves that about you, that you make yourself seem like the jealous, obsessive type, even though you aren't just so he can walk comfortably around the base without the women wanting to get touchy with him. "I love you, my R/N, you know that?" He whispers and kisses your neck, and you nod and smile. "I love you too, Johnny."

Price:

The first time he had to physically make it clear to the much younger and desperate women on the base that he is in fact in a happy relationship, he had to kiss you in front of the others. Made it weird for the next meeting but it worked. A time where you were the one protecting him, was during a raid in Latin America. He was bait, he was tied to a tree, and beaten multiple times and unconscious. 30 minutes is the time you all had to take down the enemy base. 5 minutes in you all infiltrated it, Ghost, being your best friend tied all the men up. For 25 minutes, you personally beat and possibly killed the men who hurt your boyfriend. Ghost alone could've found the men who hurt Price but you needed revenge.

Ghost:

It's more than clear that people fear and respect him. However, he in your eyes is the one who at all times must be protected. You would go to hell and back for him and him only. So, when he arrived at the infirmary, all bandaged up, moaning from pain and being treated by the medical staff, you gave them all a speech after he was sleeping. "You all better hear me, this man here will be treated like damn royalty, if he says it still hurts, then you better fucking check the area he is indicating, and no, I will not leave the room. He feels safe with me there and I will stay in that room. And if I find out, one of you bitches is hurting my beloved I will make sure you understand why they call me Grim, got that?" The nurses and two doctors nod in fear.

"Good, now you are excused." You walk back into the room and turn back into his sweet girlfriend. "Hey, love, where were you?" his voice hoarse. "I had to take a wee." you lie and he gives you his usual questioning look. "The loo is over there, my love" he points at the door in the corner. "I just didn't want to wake you up if I flushed it." He nods, "Mmm, yeah, makes sense."

König:

As the tall, feared and at times awkward man König is, you only worried about one thing. That being, you are around him when out with friends in huge social gatherings. Because of the military, he was always looking behind him, checking the room for suspicious people. You always held his hand, massaged it or just had to be next to him. Giving him constant physical touch to remind him you were there. If he was bouncing his leg, you'd place your hand on it, if he became fidgety while out in the pub, you'd hold it and/or kiss it. When he has his mask on, he feels way better, he is less anxious but when without it, he has no other protection from his anxious mind but you. So, instead of verbally threatening people, you stare them down for minutes if needed. This all started when you went out with him to a pub and people kept staring at him, his accent, reddened face and the fact he was maskless all made him more awkward. For his sake, you never picked up fights but you would make a mental note to punch the person if seen again and if they kept doing the same thing. "You know, we can go back home, recharge that social battery of yours and use it next year." You rub his back and look up at him with soft eyes.

"Would that interfere with your plans tonight, Liebling?" He, again, shows respect for your time and plans. "No, not at all, in fact, I kinda need it too, so miene bär, let's go home, yes?" He gives you a small and sincere smile, "Ja, let's go home, Liebe."

Tags: @anonymuslydumb

A/N: No idea what the hell I just wrote, but hope you liked it?

167 notes · View notes

mcdonaldsplayground · 2 years

Text

| actually the worst | part 6

ao’nung x f!reader

summary: when you wake up somewhere you aren't supposed to be, you get angry with ao'nung for being so calm while you feel nothing but guilty for leaving your injured sister alone. as things with your family slowly begin to mend, you realize that ao'nung probably hates you again for snapping at him. only when yours and kiri's birthday rolls around do you get a chance to work out your highly complex relationship with the metkayina boy, but it's not exactly the solution you were expecting.

includes: enemies to lovers, teasing, swearing, suggestiveness, mentions of seizure/death, ao'nung being so bf🥵

word count: 5.7k

a/n: so this is the final part! if people are into the idea i was thinking of doing a lil' bonus part based on the not-memory from part 5 (where ao'nung visits the forest)🤔 but anyway, i just wanted to say thank you so much to everyone who has read and interacted with this series, i seriously cannot believe how kind everyone is🫶 i am definitely going to keep writing other fics (and might even branch out to do some other characters, who knows🤭)

this is a bit lengthy because i was trying to wrap up a bunch of loose ends. i realized when proofreading that ao'nung kind of doesn't even show up for a good portion of the middle part??? so sorry about that🫣 also i'm sorry but i couldn’t not put a 10 things i hate about you reference in here because it’s just the exact vibe at the end, so creds to that movie for the inspo:)

You woke before the sun did, the very beginnings of warm orange and pink light only barely peeking above the horizon. It was still mostly dark, and you felt extremely disoriented. Not only were you rarely an early riser, but you also rarely woke in the middle of the beach, which is where you currently seemed to be. Not only that, but a muscular arm was slung across your waist as well, pulling you close to the body who was attached to it.

Slowly, you turned your head and nearly screamed when your eyes met the sleeping form of your worst enemy-turned crush-turned sort of friend. Ao'nung looked at peace while asleep, something that did not come easy to him when awake. It would have been kind of nice to see if you weren't so horrified by the predicament.

"Jesus christ..." You muttered to yourself, the events of the previous night coming into focus in your mind. Trying not to breathe or move too much, you attempted to slowly shimmy out of Ao'nung's grasp. You had almost successfully freed yourself when the boy beside you suddenly snapped his eyes open, looking briefly confused before his own look of horror settled in. You practically jumped away from each other.

"We fell asleep." Ao'nung said dumbly.

"Great observation, genius." You snapped, pushing yourself up from the sand while you hurriedly brushed it off your skin. "If you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I will personally cut off your-"

"Woah! Relax, princess. Wasn't planning on it." Ao'nung held his hands up in surrender, standing as well. You stiffened at the ridiculous nickname, but decided not to get into it as you turned quickly on your heel and began jogging away from the beach. You had way more pressing things to think about now. In fact, you were growing increasingly more angry with yourself as the seconds ticked by. Were you really so delirious from fear that you let such a thing happen? Kiri needed you.. but you were selfishly allowing yourself to be consoled in the arms of a boy instead.

Ao'nung caught up to you easily, though he maintained a decent distance as he spoke. "About last night-"

"Don't." You ordered, annoyed that he wanted to talk about it and embarrassed that it even happened. "That was a mistake." You trained your eyes ahead, hoping he would take the hint and leave you alone.

"Look, forest girl, I know you're probably embarrassed because-"

You cut him off once again, finally just stopping in your tracks as you whipped around to face him. "Just stop with this stupid little flirting thing right now, okay? You don't know what I'm feeling. My twin sister almost died last night and I just left her alone when nobody knows what the hell is wrong with her! She needs me there at her side and what was I doing instead? Joking around and laughing with the guy I'm supposed to hate and then waking up beside him in the middle of the goddamn beach instead of next to her!" You spat, all of your fury and guilt spewing out along with your words. Ao'nung was frozen in place, eyes wide. "Just go away." You finished forcefully, making him flinch slightly. You didn't wait to hear a response before taking off once again toward your marui.

When you finally arrived, Neteyam, Lo'ak, and Tuk were all standing around outside the marui, looking as if they hadn't slept. A fresh wave of guilt washed over you at the thought.

"[Y/N]!" Tuk called when she noticed your approaching form, racing up to cling onto your side in a sort of hug. "Where were you?" She questioned, and Neteyam and Lo'ak nodded, waiting to hear your response. Blood rushed to your cheeks, your face growing warm in shame.

"I fell asleep on the beach." You mumbled. Not technically a lie.

"We were worried..." Neteyam said, placing a hand on your shoulder as he looked into your eyes. You could tell that he suspected you were holding back the truth. Your throat burned as you swallowed thickly.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," You breathed, ducking your head down.

"It's okay. I know it was difficult for you last night." Neteyam’s lips twisted into a sad smile, pulling you into a gentle hug. Tuk was quick to join, squeezing herself in between the two of you as she put her arms around your waists. Even Lo'ak came over, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and offering you a look of silent understanding. You breathed in deeply, grateful for their support and easy forgiveness.

"How is she?" You finally asked, pulling away so you could peek around Lo'ak into the marui. Neteyam sighed, guiding you over to the entrance.

"She is still asleep. Ronal had to go rest before she will be able to do anything for her." You noticed your parents sitting together inside, but you focused your attention on assessing your sleeping sister, in search of any visible injuries that may have appeared since you saw her last. Thankfully, she truly did seem physically unharmed. However, it pained you to see her eyes closed and her body so still, the only sign of life coming from the occasional rise and fall of her chest. You kneeled next to her, taking her hand.

"Wake up," You whispered. "Please."

"Where did you go?" You heard your father question from his spot on the floor. You looked up slowly, your guilt creeping back. You just stared at him and your mother for a moment, trying to work out what to say.

"It does not matter, my Jake." Your mother had caught the look in your eyes, nodding in a sort of silent understanding. "She is here now."

Jake glanced between the two of you briefly before deciding to drop it. You breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"I called Norm and Max." Jake said. "They should be here in an hour or so. They may be able to tell us what happened" You nodded in approval, returning your gaze to your twin. It wasn’t ideal to have your family’s old friends risk the journey down here, but if it meant even a chance of helping Kiri then you knew it was more than worth it. You only wished they would get there faster.

The helicopter landing had gathered quite a crowd, all looking nervous at the prospect of "demons" arriving on the island. That was fair, but to you it was a welcome relief to see Norm and Max approaching alongside your father, their equipment in tow. You had promised not to leave Kiri's side, though, so you watched from through the door as they quickly scrambled over.

"[Y/N]!" Norm called when he noticed you, your lips twisting into a small smile. It may have been terrible circumstances, but it was still good to see your old friends.

"Hey, Norm. Max" You nodded in greeting and they both pulled you in for a short hug before starting to set things up. They wasted no time in placing sensors along Kiri's face and head, asking your family anything and everything you knew about what had happened.

Once everything was in place, they started running diagnostics and doing everything they could to get an idea of what was going on inside Kiri's head. It was a slow process, however, and ten minutes seemed to turn into an hour, then an hour into two. Still, you sat as close as you could without interfering, dividing your mind between trying to understand what Norm and Max were saying about your sister and just simply willing something to work so that Kiri would open her eyes.

"There's no bleed. There's no fracture. No effects of hypoxia. The brain looks good." Max said, shaking his head in confusion as he glanced through the scans they had taken.

"But we still have this interictal activity here in the prefrontal." Norm pointed out.

"Yes, she's definitely had a seizure." Max nodded, and you wondered how he could be so calm. You felt nauseous at the thought. As they continued their discussion, someone entered the marui behind you, and you turned to find Ronal looking outraged at the setup.

"I see that I am not needed here." Your heart dropped as she spoke, but you stood quickly, panicked as she turned to leave. You were about to say something when your mother grabbed Ronal's arm.

"You are Tshaik!" She hissed, sounding both angry and pleading. Clearly Norm and Max were running out of things to try, and Ronal was turning into your only hope. You caught her eyes, silently begging her to stay.

"Remove these things." She finally said, glaring down at Max and Norm.

"Out!" Neytiri growled. "You have done nothing!" She began picking things up and attempting to shoo the men outside.

"Come on, let's just take a break." Jake said quickly, ducking out the door.

"Okay, hold on! I have to take her IV out!" Norm said, rushing to get everything off of Kiri. You patted his arm in thanks as he made his way outside as well. Ronal was quick in getting her materials ready, beginning the process of a ritual you had never witnessed before. The air was tense as she worked, chanting and calling upon Eywa for aid. It was mesmerizing to watch her, though your focus remained primarily on your sister's face, waiting with baited breath for any sign of consciousness.

Finally, after what felt like years, Kiri's eyes fluttered. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, leaning forward to grasp her hand.

"You're awake!" You breathed happily, using your free hand to gently caress her forehead, brushing some hair out of the way. Her gaze briefly flickered around the room before she began to cry, causing your heart to clench. Tears welled in your own eyes, and you fought against them, not wanting anything to blur your vision even for a moment.

"Are you ever going to let me out of sight?" Kiri questioned playfully, quirking an eyebrow in your direction. You smiled, shaking your head.

"Nope." The answer was a no-brainer. You quite literally hadn't spent a second away from your twin since she had woken up the previous day. While the rest of your family had fallen back into a semi-normal routine, you were intent upon staying with Kiri all day in the marui, even when she insisted she was feeling just fine.

"I'm not a baby, [Y/N]."

"I didn't say you were."

"Okay, but I'm not fragile either. We can't just stay holed up in here for the rest of our lives." She shot you a pointed look, growing serious.

"I know that," You sighed. "But what if I'm not there if something happens again?" The thought made your blood run cold. "I've already got enough guilt to last the rest of my life." You finished quietly, fidgeting with your fingers. Kiri's eyebrows furrowed.

"Guilt? [Y/N], what happened to me wasn't your fault. I know you think you're responsible for me, but there was nothing you could have done." She placed a hand on your arm and you looked up, meeting her eyes. "Besides, you've been hovering over me this whole time, I can guarantee that you're the world's most devoted sister." She chuckled, though you only felt worse at this, cringing a little. You had been holding in your shame for nearly two days now, and it finally came bursting to the surface in the form of a messy confession.

"I wasn't with you that night, Ki." You bit your lip before continuing. "I mean, I was, but then I started freaking out at everyone because nobody could figure out what was wrong. I only wanted to step out for a little while, just to calm down, you know?" Kiri was listening calmly, hand still resting reassuringly on your arm. "And Ao'nung was out there too, and I was crying and being hysterical and he was actually being nice for once and-"

"Oh my Eywa, he was being nice?!" Kiri's hand shot up to cover her mouth, gasping dramatically. You had to pause to process the fact that she wasn't being serious.

"Very funny, skxawng." You deadpanned. "This is serious!"

"Okay, okay, sorry!" She chuckled. "Please, continue."

"Well.. Actually that's pretty much it. Being around him was like this escape from reality, and I didn't want to go back home because I knew that meant having to think about what would happen if you- If you didn't make it or something." You swallowed thickly.

"Okay... so that's all? The moral of the story is that Ao'nung isn't as much of a douchebag as you thought?"

"No." You huffed. "The moral of the story is that I was being a selfish jerk who didn't bother to check on my sister all night because I was sleeping on the beach next to the aforementioned not-douchebag." Kiri's expression twisted into surprise briefly before she burst out laughing. The colour in your cheeks deepened.

"So I just bare my heart to you and all you can do is laugh at my stupidity?" You groaned, laying your back against the floor as you threw an arm over your eyes. However, Kiri's lighthearted reaction was making you feel a lot better. If she wasn't mad at you then maybe you didn’t have to feel so bad.

"Sorry," Kiri managed between laughs, eventually moving to lay down beside you when she gained some composure. "I just think you’re way too hard on yourself. I mean, sure, falling asleep alone with Ao'nung was a little scandalous, but you didn't really do anything wrong." She turned to her side to face you, propping up on her elbow. You did the same.

"I left you alone." You whispered, and her expression shifted into sympathy.

"You left me with our family, [Y/N]. You left because you needed help. It isn't a crime to react poorly when you're scared." The look she gave you was effective in melting the last of your guilt away, relieving some of the long-held tension in your muscles. You smiled gratefully.

"Thank you, Ki." And she smiled too, both of you taking in the quiet moment together. With Kiri, that moment didn't last too long.

"So, are you and Ao'nung exclusive now, or what?" She grinned as you rolled your eyes.

"Definitely not. Actually... I kind of snapped at him yesterday. Told him that night was a mistake and to leave me alone."

"What! Did you mean alone or alone, alone?" She questioned while you furrowed your brow in confusion.

"I guess at the time I meant alone, alone. I was really mad." You grimaced, remembering the look on Ao'nung's face after you had yelled at him.

"But you didn't mean it?"

"Well, no, I guess not." You shrugged. "But maybe it's a good thing, Ki. Everything that's ever happened between us has been so crazy and messy. It's probably for the best that we just stop trying to be... anything. Friends or otherwise." The words felt like a knife in the gut. You stared down at the ground, trying to convince yourself that you were right.

"You don't mean that." Kiri chided, her brow furrowing as she searched your eyes. "I know we always tease you, but I actually thought you really liked being around him."

I do. You thought painfully. I really do.

"It doesn't matter. He probably hates me now, for real this time." Your eyes darkened at the thought.

The arrival of your birthday was both exciting and deeply irritating. On one hand, you loved that you got to celebrate Kiri, and this time around felt extra special because of what she had just survived only days earlier. It was sort of a celebration of her recovery as well as her birthday. That being said, you hated the fact that people also insisted on celebrating you as well. It’s not that you didn’t appreciate the sentiment, but something about having everyone’s attention on you, showering you with an abundance of love and affection, was just not your thing.

So, when Tuk accidentally let it slip to you and Kiri that there was going to be a surprise party with everyone in the village invited, it was safe to say you were mortified. You had taken the entirety of the afternoon to sit in the sand by yourself and contemplate the best way to avoid the large gathering at all costs.

“You’re not getting out of this, you know.” Neteyam arrived silently from behind you, shooting you a pointed look as he sat down. “Mom and dad have this whole thing planned out. They even got Tonowari and Ronal on board.”

You groaned. “So that’s why this stupid thing is a community event?”

“Tonowari seemed strangely excited to make it into a big celebration.” Neteyam chuckled. “He kept talking about how it’s going to be so much fun to have music and dancing and a whole bunch of food and-”

“Okay, okay, I get it! Why do you insist on torturing me?” You moaned dramatically while Neteyam just laughed.

“Where was Kiri just now?” You changed the subject quickly when you noticed her returning from the village, coming from the opposite direction of your family’s marui. She had told you she was going to nap before the party.

“Oh- um- nowhere.” Neteyam was a notoriously bad liar. You raised an eyebrow, but before you could say anything, you noticed Lo’ak, Tsireya, Rotxo, and Ao’nung appear behind your sister, seemingly following her somewhere. They didn’t seem to notice where you sat, suspiciously watching them go by.

“Okay, what the hell?” You fixed your gaze back on your oldest brother, waiting for an explanation. You knew he had one because he was flushed, clearly trying not to act suspicious.

“I’m not allowed to tell you anything.” He admitted, a nervous laugh leaving his lips.

“Fine.” It took everything in you not to keep badgering him. He may not have been a good liar, but he was not one to tell other people’s secrets. “But if I find out that it has anything to do with my birthday, I’m going to kill you and Lo’ak.”

“What! But it was Kiri’s idea!” Neteyam said offendedly.

“And you and Lo’ak were stupid enough to go along with it,” You quipped. “Plus, it’s her birthday. It’s just bad manners to kill someone on their birthday.”

Neteyam laughed. “Okay, crazy. But it’s your birthday too, you know.”

“Don’t remind me.” You scowled.

“[Y/N]!” Your father called from behind you and Neteyam, squinting in the sunlight as his gaze fixed on the two of you. “Come! We need to get going soon!” He beckoned you over with a hand gesture and you sighed, allowing Neteyam to help pull you upright. You dragged your feet as you walked, hoping to prolong the inevitable.

“Neteyam, will you please get Kiri and Lo’ak?” Jake asked when you got closer, and the boy obediently dashed off in the other direction. Your fingers twitched as you thought about following.

“Don’t even think about it.” Jake laughed, throwing his arm across your shoulders as if to keep you on path with him. You rolled your eyes.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

By the time everyone in your family had been rounded up, the sun had started to sink below the horizon. The darkness was anticipated, however, as a large glowing bonfire had been lit on the sand, casting a surprising amount of light all along the beach. Thankfully, the festivities had begun without any mention of you or Kiri, so you relaxed a little and tried to stay out of the middle of things. It felt more like a community get-together than a birthday party, to which you were grateful. You even started enjoying yourself a bit, eating some of the wonderful food as you soaked in the warmth of the fire and focused on the music through the chatter of the crowd.

“[Y/N]!” You heard someone call and you ripped your gaze from the fire, looking around. Tsireya stood a few feet away, smiling as she held out her hand toward you. “We’ve been looking for you! Come stand with us!” She beckoned, and you tried not to look reluctant as you followed her over to where your friends and siblings were. They had formed a sort of circle and were talking and laughing animatedly as you took a spot between Tsireya and Kiri.

Ao’nung was standing almost directly across from you while he talked with Rotxo, and it was hard to keep yourself from staring at him through the fire light. You'd seen him around the village over the past week, but neither of you had approached the other at all. He hadn’t even looked your way once in that time, which put a tiny crack in your heart. You missed the way he used to devour you with his eyes, the resulting feeling both intimidating and electrifying at the same time.

Just when you were about to look away, he abruptly turned and met your gaze. Something flickered in his eyes, and you convinced yourself you imagined it as the ghost of a smirk played at his lips. Your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. So much for missing that feeling.

“[Y/N]?” Kiri nudged you, effectively snapping you out of it. Colour rose to your cheeks, particularly when you didn’t feel Ao’nung’s gaze leave you even as you turned toward Kiri.

“Hm?”

“I said are you having fun?” She was clearly trying to hold in a laugh. You narrowed your eyes.

“I guess this isn’t so bad.” You admitted after a few seconds of silence, glancing around the beach. As your head swivelled, you confirmed through peripheral vision that Ao’nung was still staring at you, though he was now talking casually with Lo’ak and Rotxo. You shivered slightly.

“No one’s wished me happy birthday yet, so I would call that a win.” You smiled a bit, but quickly dropped it when Kiri gave you a nervous grin.

“Don’t kill me, but I overheard dad saying that Tonowari was going to-” As if she had spoken it into existence, Tonowari suddenly called out a request for everyone to quiet down, stepping forward into the middle of the beach, glowing in the firelight.

“My people!” He grinned, spreading his hands wide in greeting. “I am glad to see everyone enjoying tonight’s festivities. While we need no reason to come together and celebrate, I do want to speak on what the celebration tonight is in honour of.” Your heart dropped out of your chest and flopped around pitifully on the sand. Tonowari turned to where you and Kiri stood, grinning widely as he beckoned for the two of you to stand by him. Kiri grabbed your hand, squeezing it lightly. While she smiled and accepted the spotlight gracefully, you imagined your expression resembled dread mixed with painful awkwardness. It was all you could do not to visibly cringe at the hundreds of eyes trained on you. However, only one pair really seemed to pierce directly into you, the intensity of it reminding you of the day you had first arrived here. Just like that day, he appeared to be seeing something about you that no one else was allowed to. It offered you a strange sort of steadiness.

“First, I would like to thank Eywa for the recovery of this young woman!” Tonowari placed a gentle hand on your sister’s shoulder. “We celebrate her health tonight.” You managed a small smile as everyone cheered, sharing a look with Kiri. You gripped her hand a little bit tighter. “And, of course, we thank Eywa for bringing the Sully family here to us. It is hard to accept change, but this has been a welcome one indeed. Join me in celebrating [Y/N] and Kiri on this wonderful day in which they were born!” You could hardly hear the cheers of the crowd as your cheeks burned and your heart pounded in your ears. As grateful as you felt, you didn’t think you could handle the attention much longer. Thankfully, Kiri nodded at Tonowari in thanks and lead you back to your friend group. Your brothers were cackling, practically beside themselves with laughter.

“Y-your face! Oh Eywa that was priceless!” Lo’ak howled. You glared, sticking out your tongue.

“Shut it, dickhead. Just because I don’t enjoy being stared at-” You didn’t get to finish as your brothers loudly cracked up again, holding their stomachs. Even Kiri, Tsireya, and Rotxo couldn’t contain themselves as they joined in. You grinned, shaking your head. “You guys are terrible. I’m going to find Tuk.” You spun on your heel, still laughing to yourself.

You skirted along the outside of the crowd, scanning for your youngest sister, when a hand suddenly grasped your arm, tugging you into the shadows of the trees, out of sight.

“What the hell are you-” You paused upon seeing who was holding onto you. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, forest girl.” His eyes danced with a playfulness that you had missed, causing a skip in your heartbeat.

“Ao’nung I-” You were gearing up to apologize. You hadn’t planned on doing so, but you found it impossible not to as you stood across from him.

“Shh. Just follow me.” He turned, sliding his hold on your wrist down to lace his fingers with yours. You stiffened, eyes wide as you stared down at your interlocked hands. “Come on, freak!” He smirked, ignoring your confusion as he impatiently tugged you along. It didn’t take long for you to arrive at one of the little alcoves off the side of the island, just far enough away that you could no longer see the party on the beach and could only faintly hear it in the background over the soft lapping of the waves. You had been in this area plenty of times before, but you had never seen it at night. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

The alcove was cave-like in a way, with large slabs of rock surrounding you and tucking the two of you mostly out of sight. There was little of the glowing vegetation that typically lit up the night on the island, but it didn’t matter because what looked like thousands of tiny glowing stars were embedded in the rock around you, effectively giving the illusion of standing directly next to the sky. You gawked, unable to tear your eyes away from such a magnificent sight.

“I heard you saying that you don’t like people staring.” Ao’nung broke the silence, chuckling a little at your awe. “I figured there’s no one to do that here,” He paused, smirking. “Except me.”

You flushed, remembering the delicate way he was still gripping your hand.

“I though you hated me again.” You said quietly.

“I do hate you.” Your heart dropped at his words, but for some reason he stepped closer, his eyes fixed intently on your face.

“I hate you because of your stupid smile that makes my hands all sweaty. I hate you because you’re the only one who puts up a fight when I tease you. I hate you because you actually drive me insane sometimes, and I hate you because I never know if you want to kiss me or kill me.” He grinned. “But mostly I hate that I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit.”

This felt like a fever dream. You held your breath as if you were going to wake up any second. But you remained where you were, frozen in uncertainty. It seemed the worst time to tease him, so of course, that’s what you did.

“I think you’re drooling.” You whispered, still not entirely sure how to move or think properly in the wake of his confession. He only huffed, ducking down close to your ear in one fluid motion. His warm breath fanned across your throat as he spoke.

“This is what I’m talking about, skxawng. Your inability to be nice,” You hadn’t realized he’d been slowly inching the two of you toward the wall of stone until he gently pressed you into it, one hand moving to grip your waist while the other flattened against the wall next to your head, the only thing holding him up over you. “It's driving me crazy.” The air felt like it had been sucked entirely out of the space between you, both of your chests rising and falling quickly. Despite the way his touch set you on fire, you had goosebumps from the proximity. Everything around you was charged with tension as Ao’nung finally tipped his head back away from your ear, staring at you so hard his pupils were dilated.

“Don’t you want me to apologize for yelling at you the other day?” Your voice came out small, though you’d gained a little confidence. All the time you'd spent convincing yourself that Ao’nung didn’t like you the way liked him was clearly wasted. His ears bent slightly as he smirked.

“Not with words.”

Oh.

“Oh?” You quirked an eyebrow, your breath hitching as Ao’nung pressed closer yet, almost every possible inch of you touching except for your heads, mere millimetres apart. The tension was so delicious that you almost didn’t want to break it.

You broke it anyway, closing the gap between you as you pressed your mouth to his, nearly gasping at the contact. It’s a good thing he’s holding me up, you thought fleetingly, your knees nearly giving out. Your lips fit together perfectly, moving in sync as he looped both arms around you, cinching you to him like he wished for you to meld together. Your hands roamed his chest, eventually making their way up to his neck, feeling the soft baby hairs there and making him groan into the kiss. You smiled.

“Happy birthday, [Y/N].” He whispered against your lips, smirking slightly. Your knees felt weak again. Just when he began pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, something made you both freeze.

“Ewwwwwwww!” Someone who sounded suspiciously like Tuk squealed, followed by a fake retching noise that you often heard Lo’ak make. You whipped your head around, searching through the darkness outside of the alcove, Ao’nung’s grip on you relaxing a bit but not letting go.

“Just get out of these stupid bushes, guys. They know we’re here.” Neteyam grumbled, and finally everyone came into view from the greenery they had been hiding in. You gaped. Neteyam, Tuk, Kiri, Rotxo, Tsireya, and Lo’ak were all there.

“Oh my Eywa, tell me you did not just see all of that!” You gasped, fighting the urge to rip out of Ao’nung’s grasp. In response, Lo’ak grinned before putting on a stupid face.

“Oh, [Y/N]. I hate that I don’t hate you! Oh, Ao’nung, don’t you want me to apologize?” His imitation of your voices was horrendous. “Not with words… mwah mwah mwah…” Lo’ak had wrapped his arms around himself and turned around, crudely imitating a kiss. Tsireya smacked him on the shoulder, giving him a look, though her and the others were holding back laughter.

“Why the hell did you follow us here?” You questioned angrily before remembering the earlier events of the day. You snapped your head toward Neteyam.

“Is this what they were planning earlier?!” You raged, about to stomp over to him to give him a piece of your mind. Ao’nung pulled you back.

“Yes. Your sister explained to me how you were feeling and said she wanted to help me make peace with you. We all came up with the idea to take you here to talk and get away from all of your birthday stuff.” He paused, assessing your still fuming expression. “But I swear I didn’t know they were going to come spy on us!” He hissed, glaring at everyone.

“It’s not our fault you two decided to start sucking face!” Lo’ak cried.

“We just wanted to see if you guys would apologize and be friends again.” Kiri piped up, and you knew she was telling the truth. You softened.

“Well, I guess it worked.” You shook your head, smiling in spite of yourself. Beside you, Ao’nung smiled too, a real, genuine smile. Lo’ak made another gagging noise.

“Literally kill me. You guys are disgusting. Can’t you just go back to being frenemies or something?”

“Lo’ak, if you keep being a moron then I’m going to have to tell mom and dad about what you and Tsireya get up to when-”

“Okay, okay! Geez! Why does everyone have to know my business, damn!”

Everyone laughed and began turning toward the party, slowly making their way back. You and Ao’nung trailed behind, his arm slung around your waist as you walked.

“So how does it feel to be with the most attractive guy in the world?” He smirked cockily. You just scoffed.

“I wouldn’t know.” You earned a playful shove from him, laughing.

“You’re actually the worst.” Ao’nung grinned, shaking his head.

“I know you are, but what am I?”

“An annoying little brat, then.”

You gasped, faking offence. “Rude!”

“That’s what you love about me.”

You pretend to think for a moment. “Mm, nope. Don’t think so.” You concluded, laughing loudly as Ao’nung growled playfully, stopping both of you in your tracks. He turned toward you, capturing your face entirely in his large hands.

“Take it back.”

“No thanks.” You grinned arrogantly.

“C’mon, love. Just admit that you can’t get enough of me.” You shivered at the nickname, and he smirked. That stupid little smirk. It had gotten you into a whole world of trouble. But maybe it was worth it?

He leaned in, pressing a quick, but heated kiss to your lips.

Yes, definitely worth it.

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