#I like that everyone is connected but man it makes it hard to follow sometimes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

randxmthxughts · 2 years ago

Text

Tunutu (Crush) - Neteyam x Omatikaya!reader

summary: although neteyam had never reciprocated her feelings, choosing him was always an easy decision for y/n, one of those she could make in a heartbeat. so when another man tries to win her affections, neteyam suddenly becomes aware of what he has been missing out on

wc: 7,7k

contains: childhood friends to lovers, first love/puppy love, jealousy, long-time crush

a/n: the way i completely made up everything about the vayätu-creature. sometimes i just write without a plot and although i was very excited for this idea, it was so difficult to finish it. i hope you enjoy reading it, please let me know if you do

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Come on, Lo’ak, don’t take it to heart,” Kiri nudged her brother, “You know that Neteyam has been having a hard time lately, it’s not that he pushes you around on purpose.”

You emerged from behind the thick bushes, finally finding Lo’ak and Kiri sitting on a log, engrossed in a conversation. Your curiosity piqued at the mention of Neteyam.

“Why is Neteyam having a hard time?”

Kiri stiffened under your expectant gaze, but before she could even signal to Lo’ak to hold his tongue, he was already spilling out the truth. She groaned in frustration at how senseless her brother could be at times.

“Because our parents have been nagging at him to choose a mate lately.”

Neteyam must choose a mate. Your heart dropped at the statement you had been dreading to hear for years now, ever since he had first passed his Iknimaya. It was never going to be you, you were used to the thought, but nothing could have prepared for the weight of bearing it now.

“You are such a skxawng,” Kiri hissed at Lo’ak, swatting his arm. She shot you an almost apologetic glance.

“Why? It’s not like it is a secret,” Lo’ak rolled his eyes, finally drawing a connection between your sour expression and Kiri’s sudden irritation, "Neteyam has to choose a mate soon, so that the grandmother has enough time to prepare the new tsakarem. He's been putting it off for far too long."

“It is not easy to choose someone to love for a lifetime,” Kiri added with a sigh.

But it was. Choosing Neteyam was always an easy decision for you, one of those that you could make in a heartbeat. He had been your tunutu since childhood, a curious fascination with the older brother of your friends that eventually grew into a frustratingly intense crush, haunting you at every stage of your life. It was by Eywa's grace that your paths crossed with the Olo'eyktan's children when you were about six years old, learning to hunt and running through the forest together until the eclipse. On the second day of playing with Kiri and her brothers, you had boldly declared your love for Neteyam to everyone in the village, turning it into a big inside joke among the clan. If you had known that it would follow you far into your teenage years, when kids your age were relentless and cruel, you would have been more guarded about it. The guys teased Neteyam for having an admirer so clingy, it seemed as if he had grown a second tail. But no matter how much they tried to get to you with their taunts, it never seemed to bother him.

Even as a child, Neteyam had a maturity that went beyond his years. He seeked no entertainment in punishing someone for their feelings, something they cannot control. On the contrary, he admired your loyalty and dedication to him, the way you had remained his close friend, despite his gentle refusal of your romantic overtures. And so, that’s how it went. Your relationship grew stronger over the years, you learned and failed together but were always there for each other to offer a supporting shoulder. It hit a rough patch for a short period, right after both of you had completed your Iknimayas, when you tried to distance yourself from him to avoid any rumors. But Neteyam was persistent to keep your friendship, and so he did. Eventually, your feelings for him were pushed to an afterthought, as you had come to terms that Neteyam was never going to choose you. You had made peace with being just his friend, but your heart still sank at the thought that soon enough you will be replaced.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Kiri’s concerned voice caught your attention.

“Sure,” you gulped, forcing a small smile, “Lo’ak is right, it’s not like I didn’t know.”

“Right,” Lo’ak nodded hesitantly.

The siblings exchanged a knowing look. At times, your crush on Neteyam was sweet, entertaining even. But the two of them also got to live the nasty side of an unrequited love through you. Especially Kiri, who had shared the pain of knowing she couldn’t be with someone she loved, often commiserated with you in it.

“Maybe this is a sign for me to start looking too, you know? Find a mate,” your blabbered without a thought, trying to cover any traces of the stinging pain.

“Huh?” Kiri's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she glanced at Lo'ak to see if he was as taken aback as she was. This was new.

You had never expressed the desire to find a mate before. Knowing well that Neteyam did not reciprocate your feelings and there was no point in getting your hopes up, the idea of being with somebody else appeared in your mind quite frequently, you just never voiced it. It was scary, the prospect of settling for someone you loved less, simply because there was no other choice.

Your parents had often spoken of their own bond, a relationship that began as platonic and it was only natural when they decided to choose each other for their companions. Companions, not lovers. Though your mother had assured you that once they had completed a Tsaheylu, everything changed. That the blessed bond is a connection deeper than love, one that is impossible to ignore after experiencing everything your mate had gone through. So with a heavy heart, you had to accept that one day you might have to face the same fate.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re okay?” Lo’ak stood up from his seat and walked over to you. He placed the back of his palm against your forehead, as if checking for a fever.

“I am not ill,” you chuckled, shoving him away, “I mean, I’ve known for a long time now that I’ll have to accept the advances of another man at some point. Why dwell on something I can’t have?”

It burned your throat to say the words but it was only the truth, and truth hurt. Kiri and Lo'ak agreed hesitantly with you but were still unsure if you meant it. It was as though you were convincing yourself more than them.

“Oh, Y/N…” Kiri began but Lo’ak was quick to interrupt her.

“No, don’t do that, Kiri,” he shushed his sister before she could even express how sorry she felt for you, “You’re right, Y/N. Do you have any idea how many of my friends keep asking about you? You should get out there and have some fun, I mean, Txi’pu’s practically turning purple when he sees you.”

“Txi’pu?” you questioned, “Didn’t he tame his ikran at like… twelve?” “Yes, yet the man is flustered by your mere presence,” Lo’ak chuckled, “But he seems like a cool guy, maybe you should give him a chance.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Hey, what’s that about?” Neteyam nudged his brother, staring in the direction where you sat.

The communal dinner was in full swing, right after Lo’ak had given Txi’pu the green light to approach you. You were engrossed in conversation with Kiri, as she nibbled on her food, when Txi’pu gathered up the courage to come up to you and offer you a plate of cut-up fruit.

Lo’ak followed his brother's line of sight and straightened immediately, intrigued by the interaction. He grinned in satisfaction, as he watched you shyly accept the gift.

“Txi’pu is going to ask Y/N out,” Lo’ak explained.

“Poor man,” Neteyam snorted, watching you intently, “She’s clearly not interested.”

Neteyam braced himself, eager to enjoy how you would decline Txi'pu's offer. He had seen you reject advances before with such poise and kindness that the men didn't even realize they were supposed to be offended. It was always amusing to watch. But as he saw you take Txi'pu's hand and stand up, a low growl rumbled in his throat.

“What’s happening?” he questioned with a strained voice.

“Looks like she said yes,” Lo’ak shrugged.

Neteyam shot his brother an angry glare, as if it was entirely his fault, before turning his attention back to you. He watched Txi'pu led you away from the clan, his eyes following the sway of your hips. Eventually, as the two of you disappeared from his line of sight, Neteyam clenched his fists so tightly that the pain from his nails digging into his palms went unnoticed.

He stood up abruptly, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the noise surrounding him. The fiery glow of the flames painted him in a crimson hue, adding to his already intimidating demeanor. Lo’ak frowned as he watched his brother walk away.

“Hey, where are you going?” he called out after him, but Neteyam was already gone.

That night, Neteyam laid in his hammock, unable to fall into his usual deep sleep as he gazed up at the starry sky. The distant sound of your laughter reached his ears, and he couldn't tell if it was real or just a figment of his own imagination. He had never felt this way before when you got attention from other men because you never reciprocated it. He wondered what you saw in Txi'pu. Would you be happy with a man like him?

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The next morning, Neteyam returned later than usual from his hunt, his body tired and mind restless from the lack of sleep. As he made his way towards the communal area, his attention was immediately drawn to you, seated with his siblings, engrossed in a conversation that seemed to captivate them. Neteyam felt a surge of energy within him at the mere sight of you talking so animatedly, he couldn’t wait to join and hear what you were saying. Quietly, he slipped in between Lo’ak and Kiri, so as to not disturb you, and his heart dropped upon the realization that the topic of the gathering was your walk with Txi’pu.

“Did he take you somewhere nice afterward?” Kiri asked, grinning.

Neteyam kept his gaze trained on the ground, not wanting to appear to be invested in your babbling about the last night, yet he hung onto every word you spoke. His patience was running thin, Kiri’s tail whacking him on the back with increasing excitement as you shared more details. He clenched his jaw in annoyance.

“We went to the waterfall, the one by the cliffs,” you smiled, “It was very beautiful.”

“Oh, that’s a good spot,” Lo’ak chimed in with a mischievous grin, “Girls are always impressed when I take them there.”

“Yeah, sure, Romeo,” Kiri rolled her eyes at him.

Neteyam cleared his throat loud enough to catch your attention.

“I think it’s too cliche. The waterfall,” his voice possessed a hint of annoyance, “He clearly hadn’t put much thought into impressing you.”

“No, it totally depends on who’s taking you there,” Kiri argued.

Lo’ak intervened too, and as the two of them went back and forth about it, Neteyam’s eyes locked on yours. He studied you intensely, trying to read whatever was going on in your mind. You seemed pleased with the outcome of the last night, of the time you spent with another man. He wondered if you had truly moved on from him, and he felt a pang of guilt for secretly wishing that you hadn't. You stiffened under his penetrating gaze, sinking deeper into your seat.

"How was your hunt?" you hoped to shift the conversation away from the uncomfortable tension that had suddenly taken hold.

“Nothing special,” he shrugged, then reached for the pouch on his loincloth, taking something out of it, “Here, I brought this for you.”

Neteyam had made a sweet habit out of bringing you small treasures from his hunts. From simplest rocks to wildflowers, he always admired how you managed to turn them into something beautiful. He thought that the vibrant blue feather he found this morning would look nice braided into your hair.

You accepted it with a smile, admiring the unique pattern. And as he watched you observe it, Neteyam just couldn’t bring himself to enjoy the moment. His usually cheerful expression was clouded with gloominess. He had hoped that you would confide in him about Txi'pu's unwanted advances and ask for his help, but instead, you seemed content with the outcome of the previous night.

“Thank you, Neteyam,” you beamed at him, but he could only manage to give you a faint smile.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Neteyam tousled the edges of his loincloth, irritation babbling in his chest, tightening so hard from within, he felt like he could snap any second now. His mother’s words, usually held dear to his heart, sounded like an annoying screech, as she went over the same topic: finding a perfect mate. Somebody on whom he could rely on when he becomes the Olo’eyktan, when the responsibilities are too much to handle. That the poor girl, whoever she is, must be prepared for her role in the upcoming few years, and that unlike Neteyam, she didn’t have her whole life to train. So he was being unfair to her by postponing the decision, leaving her no time to adjust.

His grandmother sat silently not too far, hands occupied with work, as she occasionally nodded to agree with Neytiri’s words. There was nothing new about them, it was the same lecture that has been passed down in generations through Mo’at’s lineage. She was sure that one day Neteyam would pass it down to his own children.

“Are you paying attention?” Neytiri asked again, and Neteyam had to nod to convince her that he did, though he stopped listening a long time ago, “She must be strong, resilient. It is important that you choose wisely. I believe you are mature enough not to be fooled by beauty only -”

Y/N was undeniably beautiful. Was he fooled by her appearance? By the way her hair cascaded down her shoulders, those two beaded braids, adorned with some that he had gifted her, framing her face and complementing the yellow of her eyes. By the way her body moved, like the flow of water, gentle and natural, as if every movement was planned out by Eywa herself. He couldn’t deny that sometimes his eyes lingered on her longer than a friend's should. Sometimes, even the way she sat close to him, their thighs pressed against each other and her small delicate shoulder nudging his, could make him too flustered.

“Led not only by her heart but also by her mind,” Neytiri continued.

Surely, you were smart, capable for your age. Neteyam would even dare to say that you were smarter than most of the adults he had known, probably smarter than him too. And you were kind too, with a heart so big that you willingly offered support and loyalty to him, though he had done nothing in return. If it were any other girl, she would have likely cursed him out and refused to acknowledge him for the rest of her life.

“Prepared to protect her clan and her family.”

Would Y/N be a good mate, ready to take on the responsibility of tsakarem? The thought was fleeting but heavy enough to ooze his head with delight. Neteyam took a deep breath to calm himself, feeling overwhelmed by how much the descriptions expanded to you. Neytiri paused, observing him for a moment.

“There is someone already, yes?” she asked, failing to conceal her hopeful tone.

Neteyam’s eyes snapped back to his mother, as she waited for him to answer. He could only shake his head and mutter an apology before scurrying away.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

No, it was wrong. Not after all those years of rejecting your affections, of not noticing when he crossed the lines and you didn't mind, he couldn't just swoop in now. Neteyam had struggled with this thought for many nights since the rumors of you letting Txi'pu court you began to circulate. You would tell him, right? He was your best friend, he had to be the first to know. But then again, it was probably foolish to believe what others had assumed. He had heard you say it to Lo'ak.

"I'm just taking things as they come," you shrugged, seemingly unbothered. Neteyam wished you would give him more of a reaction, so he could make some observations, "I don't think he and I are there yet."

But how could he believe it when he had seen you with Txi'pu repeatedly - the other day, the day after, and yesterday. He had noticed how you accepted the cut-up fruits from the warrior during communal dinners, held his hand, laughed with him - how it all had become somewhat of a habit. Neteyam struggled to maintain his appearances - he’d rather stay hungry than see you leave early with Txi’pu. Why him? The question knitted his eyebrows together in a deep-wrinkled frown, and he turned in his hammock once more, coaxing another annoyed whine from Lo'ak.

"Could you please stop?" his younger brother whispered, trying not to stir the rest of the family.

With sunrise approaching, it seemed unlikely to get any sleep anyway. Neteyam huffed and rose from his hammock, determined that a walk would clear his head. Maybe he was being selfish, greedy to keep you all to himself. But the idea of you being courted by someone else didn’t seem fair, especially when he had rejected everyone, every potential suitor suggested by his mother. Secretly, Neteyam wished that she would say your name, and then he would give her a sign that he wasn’t opposed to mating with you. But was it really unfair? After all, he never really gave you a chance.

His feet carried him away, making a few laps around the village. People were beginning to stir, emerging from their homes to begin their daily chores. Neteyam headed to the camp, intending to start his training early. But he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard your name.

Txi’pu and his friend were standing in front of the training hut, grinning widely and snickering about something. About someone. Neteyam hesitated to reveal himself, but his curiosity got the best of him, and he moved closer, trying to eavesdrop. The camp was beginning to get busy with the morning session, and just when Neteyam heard Txi'pu's malicious words about you, rage surged through him. In a split second, he made a decision. The rest was just as rushed, a heated fight took place between the two men.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“You, go to Tsahik, now,” Jake ordered to Txi’pu with a scowl, then turned to you with a softened expression, “Y/N, please take care of this knucklehead,” he gestured to his son.

You nodded, hunching slightly, disappointment evident in your demeanor. You weren't sure how you felt when you first saw Neteyam on top of Txi’pu, punching him too hard for it to be considered a part of the training. Luckily, Jake was there, pulling his oldest son away from the other warrior before bigger damage was done.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Neteyam sighed.

“You do not look sorry,” Jake scoffed, “So stop with the lying, and go get cleaned up. We will talk about this later.”

Similar to Neteyam, Txi’pu refused to meet your eyes. He looked guilty, even more so than Neteyam. You wondered what had caused their fight, the thought consuming you so much that you almost missed Neteyam walking away from you. Anger began to bubble up inside you at the lack of information. It wouldn't have surprised you if it were Lo’ak, but Neteyam rarely resorted to using his fists.

“What happened?” you asked again, catching up to Neteyam.

But he only shook his head, refusing to reveal the reason. As the two of you headed into his family hut, you gently shoved him to sit down and began shuffling through his mother's baskets. You quickly settled on picking out one of the healing balms, the one that usually stung the most. You were furious. For not telling you what had happened, for getting hurt, for attacking Txi'pu; that’s not who he was. Careless, reactive.

“Just say it,” he gritted through his teeth, feeling the cut above his brow throb under your fingers, “I can feel that you’re mad at me.” "You shouldn't have attacked him like that," you replied, your voice laced with irritation. More than anything, you hated when Neteyam got hurt.

“He deserved it.”

"That's not the point," you replied sternly. "This isn't like you. You don't go around punching people."

“Why him?” his voice cut harshly through the air, his amber eyes searching yours desperately, “Out of all people, why would you give yourself to him?”

“What?” you frowned, “I didn’t.”

“Well, that’s what he’s telling everyone,” Neteyam rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t believe you. You shook your head, partly to convince him you were telling the truth, partly denying the fact that he believed somebody else over you.

How could he truly think you would do that? Knowing how much you valued the sacred bond, how could you, a woman he had grown up with and seemed to know through and through, give herself to a man with whom she had spent only a mere of two weeks. Without feelings, or even proper courting? And even if it was true, wasn’t he supposed to support you regardless of what you did? The thought stung, bringing anger into your voice.

“And what if I had given myself to him? It is none of your concern,” you snapped, pulling away from him with a sharpness that left him reeling. Your words were meant to wound, to protect Txi’pu and to strike back at Neteyam, “You had no right to attack him like that.”

“But I had,” he hissed, frustrated with how oblivious you were at reading his actions, “I have every right to make a call, when you can’t.”

“That’s not fair,” you shook your head firmly, as if denying his words, “You don’t get to act possessive over me.”

Neteyam retreated slightly. Did he reveal too much? He had always been aware of the deep-seated feeling in his chest that riled up every time he saw you but had never dared to give it a name. He couldn’t let you recognize it before he’d bring himself to confront it first.

“Do you think I did this for you? I am the future Olo’eyktan, and it is my duty as a leader and a warrior to keep skxawngs like him in tact,” he retorted, his voice dripping with venom, “I am not some lovesick puppy.”

You stared at him in bewilderment, struggling to reconcile this angry, unfamiliar version of Neteyam with the man you thought you knew like the back of your hand. His face was masked with rage, as he took it out on you for a reason that had still remained unclear. ‘Lovesick puppy,�� did he mean you?

"Got it," you spat out.You knew better than this - to trust that he wouldn’t hold your feelings for him against you one day.

“I didn’t mean to -” he regretted immediately, grasping at your hand but you yanked it away from his grip and stormed off.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Bro, what’s wrong with you? Dad looked like he was going to skin you,” Lo’ak plopped down next to Neteyam.

The older brother sat defeated on the cliff, feet dangling from the abrupt edge mindlessly. He stared out into the distance, the sun setting over the rainforest.

“I don’t regret it, Txi’pu is disgusting,” Neteyam spat out, anger still lingering in his voice.

“What did he do?”

Lo’ak pushed for answers, since the reason for the fight was still unknown. When the fight was broken off in front of the other warriors, Neteyam refused to voice it. He didn’t want to repeat the nasty words spoken by Txi’pu when you were there and embarrass you in front of the others, even worse, he didn’t want to hurt you. Neteyam didn’t care enough to defend himself, didn’t care for the scolding he got from his father after that. Frankly, he didn’t regret attacking Txi’pu at all, drawing blood felt good. But his father pressed, knowing exactly how to prod the words out of his oldest son. Jake decided not to intervene in the matters of your friendship then, he only advised his son to be mature and clean up his own mess.

“He was saying these things about Y/N, and I couldn’t just let it go,” Neteyam gulped, his fists clenching in anger, “He told his friends that she gave herself to him without a Tsaheylu. That after years of pining for me, he had finally ‘cured’ her... some shit like that.”

“What an asshole,” Lo’ak sighed, shaking his head.

“Yeah…”

Both brothers sat there for a moment, giving each other the space to process their conversation. The only sounds were the soft rustling of the wind through the vines and the distant calls of the banshees. Eventually, Lo’ak decided to break the silence once more.

“I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it, but you shouldn’t have caused a scene like that. You got yourself into so much trouble.”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam turned to look at him, a little frustrated, “It was about Y/N. How could I let it slide?”

“No, I know, I agree,” his little brother was quick to raise his palms in the air to show he was still on his side, “I’m just saying, you never act like that. Maybe the jealousy got the better of you.”

“I am not jealous,” Neteyam protested, “I just can’t stand it that she chose to spend time with some asshole and then got herself hurt.”

“It’s her life, she can make her own choices,” Lo'ak placed a comforting hand on Neteyam's shoulder. He could sense that his brother was battling with something deep within himself, that the boundaries were blurring.

“But he doesn’t deserve her.”

“And you do?” Lo’ak asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“W-what?” Neteyam scoffed, standing up to show he was done with the conversation, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s okay if it took you so long to realize. Just don’t make her wait any longer,” Lo’ak shouted after Neteyam, who was already walking away.

Neteyam's eyes widened with a sudden realization. It was as if Lo'ak's advice had struck the exact spot in his mind that had been bothering him for days, offering a simple solution to his inner turmoil. It was like medicine to his aching soul, and all he had to do was reach out and take it.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Txi’pu's apology came quickly but lacked any genuine remorse. It was as if he had been forced into it, and by the look on his face, you suspected that he had been, most likely by Jake. The thought of the Olo’eyktan having to waste his time like that and hear about the stupid rumors was humiliating. Neteyam, on the other hand, took his time, letting you cool off, while he would figure out his feelings. Though he hadn’t suspected that the lack of his apology drew a distance between you that you were previously unfamiliar with. He’d steal glances at you during the dinners but that was it. Your best friend, the man you have been in love with, didn’t feel like a safe person anymore.

He was confused about it too. Couldn't tell if it was just his mind playing tricks on him, or if he was genuinely blind to how much he used to relish in your presence. He gazed from afar with a longing look as you sat, looking pretty as ever. Your eyebrows were knitted in a gentle frown, eyelids halfway closed, as you huffed air out of your plump lips. He couldn't help but steal another glance in your direction, as he watched your head pull back with a loud whimper, your mother's hands quickly braiding another section of your hair, gripping tightly as you struggled to keep your neck straight. It would almost make him laugh at the way you reacted to pain, if he hadn't been so distracted by how pretty you looked.

“Stop gawking,” Lo’ak nudged him with an eye roll, “Just apologize already. It’s been days.”

Neteyam shook off his distracting thoughts, but the knife he was supposed to be sharpening remained as blunt as his mind, struggling to keep up with whatever Lo'ak was saying to him.

He wished he could just go back in time and stop himself from lashing out at you, from taking his frustrations out on the one person he cared about the most. He regretted pressing on the wound in your heart that had been bleeding for him for years, hurting you in the place where it hurt the most. The distance between you two had become unbearable, but he couldn't bring himself to close it. It felt different this time. Throughout all the years of your friendship, you had never fought like this. You had always been there for each other, through thick and thin. Misunderstandings were usually quickly resolved with sincere apologies. But the venomous words that had spilled out of him due to jealousy had stung like no other, ‘I am not some lovesick puppy.’

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam’s voice quievered, “Can you talk to her for me? She might listen to you.”

“Really, dude?” Lo’ak raised an eyebrow at him, “You want me to apologize for you?”

“No, I don't want you to apologize for me,” Neteyam frowned, already getting irritated, “Just make her talk to me, please.”

“Fine, but you owe me,” Lo’ak stood up abruptly, with a huff. Neteyam’s eyes widened at his sudden movement.

“Wait, are you going right now?”

Lo'ak gave a nonchalant shrug as he glanced in your direction, still seated in front of your mother. Neteyam thought it would be too humiliating to watch his brother beg for your attention while he was right there. You would think him as pathetic, a mighty warrior afraid to approach his friend of fifteen years.

“But she’s busy,” Neteyam's voice trailed off, eyes following as Lo’ak jogged over to you.

He watched the way Lo’ak greeted your mother with respect and earned a kind smile from her. You took your time to grant him your attention, tail swishing lazily from side to side, while Lo’ak made small talk. Neteyam stiffened once your eyes landed on him with a newfound harshness. He had never seen it from you before, and he could feel his heart sink in his chest.

What was Lo’ak telling you? Neteyam strained his ears to try to catch some of the conversation, but the soft murmur of your voices made it impossible. All he could do was pray that the little shrug you gave was meant to be for him, a chance to let him explain himself.

“I will be tracking a Vayätu after the eclipse. If he wants to apologize, he can help me first,” Lo’ak relayed your message to Neteyam.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Your ears perked up at the faint rustling sound, eyes already scanning the area, hunched over from behind the thick bushes. The mysterious spell was casted over the forest with the presence of Vayätu, a creature just as ethereal as it appeared. You felt it was near, just like Eywa, lingering somewhere in the dark. The bioluminescent shimmered over its sleek iridescent fur, concealing the creature, but the two sets of prominent yellow eyes stood out in the densest part of the forest.

Among your clan, Vayätu was one of the most valuable creations of Eywa. An animal rarely shown in the forests of Pandora, that despite its incredible speed and agility, was delicate, easy to scare away. Its only defense was disappearing into the foliage, blending with the surroundings. If a Vayätu got hurt once, it would never return to the same area.

Then there was the medicine that came with it. Deep within its long neck, the creature had a gland producing thick, viscous substance highly prized for its medicinal property, used to ease the pain for treating big wounds, or fed to women before giving birth. Retracting the liquid wasn’t harmful to the animal, similar to the way your eyes would produce tears when crying, but there was a certain routine to it. Requiring at least two hunters, one of which would hold the animal down, while the other one would gather the substance.

You stiffened immediately, hand reaching for your leather rope - a signal for Neteyam to prepare for the attack. Simple. You had done this before once, worked perfectly together, and then couldn’t stop laughing as the adrenaline rushed through your blood, jumping through the trees to hurry back home and announce your victory. But it seemed like at that moment, as he was kneeling beside you staring up at your profile, Neteyam had forgotten everything he knew. The apology, along with the confession he had been crafting carefully for days now, were ready on the tip of his tongue. He had to wait for the right moment.

Your skin was adorned with bioluminescent freckles that resembled a star constellation, just like the ones he used to stare at with his father on clear nights. Your eyes glowed softly, narrowed as if concentrating on something in the distance, and Neteyam was too distracted to pick up on it. He had seen you many times from many angles before, yet he couldn't help but be captivated by the way you tensed up, the definition of your lean, delicate arms, and the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed quietly and steadily.

Neteyam was so entranced by the way your body moved that he didn't notice when you jumped forward, your form confident as you chased a shadow. His attention was quickly drawn to the two sets of yellow eyes piercing through the darkness, before disappearing in an instant. He realized that he had missed the signal to attack first.

The forest came alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and cracking branches, as you ran after the Vayätu, hot on its tail. But the extra set of legs gave the creature an advantage, it was faster, putting a prominent distance between you. Frustration bubbled within you at the realization that you were alone in the chase. Where the hell was Neteyam? You were not set for this; speed wasn’t your strength. That was Neteyam’s part, you were better at sneaking.

“Neteyam!” you called out loudly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

You pushed harder, heart racing, as you refused to let the creature out of your sight, because once you did, you would never see it again. Neteyam caught up then, quick on his feet, as he articulated through the trees. He felt guilty for getting distracted, he had to prove himself to be helpful for you.

You, you, you. You were all that filled his mind. With determination, Neteyam lunged forward, his lean muscular body fluidly navigating through the dense undergrowth of the forest. His eyes remained fixated on the Vayätu up head, never losing sight of his target as he closed in on the ethereal creature. With a sudden burst of speed, he leaped towards it, his arms outstretched as he managed to tackle it to the ground.

You were still a few paces behind, your blood pumped with adrenaline, as you watched the scene unfold. Quickly, while Neteyam was still holding the animal down, you dropped to your knees right next to them.

“Where the hell have you been?” you hissed angrily, your eyes already darting all over the trembling creature.

“I’m sorry, I got distracted,” he mumbled. You only shook your head, dismissing his apology.

Elderly often instructed young hunters to calm their prey, make them feel safe and connected to Eywa. Following their advice, you reached to gently stroke the creature’s neck, whispering soft prayers to soothe its fear. Neteyam’s gaze was glued to you, as if something intimate and intricate was happening, something that only the two of you could comprehend.

“Okay, get ready to apply more pressure,” you warned, before taking out your wooden flask, crafted out of the root of the Home Tree.

Neteyam only nodded, watching the way you worked. The creature trembled under your touch, but his grip was unyielding, letting you collect the precious liquid and gently store it away. With a pat on his arm, you signaled for him to release the animal. Neteyam leaned back, panting heavily as the Vayätu sprang to its feet, shaking its head and snorting in frustration before darting away into the darkness.

Both of you stood up and remained quiet for a moment, as he wiped away the sweat and grime clinging to his skin. You were too covered in dirt, body exhausted from the chase. Yet, the triumph took over you once the realization that you had been successful settled in. A small smile crept onto your face.

"Nice work," you spoke quietly, “Even though you almost snoozed.”

He chuckled weakly, a little embarrassed. Amber eyes scanned your face, tracing the now smudged patterns of yellow paint.

“Let’s wash off,” he offered.

The tension slipped right back in and hung heavily between the two of you, as you walked ahead, letting Neteyam trail after you. Navigating through the dark forest was easy, you had taken this way to the pond many times before. There was no need to check if Neteyam was still following, you knew he was. He wouldn’t let this opportunity slide, not after sending Lo’ak to talk to you. You weren’t going to deny it - you missed Neteyam terribly, and a part of you had hoped that the apology would be sincere enough to soothe the pain left by his words.

The water was still under the shimmering moonlight, creating a perfect mirror of its surroundings. You carefully removed your belt, ensuring that the items in the pouch didn't spill, and placed it on the ground. Neteyam followed your lead and quietly put down his weapons.

“You wanted to talk,” you began first, the harshness returning to your voice.

Sure, it was disappointing, the way things turned out with Txi’pu. You couldn’t help but pity yourself for being played by the first guy you decided to give a chance to. The thought of him holding your hand now seemed disgusting, sent shivers down your spine. But it was easy to dismiss it because for the past week, the sting left from Neteyam’s words was much worse. You wanted it to go away, desperately.

“Y/N… I am so sorry, I truly am,” Neteyam took a long breath, forcing you to look at him, “I wish I could take back everything I said.”

"Don't apologize if it's how you really feel, Neteyam," you replied, your voice catching in your throat. "I just wish I had known sooner, so I would stop acting like a ‘lovesick puppy’ around you."

“No, no, I didn’t mean it,” he raised his palms in the air, as if to stop you, “I didn’t even think. I only spoke out of jealousy.”

“Jealousy?” you scoffed in disbelief. Did he really try to lie his way into forgiveness? “Why would you ever be jealous?”

Neteyam sighed and took a few steps closer to you. Almost too close. Of course, as friends, you had been even at a closer approximation before, but there was something different about it now. Too intimate, like no one else was supposed to see it. Your eyes flickered up to his face.

"Because you gave a chance to somebody else, and... I hated it," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Seeing you hold his hand instead of mine, laugh at his jokes, accept his gifts...it hurt me, more than I care to admit. Do you understand?"

You blinked in confusion, though your heart raced at the mere possibility that he was hinting at what you had hoped for a long time. Neteyam waited for you to answer his question, but when you opened your mouth to speak, no words came out. Then you felt him reach for your hand, long fingers intertwining delicately with yours. Goosebumps covered your skin in an instant.

“Every time my parents talked about choosing a mate, I got frustrated because all I could see was your face… you by my side. And I was so confused, I didn’t know what it meant back then, but now I do,” words spilled out of him with sincerity, “I like you more than a friend, Y/N. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.” “’s better late than never, right?” you attempted a faint smile with a croaky voice, though your heart was racing like crazy.

Then, as he leaned in, every thought seemed to wash away, and all you could focus on was him.

“Can I just..?” he trailed off, his arms open for you.

You nodded, stepping into his embrace. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply, savoring your scent. He had missed you so much and had been dreaming of holding you in his arms ever since the fight. All he wanted was to keep his arms around you, both gentle and strong at the same time. And sweet like honey, his voice dripped.

“I see you, Y/N.”

You pulled away, searching for his face.

“Can I kiss you?” his voice trembled like a leaf on a windy day, and your own heart skipped a beat at the question.

You could only stare back, frozen, as Neteyam’s fingers brushed hesitantly against your face. He leaned in and waited for you to push him away, but once he was sure you wouldn’t, his lips ghosted over yours. A beat, and with a shaky breath, he pulled you closer. You surrendered to the feeling immediately, hands finding their way to his chest, trying to touch, feel every part of him, just to convince yourself this was real. With a soft gasp, your tongues intertwined, his taste like honey, sweet and intoxicating, marked you as his own.

The kiss broke, foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "I should have waited for your permission."

You shook your head weakly, unable to form any coherent thoughts. All you knew was that you wanted more.

"Don't be sorry," you nuzzled his face with your own, "I...I wanted this for a long time."

Neteyam felt like his heart couldn’t take it anymore. He was lightheaded, intoxicated by you. By the way your lips tasted, by your scent, by the feeling of your hands on him. He kissed you again, more desperately this time, pushing you back slightly, stepping into the the pond. You followed him without a word, the water lapping at your ankles.

The water was cool around you, causing a shiver down your spine, though you weren’t sure, maybe it was just Neteyam. He pulled you closer, dipping the two of you into the water half to your waist. There was only one thing on his mind - he needed to take care of you, wash away the stress and the tiredness he had caused, and make up for it with his love.

You closed your eyes, surrendering yourself to his embrace, as he began to run his hands over your back, gently massaging your shoulders and arms. Some of the water he cupped had dripped over your back, relaxing away all of the tension in your body. You could feel yourself leaning onto him more, as if your knees were ready to give out any second now.

Neteyam’s hands continued to roam all over your body, exploring every curve he never had the chance to touch before. Everything that he had dreamed about was right there, under the pads of his fingers. He scooped another handful of water, bringing it to your face this time, washing away the dirt and the traces of paint off your face. You let out a sigh of pleasure, when his thumb grazed the blue stripe over your cheekbone.

His hands then strayed lower and lower, found their way to your hips and lingered there. He couldn’t move, thumbs pressed into your skin, leaving hot traces. You could feel the heat building in your chore, the desire in his eyes was undeniable. Without a word, he leaned in and kissed you again, his tongue probing gently at your lips. You opened your mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss, and you felt a rush of heat flow through your body.

“Neteyam…” you sighed softly, your hands reaching for his loincloth, tugging at it weakly.

“Yes?” he asked, as he dipped his head to kiss your neck.

“I want you,” you managed to let out, hand reaching lower to stroke over his length. He pressed into your palm with a groan.

“I want you too,” he planted another kiss to your neck, “But we have to wait…”

“What? No,” you shook your head weakly.

“Mhm, yes… I have to court you first,” he spoke in between short breaths he took, mouth never leaving that sensitive spot on your neck, “Do it properly. Earn your affections.”

“Neteyam, you know you had me all this time,” you chuckled weakly.

His chest heaved as he pulled away slightly, his hands still cradling your cheeks. He looked deeply into your eyes, a small smile curling his lips as he studied your flushed face for a moment.

“I want to do this right, Y/N, will you let me?” he asked softly, like he had already planned out the whole thing in his head.

Butterflies churned in your stomach, and you nodded, your own lips stretching into a lovesick grin. He planted another gentle kiss on your forehead.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

taglist (lkm if you want to be added): @bigdikzaddy @awriana @scarletrosesposts @abbersreads @mechformers @my-love-of-books @avatarbyamara @robin-the-enby @netemoon @minjix @nilrilie @grierpilots @suntizme @live-laugh-neteyam @misscaller06 @darkacademictrash @arminsgfloll @omnifanfic-copycat @crazyforteyam @sakura-onesan @laylasbunbunny

7K notes · View notes

lovemomhatepolice · 6 months ago

Text

drew starkey nswf alphabet (part 1) (minors DNI!)

navigation taglist requests

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Drew is very caring. You can never complain about lack of attention or proper care. He even forgets himself sometimes so long as you are well taken care of. Fortunately, you are able to balance the middle ground so that both of you are maximally satisfied and cared for. After sex, he is even more cuddly. He is constantly following you, never leaving your side B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) I don't know if he has favorite body parts, both with you and with himself. Drew is really a person who admires the whole body. He realizes that he's damn handsome and well-groomed, so he likes himself in general. With you, he has the same. He likes, loves your body as a whole. Okay but how do you connect during sex in this one place. GOD!!! C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He's a fan of ending up inside you. If you just let him, of course, he seizes the opportunity every time. It probably connects with his breeding kink, but you have no problem with it. You even quite like it... D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Everyone is familiar with this popular tweet about spitting in the mouth. And everyone is well aware that it was certainly memorable for this man. Surely he won't let go of talking about it, and maybe he'll wait to talk about it himself? E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Well he is experienced, although he hasn't had many girlfriends or side hook-ups in his life. He knows perfectly well what he is doing, how he should move, what to touch. A good knight with good weapons. It can work wonders with your body, even without much care (although he still tries hard) F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) A fan of the classic missionary! It could be simple, but no, the missionary gives him plenty of options. He can change his angle in you, kiss you wherever he wants, he can perfectly see the place where you connect. Well, he has to pamper his pillow princess and he doesn't mind it at all G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Drew laughs a lot, oh, hearing his throaty laugh during sex is something else. it often happens to him, but you don’t protest. You also have moments of silliness, and your whole act becomes a place of silly text. However, more often he happens to be serious, grown man behave like this, right? (kidding aside this man will do anything to make you laugh. Well unless you happen to be crying from arousal)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Little hair on top = little hair on the bottom. He likes to keep everything well trimmed. Even his hands happen to shave, so what's the surprise that he's shaved in his intimate areas. I think with you, he would also expect you to have it neat so he could dive in there without a problem I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) He can really be affectionate during sex. If you feel that way, that's how he will be. He loves to give emotion into it, not to show that it's carnal pleasure alone. He likes to tell you all sorts of compliments, to show that he cares, that it feels good. If you want rose petals, you'll have rose petals J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Oh, he doesn't have to worry about that. You're both aroused at the same time, and if you're not, let's not lie to each other - one word and you're already on your knees. And if you're not next to each other? He keeps it inside and waits until you meet, then your act has even more power K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Breeding. The beautiful man is now over thirty, and a light has gone on in his head about starting a family. And when you showed up, he can't stand it all the more without a vision of you with a belly full of his baby L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Wherever you want. Drew is quite submissive about it. The bed, the countertop, the wall, the shower. Wherever you want, really. And he'll run after you like a stray puppy. But sex in the tub, oh, just a word, and he's already there. Ready and compact for action. Bubbles, warm water, steam rising in the bathroom, oh god M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) You in his too-big-for-you T-shirts with nothing underneath, oh god, this man is already on his knees for you. Or the sight of your hips moving to the beat of the music, especially close to his crotch, oh, it's too much for him

A/N: part two BUZZ CUT DREW I'M CRYING

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

517 notes · View notes

whateverwillbewilderme · 1 month ago

Text

Ford f*cks you in the name of science

Word count:2085

Warnings:F/M, medical kink, medical experimentation, examination, sexual experimentation, dubious consent, internal camera, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, friends to… something, sexual inexperience, bad sexual conduct in general

You gotta love Ford really. He’s smart, kind, and handsome too. There’s lots to love about a man who loves his family and only strives to be better for the sake of them and science. But god damn can he be stupid sometimes.

“Naturally, I’ll compensate you for your help today [name],” Ford says more professionally than the situation calls for. More than it deserves actually. It’s hard to be professional when your legs are up in stirrups and the only thing shielding your crotch from being visible to Ford is a thin sheet he gave you.

“And why exactly do you need to study my vagina ford?” You ask brusquely.

“Well- not your vagina exactly, your pelvic muscles. I need to see how your muscles react to certain stimuli.” He seems to stammer a bit at the bluntness of your question. But his answer seems ‘sciencey’ enough for you to believe he has no dubious intentions.

He turns away from the janky examination chair he set up for you and grabs what could be confused for a vibrator bullet connected to a long wire from his desk. “I made this specifically for this study, using the simplistic design of a common bullet vibrator with a hidden camera!” It’s odd how proud Ford is of his little creation, holding it up like it was the newest phone that everyone would go crazy over. “I will insert this inside you to capture the movements of your vaginal canal while the stimuli is in motion.” He explains naturally, his genius mind on science-mode (as you heard Stanley call it affectionately).

“So you’re gonna make me cum to see how my body reacts from the inside?” You clarify.

“Precisely my dear!” He says, proud that you understand. “I’m sure this will be helpful in my studies of reproductive biology in anomalies in gravity falls! If I completely understand coitus from a human perspective I can use it as a basis for my hypothesis for anomaly breeding!”.

You decide that this is weird and Stanford is way too excited to do this. But he is a good friend, so you suppose you can suffer through the awkwardness of letting your best friend make you cum. “ I guess that sounds reasonable.”

“Wonderful [name]! We must get straight to this!” Of course no foreplay. Ford's hands eagerly pull the sheet covering you off quickly, leaving you to try and clench your thighs closed instinctively. The stirrups hold strong enough against your attempt though and your movements are hopeless.

Ford turns back to his desk, fiddling with the computer to turn on his insertable camera. Once making sure it works correctly, he grabs a plain bottle of lube coating the metal frame of the camera completely before turning back to you. “Now, are you ready?” He says, excited to continue his experiment. You can only nod once before the tip of the camera is pressed against your entrance. A sharp intake of air and a grunt is enough to get Ford to slow down. “Sorry- sorry- should I have been slower?” Ford asks genuinely. “Fuck yeah, Ford! No prep or nothing?” You growl, “You’re this old and you still don’t know it’ll hurt if you force something inside me?”

The lubed-up camera almost slips out of Ford's six-finger grip as you reprimand him. In his defense, he does look guilty. “I’m sorry- I’m very unaware of human women’s body behavior- I wasn’t particularly popular with women when I was younger and the aliens I came across only copulated to reproduce.” He explained. For the first time, his cheeks flush a little in embarrassment. “You- you might have to teach me how to ‘warm you up’.” He infers, unsure of how to refer to the act. A sigh escapes you as you realize this is probably gonna be longer than you wanted it to go for. “God- okay. Grab the lube again, and put that damn camera down.” You order. He follows the orders quickly, dropping his precious invention on a medical tray and returning with the bottle, looking at you eagerly waiting for the next order. “Fuck… okay now did you bring an actual vibrator or something?” You ask, ashamed that this is a conversation you have to have. “Why would I?” He says obliviously.

What.

“Ford, what were you going to use to stimulate me exactly?” You ask exasperated.

“My penis of course?” He responds as if you asked a dumb question. “This is to study breeding habits in creatures, so I need to see how you react to an actual penis, not some plastic toy that goes vroom.”

“So you were going to fuck me. You were going to fuck me and you didn’t even tell me?” Ford immediately understands how fucked that sounds.

“…”

he’s embarrassed now.

“I understand where your worry is coming from now.” He mutters.

You sigh, almost ashamed at how dumb this genius could be. “Ya know what it’s fine. Totally chill.” You say, trying to convince yourself. “Let’s just get this over with.” He only nods silently, still too ashamed to say anything else.

“Put some lube on your fingers and s-start rubbing my…” you can only gesture to your crotch, too embarrassed to fully speak out the steps. He covers his index and middle fingers with a generous amount of gel but hesitates to actually touch. He lets out a shaky breath before the pads of his sticky fingers press down on your clit, slathering some of the lubricant over the small bundle of nerves before rubbing small circles over it.

It’s a shame how unsexy this scenario is because his hands do feel really good. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve been properly fucked. Your breath hitches as he caresses you gently, putting down a little more pressure when he notices your breath change. “Yeah- like that.” You choke out, trying to keep any moans from slipping past your lips. You can feel a pulse in your core, and when ford drags his fingers down your slit they come back glistening with a layer of your arousal coating them. Ford continues the motions for a few minutes, getting the hang of the movements well enough that your thighs tense around the edges of the leg rests. “You- you can try slipping a finger in. Gently.” You say, biting down on your lip. He doesn’t nod or say anything, just moving his attention to your weeping hole. His eyes are trained on the whole mess between your legs, as if creating a mental diagram of what your messy pussy looks like right now. He pushes his index finger in, slowly moving it in deeper until he’s in at the knuckle.

“Fascinating. Your muscles relax as stimulation is given, allowing for more to be inserted.” He mumbles to himself. Removing his hand, he grabs the forgotten and cold camera. “Forgive me, but I think it’s best we start using this now before we go to far ahead.” He insists. Luckily this time there’s no resistance, and it slips in easily, your walls forming around it. His eyes are trained towards the monitor showing the feedback of the camera. His fingers slip back in, now two instead of one. Clenching your eyes shut and breathing deeply, a small moan escapes past your lips as ford watches the screen, moving his fingers at a steady pace. “Good. Good. You’re clenching around them you know? Oh well I’m sure you do know, you probably feel it more than I do.” He says, mind on auto pilot.

“F-fuck…”

“Hmm? Is this affecting you now? It must be since your body is responding so strongly. You’re wet too. I knew women created their own lubrications but this is more than I expected. My fingers are soaked [name].” It’s terrible how good he sounds when he’s not even trying to talk dirty. You can’t help but let your noises out now, you’re lightheaded from keeping them in for so long. “Ah- ford- it’s just a lot-“ you try and say between cries of pleasure.

“If this is a lot how will you take my cock, hmm? Please just be good and let me continue with my studies a little longer, okay?” He asks, voice low and intimidating, but so fucking hot.

He removes his fingers and while he initially moves to wipe the slick off of it on his pants, he curiously brings them to his lips, licking off whatever juices still soaked him. “How… interesting.” He simply says. “We’ll have to do this again. I’d like to see how you react to oral stimulation next time.” He suggests, his (now clean) hands reaching to undo his belt next. Pushing down his pants and underwear In one motion his cock springs up, already hard.

Looking down at it you can’t help but be a little intimidated. Fords not exactly a small man, and his manhood isn’t either. It’s a nice and satisfying 7 inches or so and delightfully girthy. Little grey curly hairs bunch up around the base of it but it doesn’t make his cock any less attractive. Too busy ogling at his member, ford smirks as he lines himself up to your entrance. “I’m glad you like it.” He says cockily. Ford grunts as he thrusts in slowly, his inches stretching you further despite the prepping. His hands grip down onto the chair as he forces the rest of his length inside. “Fuck- i get it now. Your- so fucking tight!” He growls, leaning over you in a pure display of dominance.

“You’re squeezing me so well you know?” He rasps. his hand takes your chin and forces your gaze on the monitor. “Look. Do you see how your body reacts to me?” It’s impossible to speak right now, head to hazy to think about forming sentences right now. All you can manage to mumble out is a “uh-uh” between moans, eyes trained on the camera feed showing fords cock piston in and out of you.

A particularly harsh thrust causes the tip of fords cock so deep that it bumps against your cervix. It hurts, but the pain mixes deliciously with the immense pleasure you also feel that you decide you don’t mind. “Ford-“ you cry out, walls spasming as you cum, muscles tightening around fords cock. “There it is… that’s what I wanted to see…” he growls, watching the screen intently. Looking back down at you, ford grips down on your hips hard and thrusts faster, chasing his own high now. The change in pace makes your thighs shake, moaning wildly as he pummels into you. “See? I said you’d be compensated didn’t I? Doesn’t this feel good darling? If you like this maybe I can tempt you into joining me in some more studies. You’d like that wouldn’t you [name], always such a good friend…” he moans, getting off to his own words. “Fuck- fuck- fuck- my good little experiment-“ he moans before shoving himself in as deep as he can, burying himself in your pussy as he cums, The sudden feeling of fullness choking you. The camera view is blurred by white as he fills your pussy up, some even leaking out of you and dripping onto the chair.

A few moments pass before either of you even attempt to speak, the only sounds in the lab being pants for air. You’re disappointed when ford pulls out of you, followed by a stronger drizzle of his cum pooling out onto the table too. “Hah- thank you for your participation in this project [name].” Ford sighs, cock still twitching. You can only mutter an “Uh-huh…” as you come back down from your high. Ford turns to his computer again to turn off the camera feed, grabbing a clean towel from the medical cart beside him and turning back to you. Pulling out the camera by its cord, he tosses it onto the cart before he spends some time toweling you down.

“I enjoyed this, enjoyed you dear. For more than the science.” He admits, his eyes meeting yours. “I um- I did too ford. Did you really mean it when you said you wanted to do this again?” You ask, pulling your tired legs down from the stirrups. One of fords hands grabs one of your legs as you pull it down, then he leans in and leaves a kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“Dear… I’d love to do this again.”

#gravity falls x reader #stanford pines x reader #ford pines

181 notes · View notes

orcasoul · 6 months ago

Text

Joel Miller Headcanons:

Joel's And Your First Time

Warnings: Smut (under 18's DNI), fluff.

Word Count: 1,703

Joel can't remember the last time he felt a connection this strongly with a woman. He finds himself lost in your enigmatic pull, noticing every little thing about you, from the way your nose scrunches when you giggle, how you become so passionate when talking about a subject close to your heart, the way you hold yourself with grace, your playful and witty personality and how your natural beauty radiates without even having to try.

Sometimes he can't fathom how someone like you could want someone like him, yet here you both are, seven months into your relationship. That word still sound so strange to Joel. In a brutal world of cordyceps and lawlessness he'd never even wanted a romantic relationship. For the longest time he was fine with no strings attached hookups, never daring to invest any emotion in a woman who could be torn away in the blink of an eye. It was better that way.

But then you waltzed into his life and pulled the rug from under his feet, sending his walls crashing to the ground. A few months of flirting, subtle gestures and stolen glances was all it took before the two of you confessed your mutual love for one another and you've both been inseparable ever since, even gaining the nickname 'The Lovebirds' by some of Jackson's residents.

Sitting on the setee, watching your eyes sparkle in the light of the fireplace as you tell Joel yet another story of your life 'Before', he realises how much he hangs on your every word, the sweet lilt of your voice is something he'll never be able to get enough of. Setting his whisky glass on your table, Joel turns back to you observing how you suddenly seem nervous. "You okay?'" Joel asks, his voice soft with concern. "Yeah... um... I'm good," you answer sheepishly, then put your glass next to his.

Before Joel knows what's happening, you're straddling his lap, kissing him deeply and sensually, your hands delicately gripping his hair, while his own find their way to your waist, pulling you tight against his body. Your sudden moan into his mouth electrifies Joel's entire body, arousal coursing it's way south. "Joel?..." his name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper, as you pull away slightly, noses still touching. "Mmhmm," Joel hums, lost in the haze of you. "I want you to make love to me." Oh, that cleared his foggy mind!

He pulls his head back, quickly, assessing your expression to see if it's what you really want, if maybe you'd just let it slip out without thinking, but all he can see is love and want written all over your face. "Are you sure?" he asks, just to be thorough, "I told you I don't mind waiting." Hell, he'd wait until the end of time if that's what it took just to be with you. He knows that to you, sex is a very emotional and intimate act, never being one for hookups and he respects the hell out of that. After all, everyone is different.

He let's out a deep groan as you rub your core over his very obvious hard-on. "I want you, Joel. I want all of you," you purr seductively into his ear, "I'm ready, take me to bed, baby." Joel chuckles at the little yelp you give as he grips both of your arse cheeks and effortlessly stands up, carrying you up the stairs with ease. He gently sets you down on the bed, lifting your chin to look ardently in to your eyes. "You really want this?" "I do," you smile up at him with the biggest heart eyes, "I want to feel the man I love inside me."

Joel wastes no time in pulling your top off, followed by your bra, all of your clothes, until you are fully naked before him and what a fucking sight you are! "So beautiful," Joel gushes as he takes in the sight of utter perfection. Moments later, his own clothes are a discarded pile on the floor and he watches as your roving eyes greedily drink him in, staring at his hardened shaft, while biting your bottom lip. You eagerly pull Joel on top of you as you lay back on the bed. Hands wander, seeking out bare flesh as you both fully explore each other's bodies for the first time.

Joel trails wet, languid kisses down you neck, feeling your pulse quicken under his tounge, until he reaches your breasts. He gently latches his mouth to your breast, swirling his tounge around your pebbled nipple. A grin spreads over his face as you arch your chest upwards, seeking more of his mouth. Joel releases your nipple with a 'pop' and a devilish smirk. "I'm gonna take good care of you, sweetheart," he croons while slowly moving his fingers to your soft folds. "So wet already," he marvels, "All this for me, huh?"

His fingers then find your clit and he starts to rub in circles, gradually building speed, resulting in a spectacle he'll never forget; Your head tipped back, mouth in the shape of an 'o', your chest heaving and the melody of your euphoric cry as he draws the first orgasm from your trembling body. He allows you to catch your breath for a minute, enjoying your blissed out appearance. "Think you can give me another one, sweetheart?" he asks in a sultry tone. "Mmhmm...," you nod, deliriously.

Joel's thick fingers slide down to your entrance, carefully parting your lips. Slowly and delicately, he pushes one finger into the warmth of your tunnel, followed by another, stroking your spongy spot until he can tell you're close. He kisses down your belly as your moans grow louder, finally settling on your clit. Between pumping his fingers in and out and licking and sucking your sensitive bundle, he has turned you into a writhing mess beneath him, griping his hair and bucking up into his mouth.

Every obscene moan, pant and wail coming from you is music to Joel's ears, causing him to smile against your sex. He's the one making you feel this good. With a shudder of your thighs and a scream of his name, your second orgasm crashes over you, coating him in your juices. Joel laps at your release like a man parched, the sweetest nectar to ever grace his tastebuds. "You still with me, darling?" Joel teases as he moves up your body to kiss you, giving you a taste of your own release. "Yeah... Joel, that was.. wow!" you pant as you begin to come back down from your high.

Joel's painfully hard cock presses into your hip, a testament to just how much he wants you. "Your turn," you smirk as you reach down, wrapping your soft hand around his girth, slowly pumping, while spreading a bead of pre cum over his glistening head. Joel knows he won't last much longer if you keep this up. Reaching down to lightly grab your hand, he stops your ministrations. "Darling, I'm not gonna last much longer like this and I want to feel your pussy around my cock, now," he groans. " Then take it," you purr, nipping his neck, "It's all yours."

Good god! He feels ready to blow his load from your words alone. Lining himself up at your entrance, Joel gazes into your eyes as he slowly sinks into your heat, causing both of you to gasp as he bottoms out. Your arms and legs wrap around his body, holding him in place, both of you remaining still to relish in this new intimacy. After a few moments you whine, "Fuck me, Joel!", your hand grabbing his arse cheek. He dosen't need to be told twice! Pulling out to the tip, he pushes himself back in, with just the right amount of force to begin with, thrusting harder and faster as your moans become louder and your nails dig into his shoulders. "oh, Joel! Right there, baby!"

He knows there'll be little crescent shapes over his back for a few days. He'll wear them as a badge of honour! "Fuck, sweetheart! So...ugh... tight,... ugh... so perfect!" He's getting close now, wishing it would never end; The velvety soft warmth enveloping his dick, squeezing and pulsing with every thrust is intoxicating, heightening all of his senses. The downright sinful sounds of wet skin slapping against wet skin, accompanied with your cry of his name may just be Joel's new favourite sounds.

Joel reaches between your bodies to circle your clit once again, determined to draw one last orgasm from you before he reaches his own climax. It only takes several seconds before you are clamping down on his cock, thighs gripping him like a vice, voice shuddering as you gush all over his pubic area. Chasing his own release, Joel asks, "where do you want me?" "On my... tits," you reply breathlessly. Another few thrusts and Joel quickly pulls out, painting your heaving chest in thick ropes of hot cum.

He flops down beside you as you both catch your breath. Pressing his forehead to yours and gently stroking your arm, Joel whispers, "You okay, darling? Wasn't too rough?" The blissfully fucked out look on your face alone tells Joel you're okay. "I'm great, baby. More than great!" Joel gazes adoringly at you while you cup his cheek in one hand. "That was everything I hoped it would be. How was it for you?" Joel smiles broadly, "Fucking amazing, sweet girl!" He presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your nose, then to your lips.

"Be right back," he says as he heads to the bathroom. Moments later he returns with a warm, wet towel and tenderly cleans you up. Laying back down beside you, he takes you in his arms, bringing your head to rest on his chest as you both bask in the afterglow of your actions. Joel can tell by your slow, even breathes that you've fallen alseep. He takes this moment to appreciate everything about you, his heart aching with how much love he holds for you. You are IT for him, The One, and you were absolutely worth waiting for.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel x you #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #the last of us #tlou

274 notes · View notes

imfoive · 3 months ago

Text

The Youngest Son - Chapter 6

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature Warnings: mentions of cursing, suggestive, death, physical assault, somewhat proofread WC: 5.8k A/N: I would literally LOVE to hear everyone’s thoughts by the end of this chapter! Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

CHAPTER 6 ────────────────────

Y/N had always believed that she was the one who fell first, and perhaps fell the hardest.

Minho never wanted anyone’s attention, especially not Y/N Park’s. He hated having what felt like his own personal stalker. Though she claimed to merely keep him in check and reminding him who was in charge, her actions spoke otherwise.

Y/N had to be in charge.

Always.

She called the shots, made him bend the school rules for her, and directed his actions. She needed to be the one making decisions expecting him to follow.

It wasn’t that Minho was afraid of her. No, he had no trouble intimidating or breaking people when necessary.

But Minho didn’t want to break Y/N.

Minho allowed her to be in charge.

He was always aware that having her by his side benefited his family more than him. They had been sent to that Academy more for the connections it offered than for its education. The system had its own social hierarchy, and Y/N always ensured she was at the top.

Yet, it was ironic.

Despite her domineering presence, Y/N had no one to truly call friends. She was always the one who got away with misbehaving easily, the one whose parents had “donated” the baseball field to the school, the one everyone wanted on their side. But Y/N had no one by her side.

He could tell easily.

She was too snobby, too stubborn. She liked to boss people around. A thirteen year old who acted as if she were an adult.

And at the academy entrance ceremony, Minho knew immediately that she was someone he needed to stay away from.

Y/N Park was the type who would easily provoke him. She was someone who would piss him off, and the mask of pretend he made with so much effort would slip in her presence.

So he kept his distance, ensuring their paths never crossed.

Perhaps he had grown too comfortable. His guard was down, and she set her sights on him like a predator.

Minho wouldn’t be lying if he said his life would have been a little easier if they hadn’t crossed paths in school. It would have gone according to the schemes, the plans, he had woven for himself and getting back at his family, sometime during his formative years.

Minho wouldn’t have cared about Y/N’s opinions or remarks. What she thought of him, how she followed him with her gaze.

She would have been just another name to memorize. Another face to recognize at social gatherings and business meetings. Maybe he would have flirted with her. Maybe offered false compliments, flashed a smile, charmed her like he would any other daughter of the elite.

But even the thought of playing that game of pretend with her made him question himself.

It wasn’t a secret that the heiress of the Park Family took Minho’s opinion of her seriously. That she liked him, perhaps romantically as well. And Minho played into that, humoring her.

For a long time.

Y/N was someone he should be wary about. Someone he should and did keep close but not too close. But Y/N was never his enemy.

Minho did not hate her. He could probably never get himself to no matter how hard he tired to pretend. And no matter how well he thought he knew her, she would always surprise him further with her out of nowhere actions. Y/N Park was able to easily read Minho like an open book, while Minho always faltered when it came to peering into her gaze.

Her laser vision easily saw through his facade.

She automatically knew when he was uncomfortable, figured out when he wasn’t okay. Even if the polite grin on his face was wide. Her loud voice dripping with sarcasm, her snarky remarks calling out whoever made Minho grip his hands at his side, was something Minho would never be able to forget.

Sometimes he himself gets surprised at himself when he thinks back to just how long he had tolerated her. Yet always allowed her to linger by his side.

The first time he chuckled in her presence, he mentally reprimanded himself.

The first time their hands brushed together, he pretended.

The first time his eyes lingered on her lips, he realized he was doomed.

He built his walls higher. In denial.

The night he kissed her, he knew.

Y/N was in charge. Y/N had always been the one in charge.

Minho fell first and Minho fell the hardest.

───────────────────────

Y/N would have left that day determined to hate Minho.

Attempting to hate him as much as he did her.

Her stubbornness already drove her to ensure Lee Minho would never get another chance to see her a sobbing mess, never hear her silent pleas for him to look at her the way she looked at him. Perhaps even tell her to stay.

But then she found herself in his grip. His desperate eyes locked onto her wide, teary eyes in the silence of the elevator.

Y/N wasn’t sure how they had ended up in that situation.

One moment, she was in the elevator, preparing to say goodbye to Minho and head off to New York. The next, Minho had stopped the steel doors from closing, pulled her out, and into the next empty room.

Her tears had blurred her vision, her nose felt stuffy from crying. The silence and their close position reminded her of the night of her engagement.

But unlike that night at The Rose Hotel, today Minho had her pinned against the door in a random storage room full of shelves and boxes at L Corp.

She could see him clenching his teeth, his eyes locked onto hers, his outstretched arms trapping her between them.

“Look into my eyes.” He whispered.

He prayed she could read them as easily as she always did. Y/N sniffed, her eyes slowly lifting to meet his determined gaze. He sighed, his brows relaxing into a soft expression she rarely got a glimpse of.

“How…can you think I hate you—how can I possibly hate you?” His tone was gentle, tinged with an unsettling frustration. A little desperation.

“But you’ve never said you loved me either.” She replied, her cheeks flushed and stinging from the tears that had streamed down.

Minho glanced down at their feet, nearly touching, before looking back into her eyes, his own gaze glossy and genuine.

“I can never hate you.” Minho admitted, his certainty making her heart clench.

Y/N drew in a breath, ready to respond, but he continued before she could speak. Afraid she might jump to her own conclusions and leave him standing here alone.

“You said I have clear goals. I do. I want to be at the top. I want to take over this whole damn place and run it into the ground. I-I want every single member of the Lee Family to regret ever looking down on me. You—” He closed his eyes for a moment, containing whatever foreign emotions that coursed through him, then locked his gaze back onto hers.

“You distract me. So, goddamn much.”

His words didn’t offer any comfort, instead they deepened the ache in Y/N’s chest. But Minho doesn’t allow her to misunderstand, like she had back in his office. Leaning in, Minho’s face hovered closer, his breath mingling with hers as he whispered.

“You’re not a goal of mine because you’re not something I want to conquer. I…I don’t know what love feels like, I don’t know how to give love. But Y/N, I do know that I can’t let you turn away from me… not now, not ever.” Minho confessed, his voice earnest and raw with emotions Y/N had never heard let alone seen.

Her gaze widened in surprise, eyes darting between his, trying to decipher their sincerity.

It was a confession.

A confusing one, but undeniably his true feelings.

It was unexpected, revealing a side of Minho she hadn't ever seen before. Y/N had always been a guesser when it came to Minho, always come up with her own conclusions of what he was thinking, what that look in his eyes meant. Most of the times she was easily able to interpret it. But here, now, standing in between his arms she was truly at a loss for words.

It felt surreal. Fascinating even.

He had never spoken such words to her, never hinted even at such depth of his feelings. All the years she had known him, he had maintained a facade of ambition and determination, hiding his true emotions behind a mask of fake smiles.

Y/N dropped her gaze, her eyes tracing the faint pinstripes of his black blazer, aware of his intense stare fixed upon her.

Then suddenly, a thought that had been eating away at the back of her mind for years, was finally uttered in this delicate moment.

“Lee Minho, did you kiss me that night?” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible over the ringing silence that hung between them.

He was quiet for a few seconds. She could hear him inhale, his body pressed close to hers.

“I did.” He finally admitted.

Deep down, Y/N had probably always known that the mystery stranger that had kissed her the night of her birthday had always been Lee Minho.

That the soft touch of his fingers grazing over her skin as he gently buckled her into the backseat was never a dream.

She looked up at him again, seeing the soft expression on his face. But his confirmation doesn’t bring her any joy, instead her brows furrowed, lingering questions continuing to swirl in her mind.

“Then why did you lie? You turned away from me many times. Why shouldn’t I turn away from you?” Her voice quivered slightly, frustration evident.

“I…I was scared.”

Again. She was stunned by his delicate response. She blinked a few times, his unreadable eyes meeting hers, a glisten of tears visible in them.

“I have so many flaws. Y/N, I’m not a good person. I-I was scared of what would happen next—no, I knew what would happen next. I just didn’t want to get hurt.”

The tear that glided down his cheek fascinated the hysteric girl in between his outstretched arms.

Another first.

She had never seen him cry.

He hadn’t cried when she witnessed his father strike him that afternoon back at the academy.

He hadn’t cried when her engagement was announced.

For the first time, Y/N witnessed such a vulnerable expression on his face. She stood shocked and surprised that he even had that emotion in him.

Y/N bit her lower lip, inhaling sharply.

“Can you imagine living without me?” She finally whispered softly.

Minho looked at her, slowly shaking his head in a “no” before quickly turning his face to the side, trying to mask the tears that pricked in his eyes.

It never took much for Minho to placate Y/N Park.

She laughed gently, a tender sound, a result of such an endearing image. He looked cute.

Her hand instinctively reached out, touching his jaw, thumb grazing over the wet that pooled on his jawline and gently turned his face back towards her, seeking his gaze.

“Then that’s love, stupid.” Y/N said tenderly, her words carrying a mixture of amusement and affection, trying to ease the tension between them, a hint of playfulness in her smile.

He nodded. Finally, accepting.

Minho leaned into Y/N’s palms, her touch soothing amidst the turmoil of emotions. He felt himself relaxing, finally giving in to her warmth and everything that was happening.

He loved Y/N.

Admitting it felt freeing.

“I do. I love you.”

Her lips widened into a bigger grin at his words, making Minho break into a small smile of his own. A silent chuckle escaped him as the heavy pressure on his chest lifted.

“You know... I’ve loved you since we were young?” She said, fingers softly grazing his cheek.

Minho was caught off guard by her confession, furrowing his brow slightly before a memory resurfaced. He responded in his characteristic straightforward manner, a hint of confusion laced in his tone.

“You put salt in my water the first time we properly spoke.”

Y/N burst into a hushed laughter, the sound filling the room and breaking the tension. An infectious laughter, the kind that Minho couldn’t help but mirror, despite himself.

“Just shut up and kiss me dummy.” She pulled on his jacket, her lips crashing against his.

He smiled into the kiss, his arms cradling her head gently before he enveloped her in a passionate kiss he had wanted to give her for so long. A sigh escaped his mouth, engulfing her in a wet and sloppy entanglement. The kind he’s pictured himself doing whenever his gaze lingered on her lips. Imagining what they tasted like.

On the eighth floor of L Corporation HQ, everyone had returned from their lunch break. People passed by the closed storage door, completely unaware that just behind it, their stoic and blunt leader was smiling and kissing the heiress of Rose Enterprises.

He was completely and utterly hers.

Lee Minho was one lucky bastard.

───────────────────────

Still Y/N had made a decision to leave, and despite a new possessiveness that spilled out of Minho, he did not keep her from going to New York.

And their game of pretend began.

But here she finally was on his birthday, showering him with kisses and pleasures that made his skin tingle. A graze of her fingers that made him hiss, body littered with goosebumps.

A sweet, sweet birthday present, unmatched to anything he’s ever received.

Y/N glanced up at Minho’s face, finding solace in the quiet of his bedroom. His eyes were closed, arm loosely holding her pressed to his naked skin. Amidst the tangled sheets and the warmth of their bodies, the silence was pleasant.

Her eyes settled on the almost unnoticeable cross pendant lying flat against his collarbone, her fingers automatically fiddling with it.

It wasn’t something Y/N had ever paid particular attention to, yet it was something he wore all the time. Hidden under the buttons of his dress shirts, she only caught glimpses of it when she had him undressed, pinned beneath her, or it dangling between them when he hovered over her.

“Are you religious?” Y/N asked softly, breaking the serene silence with a question that had lingered in her mind whenever she caught sight of the pendant.

Minho’s eyes flickered open, his expression thoughtful, as if her question had stirred deeper reflections within him. He glanced down at the cross, almost as if he had momentarily forgotten it was there.

“Ah. No.” He answered simply, head sinking back into the pillow.

Y/N’s fingers continued to gently trace the outline of the cross, light and curious.

“Why the cross? You always seem to have it on.” She inquired gently, head tilted upward as she studied him with affectionate curiosity.

His arm tightened around her slightly, other hand hovering over hers on the pendant.

“I’m not sure exactly. I’ve always just had it.” He replied, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, lost in thought.

“It must be important then.” Y/N remarked softly, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek as she nestled back into his chest.

“You can say that, I guess.” He murmured, fingers running into her hair.

An unspoken understanding settled between them, a quiet acknowledgment of something deeper than words could explain.

Minho had some form of inkling about where the necklace had come from. And he could tell Y/N had guessed that too, her intuition keen as always.

His birth mother.

Minho was aware that Y/N knew of his lack of blood ties with the woman he called “mother.”

He didn’t know exactly when she had caught on, sometime in school perhaps?

Or maybe when they had returned?

His mother didn’t exactly do a great job in hiding her disgust of him. Especially with Y/N Park always hovering around him so close, she was bound to catch on.

But despite this unspoken knowledge between them, Minho never confronted her openly and she had never brought it up either.

And it wasn’t as if Minho hadn’t sought for answers.

From the moment the Lee family began to trust him with their inner workings, he had tirelessly pursued the truth. Yet, every path he explored seemed to lead to a dead end. As if someone was actively working against him, deliberately blocking him from uncovering the truth.

As if there was someone several steps ahead of him.

There had been a time when he harbored deep feelings for the woman who had given birth to him. She was his mother, after all.

Whenever his father cursed his “dirty mother,” claiming she was only after the family’s wealth, ruining his marriage and his life, young Minho seethed with anger. Yet, he clenched his fists and kept his rage in check.

But as time passed, even that faint yearning faded away, much like his morals.

Minho was smart. He knew right from wrong, he just didn’t care.

He didn’t care that covering up the misdeeds of every member of his so-called family was criminal.

He didn’t care that threatening a classmate by dangling him from the school roof for speaking ill of Y/N, was wrong.

Minho didn’t care when his father called his birth mother a “dirty whore”.

“Who knows if he even is my son?”

───────────────────────

The cries of a newborn echoed through the halls of the monastery, piercing the quiet as the sisters hurried about, encircling the sweating, weeping woman who had just given birth.

Outside, thunder roared loudly, and each flash of lightning illuminated the semi-darkness.

An elderly nun wrapped the crying infant in a blanket and handed him to his frantic mother.

He was born early. Yet despite his premature arrival, the child’s cries were strong and insistent, a testament to his will to live.

“Minho.” She whispered, gazing down at her baby.

Little did she know that he would experience the warmth of her embrace for only a week.

───────────────────────

Minho’s fingers moved instinctively to the clasp of the necklace around his neck, the metal cool against his skin. He undid the clasp, feeling the weight of the pendant that had always been a part of him resting in his palm.

His eyes flickered down at Y/N’s sleeping figure curled up next to him, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

In that moment, he realized once again that he cared about no one but her.

The return of the Park heiress was due in two days. But who would have known she secretly returned early to spend the next two days tangled up in Lee Minho’s sheets?

And after two days of secret bliss, the lovers separated like complete strangers. Like friends who had fallen apart.

A new game of pretend ensued.

Y/N Park had grown noticeably more mature, professional, and stunningly beautiful. Proposals for her hand came swiftly upon her official return. Yet, the underlying truth was that the elite families had finally caught wind of “The Rose Gardens” project.

The largest resort in the country.

Every family wanted a stake in it, wanted their businesses to be a part of it. From owners of the biggest restaurant chains to leading mall names in society, all seemed to trail behind the Parks. And Y/N was at the center of it, her time in New York preparing her to manage such a large project, with her father at her side.

This also meant more encounters with her secret lover.

Yet Minho would walk past Y/N at events and general meetings, maintaining a facade of indifference. His gaze was fixed ahead, as if the sight of her tucking her hair behind her ears, laughing, and flirting with other men meant nothing to him. His eyes remained focused, as if they were invisible.

“God, that Minho is such a bore.”

Y/N giggled at the comment, her eyes briefly following his figure as he disappeared into the elevator. Further igniting the rumors that Lee Minho had fallen from Y/N Park’s good graces.

She laughed with the other men, but the cross pendant hanging around her neck clearly claimed her as his.

Of course he got back at her, pinning her against the next wall he found when there were no wandering eyes. Marking and kissing her with bites that truly embodied the possessive emotions she stirred within him. Y/N would hiss with her whimpers, eyes closing as she entangled him in her arms.

Y/N Park was his.

A few weeks after her return, Y/N visited the Lee Mansion, bringing gifts as tokens of goodwill. Her father’s advice and her time away had taught her the importance of stepping up in business and maintaining favorable relations with influential figures in society. Keeping them at just arms length. Things she hadn’t really done prior to almost being tied to Lee Jae.

L Corporation was just one of many.

She was warmly welcomed by Jookshin, Minho’s older cousin-sister, as well as the two madams of the Lee Residence, their pretty smiles flashing as they greeted her.

“We’ve missed you around here, Y/N.” Jookshin said, gesturing for Y/N to take the tea the maids had poured, a sad smile playing in her.

Although the last time they truly saw each other was at an event following Jae’s death.

“You’ve gotten so much prettier. The foreign temperatures must have really been in your favor.” Minho’s mother laughed.

As the women continued their small talk, Y/N observed them, laughing along. They showered exaggerated compliments on her gifts, their giggles and murmurs eventually catching the attention of the patriarch. Chairman Lee emerged, his secretary trailing behind like a faithful dog.

“I was wondering where all this liveliness was coming from. I see Y/N has visited.” The old man chuckled, joining them at the coffee table.

Another round of small talk followed, with everyone skirting around topics related to Lee Jae, business or even the resort project. Instead, the old man began telling Y/N about the flower gardens he’s visited over the past year, creating his very own collection of rare plants. Y/N humored him, listening intently as if she cared.

After she left, the mood among the women of the Lee family shifted dramatically. As business friends in their circle always did.

“Why did she even bother coming? Just to show off?” One of them remarked.

“The gifts weren’t all that impressive.” Another added dismissively.

“It’s because she can’t fry Minho’s brains anymore, that’s why.” Jookshin laughed, prompting the mother and aunt to chuckle along.

Grandfather Lee cleared his throat, reminding them of his presence.

“Ah, grandfather, why don’t you go rest now?” His granddaughter suggested with a smile.

He nodded and headed to his room, followed by Secretary Cha.

Settling into his chair at his desk, he grumbled, “That little wench. Who knows what she says about me behind my back.”

Yet, Jookshin wasn’t important enough for his thoughts to linger on her. The old man’s mind returned to Y/N Park. Clearly, she wasn’t here just for tea and tales about plants.

The secretary could sense his superior’s thoughts and cleared his throat.

“Maybe she’s trying to find a way to get Vice-President Lee back under her influence.” Secretary Cha speculated.

Chairman Lee chuckled softly at the suggestion.

“She doesn’t have to. That kid had never cut loose from her grip in the first place.” He remarked with a wry smile, leaving the secretary confused.

Minho, you sly dog.

“Didn’t you see the necklace dangling around her neck?”

The youngest son of the Lee family wasn’t one to attract attention. He had no scandals to his name and spent most of his teenage years studying abroad, honing the skills the family prized. Handsome and charismatic, he occasionally used his looks to charm young women from other families but otherwise conducted himself discreetly, avoiding notice.

But Chairman Lee.

The patriarch of the family always had his eyes peeled. He kept the deepest, darkest secrets of every member close to his chest.

He knew about his second son, Doyoung’s affair with the maid back then.

He knew his oldest, Mooyoung harbored disdain for his wife, believing her to be an airhead, the former beauty queen nothing but a trophy wife.

He knew why Jihoon would bolt whenever given the chance.

He knew how Joohyeon had killed Jae.

And he knew Minho. Perhaps better than anyone else.

Like the back of his hand.

A few years back, there was a banquet with Sorewa Airlines and some big achievement that had made. A grand affair, though beneath the surface, it was just another networking event masquerading as a celebration. Every attendee was eager to advance their own interests and fill their pockets.

Chairman Lee, who had retired several years prior and sparsely attended such gatherings, made a rare appearance due to his close ties with the head of Sorewa Airlines. His presence stirred considerable interest among the elite families, who still saw him as the visionary businessman who founded L Corporation.

The event drew a crowd of familiar faces and notable figures from various industries. The retired Chairman found himself swept up in a wave of admiration. No longer seen as a mere old man who enjoyed flowers and fishing, he was once again viewed as a role model, a key figure of his industry.

The banquet hall buzzed with conversations and the clinking of glasses. Minho smiled as he exchanged pleasantries and clinked his wine glass with an older businessman and his daughter, who seemed to be around his age. He had managed to momentarily slip away from Y/N, who found herself held captive in a deep in conversation by her father’s side with his other acquaintances. Meanwhile, Chairman Lee laughed heartily with friends he hadn’t seen in some time. But despite his relaxed demeanor, his eyes were keenly observant, scanning the room with shrewd awareness and silently assessing everything happening around him.

Lee Joohyeon, accompanied by his then wife, the mayor’s daughter, was laughing away. But the old man was aware that they had just quarreled before arriving.

Lee Jihoon, wore a deep blue pants suit among his friends’ classic black, played billiards on the second floor. That eccentric bastard.

Lee Jungshin had a young actress by his side, though it was clear she was with him for the media attention.

Lee Jookshin, the materialistic granddaughter, flaunted a large diamond engagement ring from her doctor fiance, showing it off proudly.

Lee Jae conversed with his father, exchanging small talk while his eyes frequently darted to the bar, clearly eager for a chance to slip away. Grandfather Lee chuckled to himself but took a second glance toward the exit. The youngest of the family was on his way out, pulled out by the young woman he had clinked glasses with not too long ago. A young woman who was not Y/N Park. This was something Minho had never done before.

The young lady slurred, her arm wrapping around Minho. The then twenty-two year old, helped her stand, glancing around at the empty halls for a helping hand. She kept repeating that her father would kill her if she were caught behaving so recklessly. Despite his frustration and the urge to abandon her, the polite young man guided her towards the rest-room. Though he would have preferred to leave her there.

His shirt was stained with a large spill of red wine, from the top down to the fourth button, tie and all.

Minho groaned, as he led her toward the restrooms, hoping no one sees them in such a compromising situation. God, especially Y/N. He glanced over his shoulder at the thought of her, half expecting her to have caught up with him.

“Miss Ryu, can you stand?” Minho asked, positioning her upright with his hands gripping her upper arms, her back against the wall next to the women’s bathroom sign.

“I feel like— “ She covered her mouth, pushing him back as she stumbled past the doors and into the bathroom.

Minho heard her retching just a few feet away, the sound of alcohol leaving her system echoing through the hallway. Annoyed, he swatted at his suit jacket where she had shoved him, as though it were an insect. He turned and left.

Entering the men’s room, he took in the brightly-lit but a seemingly empty space. He walked to the sink, staring at his reflection and the red wine staining his white shirt. He groaned again, loosening his tie. He felt sticky, and for a moment, he was tempted to splash wine in Miss Ryu’s face.

Undoing a few buttons of his shirt, Minho began washing his hands at the sink. As he focused on cleaning up the sticky mess, he noticed movement in the mirror’s reflection. His grandfather had entered. Chairman Lee looked as surprised to see his grandson, even more so in such a state.

“What happened here?” He asked, taking in Minho’s disheveled appearance.

“Wine accident.” Minho replied with a forced laugh, scrubbing his neck and chin with a towelette.

The chairman observed Minho through the mirror’s reflection, watching the young man clean up and gather his things.

“You should head home, your clothes are ruined. And take Jihoon with you as well. He’s an eyesore.” The grandfather muttered, the blue suit flashing in front of his eyes.

Minho nods with a smile, wishing his grandfather “goodnight” before heading out.

Chairman Lee loosened his tie, staring at his reflection and recalling the glint of the silver cross on Minho’s neck.

That damn necklace. ─────────────────────── “A terrible secret lover you say?” Minho raised his brow from over the kitchen counter. Y/N was sprawled out on his sofa, fingers absentmindedly playing with his cross that hung around her neck. Pointed gaze staring at him accusingly across the threshold.

He was always the best at everything. Always complimented. But he was never called terrible.

“Yes, terrible secret lover.” Y/N insisted, sitting up.

“What kind of man goes almost two years without seeing his girlfriend in person?!” She asked, almost shocked all over again.

The man in question, crossed his hands over his chest, his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up, tie nowhere to be found.

Not put together, not always sharp.

A disheveled state only reserved for Y/N.

“I saw you the last time I was in New York.” He countered.

“Yeah. Six months ago.” She groaned in annoyance.

“I was on a business trip, that too with Lee Jihoon!” He defended himself, trying to justify his actions.

Y/N shot him a look of disbelief, as if she were urging him to listen back to what he had uttered.

“You showed up the night before you had to leave. Then fell asleep on me.” She pouted.

Minho was drawing a blank, unable to refute. He couldn’t help but drop his head to laugh at himself, slowly making his way to her. Refusing to say he was wrong. That he was in fact a terrible secret lover. He could tell she was getting worked up, but for some reason he found it adorable.

It wasn’t that he never found aspects of her cute. It was the fact that he can express it clearly that made him relish in this new found emotion.

He could tease her, kiss her, hold her, without having to be afraid of what came next.

He could tell her she was adorable. He could tell her that she drove him fucking crazy.

No, show her that she drove him fucking crazy.

“Come here, let me redeem myself.” Minho said, motioning for her to come closer with his fingers, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he approached.

“Stay back.” Y/N gasped through a giggle, her resistance futile as her “terrible secret lover” pounced on her, eliciting a string of laughs from both of them.

From a young age, Minho had been taught that in the world of business, love had no place.

It was distracting and altered your thinking.

Yet, as his fingers intertwined with the giggling woman beneath him, lingering kisses down the skin of her throat, her plush lips welcoming him to envelop them in a sweet kiss, he called bullshit on that notion.

Minho was already pulling off her top, soft kisses peppered down the valley of her breasts, the sound of her sharp inhale, just enough to drive him insane.

Lee Minho was distracted and he did not care at all. ─────────────────────── The old man reviewed the inheritance shares, a ritual he performed each year. His annual evaluations, as he called them, were more critical now than ever since his entire fortune was at stake. He approached the task as if it were a game.

“It’s just a will.” Chairman Lee chuckled, handing the documents back to his secretary.

The secretary glanced at him, his gaze settling on the individual designated to receive the largest share of L Corporation. It was the same as last year, and the year before.

“Three for three, right?”

The secretary looked back at his superior, who seemed to sense his unspoken thoughts.

“I can only see him advancing further.” The Old man said, his cheerful demeanor slowly fading as he leaned back in his seat.

“But… that stunt he pulled, sending Joohyeon away to take the vice president position, sometimes I doubt his timing. A good businessman knows when to play his cards, and that wasn’t it.” His tone was grim, hesitating with sudden thoughts.

“Vice President Lee is waiting for the perfect moment to reveal his relationship with Miss Park. It could be a game-changer, possibly even securing Park Hyunmin as his biggest supporter.” Secretary Cha responded, presenting a counterpoint to the Chairman’s concerns

“That’s another issue I’m worried about.”

The secretary looked puzzled.

“Love has no place in business. It’s a liability. I can’t put all my eggs in one basket just because he’s involved with Park Hyunmin’s daughter.” The old man said, his voice tinged with frustration.

“But Sir, despite all these reservations, you always support him from the shadows.”

Secretary Cha watched Chairman Lee sip his coffee thoughtfully.

“What can I do? He reminds me of myself.”

The secretary nodded in understanding, resealing the documents.

Aren’t you just like your father, Lee Minho?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23, @tsunderelino, @thecutiepieme

96 notes · View notes

stinkysam · 11 months ago

Text

Trafalgar Law - S/O with a chronic illness.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “Ooh, may I request Trafalgar Law fluff with an s/o with chronic illnesses that result in a lot of disassociation and memory problems? If it's not too tricky or out of your comfort range? Things like. They forget dates and details, both important and unimportant, but they do *try* to remember. They just... can't. Their memory's like a wet sieve. And they tend to run into items that have never moved because they've forgotten that it's there. Or they've disassociated halfway through walking through a space and have completely forgotten that they have a body, and need to dodge items that they know are there.” - anon

Reader : gender neutral (you/yours)

Law, even though it's not in his medical range, has studied the field of chronic illness and knew what to expect when you told him about it.

He's also a very patient man, despite Luffy wearing it thin. But lucky for him you're not Luffy, completely naive and unpredictable.

He doesn't mind you forgetting dates, he knows you're not doing it on purpose. Even if they're important. He'll remind you of the important ones without judging you. Same thing if you forget names, faces, places.

He's not big on dates either. Except for Cora's death and the first time he met each member of his crew. And if he doesn't remember the date exactly he remembers how the day went.

So you won't have to worry about the 1st week & month anniversary of your relationship. But he'll remind you for the first year anniversary and the following ones but that's all.

He doesn't care if you forget which one of you asked the other on a date, or other details. He'll remember it and will remind you if you want to.

He's a bit amused by you walking into things though. As long as you don't get hurt. Sometimes, when you go too fast he will make you move with his devil fruit so you don't hit anything too hard. It makes him think of cats that are almost blind and hit things.

He has tried moving things around in the Polar Tang so they would be less in the way but it didn't change anything. You still walked into walls and doors, it just made it worse for a short period of time.

With your consent, he talked about it to the members of the crew so they wouldn't get hurt if you forgot their birthday or even their name.

They're all very patient and understanding and it even relaxed them a little bit. Not that it wasn't okay to forget someone's birthday, but now it felt less stressful.

He'll never make you feel insecure about it because he knows illnesses are hard to live with. Even if they're not physical.

He's a bit worried about your dissociation, though, and tries to find ways to help you with it. Like keeping a consistent sleep schedule despite his horrible one. Making you eat nutritious food -but he does that with everyone-, making you exercise. Or pet Bepo while smelling different essential oils.

He even makes you write a journal so you can help yourself remember what you did and keep track of things.

He always makes you sit when you start dissociating, not wanting you to walk overboard accidentally or open the main doors while the Polar Tang is in the depth of the sea.

You were sitting on the floor calmly, Bepo placed between your legs as you caressed his head. He's more relaxed than you, taking it as a massage while you try to identify what you're smelling but your stare is almost empty, feeling it hard to connect with your thoughts.

Law is here too, sitting next to you, reading and talking with Bepo. He doesn't care how long it takes for you to come back. Once again, he's patient and aware it's harder for you than for him.

#male reader #m!reader #one piece x male reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d water law x male reader #trafalgar law x male reader #trafalgar law imagine #trafalgar law #Trafalgar D water law imagine

264 notes · View notes

where-is-vivian · 6 months ago

Note

Can I request Rosekiller Stalker Evan falling in love with Businessman Barty

oh damn that's a fire prompt. I might need to do a whole one shot... also I think I might know who you are :) but thank you anon for this very good suggestion.

ROSEKILLER. STALKER EVAN, BUSINESSMAN BARTY. 2,5K words. UNRELIABLE NARRATOR. RATED MATURE?

He was always the last one to leave the building.

Evan had been sitting outside, under the heavy pouring rain, for the past three hours. With his black rain coat, he looked almost invisible in the night. The city lights were lighting the street, and reflecting their white and yellow lights in the poodles of water on the floor. Once in a while, one of the many people who were walking by were shooting him weird glances, but too many people were walking by him to care anyway. Most of them were probably wondering why a young boy like him was staying outside with this weather.

But he was ready to stay outside all night, if it meant having a chance to see him when he would exit the building to go back to his apartment, 3 on *** Street, apartment 65, 5tth floor. Barty was the head of the company, and yet, he was always leaving before his employees. Somehow, Evan hadn’t managed to get what sort of company it was exactly.

Several times, he had found himself reading things on the company’s website that were odd, and when he had compared the data of year-end financial reports, he hadn’t been able to connect the numbers. And yet Evan was very good at math. Officially, the company was helping large fortunes to manage their funds.

A rain drop ran down his forehead, making him blink. Suddenly the last light of the building, the one that had been left in Barty’s office, turned off. Evan blinked a second time. The building had big windows, glass covering the entire surface of it, allowing anyone from outside to see inside.

Evan had seen many things when watching Barty’s office, from this very spot he hadn’t moved from since he started observing Barty from afar. He had seen him sleep on his desk. He had seen him look outside, sometimes look down to him, unsuspecting. He had seen him fuck. Several times, Evan had witnessed Barty getting fucked against the window of his office — he had concluded he had a voyeurism kink, or something like that.

Every single time it had happened, Evan had wished it was him who was fucking Barty against the window, for everyone to see. He would have made him his. He had hated these moment as much as he had enjoyed it; seeing his man getting touched by other people had been a hard sight, but he hadn’t been able to not get hard. And he hadn’t been able to stop himself to think about it again and again and again every time he had been alone again.

He had gotten rid of those people anyway. So none of them would ever touch his Barty ever again.

Just thinking about it, the satisfaction it had been to kill those nasty men, barely vessels for a soul, couldn’t be qualified of men truly, Evan smiled. He would kill as many as needed, until he would be the only one for him.

That night, Barty didn’t even glance in his direction, as usual, and Evan stood up from the bench he had been sitting on for hours to follow him to his car. Sitting on this bench was hurting like crazy and he was probably leaving a mark on it with how regularly he was sitting there, but it was always worth it when he got to see Barty, in his grey suit, hair wet and slicked back — he was always lazily passing a hand through it, unaware of how crazy it drove Evan —, jaw clenched and walking with decided steps to his black car.

Barty wasn’t even minding the rain. Neither was Evan. The latter followed to the parking, and then he simply hid behind a cement column, watching him get inside his car, like he did every day.

(weeks later...)

The drawstrings on the hood of his black sweatshirt were bouncing on his chest as he walked, taking care to not walk too fast. Barty was walking in front of him, a few steps ahead, his back turned to him.

He was vulnerable. Evan knew exactly when Barty was vulnerable. He had been observing him for months now. Several times, yes, he had thought about grabbing him, and bringing him back to his own apartment — that had nothing to do with Barty’s, by the way. Evan’s place was always more or less messy, and as he never opened the windows, a musty smell was always floating in the air. He was leaving finished cups of instant noodles around, and he was never changing his sheets, postponing laundry all the time. But for Barty, he’d make an effort. He’d clean a bit. Change the sheets. Buy something else than cup noodles.

He had thought about it several times; Evan was taller than Barty, so it wouldn’t be too hard, and he didn’t seem to have any family, or any relatives close to him that could get worried for him. Oh, of course, he was the head of his company, and he spent most of his time there, but would people really make a big deal out of it? Evan had figured out his company’s business was some sort of shell company, so they wouldn’t claim too loudly that they had issues, or else press would get their nose in their dirty clothes. Maybe they’d send people, their own people, the mafia perhaps.

But Evan knew that he was better than them. He knew everything about them. He would beat them at their game, without a single doubt. He knew the emplacement and the operating hours of every single camera in the area; he knew the timetables of half of their staff. He had estimated what sort of budget they could have left undeclared that they could potentially use to search for their CEO, though this last one, it was only a personal estimation. He knew the number plates of all of their vehicles; Evan had always been good with numbers and memorising them in specific orders. He knew exactly where they wouldn’t be able to find them. So even if they tried to find Barty by themselves, it wouldn’t stop Evan.

No, really, the only reason Evan hadn’t locked Barty in his two-room apartment yet, was that he liked the chase too much. He wanted it to last. As long as possible. And he liked the thrill of knowing that Barty could slip through his fingers at any time… though he knew more about Barty than the latter knew himself. If Barty decided to disappear now, it would have to be the most sudden and organised thing he had ever done in his entire life.

He liked seeing Barty in his field, in his environment, looking hot and clueless, so far and yet so close to him. Evan was into that. He craved him more than anything; but he was taking a sick satisfaction in seeing him unaware of him lurking in his shadow, calculating every next move he would do. He was the only focus in Evan’s life; to Evan’s complete satisfaction.

People dodged Evan, who was only looking at Barty, piercing a hole in his back with his eyes, with how heavily he was staring. Barty could probably feel his gaze, at this point.

Slowly, the streets Barty was walking through, was passing by to get to his unknown destination, were getting less and less crowded, until he walked in a rather large dead end, only lit by one big tired neon light hanging on the crusty wall. It was blinking, and since the dead end was rather long and large, almost as large as the main street, Evan walked in, taking the risk to have to face Barty for following all this time.

Barty stopped. So did Evan, his steps sounding annoyingly too loud against the ground. Barty did not turn around; maybe he hadn’t heard him yet. Was it now? Was it now that Evan was taking his chance? Bringing him to his apartment? They were too far away. It was better if Evan ran away quickly before Barty could see his face.

He didn’t get to do this.

“Crouch, we have the money. Do you—” The voice stopped. A hand suddenly passed in front of Evan’s eyes, and an arm constricted his throat. The hand ended on his mouth, stopping him from screaming or saying any word. Quickly he was fully immobilised. Oh, maybe it was now. Not the now he had meant when he walked in this dead end a few seconds ago, but still. Maybe it was now the end, maybe they were going to get rid of him.

Money? An arm around his throat, holding him in place? Nobody safe was doing that on a first meeting. He was maybe going to get killed. In front of Barty. Even when he tried to grab the arm, Evan found himself completely helpless, unable to get himself out of the grip. He hadn’t even seen that person arrive. He didn’t know who it was, but they were strong. He was getting weaker as the grip was getting stronger, and he was feeling his limbs go numb.

What kind of meeting was this?

Barty slowly turned around, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, and he looked at Evan for a long time before speaking, finally.

“Let go of him.”

Nobody moved. Evan’s chest raised slowly, up and down, as he refused to look away from Barty. We was a true sight, as always. Evan wouldn’t have minded dying here, but he didn’t die that day.

“Who is he?” The man behind Evan, in his back, said. “Do you know him?”

Evan glanced at Barty defiantly.

“You wouldn’t want someone to die tonight, would you? This exchange isn’t supposed to be a blood bath,” Barty shrugged, a smirk at the corner of his lips, rolling his eyes playfully.

This made the man behind Evan consider it quietly for a few seconds, before letting go of Evan, suddenly releasing him, which lead to Evan fall on the floor, blood slowly coming back to his legs and arms. He coughed, feeling pathetic.

“Good,” Barty lowly said.

Evan looked up. Barty was looking down at him, still with his little smirk. Then he took a sort of USB key from his pocket, and he added:

“You said you have the money?”

From behind him, Evan heard some clicking noises. He was too confused to consider everything around him; at this exact moment, he just wondered how he could have not predicted this, and how he hadn’t had a single clue about anything that was happening around him.

At some point Barty was handed a case, and he handed the key in return.

He nodded slightly. “Good. You can go now.”

“What are you going to do with this man?”

“I’m going to deal with him,” Barty replied, looking back down at Evan who was still catching his breath on the floor — the man’s grip was no joke —, a crooked smile on his lips. “Don’t worry about him,” He added, looking back up.

The men behind Evan left. After a minute, Barty crouched down to Evan’s level. Evan was still unable to speak, as if his vocal cords had been irremediably crushed.

“You thought I didn’t see you follow me there?” He said, the first words he ever addressed to him.

Evan opened his mouth, but no sound came out of it. He decided to give up on words, and instead he defiantly shrugged at him. It made Barty’s downward smile grow bigger.

“Thought I didn’t see you all this time?”

Evan wondered what he meant. He couldn’t think straight; it was the first time he was seeing him from this close. He was beautiful. He was leaning in Evan’s personal space as if it was natural.

Mechanically, Evan shook his head, though he didn’t even remember the question.

Barty reached for his face, patting his head, running his fingers through Evan’s locks. “Your hair was messy,” He said, sliding his finger to his jawline, tracing it, before lifting his chin. A chill ran down Evan’s spine. He was hypnotised, like he had never been hypnotised before. “I hate when they’re too brutal,” He concluded, as if it was an absolutely normal conclusion to come to. “Come here,” He said, as he stood up, holding out his hand to him.

Evan took his hand, and stood up. He felt dizzy for a second, before regaining his full composure.

He was still holding Barty’s hand, when he pushed him against the nearest wall, with the intention to make him pass out, to give himself some time to run away. He was upset. He had missed his chance; he felt like months of following him had just been thrown away. Would he be able to stay away from him? His one and only obsession? Now, everything was ruined.

Barty’s back hit the wall brutally, and he did not even wince. He smirked. Swiftly, as if he was doing this every day, he somehow got his hands out of Evan’s grip, and quickly grabbed drawstrings on the hood of his sweatshirt, to wrap them around Evan’s neck. He expertly tightened the drawstrings, making Evan strangled for the second time in very little time.

Evan heard a smirk in Barty’s voice, though he couldn’t fully see his face anymore because his hood was falling in front of his eyes. “Easy, easy, easy. Easy there,” He almost chuckled. “Do you really want to die tonight, or what?”

Sighing, Evan stopped resisting, and brought his hands, clumsily, panicked, to his throat, trying to loosen the drawstrings around his neck. Barty released him, before pushing him away a little.

Evan tried to say something; his voice, hoarse, came out of his throat like a croak. He coughed a bit again.

“I don’t want to die tonight,” He ended up saying, his mind blank. His brain was probably not getting enough blood, which lead to the most out of pocket answers; he would never have answered that if he had had his full capacity.

Barty smiled more. “Good,” And then, he held out his hand, as Evan was still holding his throat.

Evan looked up. “What?” He hoarsely replied.

“Come here.”

Hesitantly, Evan took his hand, his other hand still on his throat.

“Don’t be so shy,” Barty smirked as soon as they were holding hands. “Aren’t you my biggest fan? No need to get nervous. I know you weren’t when you kept watching me for months, or if you had felt any shame at any point, you would have stopped. Right, you would have?”

Evan almost blushed. “I didn’t feel any shame.”

They intensely stared at each other; Barty was still smirking; Evan hadn’t imagined him to be smiling so much. And not even in his wildest dreams he was imagining him smile at him like that.

Barty started walking again.

“Where are we going?” Evan asked blandly.

“To my place.”

THE END.

#rosekiller #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #rosekiller microfic #rosekiller fic #evan x barty #barty x evan #microfic #marauders #marauders fic #marauders microfic #marauders era #the marauders #dead gay wizards

85 notes · View notes

fareehaandspaniards · 5 months ago

Text

Miquella is nice

After finishing the DLC, Miquella made me think a lot. Before the DLC, he had a rather… one-sided image, I don't know what else to call it. He was incredibly kind, and we saw references for his connection to St. Trina initially (because we still remember Gwyndolin, who lived as girl. And we know Fromsoftware loves the archetype of the sad feminine young man). Miquella was a victim, was a martyr, and was an incredibly kind soul who prayed for Godwyn and invented a true miracle - the Golden Needle, which can help to hold the rot.

But the DLC absolutely turned his image upside down! And it makes me very sad to see a character's incredible transition and acquisition of a new layer of morality (gray) labeled as "bad writing" and "fuck GRRM he spoiled my baby boyy :(((((".

Today after talking with my spouse (He always helps me realize any fragments of lore. Sometimes I have a hard time understanding the simplest things that everyone has long understood and accepted. Also! Happy birthday to my beloved!), I could only finally understand why everyone is getting so worked up about Michella, even though we've had a scenario similar to his "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions" a long time ago. That was Laurence, everyone's favorite in Bloodborne, and Gwyn (he really wanted good things and it didn't turn out well :/), etc. I'll also remind you that the fandom (in the general sense) of Fromsoftware games is very fond of villains, and that's fine. But for some reason, when Miquella turned out to be not the good guy everyone wanted him to be, no one appreciated it. And I tried to defend him to the last in a discussion with my husband - Miquella sacrificed everything for the "greater good" in his understanding of the word, Miquella went the way of renunciation, Miquella knew how to love and loved his sister, Miquella wanted to correct all the sins of the past.

However, unlike most Fromsoftware villains, Miquella HIDES his atrocities (even from himself). Nashandra, Shabriri, Micolash, anyone - their motives are clear. They have principles, egos, backstories, justifications for wanting to be a destructive factor, some have these reasons built in at birth, some are insane, etc. Miquella, on the other hand, finds followers by Dishonest means, condemns Radahn to suffering for which to end the festival is organized, leaves his sister to die, condemns Mohg to be a puppet in his scheming, and still thinks of himself as a VIRTUE. He believes that the era he is about to found - will be good and bright. And with words of goodness he kills us in battle with Radahn!

Miquella is a golden apple with a very rotten core. We don't know, really, at what point he started to "rot". What's funny is that of the two twins, Malenia was rotten on the outside and he was rotten on the inside.

Miquella's center is in love. He carries self-love everywhere, charming and falling in love with almost everyone. That is why Malenia says, "My brother will keep his promise. He possesses the wisdom, the allure, of a god - he is the most fearsome Empyrean of all." I think he is the type of child who got used to being loved. The problem with this type is that he can become a wonderful person, or he can turn into a monster who will take love and attention at any cost. (My spouse reminded me here of stories of crazed maniacs who kidnapped those they loved and dreamed of a nonexistent future, not realizing the damage they were doing.)

But there are many questions that, perhaps, everyone should answer for themselves?

What vow did Miquella make to Malenia?

In my opinion, Malenia was not charmed by him. I've always wondered WHY she waits for Miquella at the cocoon in the Tree, even though it clearly shows Miquella being stolen???? She knew, she probably knew his plan originally. She had been waiting for his return like a god. But what had he promised? That when he returned, he would cure her of the rot permanently?

When did Miquella begin his "fall"?

There is no denying that Miquella was a good guy. He tried, he tried to help his loved ones. He looked up to Radahn as a child with respect, as the description of Remembrance of a God and Lord says. Miquella was in harmony with his other self, Trina. But what changed him? Failures? The desire to save everyone at once? The desire to be the most loved? To be perfect - a god? I'm inclined to think it was all of those things that corrupted him at once. After all, as a favorite child, he may have been flawed deep inside from the beginning.

Miquella had resurrected Radahn as a young, beautiful warrior, just as he had been before. But Radahn does not utter a single phrase during the battle, and his movements are more automatic. Radahn feels nothing, and it makes me think more and more that he's more like Miquella's wish come true, his hope of having a worthy consort he loved by his side.

Is Radahn a puppet or a future lord?

Nothing has been confirmed. I've also read that Miquella's spell was broken when his rune was split, that's how many NPCs come to their senses and realize everything. But I think his power would be enough to, like a necromancer, control a resurrected one? And honestly, it's unlikely Radahn would have wanted such a fate. He was holding back fate itself, the stars, so that what did happen to him in the DLC wouldn't happen. Thanks to Miquella, Malenia had turned Caelid into a solid rotten mess and blossomed her divine flower, and left Radahn in an insane state waiting for a noble death at the hands of other warriors. Miquella mutilated him. I don't think Radahn would have appreciated his methods, considering how dedicated he is to warriorship and uprightness, and also honors Godfrey.

What would have happened if the Age of Compassion had happened?

I think it would have been VERY bad. And after a major flourish of life and honoring Miquella, there would have been a decline and another Shattering. Miquella shows himself to be a man who does not tolerate dissent. I think there would have been a flowering of the Inquisition, persecution, murder, and brutal tyranny. And Radahn, most likely, would have simply been "squeezed out" by Miquella and destroyed by his boundless love. Yes, Miquella rejects his love, as @jarognieva correctly pointed out. But he rejected, in my understanding (we need a clear translation from Japanese here), his destined love, i.e., his intended spouse, Trina? Just as Radagon was Marika's spouse. Our Marika is a deity, but she is capable of love - her love for her son, Godwyn, caused her heart to break.

Fandom cancelled Mohg, now he is cancelling Miquella. People don't accept and don't want to comprehend the things that make them change points of view. That's how the witch hunt begins! So stop being shitty and decide for yourself what you think of Miquella before claiming him a "bad written character"

Miquella, as a character, has become an incredible bastard, manipulative and truly evil with a mask of piety. He doesn't go into battle as an honest warrior, he uses others. He "sacrifices" himself by actually sacrificing everyone else. But doesn't that make him MORE interesting?

He's broken a lot of headcanons, but I sincerely hope that the wave of love for him as a VERY gray character will still come! After all, he's a worthy villain archetype! A true evil hidden in a pure soul. How many fanfics, how many musings can be spawned from that. No need to deny him, rather try to accept Miquella for who he is. And don't make it into "good" or "evil". There's a particular aesthetic to how awful Miquella is.

#sote spoilers #miquella the unalloyed #miquella the kind #elden ring #elden ring dlc #shadow of the erdtree #IMHO #great spoilers ahead #promised consort radahn #My honest opinion for Miquella! I am feeling too much rn

68 notes · View notes

riemoi · 3 months ago

Text

Twisted Wonderland Royalty Au

The kind master and not so kind servant is here!!! just so you know this is kind of a mulit part thing, It's all connected!

Tw: Yandere, May be Ooc, cringe

Reader has no gender

Scarabia Characters, OctaVinelle Character, SavannaClaw Characters, Heartslabyul characters,

Summary - You are royalty of a nation that each year holds a festival. As more guests arrive, the sound of a parade can be heard.

Relationship with the kingdom - The kingdom located in the desert. The family of Al- Asim is great friends with yours. Having many parties together, helping each other in times of need, trading resources, and working together on many world changing projects. Is some of the stuff the two families do. No matter how busy, if your family invited them or their family sent an invite. Both were always seen at any event of the other, because of that you’ve gotten used to the crazy actions of the sunshine heir.

Kalim Al-Asim — Heir to the Al-Asim family

Kalim was always dragging you around at every event since you could remember. Always having a smile on his face, Kalim is the nicest human you ever met. Sometimes that is weakness or his greatest strength. After all for you it’s hard to say no to that shining smile but he is also clueless about the people around (aka Jamil). Anyway Kalim is always taking you everywhere, any party he hosts, you’re given the first invitation. He with you any chance he gets so much so people believe you're engaged or you should get engaged. As much as you love the kind man, just the sound of marrying him is exhausting. On another note there is a room in your castle that is right next to your bedroom that’s just filled with gifts from him. Also as much as a good friend he is ever since you were a kid you were forced to hangout with him and still are sometimes. It actually made you hate him for a while until you learned it was his parents that were responsible. It would usually follow two different formats. The first one, you were playing with Jamil or another kid, then some adults and Kalim joined you guys. Kalim would be crying until he saw your face then he’d run to you saying something with a big smile then drag you off somewhere. The second one usually happens when you would first walk in the family's home two servants would bring you to Kalim then anytime you would try to escape or go too far away from him they would just grab you and bring you back to him, as per orders of the family head. You hated it. It’s not like you didn’t enjoy being with Kalim, you just didn’t want to be forced to be with someone 24/7. Meanwhile Kalim loved it, he loved that fact he got to be with you without worrying about someone taking your attention, he loved how people would talk about you two being engaged. One day it will be true. But he can’t help but want the day to come sooner. Maybe he could use his status as the heir to the Al-Asim family to make that happen sooner. Of course he’ll wait until you're ready, he still can dream tho. Out of anything he loves the most is you of course dummy! He loves your laugh, your eyes, how you dress, your hugs, your lips…how he wants to kiss you! “Hey Jewel! Do you like the parade? Come! Join me. Then when the sun sets we’ll go for a lovely carpet ride!” “I also got you a gif— Jamil?” “Uh yeah he’s here!” “Why does that matter tho? You're with me!” “Oh, You're just curious.” Do you love him? You shouldn’t! I mean we’re meant for each other! Everyone else thinks so. So don’t go thinking of others when you’re with me, Got that? Now have some fun with your future husband! Jamil doesn’t matter.

Jamil Viper — servant under Kalim

Jamil Viper, he is a very close friend of yours. When you were tired from being with Kalim, he was like a breath of fresh air. Unlike Kalim, Jamil had a good head on his shoulders. You both had to deal with the go lucky kid that is Kalim. Both of you would help each other out with making the experience a little more easier. When Jamil had to cook food, you would join and help when you could. Especially when it came to Kalim’s surprise parties. You actually got dance lessons from Jamil along with Kalim and when you were younger. Wanting to play with him but he was busy cleaning, you would join… which turned into throwing soap and other cleaning products at each other.

Usually leading to Jamil getting scolded. You also comforted him when he was in need of it. You can’t even count how many times you two snuck out at night and played together, it was even more fun when he learned magic and did little shows for you! During the festival you would assign many servants to Kalim so Jalim could worry less and have a little fun, getting the break he’s been needing. He is grateful for all you do for him. He loves you dearly, he is uncharacteristically happy and thanks you for any type of help you give him. Surprising many people, after all Jamil is known for being cold and hating when people help him. In fact when someone would try to help him he would brush them off continuing what he was doing or when they do help the moment they mess up he takes over and sends them away. Guess what! Jamil loves you! And he won’t let Kalim take you ever or anyone for that matter. You would also think that Kalim would be his greatest enemy, right? Well not that’s not the case! It’s in fact Jade! After all the only thing Jamil has going for him that no one else has over him is his picture perfect performance as a servant/butler. So what happens when someone who also has that skill shows up? He gets defensive. After all that is the only thing he has above the rest. But the moment you asked Kalim where he was. At that moment, he knew he had nothing to worry about. Because unlike everyone else who had to go to you, you were trying to go to him! He’ll just push Jade out of the way. It's not like he knows you that good, he didn’t know since you were five. Anytime a servant tries to do something for you, he would have already done it. Asked them to bring some snacks, he’s already setting a place full of food in front of you. Ask them to help clean up a mess, cleaning supplies out and working like there is no tomorrow. Asking them to help put on a piece of clothing you're having trouble with, don’t worry he helps Kalim do it all the time. He is at your service! You always tell him he should be relaxing and enjoying the festival not serving you. He is enjoying himself though, he not only gets to be with you but he can keep the others away. All while showing why he’s the best option for a husband. He is not the only one enjoying the situation because one hot day you asked someone to bring a cold drink, Jade and Jamil run off to be the one to get the drink. After a few minutes all you hear outside your work room is the two fighting, verbal and physical violence, last thing you hear is Jade chuckling then glass breaking then the door opens. With Jade holding a half empty glass and some fruit smelling liquid on his shoes, with Jamil nowhere to be seen. Ok, that was off topic. Sorry. Get back on track, Jamil loves you simply as that. I like to think that he first caught feeling when you killed a bug for him. Who knew killing a bug would get you a guy worth fighting for!

“Hey, my sweet. I made you a drink to help you cool down after having to deal with Kalim.” “Do you want to go to town with me tonight?” “Oh, you're going on a carpet ride with Kalim?” “That's fine.” “Then how about we go in the morning?” “You’ll see if you can.” “Great! Uhm, how about a dance?” He was not going to let Kalim, or anyone else for that matter. Take you away. He'll do anything. To have you. He’ll use “snake whisper” on anyone. with not a care in the world, even you. If meant he wouldn’t be tortured by seeing you get close with another. But not now, he’ll wait. Maybe he won’t have to do anything! After all, he can’t think of any other person who can say they had a romantic dance with you in the grand garden.

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere #Jamil not even my fav but his is the longest #I got sand up my ass #yummy #it took to long to write this #my family thinks I'm a digrace #hating life rn #I don't know if I should be regreting this or not #aw fuck it #love is love until I love a camel #Jamil #kalim #kalim al asim #jamil viper #twst #x reader #gender neutral reader

51 notes · View notes

bitterrobin · 7 months ago

Text

I see a lot of confusion on why calling Damian Wayne "feral" is racist/problematic, so here's a rundown.

There's a difference between calling your child or your younger sibling "feral" and calling a character like Damian "feral." You know your child/sibling/niece/nephew etc. They're real people, and unless they have a problem with it personally, then there's nothing wrong with calling them feral as a joke. It doesn't (shouldn't) affect their perceptions by other people. It doesn't become a label that follows them.

Damian al Ghul-Wayne is a fictional character. A canonically mixed Arab/Chinese/Jewish White character with a history connected to some of the most prominent Arab comic book characters, who themselves also get insanely mischaracterized.

He's constantly whitewashed. He's been written with racist undertones (the suicide bomber vest). He's had his character development and progress backtracked time and time again by DC. DC treats him weirdly most days and completely shitty in the worst stories.

A good majority of fanon hasn't done any better than DC. You cannot pat yourselves on the back for being more inclusive or mental health aware than DC when you call a mixed Arab/Chinese boy "feral". It's constant. You can come up with various titles and nuances for every Bat-character, for every Robin.

Tim can be smart, a skater, a genius, the one holding everyone together, the little brother, the one who needs love. Jason can be cool, morally "right" or "wrong", unstable, PTSD-stricken, the one who was betrayed, the one with Shakespearean tragedies. Dick can be fun, happy, the first one, the prodigal son, the one with complicated history and the big brother.

You give them room for exploration. Love and care and attention and research. Many headcanons. You either comply with canon or you don't, but there's substance to their character.

What does Damian get? He's feral. He's rabid. He's a gremlin. He can't be reasoned with. He has no self-control, he's impulsive. He's hurt others, and you can't forgive it. Sometimes he's homophobic. Or classist. Or plain mean and rude to your favorite boy. He's always carrying a sword. A psychopath with no regard for another's well-being (usually Tim in a lot of fics). He can't be taught what's right.

I've seen people cry that Damian needs to punished or kicked out or treated the same way he's treated others. He needs to be brutalized or talked down to. He can never grow as a person, because he's mean to Tim or Jason, and you need him to exist as the abuser. His first move is always violent.

Fanon compares him to an animal often; he bites, claws, hisses, growls. Bruce or Dick or Jason or Tim have to wrangle him, tame him, civilize him the white man's way in lieu of his brown mother and grandfather who "clearly" raised him wrong. You don't see the issue with that? The issue with always labeling one of the few major brown characters in Batman comics as the unreasonable animal? That the child of color is always the abuser, the instigator, to older characters?

And even if you don't see him this way, you don't write him this way - then are you giving him the care and attention you give for other Bat characters?

Do you know anything else about him other than his "anger"? Because he isn't always angry. In fact, he's typically well-mannered. Quiet even, when he's not being provoked. DC's writing will always vary but whenever Damian lashes out, he's usually written with a reason to act the way he does.

Are you making him intelligent like he should be? A hard believer in redemption? A neglected and abused child who isn't meek or crying or closes himself within? Are you willing to explore that he's always exhibited the "wrong" kind of trauma responses - lashing out, being snippy, ruining relationships, refusing to admit weakness?

Do you write anything about him without making his mother and grandfather comically abusive and violent? Will you give him the supporting cast/friends he actually has? Can you write his dad/siblings interacting with him without making them white saviors or therapy pets? Can you write him without a ship or his love for animals or being vegetarian overshadowing everything?

Is he a character to you at all other than a glorified plot device with a sharp tongue and the convenience of being violent?

#damian wayne #dc #robin #damian wayne meta #dc meta #fandom needs to start interrogating their choices around non-white characters in general but especially when it comes to Batman comics #you may not intend to be racist or ableist or misinformed #but what you put out into the world is going to be seen by everyone #and you should very much reconsider doing things like calling Damian feral and implying he has zero self-control or civilization #or implying Duke is uneducated by hc'ing him with terrible handwriting or making him the “sane” one bc you haven't read any comics w him #or shoving Cassandra into a corner as a perfect unvocal specimen or making her a sentient therapy animal for your favorite white boy #or sexualizing Dick in obscene amounts and making him a “slut” when its against his entire character #its day in day out in this fandom when it comes to snubbing and being utterly wrong about characters of color #fandom critical #a painted bird called tamer #batman #batman meta #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #cassandra cain #batfamily

132 notes · View notes

mylovelies-docx · 1 year ago

Text

Sorry, I Love You - Part 9

Oh wow, a new chapter? Who'd have thunk it.

My posting schedule is all off and I honestly don't know if I can get it back under control. I have no idea when I'll get time to sit down and write and when inspiration will strike, so I can't assure weekly updates. But I'll try my hardest to get this story out! I have future chapters written, it's just that I have no way of connecting them right now :/ Oops.

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Ah shit, here we go again. Angst, arguments, jealousy

Word Count: 2,250

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5][Part 6][Part 7][Part 8]

Some moments are easier than others. Sometimes you feel like you’re not pining like a love-sick teenager enough to think that you can actually do this – you can actually be friends with the man you love.

But then there are moments like tonight.

A few weeks have passed since community get-together, and you and Bucky are the new kids in town. Everyone drops by to say hello, leave you with enough food to last the winter, and invite you both back to their homes for dinner. It’s all very sweet, and you would appreciate the hospitality in any other situation.

But the amount of mothers trying to marry their daughters off to Bucky is insane.

Several have not-so-subtley seated Bucky next to daughters of marriageable age, while everyone else is silently discouraged from interrupting their conversations. It skeezes you out when the girls are barely out of their teens, but most of the girls are around your age or older. Morality-wise, that’s a whole lot more appropriate. Internal monologue-wise, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh doesn’t even begin to cover it. What you feel whenever he laughs at something they say, or looks at them with his intense blue eyes – it hurts. That’s how he used to look at you, once upon a time. Like his life wouldn’t be the same without you in it, like you’re one of the most important people in his world.

To be fair to Bucky, you probably read waaaay more into it than he ever meant. And you only ever really saw that look come out when you were straddling his waist and grinding hard on his cock, skin mottled with his teeth marks and wearing his metal hand as a necklace.

Stop, stop, stop, stop!

Anyway,

You’re usually placed next to older, widowed relatives, as most of the young men in the town have already settled down and popped out a few kids with their spouses except for Petre. Tessa foists the two of you together at every possible opportunity, hoping you’ll hit it off and decide to get married in the near future.

Petre is nice, smart, cute, but not really your type. You’re convinced that you’ve only ever had one type and he’s off-limits. But Petre’s company is much more enjoyable than the sad, lonely older men they try to pair you with – it never feels great to be compared to someone’s long lost love – so you don’t mind having someone around your age to talk during these things.

Speaking of.

“It’s a nice night, yeah?” Petre comments. The night is warmer than expected, but you and Petre are still bundled up in your coats as you stroll through the dead copse of trees near the latest dinner party. The sun had set only minutes ago and the stars are making their presence known. There’s next to no light pollution in this area, so you always take the time to admire the night sky when you have the chance.

You often take walks with Bucky up and down your street as a way to decompress after your shifts at the HYDRA facility. After the first week or so of being everyone’s errand-runner, they’ve slowly built up your workload to include calculations and deductions based on redacted data – it’s not as much information as you’d like, but it’s enough to build a foundational understanding of what the experiment was about.

You hum in agreement and continue walking. It’s about time to turn around and head back, but you can’t bring yourself to return only to watch Bucky flirt with the pretty girls that were also invited.

“Is something the matter?” Petre asks you.

You startle out of your petty, jealous thoughts. “Hm? Oh, no. Nothing’s wrong,” you reply with a smile.

“It’s just that you seem very distracted tonight,” he responds.

With your hands in your pocket, the only thing you can do is shrug your shoulders. “Just tired, is all. It’s been a long week at the office.”

“Ah, I know the feeling,” Petre commiserates.

All of the sudden, a wailing, piercing shriek ricochets between the tree trunks and reverberates in your ears. Tensing with adrenaline, you take two steps forward, ready to intervene in whatever events are unfolding in the darkness.

Before you get much further, Petre reaches out and takes hold of your elbow. Turning you around, he starts leading the way back. You try to tug your arm from his grip, but he holds firm.

“The cry of a vixen who is looking to mate. They’re rather vicious creatures this time of year, foxes. We don’t want to get in her way,” Petre deters.

“But…” you begin, looking back over your shoulders and watching for unexpected movement among the swaying branches. “It sounds so real.”

“Terrifying, really. I was just as concerned when they began, as well.” Petre gives you a tight smile and relaxes his grip slightly when you stop trying to pull away.

“What do you mean?” you question.

“What?” Petre’s eyes flash around quickly, looking through the woods that surround you.

“‘When they began’. What do you mean by that?”

“Ah,” Petre replies. “When mating season began.”

There’s no more discussion on the eerily accurate sound of a woman in distress. You can only trust that Petre would know the local fauna and their habits better than you, since you’ve never spent an extended period of time in areas such as this.

***

The neighbor’s house finally comes into view. A lone figure stands silhouetted against the porch as they lean against the railings, their arms braced against the banister and posture rigid. When you get closer, you realize that the figure is Bucky.

You can’t see his face, but you can feel his eyes on you. And apparently Petre can as well.

“He doesn’t like me?” Petre asks.

“Why do you say that?” The question puzzles you because Bucky has no reason to dislike Petre. He’s been incredibly helpful so far, allowing you to ask as many questions as you want about himself and others and he doesn’t seem bothered by it at all. In fact, you feel as if you and Petre have become friends.

“It just seems like he’s never happy to see me.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that – James just has RBF,” you reply nonchalantly.

“RBF?” Petre replies.

You laugh as you and Petre climb the stairs, only now realizing that he still has a hand on your arm. You’d forgotten all about it, but you miss the slight warmth that permeated through your jacket when he removes his touch. You turn to look at him, but Petre is looking away, his hands now deep in his pockets. Turning your focus onto Bucky, you see him watching Petre, his eyes squinted.

A large smile returns to your face as you reach up and grab Bucky’s chin, squishing his cheeks and making his lips pucker from the pressure. “This –” you say triumphantly, “is an RBF.”

Bucky glares down at you and swats your hand away. You cackle at the perfect example of Resting Bitch Face™ in front of you, throwing your head back in joy. When you right your posture again, you can see a small smile on Bucky’s face as he laughs along with you.

“Whatever,” he murmurs. He shakes his head in exasperation before circling his arm around your shoulders. Bucky begins dragging you back down the steps you had just ascended and you grunt in protest. “It’s time to go,” he says simply.

“Ugh, you’re so rude,” you say to him. Craning your neck as much as possible, you look back towards Petre who remains on the porch. “I’ll see you later!” you call backwards with a wave. Petre raises a hand in return, face hidden in shadow as Bucky’s had been.

Focusing back on the road in front of you, you can practically feel what little mirth Bucky had drains away. Looking up, you notice that his jaw is clenched and a hard look has entered his eye.

“What’s wrong?” Now you’re worried that something happened to Bucky while you were gone that has put him in a bad mood. Did someone say something to him? Did one of the women reject his advances? You can’t see who in their right mind would turn him down, but not everyone feels the same way about him as you do. But if it’s the latter, the guilt you feel only slightly outweighs the relief.

“You don’t think you’re spendin’ too much time with him?” Bucky says between clenched teeth.

A frown appears between your eyebrows as you continue to look up at him. “No?” you respond. “He doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Ofcoursehedoesn’t,” Bucky mutters under his breath, but you can still hear him.

You slide out from under Bucky’s hold, his agitation sparking flames of your own. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t think you’re leadin’ him on a bit, Y/N?” Bucky asks you.

You scoff. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re always hangin’ around him!” Bucky quips back. “You’re flirting with him and walking out of parties together. All these people, Petre included, are going to think you’re pitching for an engagement.”

The hurt and pitiful feelings from earlier tonight come flooding back. Only this time, instead of feeling them for what they are, you combine them with the anger his comment brings. How dare he accuse you of leading Petre on? As if he isn’t doing the same thing to all those girls?!

“And what about you?!” you yell, the last word ripping its way between your lips and setting your tongue ablaze. “You don’t think you’re stringing all these girls along behind you? You don’t have any intention of getting into a relationship with any of them, either, do you?”

As the words escape, you remember how Bucky sat you down and asked for a friends-with-benefits situation. Said he wasn’t ready for a real relationship, but tired of one night stands. How the two of you could help each other out since you weren’t seeing anyone either. The old resentment towards yourself and how you let yourself fall for someone wholly unavailable whiplashes back into your mind after months of repressing it.

If he could ask that of you, does that mean he’s asked someone else? You usually arrive home later than him, but on some occasions that you are released early, he’s not there. Instead of asking where he’s been, you had just let it slide since it could have been construed as possessiveness. Like your feelings – that Bucky believes to be long gone – entitle you to his life. You hadn’t wanted to risk anything at the time, but now your mind can’t help running wild at the possibilities.

“It’s not like I’m screwing his brains out every time we’re gone!” You shout at Bucky. You had been walking down the road away from the house party which was on a street with few homes, so there’s nobody around to hear your fight. “We’re not in the bathrooms having quickies, he’s not fucking me against a wall, or bending me over his motorcycle! He hasn’t proposed we fuck around with each other until someone better comes along!”

Your chest heaves with the effort of expelling these vicious words from deep within your heart, and you can feel a burning beginning to creep behind your eyes. You hate getting angry – hate that any strong emotion makes your eyes well with tears and makes you look weak. And in this situation, you are weak – weak against Bucky, weak against yourself, weak against the knowledge that the one man you’ve ever loved never felt the same way and never will. Your inability to keep yourself from falling for someone you knew you could never have? Your jealousy that he is probably sleeping with one or more of the women in town? That makes you weak.

And you can’t stand to be weak in front of Bucky again.

“Newsflash, Buck: I know how it feels to be lead on by you and it fucking sucks!” You lower your voice slightly and take another step away from him. “I know that wasn’t your intention, and I didn’t feel that way at first, but that’s how I feel now.”

“You were my best friend, Y/N – I didn’t want to lose that!” Bucky exclaims. “And I genuinely thought we were on the same page!” He takes a deep breath and clasps his hands over his eyes before saying, “And seeing you run off with Petre all the time just reminds me of us – how we’d always sneak away to get some time alone. It’s just –” He drops his hands and sighs heavily, looking up at the star-studded sky and then back down to you. “I’m jealous.”

“You’re jealous?” You ask incredulously. “Why?”

“Because –” You can tell that he’s struggling to get this out, and if he hadn’t started this argument and accused you of wronging Petre, you might have been more receptive to what he’s saying. More understanding. But right now, your anger swallows all empathy and hope that his words would usually supply. “Because that could have been us,” he breathes. Bucky takes a tentative step in your direction, but freezes solid at the icy glare you send his way.

“No,” you say flatly, “No, it couldn’t have. You made that abundantly clear when I asked.”

You turn your back on him and start running, ignoring the sound of your name as you leave Bucky behind.

Part 10

Taglist: @jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewifeife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshinee @happinessinthebeingg @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #sorry i love you

376 notes · View notes