#I must protect him … sorry I know it’s cool to just be mean to him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neteyamsilly · 2 years

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 4

summary ;; A father protects, that's what gives him meaning. Jake Sully has failed. PART 3 | PART 5 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTES. I explicitly said in the previous chapter I would NO LONGER BE TAKING TAG REQUESTS. You're just going to have to check my profile every now and then. I also will not be re-tagging the peeps I did in the last chapter’s replies, it’s just a lot 😭 I'm sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding! Now I present you, the long awaited angst and groveling of Jake. Enjoy! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and support, I hope the angst hits the way you wanted it / was expecting HHHHH

It’ll shine better, Jake mused to himself, rotating the lumpy amber around in his fingers to better reflect the sunlight streaming in thin rays from the hands of the dense flora above, once I dip this in that polish oil. It’s not entirely unsalvageable.

At least he hadn’t scraped too much in attempts to give it a rounder shape, the bug at its core you were gushing about to the point of waking him up at zero dark thirty was still intact. He had been summoned from his dreams to look at a cool rock.

Jake couldn’t not gift it to you as something to be permanently worn after that.

The problem? He was ass at this. Always had been. No drop of craftsmanship in his bloodstream at all when the Na’vi were particularly fond of their ornaments and accessories, making it themselves, in fact.

Songcords were put together from beads, bones and stones, virtuosity was a must intrinsically woven into everyday life, methodized and irreplaceable since it wasn’t as if mass production could ever be a thing in Pandora. Everything was handmade.

Jake’s worst enemy beadwork was in their clothing, for example, even in braids — his maladroit at it may or may not be why he wore his hair in plain dreads now.

He wasn’t an artist or a creator, his hands were more comfortable being fit around a gun or a knife than slipping effortlessly in the rhythm of weaving or the act of making. All his end results were dreadful enough to be bullied relentlessly by his kids — except for you, that is. You absolutely loved them for reasons your mother or none of your siblings could understand.

Jake’s blundering conscience would melt at the sight of your eyes shining and the biggest smile almost splitting your head in half as if he had just handed you the world every single time he gifted you the newest of his clunky handiwork. He didn’t know why that made you the happiest. You’d been that way ever since you saw him carving and personally adding a bead to his songcord about how he got his firstborn daughter to utter her first word: dada.

It was important to him, so, down it had gone into Jake’s life story; putting official significance to the moment he never wanted to forget in the same thread that carried the story of him becoming Toruk Makto, just beside Neteyam’s first word, which was also dadada. (Neytiri had Lo’ak’s mam, and Kiri’s perfectly articulated mommy.)

Ever since that day, you had made grabby hands at the bead all the time when he picked you up, teethed at it like a puppy trying to grab a toy, tried to rip it off to make it yours — anything, until Neytiri made you one, but no, you wanted it from dada.

So dada started making you little trinkets.

He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing you never grew out of receiving gifts from your dad he himself cringed at. Jake wasn’t one to complain, not when someone in this life would feel such enough joy to purify thousands of blighted souls upon receiving his ugly personal work. It made him happy, stroked his ego to high heavens that his sweetheart was doting on dada to see the imperfect as the most fascinating.

That’s why he had taken on the daunting task of making a bead for you out of the amber you’d fixated on, rasp in one hand, sitting on a thick log that cut into the little stream he and his family were spending leisurely time that day, one leg pulled to himself and one feet in the water up to his ankle. Even though he had half an ear on his four children playing around in the shallow water of the creek, all the screams and squeals of joy felt weak compared to the contained huff of amusement that escaped from his mate who had come up to Jake while he was way too engrossed in his task.

His eyes shifted to Neytiri, watching her hop on to the log in one agile move. “Don’t laugh.”

“I am not laughing,” Neytiri said, crouching to sit, her mouth twitched upwards as she looked at the amber in his hand.

“I have eyes, Neytiri, I literally see you laughing.” His face used to burn at her openly teasing about beadmaking, but his oldest daughter’s attentions had restored his bruised confidence over the years. The slander wasn’t taken lightly these days as Jake had proudly relabeled the odd shapes of his work as a creative choice. “Right to my face.”

“You’re mistaken.”

Jake made his jaw drop, overacting his bafflement. “Wow, gaslighting? Really?”

Neytiri hit his arm lightly. In her terms, it was light, at least. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s something you shouldn’t do to your mate.” He turned his back to her, giving a look over his shoulder. “You’re abusing me. I’m being abused.”

“Baby.”

“No amount of pet names are gonna fix my broken heart.”

“No. You are a baby. I’m insulting you.” Neytiri hadn’t even laughed, but the uplifted timbre of that sentence sure did make Jake snicker in disbelief. “If you can’t take it, maybe you should leave beading to me.”

“I would say they are fashionably off,” he defended. You carried them with delight, so why shouldn’t Jake take more pride in his work? “And you said practice makes perfect years ago, I remember the exact words—”

“Years ago. You still haven’t gotten any better at it.” Neytiri was his biggest supporter and criticizer at the same time. “And you became a part of the clan back in the day in three months Jake. Never a more unbelievable thing to me than this.”

“I’m trying alright?” He turned back to the bead, or, vaguely bead-shaped amber, if technical terms were involved. It still had a whole adventure to embark on until it could receive the noble title of a bead. “She likes what I make, at least.”

“It’s because she’s your daughter and anything you do is out of this world. Beauty in the most unlikely places. A child’s love is pure that way.” The unexpected hypnotism of poetry in that sentence alone pulled Jake’s gaze to Neytiri’s, and for a moment, he could physically feel his heart within his ribcage being squeezed, tethering on painful, but with a joyful tinge. “She doesn’t have standards yet.”

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

“Damm!” A pair of small and branch-thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and something, or rather, someone, latched onto his back. “Rahh!”

Jake should have been suspicious of how silent it had gotten halfway into his talk with Neytiri. Turns out, you had swam underneath the log to get out of his line of sight, climbing with the stealth of a bug to come up undetected.

Well, mark Jake down as impressed, you weren’t able to do that without being spotted until today, this was another wonderful milestone for you — you had learned impressively, taking advantage of his distraction, avoiding making noise and using water to your advantage. Neytiri must have given you some pointers.

And now he was wondering if his mate was in on this all along, purposefully disturbing his peace so their kids could see an opening to pounce on him.

“Oof!” Your hold on him was something he could break out of any minute with how adorably strong you were exerting yourself to make it, but he wanted to play along more than anything. Jake was acting panicked, swinging his body left and right from the waist, but really, it was just a light warm-up exercise with the easiest deadlift possible. “I’m being ambushed!”

“I got you now, Toruk Makto!” You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he felt like this was just a piggyback ride with extra steps. “Watch this, mom!”

Oh, it’s on.

Discreetly handing Neytiri the amber, Jake stood up, bringing you up with him and fighting a smile at your clipped squeak as the height became too much too quick, causing you to cling onto him stronger. He reached behind, and within seconds, he had you in his hands, holding you from the armpits and dangling you above the stream, your kicking legs beating the air, and he cackled like a villain threatening to fling the hero from atop of a skyscraper.

“You got me? Please.” He loosened his grip the slightest amount to give you the illusion he would let go, and you stopped struggling to scream, catching his forearms. “A measly thing like you? Conquering me? I’ll show you why I’m the king of the skies! Here I come!”

Making sure you wouldn’t get hurt, Jake threw you into the water as gently as possible, but made the angle entertaining enough so you would go flying. He wasn’t sure who’d screeched the highest, your three siblings who had you spearheading this little operation with full trust in your capabilities, or you reacting like you were falling down from an ikran midair. Either way, he was enjoying bullying his kid a bit too much.

Emerging from the stream and shaking the water off too akin to a wet dog, your first action was to shield your siblings, open arms and whole body and all. “Nete, run! Protect Lovak and Kiri, I’ll save you!”

Jake’s evil smile looming on his kids wavered at that.

You had problems with some letters even at the big age of eight, two vowels next to each other in one word was one of them, along with the confusion of “f” and “b”, and sometimes “p” — it made for hilarious misunderstandings Jake had to fight to be a parent about instead of busting a lung from laughing.

One of the many unforgettable events was deemed “The Fish Incident” between Jake, Max and Norm. He had been recording Neteyam’s first catch on his own to add it to the cute memory pile he and his mate would watch in the future after all their children eventually moved out to pursue their paths. You happened to be present that time, watching intently as your big brother shot a particularly giant yellow fish, eagerly jumping down to the pond to get it and showing it to the camera with a shy, yet proud grin on his face.

“Good job, boy!” Jake had cheered. “Say I got that fish!”

Out of the camera’s frame and making little jumps on your toes, you’d blithely yelled. “Yeah, you got that bish!”

The rest of the footage was shaky and out of focus, the microphone hadn’t picked up any sound but Jake’s uncontrollable laughter, kicked off by an exploding snort of shock.

You and Neteyam had no idea why, but after he’d stopped recording with tears streaming down his face, wheezing because he couldn’t stop laughing, you’d joined to laugh and play with him regardless, mirroring his excitement.

Later though, Jake had to actively make it so you wouldn’t have to say the words kitchen and pitch (and obviously, fish) out loud, at least, in front of Neytiri. He didn’t want to abstain from having a little fun himself, so under no circumstance was she allowed to find out and correct you. And he had it going strong for a while until it slipped when he was talking about a scientist friend over at Hell’s Gate called Richard and you repeated it as “Bitchard”. The word had somehow weaseled into your English lexicon as well, and Neytiri wasn’t illiterate enough to be oblivious to what you’d merrily blurted.

Good old days. Jake sometimes missed hearing you curse innocently. Neytiri had to take that source of joy away from him. Discouragement and warnings would be given to his kids if they knowingly cussed, of course, Kiri calling Lo’ak penis face was something he’d immediately shot down, but this was harmless, he thought. He could have let you be blissfully unaware until the day you learned the meaning of the words, or gain consciousness of the articulation errors as you grew up and naturally fix it yourself. It was only a natural part of a child’s growth.

But he had other entertainment. The obligatory consonant you had to sometimes add to two different neighboring vowels if it was too difficult for you to pronounce, for example. Your little brother was a victim to this. Thankfully, Lo’ak wasn’t bothered to be called Lovak by his older sister, somehow thinking of it as a nickname, but Jake could bet his ass the boy would use this as infinite ammo against you once both of you were older. He would of course forget how you always protected him in play fighting like right now, of course, maybe you would remember enough to accuse him of ungratefulness, and perhaps Lo’ak would declare he didn’t recall anything such as that.

How bittersweet of a thing it was to drift into imaginations of how his kids would be like when they grew up. Like the stinging ache Jake always got when he was confronted with the sadness of losing his children forever one day — the need to put every minute with them in a bottle, and the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the same old melancholy each time: when it first dawned on Jake that you’d successfully sneaked up on him just now, when Neteyam had captured his first fish all on his own without assistance, when Lo’ak showed him the knife he had successfully carved by himself to get his approval, and when Kiri had tended to a scratch wound of his better than her grandmother did with precocious wisdom on her face.

Jake was making every moment count. Just like this one.

“Nobody is safe from me, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house in!” He jumped down from the log with the grace and intimidation of a leopard who had been disturbed while eating up the tree he’d dragged his meal on, splashing water everywhere. “What will you do, o’ mighty hunter?”

You loved being called mighty hunter by him, he saw the sparkle in your eyes.

“Noooo!” Kiri cried, pulling on both Lo’ak and Neteyam’s arms huddled behind you. “He’ll get us!”

Your thought process, completely spooked by Jake, was painfully visible. But surprisingly, you yelled, “Scatter!” with the experience of a rave addict who would take a forty and smash it on the ground as the police closed in on the party grounds. And his kids ran in different directions, like a group of cockroaches when someone approached them, they all ran in different directions.

Sloshing water all around to make it more terrifying, he got Kiri first, hauled her right over his shoulder when she made for Neytiri, thinking her mother could protect her, but no. Jake was inevitable. Lo’ak gave him a weak challenge trying to step around him, getting Jake to confuse his steps as if they were playing basketball, but this was his dad he was facing and not Spider, these tricks didn’t work on veterans, so now he was flush to Jake’s side, tail facing forward, carried like some strapless bag, it didn’t even put any strain on the man’s bicep. Neteyam was the last, hiding beneath the water level and holding his breath, but the little nose peeking out for air gave him away, and Jake had him up the other shoulder in seconds, the boy didn’t have enough time to run away even though he’d spied from underwater that Jake was coming for him.

Three out of four. That left only his eldest daughter.

You were nowhere to be seen. The delighted and struggling giggle-cries of the three kids in his arms and shoulders didn’t help at all to Jake taking his surroundings in with a keen ear, all senses attuned to spotting the stray.

A rustle from above.

“Attack him!”

He didn’t have enough time to see just which branch of the trees cocooning the creek you had climbed on before all three in his arms turned on him, flailing around together in unison to get Jake to fall down and kneel, and it surprisingly worked, he couldn’t even recover between the blink of a time between them getting off the way and you jumping down on him. The height at which you did that knocked all air off his ribcage for a second as he tried to retain balance, and you took that chance to sit on his shoulders, your legs dangling from each one, grabbing onto two dreads on his head as if they were the tails of Toruk he once had held onto like leashes.

Jake had to give this one to you, damn. When had you become a student of the art of strategizing?

But, defeat was defeat. He had to play his part. “This can’t be!” He opened his arms, making it seem cartoonishly like he had been incapacitated. “I’ve been… bested?”

“That’s right!” The cockiness was dripping from you as you pulled on his dreads. “I’m Toruk Makto Makto now. The first of my name!”

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word.

Don’t laugh, he ordered himself. Toruk Makto Makto, what a title, oh Jesus Christ.

“Alright, alright, you got me, mighty hunter.”

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

He was going to have two less dreads on his head if you kept pulling on them like this. “Hell yeah!”

After hearing the declaration, his other children also joined in on the ‘Hell yeah!’ train. Jake supposed he could let this slide for now, you guys were too happy, he wouldn’t sully it.

“You’re gonna rip my hair off, get down now.” You understood play time was over from his tone, and obeyed, hopping down his shoulders when he lowered you into the water, immediately attempting to rush to your siblings’ side to be celebrated, but Jake had something else in mind. “C’mere for a sec.”

He pulled you to the edge of the stream where water met grassy land, dipping his hand into the wet soil under your confused gaze and bringing his fingers up to trace a pattern on your face.

The reaction was instantaneous. You pulled back. “Ew, mud!”

“Hold on,” he gently warned, or rather, encouraged.

You let him continue whatever he was doing then, albeit not losing the laughable concern along the way. “What’s this?”

“Well, you’ve tamed Toruk Makto before an ikran. My mighty hunter should be painted accordingly, no?”

He pointed down and you followed it with your eyes. Seeing your reflection and the ‘V’ shape with a dot on your face in the water, you stopped yourself from touching it with the impulse control that kicked in at the last second, looking up at Jake, jumping up and down, unable to contain the energy, knowing exactly what he did just now. He’d recognized you as a prospective hunter candidate. “Thank you, dad!”

Jake could swear his insides liquidized at that. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Will you paint me like this when I finally get an ikran, too?”

“Of course I will.” He actually wanted to cup your cheeks and plant a little kiss at the adorable flat of your nose but the mud would be ruined, so he pet your braids instead. “As will your mother. It’s what family does.”

At the time, Jake didn’t have the slightest inkling that the paint would end up being your own blood.

Neytiri’s bloody hands — your blood, his child, his child, his baby Jake’s entire day would stop at seeing one tear on her face — had been stroking your face, trying to hold on to you anywhere she could to soothe your flaming pain as you were squirming like a dying animal fighting for the next breath. His heart beating right behind his eyes in a massive pulsating headache, Jake was too desperate fighting his swelling panic with each noise that ripped from you to notice they had left the vague pattern of Iknimaya paint pattern in their wake.

She did.

And her following anguished, gasping shudder as her shaking hands hovered above your contorted face, tracing the air along the lines the blood had left on your face ended up hitting him right in the gut. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let this random twisted sign sweep him into the roaring waterfall of torment, your life was on the line.

Jake didn’t have any coherent memory of running back to the mouth of the cave from the family tent. One moment, he was back with his brain fried from thinking about Quaritch in the aftermath of an hour that had just taken twenty years from his lifespan, avoiding the inquisitive silence of his kids who hadn’t gone back to bed yet; and the other, Neytiri was screaming in the distance with terror worse than the anguish he’d heard her go through upon losing her father and her home. Jake had all but flown there, mind blank in swirling, spasming panic.

Neytiri had told him he had a strong heart the first time they’d met. No fear. Even though Jake was aware he was being disliked strongly, this quality of his she had remarked on, honest to her soul.

But she was wrong.

That fearless fortress heart of his had begun to crumble the moment he learned of Neteyam’s existence. And with each and every new addition to their family, Jake had been rehabilitated on what fear truly was, like a baby learning a language.

Losing. It was all about losing.

He would wake up from terrorizing, choking nightmares with the sensation of his family being violently taken away from him when his children were in his arms, sleeping peacefully all along. He couldn’t stop it. It had spiraled out of control after the sky people came back, turning him into a paranoid, angry man who was ruled by fear. He worried for the safety of his family every day, obsessed over it — beneath the impenetrable iron mask of a leader his whole clan was leaning on, Jake was nothing more than a weak, emotionally crippled father who would lose it the more his children grew up to take reckless actions he made worse by the inability to govern his fear-curbed anger. He called it tough love.

That tough love had resulted in this. Loss. Loss. Loss he had tried his damnedest to prevent. It was blood slipping through his fingers from a wound he had no way of stitching back together.

The more he pushed to block the bullet entrance point, the more you fought Jake, making feral yowls that weakened into animalistic whimpers and throaty whines that all but ripped his heart off muscle by muscle, your hits and scratches didn’t faze him, but the noises. Eywa, the noises. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, I know, I know, I’ll make it go away, please hold on, c’mon.” The droplets of sweat that had formed in the matter of seconds rolled down his face. You had begun to hyperventilate from the accelerating pain because of his efforts. “C’mon sweetheart. Breathe for me, breathe for dad, okay? You gotta breathe. Breathe!”

You were unhearing, lost in the overwhelming, blinding, deafening agony he couldn’t anchor or shield you from. The grunt of desperation that escaped his sore throat rattled his carbon fiber infused bones.

Jake didn’t have time to think. His reason had flown out the mountains to be able to force one single word to form in his mindscape. He just knew he had to stop the bleeding, propelled by concentrated instinct. You were struggling too much for him to have a solid hold on you. Everything, too slippery. Too much blood. Too fucking much. The sickening smell of iron bit at his senses.

(Was it the liver? The spleen? Pancreas? One of the major arteries? But Na’vi biology wasn’t the same as humans. Fuck.)

Then, you were being restrained by a third party, Neytiri was too devastated to make that reasonable decision, and in his peripheral vision, he saw it was Neteyam who had sat down on your legs, restricting your movements with incredible strength. Jake couldn’t even bark at him to go away with how much Neteyam looked in control, a rock he and Neytiri both could draw strength from. Behind him, Lo’ak was a stone statue just standing there, frozen, his eyes not leaving your bloody abdomen.

When you let out a yelp his heart could no longer stand, he yelled, “Bring a stretcher!” to nobody in particular, out of his goddamn mind. Lo’ak jumped at it, coming back to his senses, hesitating what to do for a second before he was off to god knows where. He had to take you to Norm’s, and then a doctor—

A tiny, trembling voice he couldn’t recognize as Neteyam’s reached his ears. “Dad…”

The boy was looking at you, blown eyes shining with unshed tears, upper set of teeth sinking in his shaky bottom lip.

You had gone slack in his arms.

He hadn’t even seen the moment, didn’t stop putting pressure on the wound as the dread assaulted his body. And a biting shiver went down his spine before Jake also looked down on his eldest daughter. Your eyes weren’t closed all the way, halted gaze focused on something to the side, one tear rolling down your temple.

“Don’t do this to me.” Jake couldn’t breathe as he shook his head, he was about to lose it, about to tumble down the edge he could never climb his way up from. In denial, he didn’t lift his hands, losing all strength in his upper body and gradually collapsing forward as his forehead found yours. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, not like this. Please, not like this.”

The last thing you were looking at was the ikran you’d gotten.

Jake didn’t feel that very ikran making its way to their side, flapping its wings, didn’t feel anything to react when a snoot reached down and ever-so-gently nudged you, like you were asleep and it was given the duty to wake you up in the morning that day.

Your ikran nudged you once. Twice. Thrice. Each push was harsher than the other.

You didn’t wake up. Your eyes didn’t get their light back.

A paralyzing numbness took over Jake’s body, all his neuron ends stunted. The moon stopped spinning, time stopped moving, he ceased existing, all at the same time.

A piercing ringing stabbed his ears, took away his hearing. He didn’t hear Neytiri scream louder than the ikran, you were ripped from his arms, and he couldn’t move to do anything about it, just staring into the distance, at nothing, bloodied palms facing upwards in his lap.

It was Neteyam who tried to stop his wailing mother from going mad with grief, trying to get her to set down your body from her crushing embrace even though he couldn’t take his misty eyes off your body. It was Lo’ak, frantic in his run even though his panic-frozen face gave away nothing, who had rushed back with Mo’at and Kiri. It was Tuk who had thrown herself into his arms for a hug Jake wasn’t in his body to reciprocate, his seven year old child, in tears, comforting him when Jake, as the adult and the father, should have had his shit together and be the provider of comfort.

Instead, all he could feel was the blood on his hands, one small part in his mind making him focus on that one amber with a bug inside he’d carved for you, years ago, now in your hair.

The tears didn’t come. His world was shattering all around him, but not one tear made it to the surface.

Someone was talking to him, but Jake wasn’t there, experiencing the moment behind a thick veil of silencing glass.

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

He looked at the source of the muffled sound breaching the ringing in his ears, painfully empty and unfeeling. It was Mo’at. In her hand, a woodsprite gently floated in the air and landed before it repeated the motion again. It was as if his brains had been emptied from his skull. He didn’t understand. He didn’t see. Tuk was clinging to him, Neytiri doubled down in waves of cries in Neteyam’s arms. Jake wasn’t there.

“Open her mouth so I can keep her spirit here longer,” Mo’at said. “Do it now. We do not have much time.”

And Jake could breathe again, his soul slinged back into his body, feeling returning to the tips of his fingers, kicking into action.

He cradled your body from the cold ground you were lying on, bringing his shaky hand to your tightly shut jaw. Your body couldn’t have been experiencing rigor mortis, so you must have been clenching your teeth to the point of your jaw locking to fight the pain, and he was nearly blinded from the sheer strength with which he had to hold back from hugging you. But he eventually opened your jaw with a sickening pop that made him visibly grimace, and Mo’at guided the woodsprite to slip inside the cavity of your mouth.

The bioluminescent dots on your body began to flicker the moment your mouth was closed again. Jake gave a shuddering breath at the sign of life, hands unsure if he should continue to cover the wound again.

“Eywa has allowed her to remain. For a while.”

“Oh Great Mother, thank you!” Neytiri took one of your hands, pressing it against her cheek and kissing it over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Bring her to my tent,” the Tsahik simply stated, and Jake didn’t even stop to consider how he should be taking you to the science guys, how they were probably going to say you needed a blood transfusion and surgery right after they got the necessary tests such as MRI and blood analysis out of the way. Kiri, sniffling weakly, took the crying Tuk away so Jake could carry you. He couldn’t comfort his girls the way he wanted to, couldn’t attend to Neytiri as their sons consoled her and got consoled in return in a tight hug together; he was on the move, heart about to beat out of his chest.

He took you in his arms and clutched your unconscious and ashen blue body tightly to his chest, your head lolling in the crook of his arm, arriving to Mo’at’s tent faster than she did — and oh, how small you were compared to him, how fragile and vulnerable. The attitude made you appear bigger than you actually were, and Jake was reminded how you were still a child from how light his daughter was, like a fleeting bird. He’d forgotten. It had been forever since he last held you like this that he couldn’t bear to lay you down on the mat. If only he could hide you away within his ribcage, away from the pain and the suffering, forever.

“Everything in this world is borrowed,” she told him, an incense was burned, salves were prepared, tools he had no idea on what they were used were brought out. Plants, herbs. Jake stood there, helpless. “Even this child, Eywa has lent to you. She is borrowed from the bosom of our Great Mother, entrusted to you. Entrusted.” Your freckles were still flickering, and Tsahik’s tone, clipped. “I will converse with her. Ask if she plans to call her daughter back home today.”

Ice washed over Jake. “No, you gotta heal her, Mo’at, I can't lose m—”

“Everything in this world is borrowed. Each breath. Each heartbeat. All children. All gifts from Eywa.” Her eyes bore into him. “I can only ask.”

Neytiri pounced on him as soon as he stumbled out of the tent, beaten and spent despite not having one scratch on his body, upon Kiri’s entrance to assist her grandmother in tending to you.

“Your fault!” He was violently pushed back, only able to take in the woman’s bloodied, wrathful face, tear tracks freshened with saltwater she couldn’t stop shedding. “This is your fault! I told you! I told you to fix this!”

Jake was aware other clan members were watching even if they weren’t out of their homes, he was Olo’eyktan, their leader, his pride would have taken this to their own tent had this been any other debate, but now, he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Bruising his back was the weight of a failed father instead of the ornamental piece of the clan leader, it was unbearable enough. She was right. There was nothing else to be said. His mate was right.

“Mother, please,” Neteyam was right beside them in a flash, holding Neytiri back and shielding his father from her. His sunken eyes found Lo’ak and Tuk crouching at the edge of the tent, huddled together, the youngest having the crying hiccups as her older brother had an arm around her, himself looking traumatized enough.

“Don’t, boy.” Jake put a hand on his stone-hard shoulder, moving him aside. Neteyam took one hard look at Neytiri half-circling his father in long strides, and decided it was best if he took care of his siblings instead even if he wasn’t told outright. He ushered Tuk and Lo’ak up and away, to the other side of the tent where they wouldn’t disturb their parents by staying in the field of vision.

Jake should have been the one to take control, but Neteyam had stepped up for it — he was a kid, too, eldest child or not. What the fuck am I doing?

In his tumultuous sorrow, every piece of the fortress Jake had put together was coming down, every decision re-evaluated, emotion overtaking what he once thought as logic. His fault. His fault. He had ruined his children, all of them. He had thought embracing the iron will of a war chief would allow him to be a strong father figure, but it had only alienated his family.

You had died in his arms.

Jake contained every storm in a box inside his body, Neytiri lived those storms, she was strong that way. He would take it. Her eyes were only seeing red at the moment, the grief and wrath of a wronged mother. “Yeah, it’s my fault,” he told her, something between a whisper and a sigh. His kids deserved to hear it. “I know.”

“She is dying because of you!” Jake couldn’t escape the truth by closing his eyes, but he did anyway, like an automatic body reflex against detecting something would be hitting him. He swallowed, his mouth was drier than a desert, no relief was found in the action. “My daughter! My child! Your child!” She pushed him again, hissing. Jake didn’t do anything to stop it. “All because you told her to go today—everything, everything… All because you didn’t reach out to her. She hid that.” A shiver shook her voice. “That… because of you. You! She thought you would be angry!”

Violent horror seized his heart, ears pinning back on his head, knuckles clenching so light blue they were almost white. “I would… I would never—how could I ever—?”

But it was in character, wasn’t it? Jake always getting angry over worry for his children. Going crazy because they could have gotten hurt. Fear grows into anger, worm eating away the bark of a tree into poisonous snake. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, chest rising and falling in big breaths, there was no air.

“She said you hated her. Over and over again, she said you hated her. Not to call you because you would hate her for it, Jake!”

Bitter guilt and glacial shock rose from his stomach, choking him, his eyes looking at anywhere but Neytiri’s blazing golden eyes, to his children who sat together seemingly away from them but blatantly listening, to the tent flames were barely illuminating the shadows inside. His legs were weak. All that he had been breaching behind a wall to prioritize your safety flooded rancid to his mind.

Jake got angry at you all the time that you’d expected it at your most vulnerable. That he would blame you, reprimand you for his enemy’s actions.

His memories were attacked by all sides. That you had gone off on your own for the Iknimaya everybody should have been there for, he should have painted your face personally for. That you have been hiding the bleeding out from the moment Jake had found you pinned down by the dead body of an avatar, from the moment you’d answered positively to the question of if you were hurt or not, with that rifle he’d thought you didn’t let go because of how the events had shaken you. He opened his mouth, a gaping fish, but no words came out, mute and voiceless.

Hate you? Hate you? Hate his own child he would burn the whole world for?

His child. Suffering in silence when her nature was anything but silent. Afraid of her father when she was the most fearless of his kids when facing him.

You thought you weren’t loved.

“What have you done to our children? What has this family become? What are we if our children are too afraid to come to us in their darkest hours?” Neytiri was snarling, both fury and grief battling inside her, teeth gnashing so hard they could sharpen a knife. “What child does not seek her parents when she is hurt?”

Unseeing, Jake couldn’t stand anymore, staggering towards a particularly large rock and sitting on it, he raised his hands to rub his face but stopped when he saw the blood.

All yours. All his daughter’s who he had failed. Who had died in his arms thinking she was hated because Jake was a shit excuse of a father you couldn’t trust to say you were hurt that you would take the risk of dying so he wouldn’t find out.

His daughter’s blood, on his hands.

He put his elbows to his legs, crossing his wrists to lean his forehead on, yet unable to hide his shaking hands even if he managed to hide his face. Jake couldn’t comprehend any of this, crushed beneath the skyful of burning hot shame and the guilt dwarfing him — tears he couldn’t seem to shed found life in his eyes at him trying to blink away the memory of you clinging to your ikran at the flight home. You had been suffering the whole time and all he could think about was Quaritch when he should have been thinking of you.

“What child would rather hide her injury than let her father know?” It shocked his spine like lightning, and Jake visibly flinched, fists clenching and unclenching. “Explain this to me!”

Shame. Shame. Shame. Jake was about to throw up, rocking back and forth.

He had nothing to say. Nothing could ever excuse this. He couldn’t wash away all your moments from this night, all a cursed film strip haunting his every breath accompanied by thorns that ripped apart his insides.

“If she lives,” Neytiri said, pointing a curled hand at him, slowly, scarily calm, but shaking with mastered rage. If she lives destroyed Jake. “We would be lucky if my mother doesn’t decide to perform Stxel’eveng as Tsahik!”

Jake’s head shot up at the word, his arms dropping altogether and meeting his mate’s tortured stare. As Olo’eyktan, he had to be taught the traditions and ceremonies to the point of talking in his sleep from overlearning — this one was a long lost one the clan hadn’t performed for a long time, as the Omatikayan were faithful and loyal to Eywa and her teachings.

Stxel’eveng was the shortened word for ‘Gifting of a Child’ — an adoption ceremony within Na’vi that didn’t even have the word ‘adopt’ in their vocabulary, simply because it was almost non-existent, most Na’vi didn’t even know the existence of such a tradition. If the parents were unable to care and provide for their child, mistreated on purpose or neglected them to the point of no return, they were to be publicly dishonored by the gifting of said child to another willing family. A knot would be formed between the three, one thread bound around the waist of the mother signifying the womb, one thread fastened to the queue of the father, and the final thread to the wrists of the child as if they were captive. The knot, then, would be severed by Tsahik to symbolize the dissolvement of the familial relations in Eywa’s eyes.

The biggest shame a Na’vi could bring upon their name.

“No,” Jake muttered, his mind going blank yet again. Fuck the shame. Damn his name. He couldn’t lose you. It’s a stone in his throat he can’t swallow, whales on his tongue he can’t speak to save himself.

“Pray to Eywa it doesn’t happen. Because if I was Tsahik, I would do it.” Neytiri turned away from him, pushing the heel of her hands on her damp eyes. “I cannot bear this shame, Jake. I can barely breathe.”

He quivered like a baby leaf caught in a storm, a couple more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Neytiri…”

“I lost my daughter today. She slipped from my fingers. I watched her die.” He lowered his head at her grief, vision swimming. “How am I a mother when I can't feel her pain? How am I worthy of being her mother when I saw my child’s pain and just sat there helpless? Why would the Great Mother ever want to send her back?” She just kept going, not having any mercy on Jake’s soul. “Where was I when she won against her ikran? Where was I when she had her first flight? Where was I to protect her from those demons?”

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning.

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!”

Both of them turned just in time to see their youngest son running away from the back of the tent they’d been hiding, Neteyam following a couple steps before he stopped to look back, probably at his sister.

“I’ll get him,” Jake said, soulless and absentminded. Neytiri didn’t respond, stalking back to Mo’at’s tent, just kneeling in front of the entrance, wrapping her hands and tail around her knees. Tuk turned the corner, scampering towards her and finding refuge in Neytiri immediately wrapping around her protectively.

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate.

But he could get to his children who needed it. Trust, Neytiri had said. Honesty.

Walking up to Neteyam, he put a warm hand behind his rigid back, and felt the taut muscles relax underneath his touch, another wave of shame hitting at the inability to recall just when he had last comforted his boy.

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

Neteyam turned to him, scandalized. “We will stay.”

“Neteyam—”

“Dad—sir, please. I can’t leave my sister.”

That sir was a splash of acid on his already weeping heart.

It dawned on Jake that Neteyam was the one witnessing your moment of death. Death. A surge of nausea shot up from his esophagus, and he didn’t stop himself from hooking an arm around the boy, careful of using his hands not to get blood on the eldest, pulling him into a much awaited embrace. He hadn’t allowed him to be a kid.

“It’s okay, Neteyam,” he croaked. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Neteyam’s arms didn’t wrap around him, unfamiliar to the gesture — crumbling Jake’s already broken heart into dust, but he did shiver, fighting the tremble. He simply said, “I pray so.”

He was still trying to hold it together — for everybody’s sake.

Jake felt the boy’s tears on his skin, and didn’t let him go when he tried to step back to wipe them, letting Neteyam cry silently as much as he wanted. He owed the boy that much, as his father. It was the least he could do.

Jake would stitch this family back together. He had to.

Washing the blood off his hands had taken a while. Jake wasn’t let off easy, cursed by the remaining line of bloodied dirt in his nails.

He found Lo’ak at where it all began. The mouth of the cave where your ikran was disturbing the other ones with restless chittering, reminding Jake of a wolf howling all night at the full moon.

His youngest son was transfixed by the blood staining the ground. Just standing there, looking at it. Jake couldn’t protect him from the sight. Not anymore. He himself could barely stomach it.

“Is sister going to be taken away?” was the first thing he asked Jake, not looking at him still.

Jake didn’t know if he meant death, or Stxel’eveng.

“I pray not,” he told Lo’ak, honest for once.

And like him, the boy wasn’t sentimental or emotional enough to bear his wounds to another, even to a family member, and fell silent. “It has Toruk’s colors,” he said instead, referring to your ikran’s red, orange, yellow and black patterns. Looking at the creature, Jake tried his hardest to stand up straight when he discerned all the blood coating its neck and back from the natural red color disguising it. “I wanted to fly with her.”

Pulling him into a side-hug, “I’m sorry, Lo’ak,” Jake admitted, causing him to finally break the trance he had on the blood. Speechless at his father, proud and strong, admitting he was wrong out loud and that he was being hugged when it wasn’t like his father at all to show them casual physical affection. Jake knew what must be going through his head, he would be thinking the same if his own father had ever taken responsibility for wrongdoings, as well. “It’s my fault you didn’t get to.”

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

“But you will,” he said, determined and full of hope. He had to be. For his children.

“You think so?”

“I pray so,” he quoted Neteyam. “Your sister is stubborn. She will pull through. Don’t lose faith in her.”

Lo’ak’s grip on his forearm was painful.

“That ikran’s lost the half of its tail fins,” the boy sniffled, thickening his voice to hide the tears. “How did it get all the way here?”

It stung in Jake’s chest. The same way you’d hidden that injury. Your ikran was fueled only by the desire to get its rider to safety, it seemed.

It would never fly again.

Jake looked down at Lo’ak, only to be met with him avoiding his look, still concerned with hiding the tears. “Loyalty,�� he said. “Devotion. Sometimes you don’t want to lose the things you love no matter what, that desperation gives you enough strength to push through any trial by fire. You would do anything. Anything.”

And sometimes it was fear that did it, but he didn’t mention that to Lo’ak to not put salt on their family’s injury. Jake didn’t want to think about how terrified you must have been, or he would actually go insane. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not making it in the end. He had to keep going. He had to push forward. Be the father this family needed him to be.

“Come on, boy,” he pulled Lo’ak gently. “Let’s go back.”

Your ikran whined at this pitifully. Jake tried not to think. He tried not to imagine what your reaction would be upon learning you would never fly together again, and had to put down this ikran that had been devoted endlessly to you if you wanted to get a new one.

Jake didn’t think. Because if he did, he would actually go insane from the pain.

Mo’at and Kiri emerged from the tent only in the morning, by which the whole family was cocooned in Jake’s embrace for the first time in years before the sky people had come back. They all had scrambled to get up, waiting with bated breath for one syllable of good news as Kiri slipped into Jake’s arms, one wink from falling asleep while standing. He kissed the girl’s head, soothing her, hoping this could be you eventually. He had been praying for it like a madman.

“Eywa has accepted to bestow your daughter back to you, Jakesuli,” was the only answer Mo’at had for them, no word about your physical wellbeing. “But only if she accepts as well.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You must go speak with her. At the Tree of Souls.”

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#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader

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yok00k · 9 months

Text

telepatía

pairing: idol!jk x model!oc

genre: fluff!

“a kilómetros estamos conectando”

—synopsis: when you’re getting ready for a party and jungkook, who’s thousands kilometers away from you, wants to video call.

word count: 1,082

warning: ldr, they’re disguisingly so cute, the word “baby” was said for about 1 million times it’s sickening, different timezones, oc dress in front of jk, mention of insomnia, anxiety, stress, mention of an uncomfy situation of oc where other men were being men, protective jk (this jk is not a manipulator, trust), 1st person pov(im so sorry)

author’s note: my second drabble/fluff!!! this was shorter than I wanted it to be but there will be few (idk how many, it depends to the future me) series of idol!jk x model!oc. <the meaning of ‘mahal ko’ means ‘my love’ in filipino>

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Taking a cold shower after having an intense leg day plus cardio at the gym hits so different. I feel like a brand new person after getting out of my bathroom. I then settle down in front of my vanity table and begin doing my skin care + makeup. As I finished a smooth base of foundation, my phone vibrated.

2 messages received from

mahal ko🐰🤍

|| hey baby

|| can we facetime plz? wanna see u

[10:33 pm]

his text was unanticipated at this hour since it’s 5 am in Korea.

|| sure bb

[10:34 pm]

mahal ko wants to facetime

drop everything i have with my hands, i swiftly hit the green button, eagerly to see and hear his voice. we’re mostly texting these days because of having different time zones and working schedules to follow. Oftentimes when he’s free and wants to facetime me, I would be either at work or sleeping and vice versa.

“hi pretty!!” he cheerfully greeted me as my phone screen revealed his cute sleepy face. As usual, he’s wearing one of the eight Supreme beanies i got for him when I was in Tokyo. [side story: i was just strolling in the streets of Harajuku when i found this one clothing store that has a lot of stuffs i know jungkook would like and that’s when i bought those comfy beanies along with other nice things]^_^

“helloo, my ggukie can't sleep?” i asked while finding something i can lean my phone on so that i can continue doing my makeup

“응.. i'm trying to sleep but can’t.“ he simply explained as he placed his phone on the side of his bed, moving his naked body to a more comfortable lying position. His arm filled with cool, artistic tattoos is out and on sight, while his other arm were covered with the thick white comforter, so as his entire body.

“What's been going on in your mind?” I know that something is bothering him at times like this. i get that having the job and lifestyle he has, isn’t merely easy. the pressure, the media, the fans, everything. But although he deals with all these things, I never once heard him complain about them because he knows that that’s what he signed up for the day he chose to pursue being an idol.

“Just been stressed lately with rehearsals and I'm still jet lagged, maybe I have insomnia? ‘m not sure but it’s driving me crazy. now i get what u mean when u say ur body is tired and ready to sleep but ur mind isn’t.” he further describes how he feels. The worry and anxiety is written in his facial expression.

“my poor kookie you could’ve call me earlier and i would help you to fall asleep”

“but you were at the gym. i know you like blasting reggaeton music while working out.” he pouty responds. well, in his defense he’s right. I love that he remembers small details about me but nothing can top my love for him.

“i do that but I prefer listening to my boyfriend’s angelic voice while working out so that i’ll have motivation to do more reps.” replied to him right off the bat. realistically i meant what i said. I usually don’t like talking to people when doing workouts but he is an exception.

I received no words but a soft laugh. He must have thought I was kidding. I took a glance at him before I put lipgloss on[his favorite shade].

i can see him covering the blush he has all over his face. i'm very glad to see him having relief.

‘’Where is my pretty girl up to? hmm?” he curiously asks as i put highlights as my last step to finish up the look

“just going to the club for Sakura’s birthday party, i'm running out of social energy almost every day because of work and parties but I can't miss this event” I explained as I headed over to my walk-in closet.

“hmm ‘kay tell her i said happy birthday. what are you gonna wear?”

“well i'm debating on wearing a black leather mini skirt with this asymmetrical black top and for shoes i have this black knee high boots or i just go with this simple black mini backless dress with these red bottoms high heels” i say as i show him all the clothes. he and I almost have the same taste in fashion. if we were to combine all of our clothes, they are pretty much all black. whenever it’s shoes, jackets, tops, pants, etc. this is why buying clothes for one another isn’t difficult for us.

“What did I tell you about mini skirts bb?” oh. i forgot that he allows me to wear mini skirts unless i’m with him since an incident happened when i was in the club and random guys were making me so uncomfortable by giving disguising lust looks and nastily commenting on my skirts. Although he and I know that no matter what a girl wears, guys in the clubs will act like animals regardless. He told me to not wear it because he’s controlling me but rather because he won’t be there to protect me if something happens.

“ok then the second choice it is” i confirmed, putting the first outfit choice back to where they belong.

“how about you wear that mini skirt when we go on a date? how’s that sound?” he suggests.

“ok then ggukie”

“dress in front of me?” he boyishly asks, using his deep alluring voice. He definitely knows what he’s doing. How can I say no to him?

After dressing, I proceeded to put on the Cartier necklace with his initials in it that he gifted to me when he first came to visit my penthouse in Chicago.

“still have my oversized leather jacket with you?” he inquire before he yawned

“yupp, why?” I curiously asked

“bring it with you please. i don’t want you getting cold in there” he softly requested. him and his simple gestures make me fall in love with him deeper.

“i will baby thank you”

“i love you ___, don’t look at other men” jk murmur jokingly. Well, I hope he said that in a humorous way for the reason that I assure him with my sincere words almost every hour.

“ I love you more gguk i’ll update you ok?” he just hums, waving his hands leisurely to say goodbye.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jungkookxreader #jungkook imagine #jeon jk #jungkook ff #jjk x you #bts jk #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #SoundCloud

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hertenskylarks · 13 days

Text

More 2 Cents on S3

So, I know there’s already a lot of talk going around. Here’s my 2 cents.

In light of the recent news, I keep hearing a lot of “Oh, I hope the third season doesn’t get canceled,” and “Oh, I hope it does. Fuck Gaiman,” and “Oh, what about Terry’s vision? What about the fans? What about closure?”

I have absolutely zero control as to whether or not season 3 is made. Many arguments for and against it have already been made. I don't want to beat a dead horse, but I will offer this perspective from my own personal experience.

I’m a swing dancer, and my rapist was my teacher and one of the first people who ever taught me how to dance. One of the things that made me hesitant to come forward was that he was one of the most likable characters in my scene. He was the funny, goofy guy who wore funky printed shirts, he was sooo nice, he couldn’t possibly be a rapist, right? Right?

Seeing people praise him, hearing people talk about how great he is when I knew what he did to me… It drove me absolutely mad. I just wanted to shake people and say, “No, you don’t understand! You don’t understand who he is!” But I felt like I just couldn't. I felt his reputation was too iron-clad to say anything.

Coming forward was one of the scariest things I ever did because I was so sure people either wouldn't believe me or wouldn't care. And, as predicted, that was the case for some. You can only imagine how I felt when someone I used to call my friend went on to have him officiate her wedding. You can only imagine how I felt when the response from the organizers of the dance scene was to ask me to avoid mentioning Y-Town Swing in social media posts (Oops) to protect their reputation. You can only imagine how I felt when they continued to have him as a teacher, or when they updated their safe space policy to say they are not responsible for anything that happens “outside a Y-Town swing event.”

Oh, so if he raped me in the bathroom at the event instead it would have made a difference? Right, sorry, didn't realize the location or a rape mattered that much.

Anyway…

This was all in the confines of a small dance scene, in a small city, in a very niche hobby. Now, imagine how it must feel when your rapist and abuser is a fucking best selling author, praised as this ally to women and LGBT people, he’s the quirky guy who has a Tumblr and actually responds to his fans and he’s so cool, he’s one of us, he can’t possibly be a rapist, right? Right?

I can only imagine how fucking mad it drove his victims to know who he really is and see him put on such a high pedestal.

So, however this all unfolds, I will say this. The people I care about most are the victims. I say this as someone who loved and still loves Good Omens, I say this as someone who was torn up about the final 15, as someone who rejoiced when S3 was originally announced, before all the allegations came to light. I care about the victims.

But what about the fans? Listen, it’s a fucking TV show. Do you really mean to tell me the ending of a fictional fucking story is more important than the very real people he’s hurt? Not having an ending to your favorite show does not hold a candle to the trauma of being sexually assaulted. There’s no comparison. Not in the same ballpark. Not even in the same galaxy.

But what about Terry?

Terry is dead and in his grave. I am sorry to say this, but whether his vision comes to life or not, he will never be the wiser. It makes no difference to him. If I could wave my magic wand and have Terry alive and well and Gaiman dead and in his grave, believe me, I definitely would, but that is not the hand we were dealt.

So please, all I ask is this. Before you go spouting shit like, “I hope we don’t lose S3,” or “I just need to know how it ends,” put yourself in their shoes for just a second.

Imagine you are Claire, or Scarlett, or any of his other victims. Imagine you are sexually assaulted by someone whom the world just puts on a pedestal. You have to sit there and listen to him get praised as being “such a great ally to women and minorities” and “he’s one of us,” and “he’s so brilliant. He’s so cool. He really listens to his fans. Look at this quote of his I got tattooed on my body.” And for years you just sit there and take it, because you’re so fucking afraid that no one will believe you if you come forward, you’re told your story “isn’t enough,” you watch him get richer and richer while you’re stuck with the therapy bill for everyting this “great ally of women” did to you.

Now imagine that you finally come forward. You finally muster up the will to speak your truth, and tell people what he did to you, and you find that you’re not the only person he’s hurt. The world is finally hearing your story and learning what a manipulative monster he is.

And now, I want you to think very carefully about what it means if we still get S3.

S3 means press tours. It means more reviews praising him as a genius. It means certain people being contractually obligated to say nice things about him, or at the very least, not say negative things about him. It means, once again, seeing his fucking horse face or his name everywhere, on Amazon, on billboards, on busses, on posters, in adverts. Only now, it's AFTER the world heard your side of the story.

Just imagine how that would feel.

So, if it wasn't obvious by now, my stance on S3 is… I don't really want it to happen. Not out of spite or some deep seated hatred for Gaiman (although, ya know, fuck that guy) but out of consideration for the people he's hurt, as someone who knows exactly how it feels to see the person who hurt you get put on a pedestal.

I understand that production is paused and people think he may be getting removed from the project. I'm not going to comment on that because "paused” can mean a lot of things and there's so much we don't know yet.

There will be other shows.

There will be shows that DO have satisfying endings.

Media and shows can be replaced.

But there is no such thing as being un-raped.

#neil gaiman #cw sa #cw sa mention #cw rap3 #neil gaimen allegations

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straylightdream · 1 year

Text

run to you - my sweet savior

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: bang chan x chubby/plus size f.reader

friends to lovers / non idol au

↳ after running away from an abusive ex there is only one person you know you’ll truly feel safe with.

{ “You mean so much to me, and I just want to keep you safe. I’m so sorry he was ever able to hurt you,”

“Chan nobody was able to protect me.”}

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit sexual content (smut warnings below the cut), and mentions/talks of abuse happening (by the mc’s ex) before the story, and mentions of injuries from abuse. This is gonna be a heavier story.

𝐚𝐧: I started to really second guess this story when I was editing if I’m being honest.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected piv, oral (male rec), fingering (fem rec), this is pretty vanilla they’re in love, names such as: baby, and baby girl

You had known each other since your freshman year of college when your dorms were on the same floor. You became friends right away when Chan accidentally ran into you while he was walking to the library. He’ll never admit it to anyone but he did it on purpose. He had seen you talking to your friend and wanted a reason to talk to you. He figured it would be the best way to start up a conversation. From the moment you met you had become instantly friends. No matter what happened in your life you were always able to run to Chan. He would always be there to save you.

It was the middle of the night, and instead of being at home in bed you ran away to the only person you felt safe with. Standing at his door you rapidly knocked on the door trying to get him to come to open it quickly. Pushing the tears off your flushed cheeks that had a large bruise already forming you inhaled deeply trying to stop crying. If he didn’t answer in the next minute you were just going to walk to Changbin’s apartment. You were praying Chan was going to answer the door. You needed him desperately at the moment.

“Who is it?” he asked on the other side of the door.

“It’s (Y/N),” you said through tears as they continued to fall.

Opening the door, he stared at you for a moment. His apartment was dark behind him. You were caught off guard by the fact he was only wearing a pair of sweatpants that sat really low on hips. You could tell that he was asleep before you had woken him up with you pounding on his door. Sniffling, you stood there staring at him. You didn’t even know what you expected from him, but when you left your apartment you knew you needed to go to Chan.

“Why are you crying,” he said with his voice sounding raspy.

“Chan, can I come in?” You asked awkwardly standing in the hallway.

He nodded his head and stepped to the side signaling for you to come in.

You suddenly froze in place and you can’t even fully explain why. He noticed your hesitation and took your hand gently.

Holding his hand, he led you over to the couch that sat in the middle of his dark apartment. He didn’t even bother turning on any lights. The only light on was the one in the bathroom that was giving a dull glow near his bed. You were trying to calm down because you didn’t want to cry anymore. You kept taking deep breaths attempting to stop crying. The weight of the night felt like it was crushing you.

“What time is it?” he asked, sitting down next to you.

“It’s two in the morning,” you sighed knowing you shouldn’t have come to his apartment.

“Is there a reason you came to my apartment at two in the morning crying?” he looked over at you. You were happy the room was so dark so it must have been hard to see the bruises. You paused for a moment because you knew he was probably going to lose his cool when you told him why. “Promise you’ll stay calm,” you reached over and rested your hand on his thigh.

“Why do I know I’m not gonna like what you’re gonna say?”

“I need a restraining order against Jimmy,” you sighed, explaining why you needed a restraining order and was going to have to cause you to re-live the pain. You knew with Chan and Changbin being lawyers they would be able to make the process of you getting one easier.

Jimmy was your boyfriend of three years that you lived with. You thought he was the one you were going to marry until about two weeks ago when things changed between you. He used to be gentle and caring until more recently when things started to change.

Tilting his head to the side he asked, “why do you need a restraining order?”

You swallowed trying to gather the courage to tell him, “he hit me a couple of weeks ago after drinking. I told myself it was a one-time thing that he would never do it again, and then…” Tears quickly brimmed your eyes before you started crying again, reliving that hell of a night.

Chan’s nostrils flared as he tried to stay calm at what you were telling him, “then what?” he asked. He was trying to force himself to stay calm so that he couldn’t just go kill the man who hurt his best friend.

“He came home from drinking with his friends and he tried to kiss me and when I told him he was drunk he slapped me. I tried to fight him off and then he slammed me into a mirror,” tears fell as you looked down at her bare thighs that were covered in cuts. You could already see your legs turning shades or purple and green as the bruises were starting to form.

“What the fuck?” Chan stood up quickly filled with rage. You knew that Chan would have no issue killing Jimmy after what he did to you.

“Chan please stay calm,” you grabbed his hand desperately pleading for him to calm down. You didn’t need him to be mad right now; you just needed him to hold you and let you know you weren’t alone.

“He laid his fucking hands on you,” he gazed off into your direction. He didn’t know what to do at that moment. He wanted to personally go kill the man that touched his best friend.

“Chan, I left him and came here. I don’t need you to hurt him and I sure as hell don’t need you to be freaking out right now. I’m begging you to not do anything,” you sobbed clenching his hand.

He could hear the pain in your voice. Sitting back down on the couch you released his hand and he gently reached up and rested his hand on your bruised cheek.

Not being able to actually see you In the very dark room he asked, “how bad are you hurt?”

“My right cheek is really bruised, and on my left side my body got pretty cut up from the mirror,” you sighed as tears fell.

Gently he reached and wiped away your tears that were staining your cheeks.

“You need to file a police report tomorrow and then we’ll get you that restraining order,” he sighed attempting to calm down.

“Also you’re moving in with me for a while. I’ll take the couch and you can have the bed.”

“I can’t have you sleeping on the couch Chan,” you sighed.“I can sleep on the couch and you can take the bed.”

Silence took over the room for a long moment as you stared at him. He cleared his throat and said, “why didn’t you tell me a couple weeks ago he hit you?”

“Because I was embarrassed it happened and told myself it was a one time thing.”

Closing his eyes he shook his head upset he couldn’t prevent you from getting hurt. This should have never happened a first time let alone a second time.

“Let’s get some sleep,” you stood up. You wanted this hell of a night to be over.

—-

It has been a week since you left Jimmy and this afternoon Chan, Changbin and your friend Molly went over to your place you used to share with Jimmy and got all your stuff. While you were there both Changbin and Chan threatened him within an inch if he ever came near you again.

Laying on Chan’s couch in the middle of the living area of his studio you looked over at Chan who was in bed. You tried your best to fight back tears. You were finally free from Jimmy but that meant you were going to have to restart your life. You had been living with him for the last two years. So that meant you were going to have to find your own place, and your own furniture. You hadn’t ever lived on your own. When you went to college you lived with Molly and then after graduating you moved in together. You lived with her until you foolishly decided to move in with your ex. The sound of you sniffling back your tears had Chan's attention. Sitting up in bed he asked, “why are you crying?”

Pushing the tears off your cheeks you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed you kept crying in front of him. “It’s nothing,” you lied.

“Please come over here and sleep in this bed with me, I can’t have you going to bed crying on the couch,” he sighed getting out of bed.

Sitting up you looked over to where Chan was sitting on the edge of the bed, “I’m fine here. I think tomorrow I need to start looking for a place to live. I’ve never lived on my own and honestly it kind of terrifies me.”

Standing up he slowly started making his way over to the couch where you were sitting. “You can live here as long as you want?”

Before you could say anything Chan was standing in front of you shirtless only wearing a pair of boxers that sat low on his hips. You couldn’t help but stare at his toned body, your mind was lost in thought thinking about how good he looked standing around in just boxers.

“Are you checking me out?” he joked.

“I wasn’t,” you lied again.

Over the last week there had seemed to be quite a bit of sexual tension between you two. Back when you were in college you had slept together after a drunken night, and you had swore you would never talk about it after you woke up the next morning. Since you had been living together for a week you couldn’t help but think about the time you and Chan had slept together. You had fond memories of your night you spent together.

“I don’t want you to sleep on the couch, we're grown adults, we can share the bed,” he held his hand out for you to take.

“Chan are you sure?” You asked, reaching for his hand.

Nodding his head, he led you off to his bed. Slowly you both crawled into bed. Chan moved to one side and you laid on the far side of the bed. You both laid on your sides. Your eyes stayed locked on him as he stared back at you.

“Do you ever think about that night in college?” You knew they agreed to never talk about that night, but after living with him for a week you needed to know. You were curious if he thought about your night together.

He nodded his head, “I do.”

You sighed, “I do too.”

Reaching your hand out you rested it on top of Chan’s hands wondering why he was so good to you. You couldn’t help but wonder why he was your night and shining armor. He seemed to always be there for you, and never asked for anything in return.

“Why did nothing happen between us?” You had been wanting to ask him that question for years but could never gather the courage to actually ask him.

“Changbin was basically in love with you in college and I felt like I betrayed my friend,” he sighed. “Also we slept together right before you started dating that asshole William.”

Chan hated William; he was an asshole jock who cheated on you multiple times. He was one of your exes that did nothing but break your spirit.

“Changbin was in love with me?” You were caught off guard by this information. Back in college when you all met you were basically all best friends. You had a huge crush on Chan, but you didn’t realize Changbin had liked you.

“Yeah he was and if you ever tell him I said that I’ll call you a liar,” he said with a little laugh.

“Is he still in love with me?” You wondered what would have happened if you and Changbin had dated.

“I don’t think so. He hasn’t brought it up in years.”

“Well it’s good to know in college someone other than William wanted to get with a big girl,” you said thinking back to your college years when you struggled with your body image the most. You had zero confidence and went through stages of yo-yo dieting. It wasn’t until after you graduated you learned to love yourself and not care about what people think.

“First of all don’t talk about yourself like that,” he squeezed your hand. “Second of all there were other people who wanted you.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his comments and sarcastically said, “You know I totally had guys lining up to get with me.”

“You know we slept together right, and I was extremely attracted to you then and I sure as hell still am,” he rolled onto his back so he was looking at the ceiling.

Your eyes went wide, completely caught off guard by his words, “excuse me what?” You almost shouted.

“You can’t act like you didn’t know this,” he said coolly.

“Bang Chan you can’t play that comment off like it was nothing,” you sat up on the bed and stared at him still wide eyed.

“You were attracted to me then and you still are?” You were sitting on your knees.

“Why would I have sex with you if I wasn’t attracted to you?” He sat up.

Running your fingers through her messy hair you were trying to take in everything, “I don’t know we were both super freaking drunk.”

“Were you not attracted to me?” he asked, sounding slightly offended.

“Seriously you’re super handsome and funny obviously I was then and I still am.”

“It shouldn’t be shocking that I’m attracted to you.”

“You do realize I’m a bigger girl? I’m not the typical small girl that you normally date, right?”

“You do realize I still think about constantly getting my hands back on your curves right?” he asked, causing your cheeks to burn bright.

“You think about having sex with me again?” You asked completely caught off guard by his comment.

He nodded, not saying anything. He couldn’t believe he was openly giving this information to his best friend who he was sharing a bed with at that moment.

“Did you wanna maybe…” you paused and hesitated for a long moment because you were slightly scared you were going to get rejected.

“Wanna what?” he asked, turning towards you.

“What if we slept together again,” you sighed.

He pushed his eyebrows together processing what you had just asked him. You had just gone through a really nasty break up and this was probably your way of rebounding and no matter how badly he wanted to have sex with you he didn’t wanna be a rebound. If you actually slept together again it couldn’t just be casual sex to either of you.

“Okay you just hesitate so I’m gonna go to sleep and die of embarrassment,” you laid down quickly wanting to crawl off the bed and die.

“Wait,” he grabbed your arm.

“It’s fine Chan, sorry I asked.”

“I want to have sex with you really badly, but I don’t want this to be just rebound sex,” he sighed.

Pushing your eyebrows together you stared at him for a long moment and swallowed trying to figure out what exactly you said to him. “Chan..” you paused.

“It will happen again, don’t worry,” he let go of your arm and was silent for a moment.

“What is happening here?” You asked, confused by everything that was happening.

“We're gonna give you time to get over what happened with Jimmy and soon we’re gonna sleep together again,” he smiled.

You nodded your head

“Alright,” you said before biting your bottom lip.

“We aren’t going to rush this,” he smiled.

[…]

The sound of the rain outside of Chan’s apartment caused you to stir from your sound sleep. The feeling of Chan’s arm laying across your stomach made you to smile. Biting your bottom lip and looking over at Chan who was still sound asleep. Part of you wanted to move over and cuddle into Chan’s warm body. Yesterday the judge had granted you your restraining order against Jimmy. You were hoping that the papers were going to be delivered to Chan’s office today making it official.

The sound of Chan’s phone ringing caused him to pull his arm off of you. You quickly tried to slow your breathing down to attempting to act like you were asleep.

Picking up his phone he rasped, “yeah Changbin?” You loved the way his voice sounded in the morning. When he was still half asleep and groggy his voice had a rasp to it.

“Yeah go ahead and grab some bagels I’m heading in soon. I’ll probably bring (Y/N) with me,” he said.

You couldn’t help but smile at the fact he planned on bringing you with him to work. Slowly you opened your eyes to see Chan setting his phone down on the nightstand.

“Good morning,” you said softly.

“Morning,” he said as he raked his fingers through his messy curls. “I’m gonna take a quick shower and then do you maybe want to go to work with me?” he asked as he started getting out of bed.

“Yeah I’ll go to work with you,” you said, stretching your stiff body.

Chan slowly made his way off towards the bathroom and you couldn’t help but stare at his tone back as he walked away.

Walking over to the rack of clothes you had in Chan’s apartment you attempted to find something to wear. You picked out a nice dress to wear that you could throw a cute coat over the top. Sliding your dress on you walked over and found a pair of black heels that would go nicely with the outfit. Recently since moving in with Chan you had started doing some secretary work for Chan and Changbin at their law office they shared. When you went into their office to help out you liked to look the part.

Walking into the kitchen you worked on making a pot of coffee, and trying to find something small to eat to hold yourself over until you got to the office where Changbin was going to have bagels for you.

The sound of Chan walking out of the bathroom caused you to look up. He walked over to his closet and started looking for something to wear

He pulled out a gray suit that was your favorite suit. As he started getting dressed you quickly looked away and started making yourself a cup of coffee.

As you started pouring the milk into the coffee Chan walked towards you and said, “smells good.”

“I love the smell of coffee,” you said simply as he lightly rested his hand on your lower back as he reached for his travel cup. His touch sent a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah me too,” you said smiling. There was something about Chan’s touch that just made you feel safe.

“Can you make me a cup in my travel cup?”

“Yeah of course,” you said, reaching for the cup he was holding.

“Are you okay if we take our coffee to go?” he asked with his hand still resting on your lower back.

“Yeah of course. Why don't you grab your bag and I’ll get your coffee ready?”

“Alright,” he said, walking over towards his night stand where his bag was sitting on the floor.

You finished making your coffee and walked over to Chan who was standing by the door.

“Let’s go,” you said, handing him his cup of coffee.

You walked the short distance to Chan and Changbin’s law firm. You stood right next to Chan the whole way there, you laughed and talked about Changbin’s love of bagels. You talked about how that was his go to food back in college.

Walking into Chan’s office you found Changbin sitting at his desk eating his bagel. You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh.

The three of you ate your bagels and joked around a little before the boys got to work. Sitting at a table in the boy’s office you typed away on your computer looking at studio apartments in the area.

“How are there still no good apartments around,” you sighed. You had been sleeping in Chan’s bed every night and the sexual tension between you had gotten so thick that you could cut it with a butter knife, or at least it was for you.

“We’ll find you a place,” Chan said, walking over and sitting across from you.

“Why is everything so damn expensive,” you rolled your eyes. “I just want a studio, I shouldn’t have to pay this much.”

“It’s like that all over the city,” Changbin said sitting down next to you.

“I’m in no hurry to kick you out,” Chan reached over and touched your hand.

Looking down at your hand and then looking up at him you smiled.

Changbin looked at both of you extremely confused on what was going on between you.

“Are you two sleeping together?” he questioned, sensing the new tension between you.

Your heart rate picked up and you pulled your hand away from his, while Chan was extremely calm and just simply said, “no Changbin.”

Pushing his eyebrows together, Changbin didn’t believe Chan. Especially since his question seemed to make you so nervous. He could definitely tell something was different between you and Chan since that night you had left Jimmy. He must have noticed Chan’s lingering touches, and your longing looks. Changbin knew that Chan had always been protective of you, and that right now he probably felt like he needed to protect you even more than normal.

“We aren’t,” you said awkwardly. You technically weren’t lying to him, you weren’t actually sleeping together yet. The key word being yet.

“Then why are you acting so weird around each other?” he asked, still pushing his eyebrows together again.

Shrugging your shoulders, you said, “Changbin I have had a really rough few weeks. I’m just acting weird in general.”

Your statement made Changbin go quiet and made Chan smile. The last two weeks had been an emotional roller coaster for you, and you had been so filled with stress working on getting a restraining order against Jimmy. There had also been a lot of sexual tension between the two of you. You hadn’t even kissed, you’ve just shared longing touches and longing looks coming from you. You thought about the feeling of Chan’s lips on yours almost every second of the day. You would find yourself staring at his lips fighting the urge to get up and kiss him.

The boys went back to work and in the middle of the afternoon the sound of a knock on the door caused all of you to look up. You stood up and went over to open the door. You found a post office worker standing on the other side of the door holding a large envelope.

“This is for (Y/N, Y/L/N),” the postal worker said.

“That’s me,” you said as your heart was racing. You knew exactly what this envelope held. You turned around to find both of the boys looking over at you. Changbin looked like he didn’t know what to say to you, and Chan looked like he was trying to focus on the tone in your voice. “I’m free,” your voice was shaky and you were on the verge of tears. You couldn’t even begin to explain how you felt suddenly.

You sat back down at the table and slowly you opened the envelope to find your official restraining order against Jimmy. He wasn’t ever going to be able to hurt you again, and you knew deep down inside if he ever broke this Chan and Changbin would be there to protect you.

“(Y/N) is that what I think it is?” Chan asked, reaching over and resting his hand on top of yours.

“I’m free,” you said as tears slid down your cheek. You didn’t want to cry, but in that moment, you were just relieved and couldn’t help the tears. His thumb rubbed against the top of your hand, the simple gesture made you smile. “He won’t be able to hurt me again.”

“Changbin, why don’t we call it an early day?” Chan asked, standing up. He knew him and Changbin had more work to do but right now he wanted to get you away from the office.

“Yeah that’s a good idea,” Changbin said standing up.

“Let’s head back to the apartment,” Chan said, resting his hand on your shoulder.

Looking up at him you softly said, “okay.”

Chan grabbed his bag and led you out of the office. As you got into the elevator you were joined by a handful of people which caused you to be pressed against each other. Your back was pressed against Chan’s tone torso and he had his free hand that wasn’t holding his bag resting on your curvy waist. Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on Chan’s hand that was touching you. You didn’t want to think about Jimmy anymore. You didn’t want him to take up anymore of the space in your mind.

As the elevator doors opened and the people inside poured out you reached down and laced your finger with Chan’s and led him out of the elevator. He glanced down at your hands and then looked back up at you and gave you a smile.

The walk back to his apartment you were sharing was short. As you entered the apartment you let out a heavy sigh. Chan slowly shut the door and walked towards you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, knowing deep down inside you were going to be okay. You had a lot of thoughts going through your mind.

“Yeah I am,” you were okay as you were ever going to be. “Hey Chan?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he asked, sitting down.

“I’m ready,” you whispered. You finally felt free and you wanted nothing more to be held by Chan’s strong hands.

“Are you sure?” he asked slowly, reaching up to loosen his tie.

“Yes,” you said, walking towards him to help him take off his tie. As you removed his tie Chan moved his hands to rest on your round hips. Removing his tie, you lightly placed it on his bed. He moved his hand and rested it gently on your cheek. Lightly he tilted your face towards his. “Thank you for looking after me,” you said softly.

“I would do anything for you,” he moved his face down towards yours and rested his forehead against yours. “You mean so much to me, and I just want to keep you safe. I’m so sorry he was ever able to hurt you,” his voice sounded shaky. You know he’ll never forgive himself for not being able to protect his best friend. You can tell him until you’re blue in the face that there wasn’t anything he could have done and he’ll never believe you.

“Chan, nobody was able to protect me,” you sighed. “I should have left the first time he hit me,” a tear slid down your cheek. You blame yourself for Jimmy hitting you, you knew you should've seen the signs pointing to Jimmy becoming violent, but you were just blind to it. You didn’t even want to think there was a chance the man you loved could hurt you.

“I should have seen the signs this was happening, I saw you countless times after the first time he hit you. I should have noticed something was up,” he slid his thumb across your cheek removing the tear that had slid down.

Slowly he pressed his lips to yours for a slow longing kiss. His lips tasted better than you remembered, you felt as if they were made for yours. Your hands gripped his white dress shirt as your lips started moving together. Pulling your lips away from him, you reached up to push his jacket off.

“Nothing like that will ever happen to you again,” he stated.

The second his jacket was off you stepped away to remove your own coat. You took a second to remove your heels. You stood in front of him watching as he untucked his dress shirt and started unbuttoning it. As he removed his shirt your eyes locked onto his toned stomach. Your eyes traveled up to his face to find him smirking.

“Let’s get your dress off,” he said, stepping towards you. He reached for the hem of your dress and pulled over your head slowly. You stood in front of him in only your bra and panties. You would normally feel exposed but with him you didn’t. Reaching down you worked on removing his belt. You fumbled with it for a moment before he let out a soft laugh and removed your hands to remove his own belt. You stood there watching him as he removed his shoes and socks and pushed his dress pants off. The sight of him in nothing but a tight pair of boxer briefs was absolutely mouth watering.

His hands reached behind you and unhooked your bra. You both stood there in only your underwear with only a couple of inches between you.

“I’ve missed seeing you like this.” His lust hazed eyes traveled up and down your curvy body.

“Believe me I’m nothing special.” You sighed and looked down at your soft stomach. You were still dealing with the fact that you didn’t feel comfortable in your own skin.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, you are so beautiful,” he sighed before pressing his lips to yours again. Pulling his lips away from you he whispered, “you are the most beautiful person I have ever known.” His lips started kissing their way down your jaw. His touch was a mixture of wet kisses and light nips. You held your eyes closed tightly just enjoying the feeling of his touch.

“How do you know all the right things to say?” You asked with your eyes still held close.

“Because I have wanted to say them for a while,” he said as his lips ghosted your skin. He dropped down onto his knees in front of you and your eyes opened quickly as his fingers hooked into the top of your panties and slowly slid them down your thick thighs. Your breath hitched as he kissed your thighs.

“Chan,” you sighed.

“Yeah baby?” he asked looking up at you.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked as you signaled for him to stand up. He stood up and he was standing in front of you again.

He pushed his eyebrows together and looked at you completely confused by your question. He just grabbed your hand and put it over his boxer-briefs that were strained against his very hard erection. “You’re the one who did that to me,” he said, smirking. “I don’t want to be with anyone else other than you right now.”

Reaching down for the top of his boxers you slid them down his tone thighs. You didn’t think you would get over the sight of him naked. Back in college he was extremely handsome and in shape, but now he was even more in shape. “You’re so beautiful,” you whispered.

“Come here,” he said before crashing his lips into yours. As your lips moved together Chan strong hands moved down towards your round ass and pulled you close to his body. Slowly Chan started walking them backwards until Chan fell back on the bed and brought you down with him. He rolled you onto your sides and you pulled away from him and stared at him for a long moment. He moved to roll onto your back so he’s hovering over you. His lips captured one of your nipples while you moaned his name. Dragging his lips away from your skin he looked up at you and whispered, “spread your legs for me.”

His words made you even wetter at just the anticipation of what was to come. Sitting back on his hunches between her legs he lightly pushed your legs further apart. You tried to steady your breathing and stay calm as you watched him steadily pump his length. Your teeth caught the bottom lip.

His finger slid between your folds as did gentle circles around your sensitive nub, and you couldn’t help but whine wanting more than just his fingers on you. Removing his finger, he held his length and pressed his tip to your entrance. You gasped as he pushed into you. Your hands gripped the cotton sheets below you. His hands gripped your round hips as he rocked his hips into your core. Your head rolled back and you moaned as he pushed fully inside you. He stilled for a moment and rubbed your clit earning another moan from you.

“I need you close,” you moaned.

“Okay,” he rasped as he held himself still inside you as moved his body so he was hovering over you. Connecting his lips to yours he started to roll his hips against yours again. Your hands gripped at his strong back he thrust into you. He couldn’t help but groan at how tight you were.

“You feel so good baby,” he groaned with his lips ghosting your shoulder as he continued to push into you.

“Please don’t stop,” you whined.

Your nails clawed at his back holding him close to you. The sex in college had been fun and sloppy, but this was a whole different thing. This was filled with passion and lust. You couldn’t seem to get enough of each other as his teeth nipped at your shoulder.

“Chan,” you whined. You weren't sure if you knew any other words than Chan’s name at the moment.

You panted and whined as he pushed you over the edge. Your walls pulled at his length as he came inside you. He stilled in you completely as you whined riding out your own high. Removing himself from you he rolled onto his back attempting to catch his own breath.

“I needed that so much,” you sigh.

He reached over to pull you closer to him. You curled up next to him and rested your head on his chest. Silently you laid there just enjoying your post sex bliss.

“That was better than college,” he softly laughed.

“That was way better than college.”

Leaning down he lightly kissed the top of your head. You couldn’t help but wonder what this meant for you. You thought it was obvious that the both of you had feelings for each other, but you weren't sure when you should actually talk about them.

“Maybe we could take a nap and then order some Chinese food,” he said as his hand ran up and down your spine.

“That would be great,” you said as you curled up closer to him.

[…]

The feeling of his lips on your skin drove you mad in the best way possible. Chan laid on the couch with you sitting in between his legs. He wore nothing but his boxers and you in nothing but your bra and panties. Chan’s lips were attached to your neck sending a shiver down your spine. He peppered kisses across your skin, and occasionally nipped at the sensitive skin causing you to giggle.

Pulling away from him you looked at him and just smiled. You had just slept together and you couldn’t wait to have sex with him again. He made you feel like you were the only person on the earth that mattered to him, and it made your heart flutter.

“Why are you smiling at me?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.

“How do you know I’m smiling? I’m not even facing you?”

“Because I know you,” he spoke softly as he reached his hand up and rested it on yours and he brushed the pad of his thumb against the corner of your mouth. “Why don’t we go back to bed?” he asked. He couldn’t seem to get enough of you at the moment, and he didn’t think at this point he would ever get enough of you. He wasn’t sure how you had managed to wait so many years since that drunken college night.

“Alright,” you whispered, reaching over and lacing your fingers with his. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, you seemed to make him happy.

Standing up you pulled Chan’s hand and helped him up, you led him over to the bed, and stopped right at the foot of the bed. You placed your hand on his strong chest signaling for him to stop. He didn’t say anything, he just stopped in place curious to what you had planned. Silently you dropped to your knees in front of him. You couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip as your fingers hooked into the top of his boxers.

“What are you doing?” he asked as you slid his boxers down his strong thighs. You didn’t say anything, you just slowly licked his length causing him to groan. He sure didn’t expect you to start going down on him. If he remembered properly from your drunken night together you had confessed to him you hated giving head. As you took him in your mouth he was confused on how some who hated doing this was so good at it. Your hands gripped his base as you slowly bobbed your head against him. He closed his eyes holding back a moan as you dragged your tongue against the underside of his length. It was taking everything in him not to tangle his fingers in your hair and help her movement. You hummed with him in your mouth and he just about came right there. His fingers tangled in your messy locks and lightly tugged trying to signal for you to stop.

“Baby,” he moaned. “I’m gonna cum in your mouth if you don’t stop,” he groaned.

You released him with a pop and looked up at him enjoying the sight of him on the edge. Standing in front of him you reached behind yourself and undid your bra. He was still standing there with the same grin plastered on his face. “Did you enjoy that?” You asked, reaching down and taking his hand.

“Words can’t explain how great that was,” he said, smiling. “I thought you said you hated doing that?” he asked, still trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

You placed his hand on your breast and said, “I used to hate doing it but remember that frat guy William I dated back in college after we hooked up?”

“Unfortunately, I remember him,” he said as his hand started massaging your breast.

“Well he liked getting head more than having sex, so I got pretty good at it,” you said, remembering back to your time in college. You were really starting to regret not telling Chan how you really felt about him back then.

“I hated that guy,” he groaned.

“I hated him in the end too, but at least got good at doing that,” you said with a little laugh.

“Okay I don’t want to hear about your asshole ex anymore,” he said before closing the distance between you. His lips were intoxicating to you, they were like a drug you couldn’t get enough of. His hands moved from your breast to your round hips. He held you close, as your lips moved together.

Pulling away from him you grinned and took a step back. He wasn’t ready for that kiss to be over and he rasped, “I wasn’t done.”

You worked on removing your panties so Chan wasn’t the only naked one, “patience.”

Chan took this as his cue to crawl onto his unmade bed. Sitting in the middle of the bed he waited for you to join him. “Close your eyes Channie,” you wanted to tease him.

“I hope you’re naked,” he said, causing you to laugh.

“You can find out in a second,” you crawled onto the bed. For some reason being with Chan gave you a sense of confidence you had never actually had before. Crawling on your hands and knees you made your way to Chan who connected his lips to yours for a kiss that was filled with a sense of hunger. He wasted no time rolling you over so he was resting on top of her as their lips moved together.

He opened his eyes and couldn’t help but feel the love behind them. Pulling away from you he settled himself between your legs. “Are you ready?” he rasped.

“Yes,” you sighed.

He thrust into you painfully slowly, he gripped your round hips holding onto you as he rolled his hips. You reached up and gripped his ass attempting to speed up his thrust. “Let’s take it slow baby girl,” he rasped. Just the mention of him calling you baby girl almost sent you over the edge. Chan had always been flirty with you, and quite touchy, but he had never really called her anything other than your name before you moved in with him. Him giving you a pet name in the middle of sex made your heart race.

“Just like that,” you sighed, moving your hand up to his shoulder blade to pull him closer to you. You needed him to put his lips on yours, and you just needed him closer. When you were having sex with him you just wanted him to be as physically close as possible to you. His lips connected to your as your nails scratched his back holding onto him. You couldn’t hold back your moans as you moaned into his kiss.

Chan was a man who knew his way around a woman's body, and it drove you mad. He pulled his lips away from yours and you moaned his name loudly. His pace picked up as you hooked your leg over his hip giving him a new angle.

“I’m close,” you moaned.

His lips attached to your neck as he pushed you over the edge. You held your eyes close tight as you rode out our high. He panted as thrust into you holding off his own high. Your eyes open to find him staring at you with a sense of hunger. The way he was staring at you turned her on so much.

You pushed on his chest signaling for him to stop, his hips still and he panted trying to catch his breath. He was so close to his own high it wasn’t going to take much more.

“Why are we stopping?” he panted, still inside you.

“How do you want to end this?” You asked knowing that the missionary was considered boring, you liked clinging to him as you came, but you wondered what he wanted.

“Baby…” he trailed off as if he was trying to figure out what to say to you. “I’m not trying to fuck you senseless, this isn’t just sex this is different. I want to savor every moment with you.”

You were trying to wrap your mind around what he had just said to you, you weren't sure what was going on with you two. You knew you weren’t together but you were pretty sure you were in love with the man that was still inside of you. His words led you to believe that he had feelings for you too.

“What does that mean?” You reached up and rested her hand on his cheek.

“I would like to finish making love to you and then we can talk,” he said as his hips slowly started moving again.

Your eyes brimmed with tears as thrust into you slowly over and over again. You didn’t want to cry but what he said made you quite emotional for some reason. Chan seemed to care about you more than anyone you had ever been with. It didn’t take much before he finished. He stilled in you for a moment and leaned down and connected his lips to yours for a soft kiss.

He rolled off you and laid on his back with a smile on his face, he didn’t seem to notice that his words seemed to have knocked your world on its side. You laid on your side staring at Chan feeling extremely confused. Part of you want to jump out of bed and just run away. You wanted Chan and you to be together, but suddenly you were terrified of your feelings for him. You had been burned by love so many times, and you knew nobody would ever care for you like Chan did, but you were still scared.

Chan reached his hand over and rested it on your chest as you looked up at the ceiling trying to figure out what you needed to say. “Why does your heart feel like it's about to burst from your chest?” he asked, still trying to catch his own breath.

“Because I’m still coming down from that orgasm,” it wasn’t the full truth, but technically you weren't lying to him.

Chan could tell by your tone something was wrong, he wasn’t sure what caused you to start freaking out but he needed to know.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you said, attempting to escape this conversation. Crawling out of bed you quickly went to the bathroom. You left Chan laying on his bed very confused.

Walking into the bathroom you turned on the water and waited a minute to heat up before stepping in. You were hoping that the warm water was going to wash away anxiety you suddenly had about you and Chan talking about your relationship. You stood under the warm water closing your eyes trying to figure out if you and Chan could even work as a couple. For so long you had thought often about what it would be like to be with Chan.

You opened your eyes at the sound of the sliding glass door opening. You found Chan standing in front of you.

“Why did you just lie to me and then run away from me after we had sex?” he asked.

You swallowed and knew you were going to have to tell him how you actually feel about him. Pushing some of the water from her face you said, “because what you said scared me.”

He pushed his eyebrows together confused, “what scared you?” You could tell he was wondering if you suddenly regretted sleeping together.

“That you said it wasn’t just normal sex,” you whispered as your eyes once again started to brim with tears.

He stepped closer and reached down and took your hand in his, “is that all you thought this was with us?” You knew he was probably afraid to hear your answer. You had waited to have sex because he didn’t want to just be a rebound, and he cared more about you then he had ever cared for anyone.

“I didn’t think you actually saw me as more than a friend,” you whispered.

“(Y/N) you can’t be serious?” he said, taking another step towards you. He was now standing under the water with you and there was only like two inches separating you. You were silent, feeling suddenly embarrassed. “I wouldn’t have slept with you just to have casual sex. I value our friendship too much to do that. I care so much for you,” he reached up and placed his hand on your cheek. His words were causing your stomach to twist in knots.

“Chan, I think I love you,” you whispered, afraid to actually say it out loud. “I think I’ve loved you since that night in college.

“You think?” he asked as his thumb gently brushed your cheek as he had his hand still resting on your cheek.

You nodded your head. You knew if you spoke again you were going to break down and cry, suddenly you were so overcome by your emotions.

“I love you too,” he smiled.

You couldn’t help but start to cry, you had been through so much recently with Jimmy hitting you. Between you getting your restraining order and Chan taking care of you. You suddenly felt like an emotional mess, you were crying even though his words made you happy.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, sounding worried.

“Because I was scared you didn’t feel the same way,” you whispered.

He didn’t bother saying anything; he just leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. The sound of the front door opening caused you both to jump apart.

“Did Changbin just come?” You whispered praying this wasn’t how Changbin was going to find out.

“Yeah,” Chan said, nodding his head.

“What the hell do we do?” You asked, praying Changbin wasn’t gonna walk into the bathroom. “I’m gonna go out there and talk to him.”

He slowly opened the sliding door. You reached down and grabbed his hand signaling for him not to leave yet. “Please don’t tell him I’m in here with you. Lie and tell him I’m out and then go to the bar with him. I'll meet you there.”

“(Y/N) are you ashamed of me?” he asked with a little laugh.

You rolled your eyes, “Chan I would prefer he doesn’t find out about us by walking in right after we had sex,” you said sternly letting go of his hand.

“Alright, I’ll see you at the bar in thirty minutes,” He leaned forward and gave you a quick kiss.

He grabbed a towel off the hanger and wrapped it around his waist before walking towards the living area to find Changbin sitting on the couch.

“Hey Changbin,” Chan said, running his finger through his wet hair.

“Where is (Y/N)?” he asked.

“She ran to the store, what’s up?” Chan asked, trying to change the subject.

“I was going to ask if you guys wanted to go to the bar and celebrate the fact that she got her restraining order,” Changbin asked, not bothering to question what you went to the store for. “Why is her bra on the floor?” Changbin asked, looking over at the foot of the bed.

Chan shook his head lightly and wanted to laugh at the fact that you forgot to pick up your bra, but then again, you weren’t exactly expecting company. “She was probably changing before heading out while I took a shower,” he lied.

Changbin shook his head, “telling me why (YN) didn’t come live with me.” He joked, “how is your back not killing you from sleeping on his hard couch?”

Chan shrugged his shoulders knowing damn well he hadn’t slept on the couch, that you and him had been sharing the bed long before you even had sex.

“I’m gonna get dressed and then we’ll head off to the bar, and we can call (Y/N) on the way and tell her to meet us there,” Chan said walking off towards his closet. He grabbed something casual to wear before heading off to the bathroom.

As soon as he walked inside he waited for you to say something. He turned on the bathroom sink attempting to make some noise so they could talk for a second.

“Do you just want to go out there now and tell him or do you want to keep up the lie until the bar?” he asked, reaching out and grabbing her hand.

“He’s gonna freak out,” you whispered knowing that Changbin wasn’t going to take this well.

“Yeah he’s gonna freak out if he finds out another way,” he whispered back as he started getting dressed.

“I’ll meet you at the bar and we’ll work this out there,” you said, sitting down on top of the toilet and watching as Chan got dressed. You couldn’t help but admire his body as he got dressed in front of you. Before leaving he leaned down and gave her a quick kiss goodbye. “I’ll call you in five so hurry and get dressed.”

Chan took off with Changbin towards the bar, and less than five minutes away Chan called you and told you to meet him at the bar. You quickly blow-dried your hair and got dressed so you could meet the boys at the bar.

You found them sitting in a booth with beer sitting in front of them. The second you got to the table Changbin jumped up and pulled you into a tight hug.

“What did you go to the store for?” Changbin asked as you slid into the booth next to Chan.

“I needed more shampoo and conditioner,” you lied.

Chan rested his hand on your thigh causally and gave it a light squeeze. You wanted to look over at him, but you didn’t want Changbin to notice what was happening.

“What did you want to drink?” Changbin asked as the waitress walked towards the table.

“I’ll take a cranberry and vodka,” you said.

“Okay hun,” the waitress said before walking off towards the bar.

“What did you guys do this evening?” Changbin asked casually before taking a drink of his beer.

Chan gave your thigh a squeeze as he said, “we ordered Chinese food and just hung out. Oh, and (YN) took a nap when we first got home,” Chan said it like it was no big deal that he had left out the major detail that you had also had sex a couple times.

“Sounds fun,” Changbin said sarcastically.

“I personally enjoy naps,” you said with a laugh.

Chan slowly rubbed his thumb against the inside of your thigh, it was a simple gesture but his touch was making her stomach fill with butterflies. Not even an hour ago you had admitted you loved each other and suddenly you were trying to act normal.

The waitress came over and sat your drink down in front of you and you gave her a quick thank you. You took a big drink attempting to get a little bit of courage because you knew you needed to tell Changbin that something was going on with Chan because you knew that he was gonna get pissed if you hid it from him any longer.

“So Changbin,” you hesitated. You weren't sure what exactly you should say to him.

“Yeah?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“I’m in love with Chan,” you just blurted it out because you weren't exactly sure what else to say. Changbin’s eyes just went really wide and he looked at you like you had two heads or something. It probably had something to do with the fact that you stated it like Chan had no clue.

Leaning his head forwards trying to process what you said he looked over at Chan who seemed extremely unfazed by your sudden statement.

“Chan, did you hear her?” Changbin asked, still confused.

Chan nodded his head, “yeah I did.”

You felt like you might faint suddenly. You weren't exactly sure why she stated it like that but you felt like you had gotten an adrenaline rush. You just stared at Changbin wondering how much he was going to freak out.

“Are you guys together?” Changbin asked, trying to figure out what was going on.

“We don’t know,” you said, realizing that you and Chan hadn’t exactly talked about that.

Chan squeezed her thigh again and said, “yeah I like to think we are.”

You looked over at him and smiled, your heart couldn’t help but race a little.

“Wait, did you guys lie to me when I asked if you were sleeping together?” Changbin asked, feeling slightly offended that you lied to him.

“No, we didn’t lie to you,” Chan said. “We talked about our feelings today,” he took his hand off your thigh and took your hand and laced his fingers with yours.

“I swear to God Chan if you break her heart, I’ll break your nose,” Changbin said, causing you and Chan to laugh. “Wait, is that why (Y/N’s) bra and underwear were on the floor…” Changbin's face dropped at his realization. “Did I almost walk in on you?” Changbin asked, suddenly feeling gross.

You scrunch your face up at the thought of Changbin walking in on you having sex. “Yeah you came kind of close,” you sighed.

“I would never be able to get that image out of my head,” he said, shaking his head at just the thought.

You and Chan couldn’t help but laugh.

The three of you hung out in the bar for a couple hours before you and Chan headed back up to Chan’s place. You walked inside holding hands, and you couldn’t help but feel happy and safe with Chan.

“Thank you so much for taking care of me,” you smiled, stepping towards him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and just smiled at him. Your lips connected for a soft kiss.

“I hope you don’t plan on moving out anytime soon,” he said with a little laugh.

“I’ll stay until you kick me out,” you laughed.

“I love you so much,” he smiled.

“I love you too Bang Chan,” you said resting your forehead against his.

Regarding taglist:

If you aren’t interacting with my writing outside of liking the new post I’m gonna have to remove your name from the taglist. You will also be removed if I try to tag you and your blog is listed as "invisible". If you've changed your URL and didn't let me know I will also be removing your name. I’m sorry for the inconvenience but my interactions outside or likes feels like it’s nonexistent right now. All of my taglist are still open though. If you request to be added to one via this form, I kindly ask for interactions in the form and feedback and reblogs. To be quite honest, those really encourage my writing.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #stray kids fanfic #bang chan fanfic #my writing #skz #skz fanfiction #skz smut #bang chan imagine #bang chan au #Changbin #Christopher bang #stray kids

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lyneira · 1 year

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♡ sorry, they're already taken ♡

-> someone confesses to you, his dear lover, in front of him, how would he react?

lyneira's 1.2k milestone event

Watches from afar

Cater, Jack, Silver, Neige, Jamil, Kalim, Che'nya

He trusts that you'll turn them down and he knows that you know how to handle the situation, so he doesn't see the need to step in. They're just expressing their feelings and there isn't any real harm done from it, after all. It would also be a funny story to recall later in the future.

Though, don't be fooled by this calm nature of his. If they dare try to touch you or make any physical advances towards you, he will be on the perpetrator in an instant and will ensure that they regret it.

Confronts IMMEDIATELY

Epel, Floyd, Leona, Ace, Riddle, Sebek

When he sees them confessing to you, he'd scoff, absolutely astounded. Has he not made it clear enough to everyone that you two were together? He's always had his arm around you, always talked about you, and was almost always by your side, so to say that he was shocked that a person had the audacity to confess to you even after all that was an understatement. So he'll confront them immediately, telling them to back off since you two are already together. And if they don't, he won't hesitate to get physical

Don't worry though, if you tell him to calm down, he'll listen to you. As long as they understand that you're already taken- by him specifically- he'll be able to cool his jets.

After they leave, he'll huff while grabbing you and hugging you protectively, muttering to himself that he should make it more clear to others that you two are together. Maybe he'll find more ways of doing so, whether it's giving you one of his belongings to wear, or giving you love bites in places for everyone to see 😏 he'll find a way so that something like this doesn't happen again, as much as he can help it

Finds it 'funny'

Malleus, Jade, Rollo, Azul, Lilia, Rook, Vil

He'd be amused by the situation. (Not a funny "haha" type of "amused", but a rather one of intrigue and surprise) Look, he understands why they hold adoration for you. He understands it himself all too well, so he can't find himself blaming them. At the same time, just because he understands doesn't mean he's willing to let you go or share you. It seems that it must be reiterated that you're his and he's yours.

He'll be "kind" enough to let them finish their confession before standing his ground by approaching you, pulling you close to him by the waist and giving an ever so subtle threatening smile to the confessor, "I understand your sentiments towards my lover, truly...and we would appreciate if you'd take your leave now"

Basically, he'd act possessive asf in this situation, just like in the previous category, except with a different and less explosive demeanor

Awkwardly steps in

Ruggie, Idia, Deuce, Trey

He'll step in if he sees that you're feeling awkward about the situation (otherwise he'll let you handle it if he sees you have no problem dealing with it)

But tbh he'd definitely feel just as awkward in attempting to explain it to the confessor. It could be a possible misunderstanding or that they didn't know that you were already taken, so he'll set things right, albeit sheepishly.

It's not until the confessor underestimates him and tells you to ditch him does a surge of confidence suddenly flow within him and he'll become more forward and direct in proving that they won't be able go break you two up.

He might be awkward in certain situations, but when it comes to defending you and the love that you two share, he won't hesitate to fiercely protect it.

a/n: tbh I felt "meh" about this one, but just wanted to have something out there and check if my posts are finally showing up again in the tags aaaa

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fickleminder · 11 months

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be good

AU inspired by this prompt: Humans are born with demon counterparts to protect them. The more innocent and pure a person is, the more mean, fierce, and terrifying their demon becomes.

Halloween 2023 fic 😈

It’s one of the things your parents often told you when you were growing up.

"Behave yourself."

"They won’t hurt you if you’re good."

"Say please and thank you."

"It’s okay, they’re your best friend."

"Mind your manners."

"You can always rely on them to protect you."

"Be good, now."

You’ve had multiple shadows for as long as you could remember. No one else could see them; a person’s demon was their own after all, but you quickly realized that everybody around you only had the one. Any attempts to convince your family otherwise only led them to believe yours was a shapeshifter.

But one demon or seven, they never laid a finger on you. Sometimes they kept their distance, watching over you from afar; other times they stayed within arm’s reach, readily accepting your touch should your curiosity win out. You soon became accustomed to the chilly air around them, their cool skin a familiar comfort on days when you just needed a hug.

They were brothers too, despite not looking anything alike. You talked to them of course, wanting to know more about your protectors friends, where they came from, what they did to pass the time when they weren’t watching you. The oldest one told you that they weren't like the other demons; they were more important, had other roles to fulfill and duties to tend to, which was why they had to take turns looking after you.

"I'm sorry for being a bother," five-year-old you said. You'd been left alone more often than not, your father having passed away recently while your mother worked extra jobs to keep the both of you fed. She never neglected you when she was home, but you still felt like a burden to her.

"You're not a bother," the oldest one — Lucifer — chided you gently. "Your mother loves you, and so do we. Never forget that, understand?"

You gripped his pant leg and nodded into his thigh, only relaxing when a gloved hand reached down to stroke your hair.

The wind howled outside your window and rattled the panes. Cloudy skies covered the moon, casting your room into inky blackness as you huddled under the blankets and shivered, eyes wide open and unable to sleep.

Everything seemed louder in the dark: the shrieking gusts, the creaky old floorboards, the scuttles in the walls, the scratching and rustling behind your closet door—

"It's way past your bedtime, you know."

The voice came out of nowhere, but all you felt was a sharp sense of relief knowing that you weren't alone tonight. "I'm scared," you whispered to it, clutching the sheets tighter against your body. "Can you check the closet for monsters, please?"

One of the shadows in the room seemed to grow and stretch, moving lazily towards the closet in question. You didn't dare to peek over the blankets, but you heard the door open and close as the faint noises from within fell blessedly silent.

"Better?" The voice drawled, returning to its place under your bed. "Go to sleep now. There's nothing scarier here than me."

"Thanks Belphie. Goodnight."

You let one arm dangle off the side of your bed as you finally closed your eyes. After a while, you felt a cold hand grasping yours, keeping you safe in its grip.

"I said I was sorry!"

"You think a simple 'sorry' is gonna cut it?!"

Bumping into other students in a crowded hallway was almost inevitable, but apparently this upperclassman took personal offense at it. The older boy hauled you up by your shirt and slammed you against the lockers while everybody else kept their heads low and gave the two of you a wide berth.

"I oughta teach you a lesson for—" He looked over his shoulder at someone you couldn't see, frowning with irritation. "Whaddya mean 'wrong person'? This twerp was the one who—"

Whatever his demon said must have convinced him, because he abruptly let go and stomped away without another word. Your knees buckled and you slid to the floor with a breathy exhale.

Someone squatted down beside you to check the back of your head, running gentle fingers through your hair to soothe you. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I was more startled than anything." You smiled at Satan, who still seemed somewhat troubled. "Can you walk me to my next class?"

"With pleasure."

That night, Satan got Asmo to read to you on his behalf, claiming he had a last minute errand to run. You didn't mind; Asmo had such a melodic voice that he might as well have sung you to sleep.

(You never saw that upperclassman in school again. People still said he transferred out.)

The day your mother passed, you were sitting next to her and holding her hand, doing your best to ignore the beeping of the machines that monitored her vitals.

One minute she was peaceful, halfway dozed off while you spoke to her softly, the next her entire body seized up as she began mumbling incoherently.

The machines went haywire and alerted the nurses to her side. You were forced to step back and let them do their job, your panicked gaze focused on her fearful face as she writhed on the bed, as though struggling to get away from an assailant.

"No, no... I thought... Please..." were the last words you heard before someone wrapped their arms around you and turned you away.

"Don't look," Asmo cooed in your ear, moments before the shrill beeping noises became steady.

The demon guided you to sit in the hallway outside, whispering words of comfort and rubbing your back. He told you to remember how pretty your mother was before her illness, the good times you'd spent with her after all the hardship the two of you had endured, happy memories that made every second worth it.

You knew your demons would help you to work through the grief in time, but for now, you let yourself fall apart in Asmo's arms.

"Take care on your way home."

"Thanks boss, see you tomorrow."

Closing shifts sucked, but the late hours paid well. Luckily, you had company on your walk back too, a hulking figure no one else could see but everybody still instinctively steered clear of. It made taking shortcuts through shady alleys a little safer.

Even on nights you stopped for supper at a sleazy diner, the only place still open at this godforsaken hour, nobody invited themselves into your booth or tried to strike up conversation with you. Which worked just fine, all you wanted to do was eat your food, go home, and collapse into bed.

Strangely enough, you noticed that the cook also tended to be extra generous with the portions he served you. The man was loud and gruff towards the waitstaff, but on nights you were seated at the counter, he was quiet as a mouse when setting your dish in front of you.

You could never finish it all, but you always made sure to leave a good tip anyway.

You stared at the numbers on the screen for the longest time, feeling conflicted. A part of you wished you had never approached your coworker to ask about the discrepancies you'd found in the accounts, not when he opened your eyes to some of the dealings that went under your boss's radar. He offered you a cut of the profits to keep your mouth shut of course, but you never imagined...

He was a good guy. Hardworking, funny, always willing to pitch in and offering to pick up a bite for you whenever he went on snack runs. You knew he went to church regularly too, so why?

A bat-like wing blocked your view of the screen, and you looked up to see Mammon smirking. "You're overthinking this," he said. "The answer's right in front of ya."

"I thought..." You bit your lip. "He isn't doing too well himself, and the company isn't a megacorp or anything but it's not like they'll notice. Shouldn't I just look the other way?"

"Ha! What he's offering ya is peanuts compared to the promotion you'll get by exposing his operation."

"I'm not in it for the money—"

"Maybe so, but it's the right thing to do, ain't it?"

"Still..."

"You won't have to worry about any retaliation." Mammon assured you with a ruffle of your hair. "I'll make sure of it."

"—lie! It's all a lie! Listen to me, you can't trust the devils!"

"What nonsense are you watching now?" Levi leaned over your shoulder as you tilted your phone to give him a better view.

"A video that went viral recently. Some crazy dude ranting about conspiracies and whatnot."

Levi's nose scrunched up in distaste. "Sounds like he's jealous about having a wimpy lesser demon chained to him, if you ask me. These guys are just bitter they got leftovers since they aren't good people."

"I don't know, Levi. Some folks just need a bit of help, I think. And don't get me started on the whole nature vs. nurture debate."

"Well, doesn't change the fact that you can't save everybody."

"They're cultivating us, like livestock! You have to sin, SIN I say!"

"Ugh, I've had enough of this dude. Can you change the channel? We haven’t watched the latest episode about that time-traveling god yet.”

"Ooh, you’re right! Give me a sec to log into my account…"

Lucifer hummed in amusement. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend." You scrambled to clarify your earlier statement. "It's just— I've known you and your brothers for so long that you don't look scary to me, not anymore. I'm not saying you guys should be monsters or anything, but... Does this mean I'm a bad person?"

"Demons have many forms not meant for mortal eyes," he explained patiently. "And you should know that humans are neither fully good nor bad, but often somewhere in-between. In any case, why would we ever wish to frighten you, hm?"

"Told you it was a silly question..." You grumbled under your breath.

Lucifer squeezed your shoulder. "You’re a good person. You always try your best to do the right thing, even without our guidance to keep you from going astray. I don't say this lightly: I’m proud of you."

You hid your warm cheeks in the demon's chest as you hugged him for all you were worth. "...Thanks Luci."

"Anytime. Now, off you go. Don't keep Beel waiting."

Lucifer watched as his younger brother filled the empty space next to you, holding your hand while walking you home. The hour was late and the streets were dark; it wouldn't do to have anything unsavory happen to you before you made it home safely.

Yes, they needed to keep you safe at all costs. A pure and innocent being like you was hard to come by, perhaps only once every millennia or so. He and his brothers had fought for the right to you, to nurture and polish your soul for when the time was right. And when it was, you would be—

"Delicious," Lucifer whispered, baring his fangs as he licked his lips.

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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makkarisbelova · 10 months

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not really sure how the mcu’s going to come together again at this point but I really want them to include mobius in the gayest and most irrelevant way. like imagine: it’s the next avengers movie. the latest avengers + whatever other superheroes they can scavenge are at the avengers headquarters discussing what to do next in the fight against kang (or whoever else it is if they switch it idk I’m not here for my logistical theorizing). all of a sudden, a security breach. someone’s at their front door, an unknown person unidentifiable to their facial recognition. this intrigues them. they let him in. he’s a man with a mustache and possibly the most non threatening demeanour one could ever encounter. he’s holding an envelope with the avengers logo stamped onto it.

they ask him what he’s doing here. he holds up the blank envelope and explains how he figured their mail go mixed up with his (he lives nowhere near them. like, in a completely different state.) this is also strange because they don’t get their mail sent to the compound. immediately they’re suspicious. especially because the guy keeps gawking at them.

“sorry,” he says. “this is pretty cool for me, seeing all of you in person. it’s kind of like meeting all of the characters from your favourite tv show, except the show is loki’s life so you all come off a little unfavourably—”

not half a second passes before thor is marching across the room and picking this man up off the ground by the neck. “loki? you know my brother, tell me right at once how you know him.”

the other avengers are trying to yank the man free from thor’s grasp. “you’ve got to keep his airway intact if you want him to explain,” the shout at thor. he finally drops him.

“my name is mobius m. mobius,” he says. “I was an agent with the Time Variant’s Authority, also known as the TVA. we were in charge of maintaining a single timeline until recently, when the man in charge of all that died. I didn’t get a name, loki only ever referred to him as He Who Remains— which if we’re being honest is much cooler, I mean he had this variant that was named victor timely but that’s just such a non-villain kind of name, you know, I just thought—”

“get to the point,” one of them demands.

“right, sorry. loki was working with us to figure out how to stop the timelines from imploding. your precious multiverse would have destroyed itself if not for him holding it together now.”

“that’s where he is?” thor asks.

mobius nods. “at the end of time. keeping every timeline intact, every universe safe. he sacrificed himself for me. for all of us.”

“you knowing loki can’t be a coincidence, you must have come here for a reason. what’s in the letter.”

“well that’s just it: I don’t know,” mobius says. “I haven’t opened it. I mean that’s still a felony on this earth, right? I just thought I’d return it. didn’t show up in my mailbox or anything either. just appeared on my front doorstep like magic.”

“not like magic,” bruce says as he opens the letter. “I think this is magic.”

thor grabs the letter and looks at it. everyone looks over his shoulder hoping to read it as well. it’s a single piece of paper with three simple sentences.

My Jane. Protect him with your life. Please.

— Loki

WOULD THAT NOT BE SO FRICKIN SWEET

#yes I am fully aware this will happen no I will not stop dreaming about this yes I am begging someone to write this fic or else I will #marvel #mcu #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #lokius #mobius m mobius

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the-winter-spider · 1 month

Text

But Daddy I Love Him: Pt 2 | B. Barnes

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

A/N: Okay, so i have a whole thing planned for this story im so excited, especially for the next chapter, so enjoy this cute chapter lol

Masterlist

Part one,

—-

“Buck,” Steve said, gripping his friend’s shoulder. “She had a rough night. She just needs to cool off.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed as he turned to Steve. “It’s 10 PM, Steve. It’s too late for her to be wandering the streets alone.”

“I know, but…”

Bucky cut him off, frustration and concern evident. “That’s exactly why I should go after her. I can’t just let her walk around out there by herself.”

Steve placed a firm hand on Bucky’s chest, trying to calm him down. “Buck, I get it, but chasing after her right now won’t help. She’s hurt and needs some space.”

“When did you become an expert on her feelings?” Bucky snapped, his voice harsher than intended. He winced, immediately regretting it. “Sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean that.”

Steve gave a small nod, understanding the weight behind Bucky’s words. “It’s okay. Let’s head home in case she decides to come back.”

Bucky hesitated, his eyes lingering on the faint figure disappearing under the moonlight. Finally, he turned, walking side by side with Steve.

“What happened?” Bucky asked quietly as they made their way back.

Steve sighed heavily. “She had a fight with her father. It got physical, Buck… he hit her. She’s in a bad place right now.”

Bucky clenched his fists, anger flaring in his chest. “And what happened earlier probably pushed her over the edge,” Steve added, his voice barely audible.

Bucky remained silent, the weight of guilt settling over him. He knew your father had been trying to marry you off to some rich guy’s son, but the thought that things had escalated to violence was almost too much to bear. Every instinct told him to storm over to your house and deal with your father himself, but he knew it would only make things worse for you. And you were all he cared about.

“They set a date for her wedding, you know,” Steve continued, his voice filled with sadness. “Three months from now, she’s supposed to marry Tom Williams. Her father’s sick of playing games, so he did it without even telling her.”

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw clenching. “She told him no,” Steve went on. “Said she wouldn’t marry someone she didn’t love… said she was in love with someone else.”

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat, hope flaring despite the circumstances. “Who?”

Steve smiled faintly. “You, you jerk.”

Bucky’s mind raced, his heart hammering in his chest. You loved him? Really loved him? But if that was true, why did you push him away? He was right there, always had been.

“If she loves me, why won’t she even look at me? Why did she leave like that?” Bucky’s voice was thick with confusion and hurt.

“She thinks you don’t feel the same,” Steve replied gently. “She thinks it’s one-sided.”

Shock washed over Bucky. How could you not know? All those times he’d distanced himself, trying to protect you by not getting too close—you must have thought he didn’t care at all.

“You haven’t exactly made it obvious,” Steve pointed out, stopping to face Bucky. “This is your chance, Buck. It’s now or never. Tomorrow, her father will send people after her. If you’re going to do something, it has to be tonight… I know I said to let her have a minute, but I was thinking about Ma’….Life’s too short, Buck. You should go.”

Determination surged within Bucky. He had wasted too much time already. “You’re right, I’ve been an idiot,” he muttered, already moving faster. “I have to tell her.”

“I’ll be at the house,” Steve called after him as Bucky broke into a run, desperate to find you before it was too late.

Bucky sprinted down the dimly lit streets, his chest tight with worry. He couldn’t let you sit out there alone, vulnerable, and heartbroken. He didn’t know why he even let you go off by yourself in the first place. When he finally spotted you, huddled against a tree, crying, his heart shattered.

“Doll?” he called softly, approaching slowly so as not to startle you.

You looked up, your tear-streaked face flushed and swollen. “Bucky?”

His heart twisted at the sight of the bruise on your cheek, evidence of your father’s cruelty. Kneeling in front of you, he reached out a hand. “It’s me. Can I sit with you?”

You nodded, patting the ground beside you.

Bucky settled down next to you, his presence warm and steady. “I was so worried about you,” he whispered. “When Steve told me what happened, I couldn’t stay put. I had to find you.”

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” you choked out. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You’ve always been so good to me, and I ruined everything.”

“Hey, no,” Bucky said firmly, placing a comforting hand on your knee. “You didn’t ruin anything. I should’ve been there for you, not out with someone I didn’t care about.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you managed a small smile. “Okay.”

Gently, Bucky cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your bruise. You winced but didn’t pull away. “Sweetheart, you can’t go back there.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again. “You don’t understand, Buck. My father’s already arranged everything. I have nowhere else to go. If I don’t go through with it, I’ll be disowned, left with nothing.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened with anger, but his voice remained gentle. “You won’t be alone,You’re never alone. You always have us.” He paused, as if a light went off in his mind. “Move in with me—with Steve and me.”

“I don’t have anything to offer,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Bucky shook his head, stroking your hand with his. “You could never be a burden.”

“But… what would it look like, me living with two men? Buck, no one would want me after that…” You wiped your tears with a trembling hand.

Bucky was silent for a moment, his mind racing. People already talked about you for hanging out with them; he couldn’t imagine what they would say if they found out you were living with them too. Then, in a soft but determined voice, he said, “Marry me.”

Your eyes widened, shock rendering you speechless. “W-what?”

“Marry me,” Bucky repeated, his voice stronger. “Take my last name. It would be the greatest honour of my life.”

“But Buck, I—”

“But nothing,” he interrupted, taking your hands in his. “I should’ve told you years ago, but I was scared. I hate that it took something like this for me to realise how much I need you. I love you, doll. I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you giving Stevie hell outside the post office for taking on the Dayne brothers, and I’ll love you every day after… I’ll love you forever.”

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time, they were tears of joy. You could hardly believe what you were hearing. “Are you serious? Because, Bucky, I can’t take any more heartbreak. You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear those words from you.”

Bucky’s breath hitched as he saw the hope in your eyes mingling with the lingering fear. He squeezed your hands gently, grounding himself in the warmth of your touch.

“I’m dead serious, doll,” he said, his voice soft but unwavering. “I should’ve said it a long time ago, but I’m saying it now. I want you in my life—in every way you’ll let me have you”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. “But what if… what if it’s just because of everything that’s happened tonight? What if you change your mind?”

Bucky shook his head, his gaze never leaving yours. “This isn’t just about tonight. It’s about every moment that led us here. I’ve loved you for years, and that’s never going to change, I just didn’t have the guts to tell you until now.”

Tears welled up again, blurring your vision as you tried to process the weight of his words. You wanted to believe him, but doubt still gnawed at the edges of your mind. “But what if—”

“No more ‘what ifs,’” Bucky interrupted softly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “I’ve spent enough time worrying about those, What matters is what’s right here, right now.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re the only one I want, no one else….Just you, only you”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart aching with the intensity of his words. “Bucky… I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” Bucky murmured, leaning in so that your foreheads touched “Just let me show you.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world around you seemed to fade away as you sat there, forehead to forehead, breathing in sync. Finally, you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to trust, to hope.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Okay.”

Bucky pulled back slightly to look at you, a small smile playing on his lips “Is that a yes?”

A tear slipped down your cheek, but you were smiling too. “Yes, Bucky. It’s a yes.”

Relief and joy flooded through Bucky, and before he could stop himself, he leaned in and kissed you. It was a soft, tentative kiss, full of unspoken promises and years of unshed tears. When he pulled away, you both sat there, breathless and dazed, as if the world had just shifted beneath your feet.

“Doll,” Bucky said, his voice thick with emotion, “I’ll take care of everything, you won’t have to face your father alone, and you’ll never have to deal with that again.” His thumb lightly traced over your bruised cheek. “No one will ever hurt you again, I’ll protect you… I’ll stand by you, no matter what… till the end of the line.”

You nodded, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. “Till the end of the line.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe. The weight of everything that had happened—the fight with your father, the bruises, the fear—seemed to lift as Bucky held you close.

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispered into your hair. “Together.”

You clung to him, the warmth of his embrace chasing away the chill of the night. “Together,” you echoed, the word feeling like a promise.

As the two of you sat there, tangled in each other’s arms, the moon hung high in the sky, casting a gentle glow over the city. And for the first time in a long time, the future didn’t seem so frightening. The night stretched on, but in that moment, with Bucky’s arms around you and his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, you knew you were home.

“I don’t have a ring on me, but I’ve got one back at the house,” Bucky said, standing and offering his hand. “Come with me, and I’ll show you.”

“Why do you have a ring?” Your heart pounded as you reached out and took his hand.

He helped you up, a soft smile on his lips. “Remember when we went window shopping at that store you like?”

You nodded. “The one by the post office?”

He nodded. “You said that when you got married, you didn’t want some generic ring that every other girl had. You wanted something like that one. So, I put it on hold and paid them every week for months until it was mine.”

You stumbled back slightly, his arm wrapping around your waist, steadying you. “James, that was almost two years ago. They closed down last year.”

He smiled, his eyes twinkling, his nose crinkling as he spoke softly. “I told you, it was always gonna be you.”

Your eyes searched his, hardly believing it. This felt like a dream, and you were so scared you would wake up to a nightmare. With your heart pounding, you finally said the words you’d been holding back for years. Placing your hands on either side of his face, you let your thumbs graze over the dimple on his chin, your eyes moving between his lips and eyes. “I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Before he could respond, you grabbed his face and brought his lips to yours. His hands tightened on your hips before wrapping around your waist, pulling you as close as he could, though it felt like he wanted you even closer.

Bucky smiled against your lips, his breath warm and sweet as he pulled you into a gentle embrace. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you too, more than I’ve ever loved anything.”

The weight of his words settled over you, grounding you in the reality of the moment. This wasn’t a dream; it was real. Bucky was real, and he was here, with you, wanting to build a future together. The fear that had been gnawing at the edges of your heart began to melt away, replaced by a deep, overwhelming sense of peace.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, the cool night air wrapping around you as you stood there, lost in each other’s eyes. “I could kiss you forever,” Bucky murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “But Steve’s probably waiting, and I can’t wait to tell him.”

You laughed softly, the sound bubbling up from deep within you. It was the first time you had truly laughed in what felt like ages. “You think he’ll be happy for us?.”

Bucky nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Yeah, he will. But first…” He pulled you close again, his voice low and serious. “Let’s get you somewhere safe, you're not going back to that house, not ever. We’ll figure everything out tomorrow, but tonight, I just want you close.”

You felt the tension drain from your body as you leaned into him, your head resting against his chest. His heartbeat was steady and strong, a comforting rhythm that lulled you into a sense of security. “I just want to be with you, Bucky,” you whispered. “That’s all I need.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “You’ve got me, doll. For as long as you want me.”

The two of you stood there for a while longer, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the silence speak for you. The world outside might have been dark and cold, but here, in Bucky’s arms, you felt warm, protected, and loved.

Finally, Bucky pulled back slightly, his hand still entwined with yours. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s go home.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Home,” you echoed, the word tasting sweet on your tongue.

Together, you made your way down the street, your hands clasped tightly together. The moonlight cast a silver glow over the pavement, guiding your steps as you walked side by side. There was no need for words; the connection between you spoke volumes.

As you approached the house, you felt a sense of calm settle over you. This was your family now—Bucky, Steve, and the life you were about to build together. It wasn’t going to be easy, but with Bucky by your side, you knew you could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

When you reached the door, Bucky paused, turning to face you. His eyes were filled with warmth, a hint of mischief dancing in their depths. “You ready?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

With a grin, Bucky pushed open the door, leading you inside. The warmth of the house enveloped you, and you could already hear Steve moving around in the kitchen, probably making his usual late-night snack.

“Steve, you better be decent!” Bucky called out, his voice light with humour.

Steve’s head popped out from the kitchen doorway, a grin spreading across his face as he took in the sight of the two of you holding hands. “I’m always decent, Buck. What’s up?”

Bucky glanced at you, his smile widening as he spoke. “We’ve got some news.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Oh? What kind of news?”

You looked at Bucky, feeling a rush of warmth as he gently squeezed your hand. “The best kind,” you said softly, your voice filled with quiet joy.

Bucky nodded, his eyes shining as he turned back to Steve. “We’re getting married.”

For a moment, there was silence as the words hung in the air. Then, Steve’s face broke into the biggest smile you’d ever seen, and he let out a whoop of joy, rushing over to wrap you both in a tight bear hug.

“This is the best news I’ve heard in years!” Steve exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement “About time”

You laughed, letting Steve bring you away from Bucky and into his arms “Welcome home” he whispered

—-

When you woke up, something about the universe felt different—in a good way, like everything had finally fallen into place. You and Bucky were entangled together in his… your bed, his warmth seeping into your skin. As the sun shone through the window, everything seemed brighter, newer. You brought your hand out from under the blankets, examining the ring on your finger. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

“Good morning, my beautiful fiancée,” Bucky’s voice murmured against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

You giggled, your heart doing backflips in your chest. Turning to face him, you ran your fingers up and down his bare arm. “Good morning, my handsome fiancé.”

Bucky’s eyes were still heavy with sleep, but they sparkled as he gazed at you. “I can’t believe it’s real,” he whispered, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. “That you’re mine, that you said yes.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “It’s real, Buck. And I’m yours, always.”

His smile grew, and he wrapped his arms tighter around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Me neither,” you murmured against his lips, feeling his breath hitch. “I’ve waited so long for this… for you.”

Bucky’s expression softened, a mixture of love and determination in his eyes. “I promise you, doll, I’ll do everything to make you happy. I’ll protect you, cherish you, and love you more every day.”

“I know you will,” you whispered, your heart swelling with the certainty in his voice.

For a while, you both stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, basking in the warmth of the morning light and the quiet contentment of knowing that your lives were finally, perfectly aligned

There was a knock at the door. “Buck? Y/N? We need to talk,” Steve’s voice came through the other side, a tone of urgency lacing his words.

Bucky sat up slightly, leaning on his elbows. “Give us a sec, Steve!” he called back, but the tension in his voice was unmistakable.

Your stomach dropped, a wave of anxiety crashing over you. Bucky noticed instantly, the colour draining from your face. “Hey, hey, sweetheart,” he whispered, gently guiding your face away from the door to look at him. “Relax, okay? Whatever it is, it’s going to be fine. I promise.”

You nodded, but the dread coiling in your chest didn’t ease. As Bucky pulled the blanket off, he held out his hand to you. “Together,” he said softly, his eyes full of quiet determination.

You grasped his hand tightly, grounding yourself in his warmth as you both stepped out of the room. The hallway felt longer than usual, each step heavy with anticipation. When you reached the kitchen, Bucky guided you to the table where Steve was already seated, his expression unreadable.

“What’s going on, Steve?” Bucky asked, his voice steady, but you could feel the tension in the air thickening.

Steve’s gaze flickered between Bucky and you, his expression grave. The silence stretched on, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. Your knee started bouncing involuntarily, a nervous habit you couldn’t suppress. Bucky noticed, placing his hand on your knee, his grip firm and reassuring, but it wasn’t enough to stop the rising panic.

Finally, Steve spoke, his voice low and careful, but his eyes locked onto yours. “Your brother was here.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader angst

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cinnamongorll · 2 months

Text

Wildflower - chapter 1

read on ao3 🤍 next chapter 🤍 masterlist 🤍 Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC Synopsis: Joel Miller is an infuriating constant in Alex’s life. As her dad’s best friend and smuggling partner, she can’t seem to avoid him no matter how hard she tries. When a weapons trade off goes wrong and Alex becomes the next target in a dangerous revenge vendetta, Joel is forced to uphold the promise he made to his friend to protect his daughter from the dangers of the post-apocalyptic world. But when Alex and Joel reluctantly grow closer, and she starts to peel back the layers of animosity between them, Alex realises that nothing is what it seems and that trusting Joel might be more dangerous than anything outside the QZ walls. Series tags: dbf!Joel, age gap (Joel is late 49, FMC is 26), older man/younger woman, slow burn, enemies to lovers, mean Joel, protective Joel, dark Joel, sexual tension, smut, mutual pining, feral Joel, first person pov, angst, more tags to be added, ultraviolence Joel. Word count: 4.9k

__________________________________________

Chapter 1:

“Alex, honey, can you pass my gun?” my dad calls over his shoulder while he bends over his worn, stuffed rucksack.

I straighten on the couch, pulling myself from whatever daze I was lost in. My focus flicks to the cushion beside me and the weapon that rests on it, and I narrow my eyes at the casualness of my dad’s request. Guns and ammo were a feature of the apartment, practically as common as the dust and bedbugs, and yet my skin still itches as my hand wraps around the gun, the cool metal sending a spark of fear across my body.

I look to the window. It’s dark, curfew is already in place. The apartment is lit by a singular flickering bulb in the corner lampshade, and the constant flashing makes my head feel like it's going to burst. I’d already worked a ten hour shift at the market, where the sun beat down on my unshaded stall, plastering me in sweat, and all I wanted to do was climb under the frigid water in our shower and pass out on my sorry excuse for a mattress.

But instead, I’m holding a gun.

With my other hand, I push myself off the musty couch, peppered with holes and blotched with stains I never want to know the origins of. When I'm standing, I find it difficult to move my feet. They’re rooted in place with the knowledge that my dad is leaving again, going on another smuggling trip with his partner. These are the days I dread; when he walks out that door, I never know if he’s going to walk back through it.

The thought occurs to me that if I refuse to give him his gun then maybe he won’t leave, maybe he’ll be forced to stay. Maybe he’ll stay safe.

“Alex?” my dad repeats, now standing opposite the coffee table, staring at me with his eyebrows raised.

I tilt my chin up and reluctantly stretch out my arm, letting the gun dangle from my grip. My dad’s eyes lift from the weapon hanging between us to my awaiting eyes and his shoulders stiffen. I must have forgotten to wipe the disgust off my face.

“How long this time?” I ask through gritted teeth as he carefully takes the gun from me and my arm drops back to my side like I’d just narrowly avoided being burned by a potential fire.

My dad sighs and pockets the gun, then swings his head around to catch a glance at the apartment door. When his eyes return to me I can see the worry carving deeper lines into his forehead.

Joel was late.

His irritation dilutes as he scans my face, and his expression begins to soften. My hands curl into fists by my side.

“Not long, few days at most,” he answers in a pitying tone, as though I was the one who was leaving the safety of the QZ to risk my life for another job.

I blow out a breath and turn, stalking with heavy steps towards the kitchen table. I swipe a glass from the hardwood surface as I pass, revelling in the sound it makes as it strikes off the edge. It’s the closest I’d get to expressing the anger that was building in my blood.

“You’ve said that before,” I mutter, but my words are lost in the water that rushes into my glass when I forcefully twist the tap.

A month he was gone the last time, bypassing “just a few days” by a longshot. My eyes hit the ceiling as I stay shielded from his gaze, then I lift the full glass to my lips and take a long drink before turning back around.

“Just be careful, okay?” I caution when my back hits the countertop and my eyes find his awaiting stare.

The sad, pitying smile returns to his lips and I start counting backwards from ten.

“Always am,” he attests with a firm nod.

My lips part with the pressure to voice the screaming concerns in my head, to tell him that the job isn’t worth it, that it’s lonely here without him, that one day his luck is going to run out and I’m going to be the one to pay the price.

But none of it comes out, because before I can even consider it, a quick knock attacks the apartment door and my head turns towards it with the speed of an incoming bullet.

My dad’s sigh is loud and his footsteps are eager as he makes his way to the door and aligns his eye with the peephole, even though we both know who’s standing on the other side. I hope, for a second, that I’m wrong, that Joel’s decided not to come this time.

The spark of awareness that rushes my skin as the door opens tells me that, unfortunately, Joel is a man of his word.

“What took you so goddamn long?” my dad grumbles as he steps backwards to let Joel brush past him before he double locks the door.

The glass squeaks in my hand as my grip tightens. Joel Miller is standing about six feet away from me, turned in the other direction, forcing me to witness the way his hair is drenched with rain and curled slightly at the top of his neck.

He stands with his large hands perching petulantly on his hips and his shoulders tight. Joel shakes his head sharply before he speaks.

“Fuckin’ enforcers everywhere tonight, had to wait them out,” he explains as his eyes flick to the window just as a truck rumbles past, illuminating the apartment with the threat of a spotlight in the street below.

“Shit,” my dad curses as his head follows the sound.

Joel makes an impatient noise and jerks his chin in the direction of the door. “We gotta get movin’”

The worries that wait on my lips, existing in the space between being voiced and swallowed, start to build and I feel myself struggling to force them back down my throat. Leaving the QZ was already a death sentence when there wasn’t a large enforcer presence on the streets, but with those spotlights scanning every inch of this city… they’d be lucky to get two steps out the door.

My dad is bent over his bag again, ammo in hand as he shares it with Joel. Their quiet conversation is muffled by the thoughts churning in my mind and I feel a sense of dread settle deep in my stomach.

My glass hits the countertop with a dull thud and the water splashes over my fingers. I flinch and inhale sharply when Joel’s head suddenly swings towards me, acknowledging my presence for the first time since he walked through the door. His dark eyes are hard and his expression is one of reluctant curiosity. I instinctually press my back harder into the edge of the countertop, at the mercy of his cold attention.

My heartbeat stutters when he quirks an eyebrow and slowly, so carefully, crosses his arms over his chest in a way that makes it impossible for my eyes to avoid noticing the muscles straining under his damp shirt. His jaw moves in another act of impatience as he seemingly waits for an apology or explanation for so rudely pulling his attention away from more important matters.

Recovering from my momentary shock, I shake the water off my fingers and push myself from the countertop as I avoid Joel’s pointed stare. I start to make my way towards my dad, who still focuses on his packing and is ignorant to the battle of wills taking place across the room.

I’m unsurprised, however, when a hand wraps around my upper arm, halting all movements.

The breath that exits my mouth is shaky and I want to kick myself. Grudgingly, I lift my head to meet Joel’s furrowed brow and surveillant eyes.

“You got somethin’ to say, you say it,” he orders, his voice dangerous and husky like a knife being dragged over a ragged edge.

At his demand for my words, my mouth instantly goes dry and I consider never speaking again.

Joel was always getting under my skin, reminding me that he’s the reason my dad is away for days, weeks, months at a time and comes home with cuts and bruises that he refuses to talk about. Joel Miller has his teeth in my dad, making him believe that he likes this life.

My jaw clenches with tooth crushing pressure.

I shrug out of Joel’s grip and, surprisingly, he lets me go with one last searching look across my face. Released from his hold, I stumble as I attempt to step around his hulking figure and I clench my fists so tight that my nails begin to dig into my palm when I hear his snearing laugh rumble in response.

“Dad,” I bite out, the ire in my voice is fueled by the irritation of Joel’s presence hanging behind me.

My dad stands with a loud grunt and swings his rucksack over his shoulder, wincing as the weight settles on an old injury. The fight in me dies at the sight.

“What?” he asks and looks down at his watch.

I cross my arms over my chest and straighten my spine.

“Don’t go,” I plead as I step closer to him, forcing him to look at me. “Not tonight at least, it’s too dangerous with all the enforcers hanging around.”

There was that pity again, shining so clearly in his eyes, he didn’t even try to hide it. His poor, lonely, daughter was worried about him, what else was new? I could practically see the thought floating through his mind.

“Honey…” he trails off and I watch as his focus darts to the man behind me. Help me out here, my dad silently asks his friend with his quick shrug.

The anger I’ve been holding back all day, since my dad told me he’d be leaving again, finally reaches its breaking point and I feel the blood under my skin start to boil, bringing a flush to my cheeks.

“What?” I demand, raising my voice so it doesn’t tremble. “What is so important that you have to get out of the QZ again?”

My dad’s lips thin and his gaze flicks between me and Joel.

The groan that comes out of my mouth is overly childish and I would be embarrassed about it if I weren’t so annoyed. When my dad doesn’t answer, I lose my patience and whip my head around to face the man behind me, tilting my chin up to meet his eyes as I tighten my crossed arms.

Joel looks down at me with a fury that rivals my own. I know I’m fighting a losing battle, I know that nothing I say is going to change their minds, but I can’t ignore this dread in my stomach.

If I’ve already lost, I’m going down swinging.

My anger is directed at Joel, as it often is. I find him in my apartment more often than I can handle. I come home from work and he’s there, at the kitchen table, scheming up plans with my dad that neither of them ever share. I know they sell drugs around the QZ, I’ve seen Joel lingering around dark alleyways with small bags of white between his fingers. I don’t care what he does, but I don’t want this life for my dad.

“Can’t you handle a deal by yourself for once?” I challenge the man in front of me, and I force not to retreat when his dark eyes slide down my body, sizing me up.

“Alex,” my dad pleads from behind me with a sigh, exasperated. He’s heard all this before. I hear him turn and walk over to the radio, leaving us to fight it out.

“You don’t have a clue what you’re talkin’ about,” Joel accuses, and his hands land on his hips again. I can see the impatience vibrating on his skin.

A laugh escapes my lips and I fight against the urge to roll my eyes.

I uncross my arms and my voice drops lower as I inch closer, chin tilting up until I’m so close I can smell the rain drying on his skin. “What is it this time? Oxy? Coke?” I ask.

Joel’s lips draw back and his eyes narrow as I watch that rage he usually keeps locked up start to rattle at the bars.

A hint of a smile twitches at my lips before I dangle the bait over the cage: “Can’t fund your own habit? Need to bring my dad into it too?”

His hand flashes out to grab my wrist before I even notice the movement. Joel uses his hold to tug me even closer until the front of my body is flush with his. My breath catches in my throat, held back by the fearful realisation that maybe I’ve gone too far.

Joel glowers down at me, his eyes surveying my features like he’s gathering evidence in a case he’s building against me. I’m frozen, entirely at the mercy of his burning hot judgement.

I watch with wide eyes as his gaze darts behind me, probably checking that my dad is still focused on the radio before his mouth drops to my ear and his breath feeds the flush on my skin.

“You wanna act like a child?” he murmurs as his other hand grasps my chin, increasing his custody of my attention. My heart is beating so fast I’m sure he can feel it against his chest.

He’s waiting on a response to his snide question. I don’t give him one.

I can feel the sick smile on his lips as it brushes the shell of my ear and I shiver as my eyes shutter closed.

“Maybe I’ll have to take you with us then, keep you by my side so you don’t get into any trouble,” Joel taunts and images of me leaving the QZ, being out in the world with infected and raiders, cross my vision and fear spikes in my bloodstream. My eyes flash open and I struggle out of Joel’s grip, stumbling backwards as heavy breaths escape my mouth.

Joel rubs a hand over his jaw, looking down at me with a satisfied expression. He succeeded in frightening his friend’s daughter, the war has now ended.

“It’s just a weapons deal, anyway,” Joel reveals when his hand leaves his face and drops back to his side. His fingers begin to drum against the dark material of his jeans as his lips turn up and amusement dances in his eyes. “But I appreciate the concern for my ‘habit’, sweetheart,” he drawls.

My hands curl into tight fists as I feel my dad walk up behind me. I force myself to swallow down every bit of anger that Joel unleashed. He isn’t worth my rage, I remind myself.

“Everythin’ okay?” my dad asks cautiously as strides past to the door and begins to fiddle with the locks.

I look up at Joel and want, so desperately, to wipe that smug expression off his face but, instead, I release a slow calming breath and meet his eyes.

“Yeah, dad,” I say cheerfully, not breaking eye contact with Joel, even when his eyebrows furrow and his shoulders tighten. “I was just reminding Joel to be careful out there, neither of you are young men,” I add with a laugh.

My dad chuckles and slaps me on the shoulder. The movement slices through the strange thread holding me in Joel’s gaze, and I turn towards the door with a feeling of disappointment I’m unable to explain. I shake it off as Joel and my dad go through their last few checks, then the apartment door is open and I draw my lip between my teeth, biting down hard.

“See you in a few days, honey,” my dad murmurs against my forehead. I sigh and pull him in for a hug, trying to hold back the urge to beg him to stay.

Joel stands by the door, his hand gripping the edge as he holds it open, impatience dripping from him again and I get some satisfaction from the way his foot taps on the floor.

“Try and fix that bulb while I’m gone, it’s given’ me a headache,” my dad says over his shoulder as he walks through the doorway, wincing when the flickering light casts over his face.

I roll my eyes and look away, then turn to make my way towards that much needed shower I’ve been dreaming about since I got home, pushing down the worries that are still lodged in my throat. But just as I start to walk away, a hand on my arm stops me, gentler this time without the same threat, and I inhale a sharp breath when I look up to find Joel pinning me with that dark stare again.

“Don’t do anythin’ stupid,” he warns, pupils flaring.

Then, before I can process his words and attempt to understand where this sudden concern has come from… he’s gone.

I stumble forward to lock the door and drop my head to rest on the cold wood as I fight to catch my breath.

Eventually, once Joel and my dad’s footsteps disappear down the wall, I finally peel myself from the door and walk to the bathroom to find solace in the shock of the freezing water sputtering from the broken shower head.

But not even the frigid water could erase the heat that lingered on my skin even hours later from the vice-like grip of Joel’s hand.

…………………………………………

The sun streams through the window when I open my eyes, making the room I’m lying in look far more worn and dishevelled than it did when I went to sleep.

I groan and throw a hand over my face, turning away from the reminder that another day has begun in the Boston QZ. In a few minutes, I’ll have to untangle myself from my sheets, drag myself off the mattress and mentally prepare myself for another shift at the markets.

The apartment is quiet without my dad, he’s not standing in the kitchen counting his ration cards and mocking me for wanting another five minutes of sleep.

I lift my hand away from my eyes and push myself up, feeling the weight of those lost hours I spent staring out the window last night. They’re fine, I tell myself. They’re safe.

I walk to the bathroom, rubbing the back of my neck, trying to erase the tension that’s creeping into my spine. The monotonous tasks involved in getting ready help to distract me from thoughts of my dad and whether he got out of the QZ okay. I brush my teeth, throw water over my face and try to control the frizzy mess that my hair transformed into overnight.

Not long after, my boots are on and I’m out the door, splashing through last night’s puddles as I trudge along the pavement, dragging the bag of clothes I’ve been tasked with selling. Joel gets them from his friends Bill and Frank, they live outside the QZ and always seem to have a limitless stock of essential items. At first I rebelled against Joel’s order to sell the old jeans and jackets at the markets, irritated at the implication that I’d be joining this “crime ring” he was creating, but it beat shovelling shit so I agreed.

The markets aren’t far from our apartment so it’s not long before I arrive, slowing my pace as I navigate through the many tables and their workers setting up their goods for the day. My stall is near the end of the row, away from the worst of the crowds but it still gets a good amount of business.

I tap my foot on the ground in a repeated nervous gesture as I wait for customers to find their way to my stall. The majority of clothes stay under the table, in black bags, hidden from any enforcers who might look my way. The stock on the table has to look like I just happened upon these clothes, maybe I decided I didn’t want them anymore, maybe a neighbour threw them out…

It didn’t matter much anyways, even if an enforcer noticed it was unlikely they’d say something. This city ran on the black market, those dressed in black with shotguns under their arms were just as complicit as anyone else, but appearances still mattered.

“How much for the jacket?” an older man grunts out in an almost illegible mutter, appearing before me as his hand runs over the plaid material.

I blink up at him, suddenly noticing how busy the markets have gotten. I can hear a screaming child a few stalls along from me and I feel that headache forming again.

“Five,” I say, rubbing my eyes.

I hear the man make a dismissive noise with his tongue and I internally groan. I didn’t have the energy to barter this morning.

I sigh as I drop my hands back to the table. “Four, then.”

That gets a smile growing on his face, revealing a wide toothless grin. The man nods and hands over the ration cards before he gathers up the jacket and tucks it under his arm.

“Nice doin’ business with you,” I mutter as I count the four cards and watch as the old man stumbles along to the next stall.

With the ration cards tucked safely in my pocket, I roll up my sleeves and cross my arms, leaning back in my chair as I settle in for a long day.

The screaming starts up again and I flinch, somehow it seems louder this time and I wonder what terrible injustice has befallen this child. Reluctantly, I lean forward and turn my head in its direction just as another, deeper, scream joins in. Fear slams into me and I stand quickly, pushing my chair back as I round the edge of my stall.

The slow moving crowd picks up speed and the flow of people start to head towards the square opposite the markets. I stand on my toes to get a better look just as a man staggers into me from behind and I lose my balance, tipping to the side. I catch myself on the edge of the next stall and my head whips in the man’s direction.

“Hey! Watch it!” I shout at his back as he races through the crowd, disappearing as people start to push and shove their way to the end of the markets.

What?

My ears are buzzing from the chatter that surrounds me and I begin to turn in circles, trying to catch hold of peoples’ conversations in an attempt to understand what was going on here and calm my racing heartbeat, but every word just fallsl through my fingers.

I look back at my stall, now abandoned at the edge of a crowd that was heading in the opposite direction. I grit my teeth and allow myself to get swept up in the rush. I don't know what’s going on.

As I reach the edge of the markets, I see the old man I sold the jacket to staggering to keep up with the speed of the mob, clutching his new purchase to his chest.

I elbow my way through until I reach out and grip his arm, holding him up. “Hey, you alright?” I shout over the noise. “Do you know what’s happening?”

The man looks up at me, eyes wide and unfocused. My breaths rush out in quick gasps as I struggle to keep a hold of him as the crowd drags us further down the street.

From the corner of my eye, I see him lift his trembling hand to his neck and I frown, flashing my focus between him and the mob around us. He’s staring at me as his hand makes a wrapping motion around his neck then pulls an invisible rope.

My feet stop so abruptly that I’m knocked forward by the person behind me and I stumble, letting go of the man’s arm as I fall into the woman in front of me.

“I’m sorry,” I gasp out as she shakes me off and I stagger to gain proper footing. I can barely hear my own voice, everything is muffled, I just keep moving, allowing myself to get dragged along like a boat about to drop off the edge of a cliff.

It can’t be, I think. They haven’t done public executions in a while, things have been calm.

My breaths are rapid and uncontrolled as I round the corner and…

I see my dad’s boots, the ones I fixed for him a couple months ago. They’re on the feet of one of the men who hang from the gallows and, at first, I can’t figure out why that is. My dad was just wearing them last night when he -

My hands slam over my mouth as I stagger to a complete stop. I can feel several elbows dig into my sides and I’m pushed in several directions but I don’t dare move. I can’t move at all because my heart stops beating, every muscle in my body locks in place and I feel my ribs begin to shrink, pressuring my lungs to stop their inhale.

I force my bleary eyes to climb up his body, past the bloodstains that dampen his clothes, all the way up until they land on his face.

When I was younger I found a bird who’d broken its neck. It was lying on the ground, twitching and trying to flutter its wings. I remember thinking how strange it was that his head was bent at such an angle, like someone had ripped it off and tried to stick it back on but couldn’t remember how it was supposed to look.

That’s how I knew my dad’s neck was broken, only, unlike the bird, he wasn’t moving, he was entirely still.

I drop my hands as I feel a scream begin to claw its way up my throat and I open my mouth to let it out.

But not a single sound is unleashed. A hand covers my mouth, blocking the exhibition of my horror from exiting my body.

Fear plunges through me, displacing the shock momentarily as I feel another hand land on my shoulder and the firm grip over my mouth pulls me into a hard body.

My eyes are wide, screaming for me when my mouth can’t and I begin to thrash against the person that holds me.

“Alex, stop, listen to me,” the man grunts out when my elbow meets his chest.

I freeze. I know that voice.

“Don’t scream,” he orders and lets go of my mouth before he whirls my body until i’m face to face with him.

“Joel?” I croak, surprised that the scream doesn’t find its way out of my throat despite his heavy warning.

I’ve never seen Joel so unkempt. His hair is plastered to his head, coated in sweat or water, I couldn’t tell. His eyes, always so cold and inscrutable, were wide and stricken.

“My dad,” I choked out, feeling bile rise in my throat.

Joel’s hands leave my shoulders to cup my face, forcing me to look up at him.

“You gotta listen to me,” he demands in a low voice that I struggle to hear over the screaming around me. I want to join these people in their grief but Joel increases the pressure on my face and I nod, using him as the anchor to stop myself from drowning.

“There’s a sniper on top of the building to your left, and one in the building behind you,” Joel reveals, his voice sharp and steady. I feel my legs begin to give out and Joel shakes me a little to keep my focus directed at him. “Only reason we’re not dead right now is cause we’re in this crowd. But the second you start rushin’ forward and makin’ a scene, they’re gonna find you and shoot us down.”

My hands reach up to cup the backs of his hands, my fingers are trembling when they meet his skin. “What do we do?” I ask. My brain has started to disassociate, as long as my back is turned to the horror behind me I can start to pretend that it's not real.

A muscle in Joel’s jaw jumps as his eyes lift up to the left, before darting back to me. “I’m gonna get us out of this, but you gotta trust me” he says slowly, his lips barely moving. “Can you do that?”

I hear the uncertainty in his voice. Trust is a foreign concept when I think of Joel, and he feels the exact same way.

Fear has taken over my body, every inch of me is trembling. Joel’s thumb begins to rub against my jaw and my eyes shutter closed at the feeling of his calloused skin.

“Alex,” he prompts, “can you do that?”

I open my eyes into the deep brown staring down at me.

“Yes.”

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Hey! Hope you enjoyed chapter one! I'm off to France for a week so chapter two won't be up for a little while, sorry 🤍