#but one of the first ideas I had for this series was reader running into jason's hunting dog so I wasn't about to just leave abby out

[cherry-hulu]

— Diamond Life : The Series

Summary: 13 in 1. Literally.

Warnings: OT13 x Fem!Reader, Free Use concept, pwp, ++ more. Basically just a lame excuse for me to write free use reader x svt 😥

Note: open for requests 🫣 this post will basically be the m. list for the series:)

Unfortunately, no matter what, men will be men. It's no surprise that sex talks was a norm within a group of 13 men. From watching porn, to talking about their experience with sex and kinks, there truly was nothing to hide between them.

They've seen each other's all. The good and bad. The soft and hard. Have even indulged in a few cuckold moments with one or two.

The idea of free use was first introduced over a monthly meeting hosted by Dokyeom. The boys were drunk out of their minds, none of them was sober and was clearly not in the right way of thinking resorting them to using their dicks instead of their brain.

Soonyoung planted the seed, mentioning it when the topic of fantasies and weird kinks was brought up. Apparently Vernon had a spit kink, Wonwoo had a thing for asphyxiation, Jun was into food play, and Soonyoung was into free use— what the fuck was free use?

According to Soonyoung's very slobbered and barely coherent words, it was when someone was 24/7 available for sex. Almost as if it was reduced to a hole, ready for fucking any time at any moment.

It was a too good to be true fantasy. The boys knew it would be nearly impossible to happen, to find someone so willing for sex and to have it at any moment. But it didn't stopped the scenarios from pouring into their head, blood rushing to their cocks.

The thought of just being able to come up to someone and just be able to slide their dick in without any ministry and no mind to their situation was hot as fuck.

Mingyu then watered it, saying "What if we all had someone we can pass around, one against thirteen, imagine how full she can get." And boy did that made their imagination run wild.

Seungcheol fertilized it saying "I mean, our 10th year anniversary is coming around. Doyun hyung did say that he'd give us anything we ask as long as there's an agreement.."

And Doyun — made it bloom.

[ 01 | After Hours ] . . . Scoups x Reader x Wonwoo — Sex, overstimulation, and aftercare. What a way to come home fron work.

[startaegi]

ON THE RUN, cho hyunju. 【 CHAPTER 01 】

⤑ pairing, cho hyunju x fem!reader

⤑ synopsis, where secret-not so secret lovers, hyunju and yn find each other in the unlikely of places.

⤑ series masterlist, on the run.

⤑ chapter two, coming soon!

⤑ notes, hi welcome to my first fic on here! i haven’t written anything in years but i couldn’t not write something for my girl bcos she deserves all the love. anyways enjoy, i hope it isn’t too bad!! 🫶🏻

⤑ taglist, @etta-huracan (if you would like to be added let me know)

The day seemed to pass slowly. You spent most of it watching the hours tick by. Midnight at Hangang Bridge the robotic voice had said when calling the unknown number two days ago, a number from a card you'd received from a well dressed man in Sinchon station. Your face was still slightly bruised from that interaction, you had never been the best at playing ddakji. It was 30 minutes until 12 and you knew if you didn't leave now, you wouldn't make it on time. As risky as it was you weren't missing out on the opportunity to potentially win life changing money.

You unplugged your phone from the charger and switched off the broken lamp that did nothing to light your room. The apartment was small, all contained in one room minus the bathroom but it was the best you could get with what you have. You slipped on your shoes, eyes scanning the place one last time and eventually landing on the fridge. The note she had left was still there, her messy handwriting followed by little hearts in the corner, you could picture her folded over the kitchen island, a little smile on her face as she doodled her love onto the page. You missed her more than anything.

You quickly pulled yourself together closing the door behind you. A noise to the left startled you, keys almost falling from your hands. The sweet lady who owned the building with her son was hiding herself from view of the streets, the curtains slightly moving from the wind. "Hi, Ajumma" You called.

She turned with a smile on her face, backing away from the window. "Oh hello Y/N love" She replied. 

"Are you okay?" You questioned. It wasn't like her to be roaming around the halls so late in the night especially at her age.

"I don't want to worry you" She said hesitantly. You froze, mind instantly going to Hyunju. Did she finally come by? "Those same men where outside again, no good for nothing they are" She seethed.

Your heart sank. "Oh"

"I've been keeping an eye on them just in case but looks like they're gone now" She said, walking alongside you towards the exit. "You're leaving late? Everything okay?" She asked.

You nodded. "Going to visit a friend for a while, i'll be back in time for rent payments" You assured her, the last thing you needed was to be evicted.

She patted your shoulder affectionately. "Don't worry about that, you go have a nice time" She smiled. "You deserve it"

You paused for a second, words caught in your throat. "If-" You started. "If you see Hyunju can you tell her i'll be back soon? Tell her not to go anywhere, please" You practically begged. It would be just your luck, the moment you leave she would appear again.

Her eyes softened, a look of sympathy flashed across her face. She nodded, caressing your shoulder again. "Of course I will sweetheart. You still haven't heard from her?" She questioned.

You shook your head. It had been 30 days, an entire month since you last seen the one good thing in your life. You were left with a text message, one you'd read more times than you could count, one you could recite by heart if asked. She was leaving but she'd be back soon. At first you were angry, how dare she leave you after everything you'd been through together, with just a message through a screen. Then the days turned to weeks and your anger became worry. Where was she? Why wasn't she returning your calls or texts? You didn't want to expect the worst but in the country you lived as the people you both are, being alone wasn't a good idea. You lost sleep, your headaches not that you thought they could, somehow became worse. Your medication bottles became empty and your pockets just the same. You only hope she'll be back by the time you return and this time you'll have a bank balance enough to get you out of this place.

You finally left the building when another resident entered, distracting the older woman and making your exit, but of course not forgetting to say goodbye. The rain was heavy, bouncing against the cracked pavements. The silence is eerie. The broken street lamps flicker casting shadows on the wet pavements, your jacket doesn't have a hood leaving your hair to get drenched by the midnight drizzle. You scan the roads, no cars or people in sight. An overwhelming feeling of anxiety washes over you, a familiar sensation that mostly greets you in the night.

You don't have time to dwell on it as a beam of headlights approach you. A silver car pulls up beside you, the passenger side window rolls down. You're taken back at the person sat in the driver seat, face concealed by a black mask. They're also wearing a pink suit, their entire body hidden.

"Name?" The masked person questions.

"Y/N L/N" You reply, droplets of rain falling against your open lips.

They don't reply instead the back door clicks open. You quickly slide into the empty seat shielding yourself from the rain. You push the wet hair from your eyes only then noticing other people sat in the seats around you, seemingly asleep.

"Uh, excuse me?" You ask the masked driver. "What's-" You stop mid sentence, suddenly it becomes harder to breathe and a mysterious mist fogs your eyesight. You struggle to move your mouth, your entire body feels heavy. You feel the jolt of the car starting again and before you know it you're being sent into a slumber completely unaware of the hell that awaits you.

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (final)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 13.4k+

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: protected sex, oral (f. receiving), mentions of hospital, stitches, wounds, injuries, scars, angst (lmk if i missed anything)

A/N: wow, i can’t believe my first-ever series is finally over. it’s been almost two months since i started this, and you guys have shown me immense love and support for this story—something i’ll forever be grateful for. a part of me feels sad to let go of these characters, but i think i’ll be coming back with a few drabbles every now and then.

i truly hope you’re satisfied with the ending, and i hope reading this series brought you comfort the same way writing it brought comfort to me. thank you so much to everyone who stuck around until the very end. stay tuned for more of my work. also HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYSSSS i hope all of you have the best year ahead. love you guys <3

final: garden of the open road

"Or maybe you should get her flowers!!" Hoseok chimes, his tone bright and optimistic as he leans over the workbench, twirling a wrench in his hand like he’s just unlocked the secret to the universe. "I mean, flowers solve everything, right?" His grin is infectious, lighting up his entire face as he glances between Jungkook and Jimin for validation.

Jimin, lounging across from him with a barely concealed look of skepticism, raises an eyebrow. "Come on, Hyung. Y/n owns a flower shop. Do you really think giving her flowers would be anything other than redundant? That’s like giving a baker bread... or... or a mechanic spare tires. Think it through." He crosses his arms, leaning back smugly as if he’s already won the debate.

Jungkook remains silent, his attention absorbed by the bike in front of him, polishing it. The rhythmic motion of his cloth on the metal feels almost meditative, but inside, a storm brews.

It's been a week since you stormed out of his shop, and the silence between the two of you has only amplified the weight of his regret. Every word that Yoongi had said to him echoes in his mind... Yoongi's disappointment, his advice, and his harsh yet caring words.

He knows now, with absolute clarity, that he can’t keep doing what he’s been doing. Avoiding, running, pushing you away... it was never just about protecting you, it was also about his own fears. And Yoongi was right... he needs to stay. To show you, not just with words but with actions, that he’s in this. Fully. Wholeheartedly.

Meanwhile, Hoseok and Jimin continue their back-and-forth, brainstorming creative suggestions for Jungkook to make it up to you.

Jungkook doesn’t respond, his thoughts spiraling as he grapples with how to make things right and undo the damage he’s caused. He’s been giving you space, knowing you probably need time to cool off.

But he can’t stop himself from wondering. How are you holding up? Are your wounds healing? Are you still angry with him? Do you still hate him? The questions gnaw at him relentlessly, each one heavier than the last.

Every moment without you feels like a thousand lifetimes, and the weight of his inaction is suffocating. His silence, his avoidance… it’s all been one colossal mistake. He loves you too much to keep fumbling this, and after you poured your heart out to him like that, doing nothing would only cement the fact that he’s the biggest idiot on the planet.

Yoongi was right. Jungkook needs to be with you, not just in the easy moments but in the tough ones, too. He needs to be the person who gives you peace, not the one who makes you question everything.

As Jungkook continues his silent contemplation, Hoseok and Jimin’s bickering grows louder, their voices rising as they try to outdo each other in the "perfect apology to Y/n" department.

The two suddenly pause when the sound of the shop door opening cuts through their debate. All three heads snap towards the entrance, and they see Yoongi walking in, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever.

He cracks his neck, adjusts his shoulders, and strides towards Jungkook. Without a word, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a pair of keys, and tosses them at Jungkook.

Still seated by the bike, Jungkook barely manages to catch them with his greasy hands. He looks down at the keys, confusion flickering across his face. “You… you got my bike back?” he asks, his voice laced with disbelief, his brows furrowing as he lifts his gaze to Yoongi. “Hyung… how did you—?”

Before he can finish, Yoongi shakes his head, cutting him off with a raised hand. “You don’t have to worry about it.” he says, his tone firm. “Just focus on making things right with Y/n. And listen to me carefully... don’t even think about getting involved with Mingyu again. I’m serious, Jungkook. No second chances there.”

The warning in Yoongi’s voice is enough to make Jungkook nod, a mix of gratitude and guilt bubbling in his chest. Yoongi’s sharp gaze briefly sweeps over Hoseok and Jimin, and with a subtle nod in their direction, he turns and heads towards the storeroom.

“Damn, Yoongi-hyung is so cool.” Jimin mutters under his breath, sounding almost awestruck.

“Anyways, like I was saying…” Hoseok begins again, picking up right where they left off, as though the brief interruption never happened. In no time, the two are back at it, listing an increasingly sappy and downright cringey array of suggestions for how Jungkook could apologize to you, the ideas growing more and more outrageous by the second.

Jungkook shakes his head, tuning them out as he looks down at the keys in his hand. He knows that none of their over-the-top plans will work. If he wants to make things right with you, he has to do it his own way... authentic, heartfelt, and real.

He needs to let you know how much he cares, how much he wants you in his life, and how deeply he loves you. No grand gestures or flashy displays. Just him, making it right.

As the minutes tick by, Jungkook finishes working on the bike in front of him. He wipes his hands clean, his mind already racing with thoughts of how to approach you. Just as he’s about to step away from the bike, the shop door creaks open again, drawing everyone’s attention.

This time, it’s Mr. Kwon, the town head, stepping inside. “Hey, boys.” he greets warmly, his gaze sweeping across Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook. Yoongi steps out, emerging from the storeroom and raises an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Oh, Mr. Kwon…” Yoongi says, folding his arms as he leans casually against the wall. “What brings you here today?”

“Ah, nothing too pressing.” Mr. Kwon replies calmly as he fixes his suit. “I just wanted to inform you boys about the meeting at the townhall this Friday. The agenda is to discuss the upcoming community drive-in movie night that will be happening on Sunday. It’s an annual event we do for fun and fundraising.”

“A drive-in movie night?” Hoseok’s eyes light up, leaning forward with genuine excitement. “I didn’t even know we did things like that around here! That sounds amazing.”

“It’s one of our most cherished traditions.” Mr. Kwon explains with a nod. “We set up a big screen on the old field just past Main Street. Everyone gathers in their cars, bring snacks, and enjoy the movie under the stars. It’s also a way to raise money for community projects. Last year, the proceeds went towards renovating the public library.”

“Oh wow, that sounds amazing!” Jimin chimes in, his tone enthusiastic. “Do people suggest the movie beforehand, or do you just pick something classic?”

“We like to keep it democratic.” Mr. Kwon replies with a chuckle. “That's why there's a meeting. People pitch ideas, and then we take a vote. It keeps everyone involved and ensures we pick something most people will enjoy. Last year, it was Back to the Future. Quite a hit.” he explains and the boys nod, giving him approved hums.

“So it would be great if you boys showed up on Friday.” he adds, glancing around at the group. “We could all sit down and decide what to watch together.”

“Of course, Mr. Kwon. We’ll be there.” Yoongi says with a small smile, straightening up from his casual stance. Hoseok and Jimin eagerly nod in agreement, their excitement evident. “Well then, I’ll see you all on Friday.” Mr. Kwon says warmly, before stepping out of the shop.

As the door shuts close, the shop falls into a brief silence. Jungkook, who has been standing still the whole time, listening to the exchange without a word, finally moves. He steps away from the bike and towards the counter, his expression thoughtful.

The town meeting. He wonders if you’ve heard about it too and the idea of you being there stirs a mix of anticipation and unease in him. Just the thought of seeing you, after everything, makes his chest tighten and his head spin.

//

"So, you're gonna go back to the shop from next week?" Seokjin asks, gently placing the dinner he just prepared onto your small dining table. His voice is calm, but the concern in his eyes flickers as they briefly land on your bandaged hand.

You nod, offering a faint smile. “Yeah. I can’t just sit at home any longer.” you reply.

You’ve just returned from the hospital with your friends after getting the stitches removed from your head. You glance down at your hand, where the injury is slowly starting to heal.

Thanks to Taehyung and Namjoon, the repairs of your shop have been completed... each detail meticulously taken care of, with them keeping you informed every step of the way.

Over the past week, your friends have been your unwavering support. They’ve cooked for you, comforted you, and stayed by your side, especially after you opened up about everything that happened with Jungkook. They didn’t have all the right words, truth be told, there weren’t any, but their presence alone was enough to carry you through.

You’re not okay, not completely. But you’ve begun to accept the harsh reality that maybe… just maybe… things with Jungkook aren’t meant to be.

That thought cuts deep, especially considering how he hasn’t reached out since that moment. Perhaps you were too harsh, too out of line when you called him a coward, even though all he wanted to do was protect you.

Yet, a part of you still feels a seething anger. You miss him, more than you care to admit and the emotional storm inside you leaves you confused, raw, and aching.

"Also..." Taehyung starts, catching your attention as you glance at him from across the table. "Mr. Kwon called all of us for a meeting at the townhall this Friday." he says, his voice steady but with a hint of excitement. Juwon nods in agreement. "Yeah. It's about the drive-in movie night." she adds.

You’ve known about the drive-in movie night for a while, and you expected it to happen soon, just like it always did every year. When things became official between you and Jungkook, you’d often daydreamed about the two of you sitting together in a car, hands intertwined, sharing pretzels and popcorn while watching a movie.

You never mentioned it to him. It was just one of those scenarios you let your mind wander to. But now, that dream feels like a bitter memory, especially with how things ended between you and him.

Still, despite everything, you know you want to attend. You’ve always enjoyed participating in these fundraising events with the people of your town, and the thought of missing out doesn’t sit well with you. "Will you be coming?" Namjoon asks carefully, his gaze soft and understanding.

You smile at him, your heart a little lighter, and nod. "Of course. Let’s all go to the meeting together." you say, glancing around at your friends.

//

Friday sneaks up on you, and before you know it, you, Juwon, and Taehyung are strutting down the pavement towards the townhall. Juwon has her arm looped through yours, clinging tightly to you like a koala. “It’s freezing!” she whines, shivering dramatically.

“It’s not that bad.” Taehyung says, hands in his pockets. “You’re just overly dramatic.” he shrugs. “Says the guy who wears four layers when it’s below 20 degrees.” Juwon fires back.

Taehyung gasps in mock offense. “Excuse you, I’m fashionably layered, thank you. There’s a difference.”

The chilly banter keeps you distracted until you step inside the townhall. Almost immediately, Mrs. Han spots you. “Y/n!” she exclaims, rushing over. Before you can blink, she’s holding your arms and scrutinizing your face like a worried mom.

“How are you, dear? My goodness, look at this scar. Oh, those boys! Nasty, nasty boys!!” she huffs, her face scrunching in outrage. You smile weakly, trying to reassure her. “I’m doing better now, Mrs. Han. Really.”

She shakes her head, unconvinced. “Better? Better?! I heard they just had to pay a fine. A fine! That’s like paying for parking after committing a hit-and-run. Absolutely ridiculous! I hope karma runs over them with a dump truck.”

Juwon chimes in, nodding furiously. “Preferably a truck full of cow poop.” she says and Mrs. Han agrees with her, her expression serious. You bite back a laugh, trying to keep it together. “Thank you, Mrs. Han. I appreciate your concern.”

As you inch away, you pass more familiar faces, each one stopping to check on you. The flood of questions and well-meaning outrage is almost too much, but you manage to navigate through the crowd and find Namjoon and Seokjin, who’ve saved seats for all of you.

You plop down in the chair, letting out a dramatic sigh. “I��ve survived the auntie inquisition.” you say. Namjoon chuckles. “You’re braver than I am. Mrs. Han once interrogated me for twenty minutes about why I don’t eat enough spinach.”

Seokjin smirks. “Spinach is important. Haven’t you seen Popeye?” Before you can retort, Taehyung slides into his seat. “So, what movie are we voting for? I say Shrek. It’s a masterpiece.” he says. Juwon groans. “Taehyung, not everything can be solved with ogres.”

“First of all....” he replies, raising a finger. “Shrek is a cinematic masterpiece. Second of all, it’s funny, heartwarming, and has layers. It’s perfect.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I’m betting on something classic, like Forrest Gump. You know, a movie that makes you think about life.”

Seokjin snorts. “More like a movie that makes you think about shrimp. Shrimp gumbo, shrimp soup, shrimp salad…” he says as Taehyung giggles. “Okay, but what about Mean Girls?” Juwon suggests. “Everyone needs a little high school drama now and then.”

“Oh my god... I can quote that entire movie.” you add with a grin. “So fetch.” you say, winking at your friends. Taehyung dramatically raises an eyebrow. “Stop trying to make fetch happen. It’s not going to happen.” he beams and the group bursts out laughing, and for the first time in a while, you feel a little lighter.

While you and your friends continue to laugh, Jungkook lingers by the entrance of the townhall, his gaze fixed on you. He notices the absence of the bandage around your head, the way your laughter fills the room, and the brightness in your smile that feels almost contagious.

It’s such a stark contrast to the image burned into his mind from a week ago... your pain, your tears and though he knows he isn’t the reason for that smile or your happiness, he feels a quiet relief seeing you like this.

“Stop staring.” Jimin’s voice cuts through his thoughts, low and teasing. He nudges Jungkook with his shoulder, breaking his trance. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“I wasn’t staring.” Jungkook mutters, his jaw tightening slightly. “Sure, sure.” Jimin retorts with a smirk, gesturing towards the hall. “Now move, loverboy. People are trying to get in.”

Reluctantly, Jungkook steps further inside. As he walks past your group, your laughter rings out again, soft and warm. It tugs at something deep inside him, bittersweet and impossible to ignore. He glances at you briefly, the temptation to linger overwhelming, but you or none of your friends notice him. Maybe that’s for the best.

He follows Jimin, Hoseok and Yoongi to the back, where they quietly settle into one of the last rows. Slumping into his seat, Jungkook sneaks another glance your way.

You’re surrounded by your friends, immersed in their lively chatter, and for a fleeting moment, he lets himself just observe. Seeing you like this... laughing, smiling... is somehow enough to ease the ache in his chest, even if he’s not the reason behind your happiness.

For now, that will have to be enough, at least until he musters up the courage to finally talk to you.

Eventually, Mr. Kwon steps onto the dais, commanding the room's attention with his usual calm authority. He begins the meeting, and as expected, what follows is a spirited and seemingly endless debate about which movie to screen for the drive-in event this Sunday.

Suggestions fly across the room, each met with enthusiastic agreements or vehement objections. Some champion a nostalgic classic, while others argue for something modern and thrilling.

The discussion grows lively, with raised hands, animated gestures, and occasional laughter rippling through the crowd. Mr. Kwon, ever the patient mediator, lets the town hash it out, his steady gaze sweeping over the sea of opinions.

Eventually, a consensus is reached... a fun, family friendly timeless classic that everyone agrees will be perfect: The Parent Trap. Satisfied murmurs fill the air as Mr. Kwon finalizes the details, his booming voice carrying over the low hum of excitement.

As the meeting concludes, the energy in the room begins to shift. People gradually drift towards the exits, chatting in clusters as they wrap up their conversations.

Your friends are caught up in their own moments. Namjoon stands by the side, deep in conversation with the grandpa from the bookstore, their voices low and amiable. Taehyung and Juwon hover near Mrs. Han, listening intently as she animatedly recounts some anecdote. Seokjin, ever the comedian, laughs with one of the local kids at the back.

You find yourself standing quietly amid the bustle, a small pocket of stillness in the lively atmosphere. You have the sudden urge to take a moment for yourself, just to step out and catch a breather.

The noise and movement of the hall fade into the background as you quietly slip towards the door, seeking the cool embrace of the evening air.

You walk carefully away from the town hall, the faint hum of voices and laughter fading behind you. The soft glow of the streetlights reflects off the pavement, casting long, quiet shadows that stretch into the night.

Eventually, you spot a bench nestled under a tree, just far enough from the hall to feel secluded but close enough to hear the occasional burst of laughter from the remaining crowd.

Without hesitation, you make your way towards it, the crisp evening air brushing against your skin. Taking a seat, you lean back, exhaling slowly as you let the weight of the day settle over you.

Despite the lively meeting and the buzz of energy around you earlier, your mind has been elsewhere, caught in an endless loop of memories and emotions. Back at the meeting, while the townsfolk were fervently debating over the movie choices, your gaze had wandered... and landed on him.

Jungkook was sitting at the back, his figure partially hidden behind the other people. At first, you weren’t even sure it was him, but when you caught sight of his side profile, the way his hair framed his face, you knew. For a fleeting moment, your eyes lingered on him, drawn like a magnet.

You don’t know if he noticed you, he gave no sign that he did. But just seeing him was enough to stir something deep within you... a longing you’ve tried so hard to bury.

The memories, the outburst, the ache of everything, all of it came rushing back with a vengeance. You miss him. Not just in the quiet moments when you’re alone but even in a room full of people, with laughter and chatter all around, you still miss him. So much.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you close your eyes, surrendering to the quiet embrace of the evening. The breeze whispers across your skin, cool and gentle, carrying with it the faint scent of the earth after dusk.

Above you, the leaves sway softly, their rustling a rhythmic lullaby that contrasts with the chaos unraveling in your mind. Thoughts you’ve tried to bury rise to the surface, each one heavier than the last. You let them swirl and settle, the weight of them pressing against your chest.

For a brief moment, you allow yourself to simply feel, untangling the knots of emotions that have been wound too tightly for too long. Then, the faintest shift in the air pulls you back. It’s subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but it grows... the unmistakable presence of someone nearby.

Your eyelids flutter open, hesitant, as if you’re afraid of shattering the fragile stillness around you. When your gaze shifts to the side, your breath catches.

Jungkook stands a few feet away, the soft street light casting delicate shadows across his face. His expression is unreadable at first, but his eyes… they speak volumes. They hold a hesitance, a yearning, and something deeper... something that pulls at the threads of your heart.

You blink slowly, your pulse quickening. “Y/n…” he murmurs, your name falling from his lips as though it’s a prayer, fragile and reverent, laden with everything he can’t say.

The sound of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and instinctively, you look away, unable to meet his gaze. The emotions surging within you feel like too much... sharp, raw, overwhelming.

Without a second thought, you rise from the bench, the sudden need to put distance between you and him overtaking all reason.

You move quickly, your feet carrying you past him. The weight of his presence feels unbearable... the memories, the words exchanged, the vulnerability you showed him, all crashing over you like waves. Each step you take feels like an attempt to outrun the past, to escape the heaviness that standing before him seems to evoke.

But Jungkook doesn’t let you go.

Before you can get far, his hand reaches out, firm yet gentle, catching your wrist. His fingers curl around it, his touch warm and grounding. “Wait…” he says, his voice louder now, tinged with desperation. You freeze, your heart pounding against your ribs.

Jungkook stares at the back of your head, his breath shallow, his heart drumming in his ears. The warmth of your skin beneath his fingers feels like a tether, keeping him steady even as his emotions threaten to overwhelm him.

“Please…” he repeats, softer this time, his voice cracking as though each word costs him something. There’s a vulnerability in his tone, a rawness that slices through the storm in your mind and roots you in place.

You don’t turn around. The silence stretches, settling heavily between you. You feel his hand slip from your wrist, the absence of his touch as startling as its presence.

For a moment, you hear nothing but the faint rustling of leaves and the distant hum of life in the town. Then, his footsteps draw closer. “Y/n…” he says again, his voice steady but achingly tender. “Would you please look at me?”

You take a deep breath, your chest tightening as you will yourself to move, to do something but your body refuses to obey. You remain still, a statue carved from conflicting emotions, unable to summon the strength to face him.

Feelings of embarrassment and awkwardness surge through your veins because, frankly, you don’t know how to look him in the eye after the way you unraveled last week.

But beneath the vulnerability lies another emotion... a flicker of anger. A part of you is still just a tiny bit mad at him, for how he handled everything. For the way he didn’t show up when you needed him most, for the way he shut you out when all you wanted was to be let in.

And now, standing here, completely unprepared and caught in the unrelenting pull of his gaze, you feel trapped. The hurt, the resentment, the yearning... they all collide within you, creating a maelstrom of emotions that leaves you frozen.

So, you do nothing. You let the silence hang, your feet rooted to the ground as you wrestle with the chaos inside.

Minutes pass, or perhaps it’s only seconds... time feels warped, stretched thin under the weight of the silence. And then, suddenly, you feel his arms carefully snake around your waist, the movement almost hesitant, as though he’s unsure of his place.

Your breath hitches as he gently pulls you back, his chest pressing firmly against your back. His warmth envelops you, seeping into your skin, and his breath grazes the curve of your neck, soft and uneven, carrying with it the weight of emotions he can’t put into words. There’s a fragility in his touch, a silent plea, as if he fears that holding on too tightly might cross a line.

Your body stiffens at the contact, every nerve igniting under the intensity of his presence. His touch burns through you like a fire, its heat both searing and soothing, a contradiction that leaves you reeling. For a second, you sway on the edge of surrender, the thought of leaning into him tugging at the corners of your mind.

“Y/n…” he whispers, your name tumbling from his lips, heavy with sorrow and regret. His voice quivers, faltering as the words fight their way out. “Please, just… just give me a chance to explain myself. I’m… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry... sorry for everything.” he says, his tone raw and husky, cracking under the weight of his emotions.

You feel his arms tighten around you, as if afraid you might slip away. The grip is firm yet tender, grounding yet fragile, and you close your eyes, surrendering—if only for a moment—to the storm of emotions stirring within you. Almost involuntarily, you lean into him, your body finding solace in the warmth of his embrace.

Time seems to still as you stay there, the world outside fading into an indistinct hum. Slowly, your hand rises, hesitating before it rests gently on top of his where it rests on your stomach.

You inhale deeply, the steady rhythm of his breath against your shoulder grounding you, even as your heart pounds furiously against your ribcage.

For now, you allow yourself this momentary indulgence... to bask in the bittersweet safety of his hold, the unspoken solace of his touch, and the ache of longing that lingers between you.

“You could’ve reached out…” you whisper, but it cuts through the stillness. Jungkook stiffens behind you, his grip faltering ever so slightly at the sound of your voice. “You could’ve called, you could’ve texted…” you continue, your words trembling under the weight of everything.

Slowly, you flutter your eyes open, the reality of the moment settling in like a quiet storm. “But you didn’t, Jungkook.”

He says nothing, his silence deafening, and for a second, the unspoken emotions between you feel suffocating.

Then, as if the universe conspires to tear you apart, your phone buzzes in your pocket. The sharp vibration feels like a cruel reminder of the world waiting outside this fragile moment. You don’t even check the screen... you know it’s probably one of your friends, calling to ask where you disappeared to.

You seize the interruption as an excuse. Gently, with the hand that rests on his, you grasp his wrist and peel his arms away, stepping out of his hold. “I… I have to go.” you say, your voice barely holding steady as you take a step forward.

You don’t turn to face him... you can’t. If you do, you know you’ll crumble under the weight of his gaze, those deep, expressive eyes.

You pause for a moment, teetering on the edge of staying, of turning back. The urge to look at him, to search his face for answers, nearly consumes you. But you don’t. You inhale sharply, steeling yourself, and before he can say or do anything to stop you, you’re gone.

As Jungkook watches you walk towards the town hall again, he stands frozen, realizing just how crucial timing truly is. How he should have seized the opportunity to make things right, especially when you came running to his shop, pouring out everything that had been frustrating you.

How, instead of fighting Mingyu, he should have been by your side at the hospital.

How, from the very beginning, he should have set aside his pride and admitted to himself that he liked you all along instead of being mean and hurting you with his words.

Timing. It’s always about the damn timing.

But somehow, even now, as the chance to run after you and stop you slips through his fingers, he remains rooted to the spot like a statue, trapped by his own hesitation.

//

You sit in your apartment, tapping your foot against the floor, the faint rhythm filling the otherwise quiet room. You glance at your phone to check the time— 7:14 PM.

It’s Sunday evening and tonight is the night of the drive-in movie and Namjoon had promised to pick you up, along with your other friends. With the movie scheduled to start at 7:30 PM, worry begins to creep in as the minutes tick by with no sign of your friends.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you get up from the couch. Deciding to head downstairs, you grab your shoes, figuring it’s better to wait outside rather than pacing your apartment like a caged animal.

Just as you slip them on, your phone buzzes with a message from Namjoon. “Here.” it reads. A small smile tugs at your lips as you grab your keys and step out, locking the door behind you.

As you step outside your building and onto the pavement, you immediately spot Namjoon’s car parked across the street, its tinted windows glinting under the lights. You allow yourself another smile, shaking your head lightly at his lateness, and make your way towards the car.

“Hey, what took you so lo—” The words catch in your throat, fading into silence as you open the car door and slip halfway inside. The face behind the wheel isn’t Namjoon’s.

You freeze, your hand gripping the edge of the doorframe, one foot still planted on the pavement outside. The air seems to thicken, time itself grinding to a halt as you stare at him.

Jungkook sits there, hands gripping the steering wheel, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “Hey.” he says, his voice low and cautious. He offers a tight-lipped smile, but it falters, and you can see the tension in his jaw.

You blink, the shock rendering you immobile for a moment too long. Finally, your instincts kick in, and your body shifts as if to retreat. But Jungkook moves faster.

His hand reaches out, gently but firmly catching your wrist. “Wait.” he pleads, his voice suddenly louder, tinged with desperation. “I know… I know I’m the last person you expected to see.”

Your chest tightens, a flood of emotions crashing over you all at once. But his words stop you. “I know I screwed up...” he continues, his voice softer now, almost trembling.

“But… can you just... please... stay? Just watch the movie with me tonight. I… I begged your friend to let me borrow his car because I knew you’d get in if you thought it was him. I know that was weird and probably selfish, but I didn’t know how else to approach you.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. His hand, still holding your wrist, is warm, as your thoughts spiral. “I just… I need to talk to you. To be near you.” he says, his eyes searching yours, his vulnerability raw and unguarded. “Please... Please just give me this one night. One chance to make things right.”

The sincerity in his voice is undeniable, cutting through your walls like a blade. For a moment, you can only stare at him, your heart hammering in your chest.

With a heavy sigh, you shift your leg inside, settling into the passenger seat. You pull the door shut with a soft click, leaning back against the seat as you let out a shallow breath.

Jungkook watches you carefully, his grip on the steering wheel easing just slightly as relief washes over him. The tension in his shoulders loosens, though his eyes remain cautious, as if afraid one wrong move might shatter the delicate moment.

Without another word, he starts the car. The engine hums to life, filling the silence with its steady rhythm. As the vehicle begins to move, the atmosphere remains heavy, a mix of unspoken words and lingering emotions that neither of you dares to address... yet.

Your gaze remains fixed on the passing scenery, a blur of streetlights and faintly illuminated signs. Jungkook doesn’t dare break the silence, his grip on the steering wheel firm, knuckles taut as if anchoring himself.

It doesn’t take long before the car turns onto a gravel path, the tires crunching softly beneath them. You glance up, your attention pulled from the window by the faint glow of string lights strung overhead. They stretch out like a welcoming canopy, casting a warm, golden hue over the open field ahead.

Rows of cars are parked neatly on the wide, open lot, their occupants huddled inside, watching the massive screen that towers at the far end. It’s the typical drive-in movie setup, just like it's done every year... a sprawling outdoor space surrounded by trees, with a concession stand glowing warmly off to one side.

The screen flickers, signaling the movie is about to begin. Jungkook steers the car into an empty spot towards the back, away from the denser cluster of vehicles gathered closer to the center.

He turns off the engine, and for a brief moment, neither of you move. The quiet hum of the field surrounds you as your gaze remains fixed on the screen ahead, watching the movie’s opening sequence unfold.

Jungkook hesitates, his fingers hovering over the radio knob. “I’ll tune it to the station for the movie.” he murmurs, his voice tentative, as if testing the fragile peace between you. He twists the dial slowly, stopping only when the audio from the movie fills the car.

You turn your gaze out the window, watching the faint glow of the screen flicker across your features. The scene outside is almost idyllic... random couples perched on the hoods of their cars, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, sharing snacks as they watch the film.

Your chest tightens as the image before you clashes with the one you used to picture... you and Jungkook, sitting together just like this, cuddled up with his arm draped over your shoulders, laughing softly as you both watch the movie.

The sting in your heart is sharp, but you force yourself to look away, willing the ache to subside. You shift in your seat, eyes reluctantly focusing back on the movie playing on the big screen.

Then, near the gearshift, a faint buzz catches your attention, and almost instinctively, your eyes flicker to Jungkook's phone resting in the console. It’s probably just a random notification, but that’s not what holds your gaze. It's his lock screen.

It’s a photo. Of you. The one he took on your first date, when he playfully tucked wildflowers into your hair and insisted on capturing the moment.

Jungkook notices your silence and follows your gaze. The second he realizes what you’re looking at, his lips part slightly, and he shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. With a nervous twitch, he flips his phone over, as though the simple action could erase what you just saw. But he can’t erase it. And neither can you.

A quiet tension thickens between you both. Jungkook leans back against the seat forcing himself to watch the movie, his posture stiff.

You, on the other hand, can feel your cheeks burning, a strange warmth spreading through you at the realization that he kept a picture of you as his lock screen. Of that moment. A picture you had no idea meant that much to him that he wanted to see it every time he unlocked his phone.

The movie plays on, but the sound seems to fade into the background, your thoughts swirling, caught in a delicate web of emotions you can’t untangle. Finally, you can’t hold it in anymore. "So..." you start, your voice hesitant but soft.

Jungkook’s head snaps towards you, a startled expression crossing his face, but he doesn't speak, waiting for you to continue. You keep your eyes fixed on the screen, avoiding his gaze, though your heart races. "When are you going to start talking?" You ask, the words hanging in the air, laced with a quiet challenge.

Jungkook feels the air escape from his lungs, realizing he can't stay silent any longer. In that moment, he knows he's the one who needs to speak up. If there's any hope of mending things with you, he has to step up... take action, be bold, and stop running from what he’s been avoiding. He has to stop being the coward he’s been.

"I..." he starts, his voice wavering slightly at first. "I thought you wanted to watch the movie. So I was saving it for later." He forces the words out, trying to sound steady, but his gaze flickers nervously.

You turn your head towards him, meeting his eyes with an intensity that makes his chest tighten. "Do you really think I’m worried about the movie when you’re right here?" you ask, your voice soft but firm, your gaze never leaving his.

"Jungkook, you got me here tonight. You asked me to join you. The movie is literally the last thing I care about." Your words settle in the car, quiet but weighty, as though they’ve landed somewhere deep inside his chest.

Jungkook stares into your eyes, the warmth and longing there making his heart ache. His eyes flicker over the familiar details of your face, and it lands on the scar on your head, hidden behind strands of hair. His breath hitches before he finally exhales, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he struggles to find the right words.

"I... I don’t even know where to begin...." he murmurs, closing his eyes momentarily, as if trying to summon the courage. "I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought if I broke up with you, and if Mingyu didn’t see us together anymore, he’d leave you alone." He opens his eyes slowly, locking them with yours as if he can’t bear to look away now.

"I really thought I was protecting you." He falters again, the weight of his emotions pressing against his chest. "I... I just wanted to keep you safe. That’s what I told myself, anyway. But looking back, I can see how stupid that was. So... so stupid." he adds, his voice breaking slightly.

"I didn’t realize the damage I was doing until you came to my shop that night. It wasn’t until I saw how hurt you were that I finally understood... the full extent of my mistake."

His eyes glisten with regret as he speaks, his voice trembling. "I felt like the biggest idiot. I didn’t even visit you in the hospital. And to make things worse... I was away fighting with Mingyu. Part of me still believes he deserved it, but I made a promise to you, Y/n, that I wouldn’t let myself get into fights... and I broke that promise."

Jungkook pauses, the silence stretching between you as the weight of his words settles deeper in the air. His breath is unsteady, his chest rising and falling, and you can feel the tremor in his hand as it reaches for yours, the touch tentative and unsure, as if afraid you might pull away.

"When I saw what those guys did to your shop... when I heard about you in the hospital... all I could think about was how I... how I led you into all this misery. How I added so many problems to your life." he murmurs, his voice thick with guilt and regret.

"I felt... so guilty. And I thought that maybe, the best thing I could do was let you go. To set you free from all the pain, the stress, the problems... even though it tore me apart inside."

His grip on your hand tightens, the warmth of his touch desperate, as though holding onto you is the only thing grounding him. His eyes, filled with shame, never leave yours. "I thought that was the only way. That if I stepped back, you'd be better off. But now... now I see how wrong I was. So... so fucking wrong."

A tear slips down your cheek, and despite the pain in his words, your heart aches for him. You want to tell him how wrong he is, how you could never be better off without him, how being apart from him feels like the worst kind of torment. But you hold your silence, letting him speak, letting him pour his heart out.

"I love you. I always have... ever since we got together, a part of me realized what I feel for you... is just... so much more." Jungkook continues, his voice strained. His eyes meet yours again, this time soft and tender, like he’s asking for forgiveness without speaking the words.

"Y/n... I know I messed up. I’ve been reckless. My stupid actions, my irrational decisions... they were all driven by fear, not logic. And in the process, I hurt you." His voice cracks as he takes a deep breath, the pain in his chest evident. "I thought I was the reason for everything going wrong. That it was all my fault. And that thought... it just destroyed me."

His thumb gently brushes over your knuckles, as if he needs that small, silent touch to remind him you're still here. His gaze never wavers from yours, his heart laid bare and raw. "But now I know. In the name of trying to protect you, I ended up hurting you the most... and I will always, always hate myself for it."

The sincerity in his voice, the rawness in his expression, pierces through the tension in the air. And in that moment, it’s clear... Jungkook is not just apologizing. He's laying his soul out before you, vulnerable and broken, desperate for you to understand the depth of his remorse.

"I'm sorry, Y/n." Jungkook finally chokes out, his tears falling freely now. "I'm sorry for everything. I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t. I’m just... so sorry for everything." His voice breaks as the weight of his remorse crashes down, and he crumples under the enormity of it.

He cries, his shoulders shuddering, and through your own blurry vision, you see the raw vulnerability etched across his face. It’s almost unbearable.

Carefully, you move your hand from his and reach out for him. Your palm gently presses against his cheek as your thumb softly wipes away his tears. "Shh..." you murmur, leaning closer towards him.

The space between you feels like it vanishes as you slide your arm around his trembling shoulders, pulling him into a comforting embrace. Jungkook doesn't hesitate as he clings to you desperately, his arms wrapping around you as if you’re his lifeline. Both of you pull each other closer, the familiar embrace engulfing the two of you.

"I’m sorry." he whispers again, his voice muffled as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. You feel the dampness of his tears soaking into the fabric of your top, but you don’t care.

All that matters now is the way his trembling form feels in your arms, vulnerable and seeking solace. You hold him tighter, your hand stroking his back in gentle, soothing circles as he sobs against you.

"Please... please take me back." he begs between ragged breaths. "I'll be... I'll be good to you. I’ll stay by your side, and I’ll never, ever leave you alone again." His voice cracks, each word drenched in desperation.

You continue stroking his back, letting him cry into your embrace, your own heart aching at how broken he sounds. "Please, Y/n." he pleads, his voice trembling with hope and fear. "Please tell me you still love me."

"I do... I do love you, Kook." you respond almost instantly, the words spilling from your lips before you even realize it. There’s no hesitation, no doubt. Just the truth. "How could I ever stop?" you whisper, your voice soft but steady.

Jungkook’s breath hitches, and his arms tighten around you as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He tugs you closer, bridging whatever small gap still exists between you, the console between your seats now inconsequential. His tears fall harder, but his sobs quiet just a little, as if your words had patched a part of the gaping hole in his heart.

//

As the ending credits roll and the movie comes to an end, you glance down at your intertwined fingers resting on your lap. You lift your gaze to him, only to find his eyes already on you.

Both of you take in the sight of each other... red, puffy eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, swollen lips. Despite the emotional wreckage, a soft chuckle escapes your lips, and Jungkook follows suit with a faint laugh of his own.

"I missed you." he whispers, his voice hoarse but steady, his grip on your hand tightening as though to anchor himself to this moment. "I missed you too." you reply, lifting his hand to your lips. You place a gentle kiss on his knuckles, the warmth of the gesture carrying all the words you can’t seem to form just yet.

Silence stretches between you, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It feels like a pause before a fragile moment you both want to hold onto for just a little longer. "I could never be better off without you, Kook." you suddenly confess, breaking the quiet.

"These past few days have been a living hell for me." Your voice wavers, but you push through. "I understood your intentions... I really did. But all I ever needed was you. Just you. To hold me, to tell me everything would be okay, even if it wasn’t. That’s all I wanted."

Jungkook’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. He nods slowly, his glistening eyes brimming with understanding. "I know." he murmurs, his voice breaking slightly. "I know now. Yoongi hyung... he gave me a piece of his mind. He made me realize how wrong I was. How what you needed wasn’t someone to push you away in the name of protection, but someone who would stay. Someone who would stand by you when everything felt like it was falling apart."

A faint smile graces your lips as you hear his words. "He’s right." you whisper, your voice soft but resolute. Jungkook smiles in return, a small, fragile smile that carries the weight of his regret, the depth of his sorrow, and the immensity of his love.

Leaning over the console, you close the distance between you and press a gentle kiss to his lips. The kiss is soft, lingering, a balm to the wounds you’ve both carried. "I love you." you whisper against his lips, your voice barely audible but loud enough for him to hear the sincerity in your words.

Jungkook looks into your eyes and for a moment, it feels like his entire world revolves around you. You see the way his love for you shines through, raw and unfiltered, and it makes your heart ache in the best way.

When you lean back into your seat, Jungkook doesn’t let you go. This time, he leans forward, his hand cradling your cheek as he captures your lips in another kiss.

But this kiss... this kiss is unlike anything else. It’s not gentle, not cautious. It’s raw, consuming, and electric, charged with everything Jungkook has been holding back for far too long.

Regret seeps through his touch, sorrow lingers in the way his lips move against yours, but it’s love... overwhelming, all-encompassing love that takes over, folding you both into its intensity. And in that wordless exchange, there’s a promise, one you can feel in every breathless second.

You reach out instinctively, grabbing his wrist to steady yourself as the kiss deepens. The console between you feels like a meaningless barrier as Jungkook’s hands cup your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks with a tenderness that contrasts the ferocity of his kiss.

He tilts his head, his nose grazing against yours, and the sensation sends a shiver racing down your spine. Your lips part slightly, inviting him in, and he doesn’t hesitate... his tongue brushes against yours, the intimacy making your head spin.

It’s dizzying, intoxicating, as though he’s trying to pour years worth of love, loss, and longing into this one moment. Every press of his lips feels like an apology, a plea for forgiveness, and a declaration all at once.

Your chest heaves as you match his fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. You can feel the desperation in the way he holds you, as if letting go would shatter the fragile thread binding you both together again.

When he abruptly pulls away, his breath comes in ragged gasps, his forehead resting against yours. "If we… if we keep going, I won’t be able to stop." he confesses, his voice low and trembling with restraint. "I’ve missed you too much, Y/n... I've missed you way too much."

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, his words igniting a fire within you. You lick your lips, tasting him there, and your gaze locks with his. "Let’s go to my place." you whisper, your voice soft but certain.

For a moment, he looks at you, as though trying to convince himself this is real. Then, with a shaky exhale, he nods, his hand slipping from your face to intertwine with yours. He presses a final, lingering kiss to your knuckles before starting the car.

//

You yelp in surprise as Jungkook tumbles onto the mattress with you, his weight pressing you into the softness of the sheets while his lips remain locked with yours. The world spins for a moment, the intensity of the kiss leaving you breathless and disoriented.

He nips at your lower lip, a soft, teasing bite that sends a jolt of electricity through your veins. You can’t help the way your hips instinctively buck upwards, the friction sparking a low groan from deep within his chest.

Your top rides up in the movement, exposing a sliver of your skin to the cool air. His fingertips find their way there, cold against the warmth of your skin, and the contrast makes you shiver.

He helps you take your shirt off and his fingers return to feel your skin, his touch is purposeful yet hesitant. "God, Y/n." he breathes against your lips, his voice hoarse and filled with longing.

His forehead rests against yours for a brief moment, his heavy breaths mingling with your own. "You have no idea how much I’ve missed this... missed you."

His words make your heart clench, and you reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him back down into another searing kiss. This time, it’s slower, deeper, filled with all the emotion neither of you could put into words.

His hands trail along your sides, reverent in their touch, while his lips leave yours to press a path of soft kisses along your jawline, your neck, and the sensitive spot just below your ear.

Your fingers grip his shoulders, and you can’t help but whisper his name... a plea, a confession, a surrender. And as he murmurs yours in return, his voice thick with emotion, you realize that this isn’t just a reunion, it’s a rebirth. A rebirth of everything this once was.

Jungkook pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes glistening with unspoken words. His thumb brushes tenderly against your cheek as he cups your face, his touch so delicate it feels like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

“This...” he whispers, his voice trembling slightly. “This feels like the first time I’m breathing again, Y/n. Like I’ve been holding my breath this whole time without you.” His words hit you with the weight of everything you’ve both endured.

Tears blur your vision, but you blink them away, wanting to see every inch of his face, to commit this moment to memory. “I don’t ever want to lose this again.” you reply softly, your voice cracking as you reach up to trace the line of his jaw. “I don’t ever want to lose you again, Jungkook.”

His lips curl into the faintest, most heartfelt smile, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “You won’t.” he vows, his voice steady now. “I won’t let go. I’ll hold onto you with everything I have, for as long as you’ll let me. I’ll prove it to you every single day.”

His words are a promise, one that you feel in the way his hands tremble slightly as they caress your skin, in the way his lips press against yours with a mixture of passion and reverence.

“I’ll let you.” you whisper back, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. “I’ll let you, as long as you let me hold onto you too.”

He kisses you slow again, as if he’s relishing every second of this rebirth. It’s not just a kiss... it’s an agreement, a merging of two hearts that have finally found their way back to each other.

Jungkook pulls back, his breathing heavy as he rises to his full height. His hands grip the hem of his shirt, and in one fluid motion, he tugs it over his head, tossing it aside without care. The sight makes your breath catch.

You prop yourself on your elbows, your eyes roaming over the expanse of his body, drinking him in like he’s a masterpiece come to life.

The faint sheen of sweat on his skin makes him glimmer faintly, accentuating every dip and curve, the sharp cut of his collarbones, the hard planes of his abs, and the faint v-line that disappears teasingly beneath the waistband of his boxers.

Your eyes linger on the way his jeans hang low on his hips, revealing just a sliver of the waistband of his boxers, and your throat tightens. You missed seeing him like this.

Jungkook catches the way your gaze darkens, and his lips quirk up in a faint smirk, though his own composure wavers when he sees the way you’re looking at him... like he’s the only thing that matters.

His dark eyes flicker down to you, taking their time as they trace the delicate curve of your collarbones, the way your bra frames your breasts, pushing them up just enough to make his mouth water. His gaze drops to your stomach, the smooth expanse of your skin, and the way your muscles tense under his scrutiny.

He exhales sharply, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as his gaze trails back up to your lips, then your eyes, his resolve crumbling. Your beauty just cannot be comprehended and his jeans suddenly feel unbearably tight, the outline of his hardened length pressing against the fabric painfully.

“Fuck...” he mutters under his breath, his voice low and strained, and you see the way his jaw tightens, the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. "If you keep looking at me like that..." he pauses, his eyes fixed on yours. "I'm going to lose it."

You gulp at his words and watch the way he steps back slightly, his hands moving to the button of his jeans. You watch as he undoes them with practiced ease, sliding the denim down his legs.

The thin fabric of his boxers does little to hide the extremely prominent bulge beneath, and your breath hitches as your eyes lock onto the way his hardened length strains against the material.

With one swift motion, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slides them down, letting them pool at his feet. His length springs free, thick and hard, and your mouth goes dry at the sight of him... veined and heavy, the tip glistening faintly in the dim light.

Jungkook’s chest heaves as he takes a step closer, his hands moving to your legs. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your skirt, tugging it down along with your underwear in one smooth motion.

“Fuck, Y/n... look at you.” he breathes, his voice almost reverent. His gaze locks onto your glistening core, the way it clenches around nothing, slick with arousal that almost drips onto the sheets. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, his pupils blown wide as he takes in the sight before him.

His hands tremble slightly as they settle on your thighs, his thumbs brushing over your skin. “You’re... perfect.” he whispers as he leans in, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he takes a deep, shaky breath, the scent of your arousal making his head spin.

You whimper at the way he delicately touches you as you close your eyes, pressing your head against the mattress and your hands grasping for purchase on the sheets. "Fuck, Y/n…" he mumbles, his breath ghosting over your core and making you shiver. "Please... let me... let me taste you."

And before you can even form a coherent thought, he pulls your thighs apart and jerks you close until he’s right there, between your legs, his hot breath fluttering over your soaking wet core. “My gorgeous girl.” he murmurs, his eyes flickering up to yours as he drags a thumb through your folds.

He watches the way you bite onto your lower lip, your sweaty chest heaving, as he moves his hands up and down your slit. He notices the way you flinch at every movement, every touch. “So wet... So wet for me.” he groans, his thumb pressing against your clit.

Your jaw hangs open at the sensation and Jungkook wastes no time, diving in and pressing his open mouth to your slick center. You feel his tongue darting out, the wet glide of it sending sparks up your spine as he licks a slow circle around your clit.

“Fuck....” you cry out, your hips jerking as his tongue teases your bundle of nerves, the rough drag of it on your oversensitive flesh making you see stars. Your hands fly to his hair, tugging at the strands as you try to hold yourself up, your head spinning with the sensations flooding through you.

Jungkook moans into you, his tongue flickering out again, this time dragging slowly along your slit. He nuzzles into you, inhaling sharply at your scent, and you feel his nose press into your folds, his breath hot against your core.

“Oh fuck.” you pant, your legs shaking as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your pussy, his tongue sneaking out to flick at your clit, the tip of it fluttering against the sensitive bundle of nerves with a feather-light touch.

Your thighs begin to quake as Jungkook laves you open-mouthed, his mouth hovering over your slit, his tongue lapping at your entrance. "Kook… please... Kook..." you plead, your voice cracking with need.

He looks up at you then as his mouth remains fixed on your core, and the sight takes your breath away. His eyes are heavy-lidded as he watches you. Your lips part, your breaths coming in short pants as he opens his mouth wider, devouring your opening.

His tongue darts out, the wet tip of it flicking over your entrance, and then he’s pushing inside, his mouth closing around you as he eats you out like he’s a starving man and you’re the only sustenance that will satisfy him.

"Fuck, Kook !!" you cry out, your hands scrabbling at the sheets as your head falls back and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You moan, your thighs trembling around his head as he fucks into you with his tongue, his mouth pressed open-mouthed against your core.

Jungkook groans into you, the vibrations making you cry out again as he licks into you, his hands holding you open as he feasts on you. His tongue flickers inside you, curling as it brushes against your inner walls, the sensation of it making your vision blur.

He eats you out for what feels like an eternity, his tongue sliding in and out of you in slow, sensual strokes. You’re close, so close to the edge, your pussy clenching and aching for more.

The way his name falls from your lips, over and over, like a mantra, sends a shiver down Jungkook’s spine. His tongue moves against you with practiced precision, each stroke and flick timed perfectly to the rhythm of your desperate cries.

When your legs begin to tremble uncontrollably, your hips bucking against his mouth, he knows you’re close, teetering on the edge of release.

And then it happens. Your orgasm crashes into you with the force of a tidal wave, leaving you gasping for air, your thighs trembling around his head as you arch off the bed. Jungkook groans against you, the vibrations only intensifying your pleasure as his tongue delves deeper, tasting every bit of you.

The tight flutter of your walls around his tongue drives him to the brink of madness. He’s painfully hard now, the strain unbearable as he grips himself, stroking his dick in time with your cries.

His breaths come out in ragged groans, muffled by the way your legs tighten around his head, your hands tangling in his hair and tugging just hard enough to make him growl.

“You’re perfect.” he murmurs against you, his voice husky and reverent, though he doesn’t stop. His tongue moves in long, slow laps, consuming you, drawing out every second of your release as your body quivers beneath him.

When you finally begin to come down, your body going limp and pliant, he doesn’t immediately pull away. He kisses you there, soft and tender, his lips pressing against your sensitive core as if to soothe the aftershocks coursing through you.

Jungkook rests his forehead against your thigh, his breathing heavy and labored as he looks up at you with hooded eyes. His lips are glistening, his cheeks flushed, and the sight of him... disheveled and utterly wrecked from pleasuring you, makes you want him even more.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, the sheen of your pleasure still glistening on his lips. His eyes meet yours, dark and smoldering with an unrelenting hunger that sends shivers coursing through your body.

Slowly, he leans forward, his lips brushing against your trembling thighs as though in reverence. His hands roam your hips, fingers pressing into the soft curves with a gentle possessiveness that leaves no doubt of his intentions.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, tinged with awe, as if the sight of you unraveled beneath him is almost too much to bear.

He shifts his weight, moving away from your core, and you feel the absence of his heat like a loss. But then he’s hovering over you, his face so close you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin.

He captures your lips in a kiss that’s tender yet consuming, a prelude to everything he’s holding back. When he pulls away, it’s only to let his lips travel, a slow, meandering path along your jawline, each kiss lingering and full of love.

“I want to make love to you, Y/n.” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, yet the weight of his words presses into you as though they carry the force of a promise. “Let me make it up to you… for everything. Let me show you how much I love you.”

He doesn’t rush as he works to undo your bra, his hands steady. When the fabric falls away, his gaze locks onto your bare chest, and the intensity in his eyes makes your skin prickle with heat. His hands come up to cradle your breast, his thumbs brushing over the delicate curve of your skin and your nipple as though testing the reality of your softness beneath his touch.

“You’re perfect.” he breathes, the words spilling out like a confession before he lowers his head. His lips press against the swell of your breast, trailing kisses that are soft at first but grow more urgent as his need deepens.

His mouth finds your nipple, and he takes it between his lips, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak in a rhythm that makes your breath hitch. His teeth graze ever so slightly, just enough to send a spark of pleasure rippling through you, and you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair to hold him closer.

“Oh, God.” you moan, your voice trembling as he sucks on your nipple, his mouth working in perfect harmony with the hand that kneads and squeezes your other breast. His palm is warm, his touch firm but gentle, matching the worshipful pace of his lips.

Jungkook groans softly against your skin, the sound vibrating through you and adding another layer to the heady mix of sensations. He switches sides, lavishing the same attention on your other breast, and the deliberate care he takes makes your chest heave beneath him.

“Every inch of you...” he murmurs between kisses, his voice ragged and filled with adoration. “Every inch of you is mine to love.”

His words, his touch, the heat of his mouth... it’s all-consuming, drowning you in a storm of sensations that leave no room for thought, only the overwhelming awareness of him.

Your fingers clutch onto his shoulders as you arch against him, your breath coming in uneven gasps. Jungkook’s worshipful attention feels like a drug, intoxicating and overwhelming, and the heat pooling in your core is undeniable.

“Kook…” Your voice is shaky, a whispered plea, laced with desire and desperation. “Please… Please make love to me. I need you.”

The words ignite something primal in him. He pulls away from your chest, his lips glistening, a thin string of saliva trailing down his chin. His dark eyes fixate on you as you let your hands trail over your own body, fingers grazing the sensitive peaks of your breasts. You spread the remnants of his kisses over your skin, the gesture both sensual and wanton.

Jungkook gulps audibly as he watches you and his restraint shatters, his body thrumming with the need to claim you, to pour all his love and longing into this moment.

He shifts, stretching down the edge of the bed, his hands fumbling for his pants that remains scattered on the floor. His wallet slips out, and as he opens it, relief washes over him when he finds the condom he had tucked away weeks ago, back when you were still in his life.

He doesn’t question the serendipity, silently thanking the universe for this moment, for you.

With swift precision, he tears the wrapper, his fingers steady despite the fire coursing through his veins. He rolls the condom over his length and glides his hand up and down his hardness. Stroking it to full readiness, he lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes lifting to meet yours.

The way you’re watching him... your lips parted, your chest heaving, your legs spread in invitation, leaves him utterly undone. “Y/n…” he murmurs, crawling back towards you, his hands finding purchase on your hips. “I’m going to show you just how much I love you.”

"Show me, Kook..." you moan, your voice trembling with anticipation as his tip teases your slick folds. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, and instinctively, you spread your legs wider, welcoming him, inviting him. He adjusts himself, his arms bracketing your head, his elbows pressed into the mattress to hold himself steady.

"I'm all... I'm all yours." you whisper, your voice breaking slightly, the vulnerability of your words hanging in the charged air between you. Your hands find his face, pulling him closer as you crane your neck, desperate to feel his lips on yours.

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s both tender and consuming. His hand leaves the mattress, strong fingers gripping your hip as he adjusts your position slightly, angling you just right.

The intimacy of the touch makes your heart race, and you can feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension in his muscles as he restrains himself to not just slam into you. “You’re so perfect.” he murmurs against your lips.

His hand squeezes your hip gently as if grounding himself in the reality of you beneath him, of this moment. When he finally begins to push into you, the world seems to narrow down to just the two of you... the stretch, the way he fills you, the way he watches your face, searching for any sign of discomfort.

You gasp softly, your body tensing for a moment before relaxing into the pleasure of being connected to him in the most intimate way. Jungkook groans, his forehead dropping to rest against yours.

"Oh baby... I missed you... fuck..." he moans, his voice strained with effort, his breaths shallow as he inches deeper, giving you time to adjust to him. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him on.

Finally, he begins to move, each thrust slow and steady, as if he’s memorizing the way your body feels wrapped around him. His full length slides into you with precision, the stretch overwhelming yet addictive.

Your noses brush against each other with every movement, breaths mingling as he maintains his rhythmic pace, taking in every push, every thrust, every deep plunge that leaves you gasping for more.

Each time, he pulls out almost entirely, leaving you aching with the emptiness, only to push back in, filling you completely, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. It’s intoxicating, the way he moves, the care and passion in every motion.

As he continues, his gaze flickers over your face, watching the way your lips part with each gasp, the way your eyes flutter closed when the pleasure crests higher. He swallows hard, his resolve faltering for a moment before he adjusts his position. Carefully, he lifts one of your legs from his waist, guiding it to rest on his shoulder.

The new angle sends him deeper, hitting a spot within you that makes you cry out, your back arching off the bed as your fingers dig into his biceps. “Oh, Kook...” you whimper, your voice trembling as he leans into you, his body pressing you further into the mattress.

"That's it..." he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint as he watches your every reaction while supporting your leg on his shoulder. “You take me so well, baby....so... so fucking perfect.”

His other hand trails down to your hip, gripping it firmly as he begins to thrust a little harder, a little deeper, the pleasure building with every motion. The intensity grows, but he still takes his time, as if he’s savoring every second, every sound you make, every shiver that runs through your body.

The way he fills you, the stretch of your leg over his shoulder, the tender yet passionate way he moves... it’s overwhelming in the best way. Your hands slide down his arms, clutching at him desperately as he drives you closer to the edge, his pace unrelenting yet perfectly controlled.

“Jungkook...” you moan, your voice breaking as the tension in your core coils tighter and tighter. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, and he tilts his head, pressing a kiss to your ankle. “Faster… please… faster...” you cry out, your plea trembling in the air.

That’s all it takes for him to lose the last shred of restraint. With a growl low in his throat, he pulls you closer, his hands gripping your hips possessively as his pace shifts. His hips snap into you, each thrust harder and deeper.

Seconds blur into a haze of overwhelming sensation as he rams into you repeatedly, his tip brushing against a spot deep inside you... a spot you didn’t even know existed. The pleasure is all-consuming, stealing the breath from your lungs as your body arches into him, desperate for more.

Your vision blurs as you’re overtaken by the intensity, stars dancing behind your closed lids. “I love you… fuck, I love you so much.” he rasps, his voice raw with emotion and unfiltered passion. His hips move with an almost animalistic urgency now, his need for you reflected in every powerful thrust, in the way he fills you completely, over and over again.

The coil in your stomach tightens to the point of pain, an unbearable pressure building with every movement. Your hands claw at his shoulders, your head tossing back against the pillows as incoherent sounds pour from your lips, your body trembling beneath him.

“Jungkook… I’m… oh god…” you whimper, your nails digging into his skin as the pleasure pushes you to the brink, teetering on the edge of release that feels as though it might shatter you entirely.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, holding onto him as if he’s the only thing keeping you together. He groans at the sting of your touch, his hips slamming into you harder, deeper, as if he’s chasing the very essence of you.

“You’re... you're close, aren’t you?” he pants, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand slips between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen, sensitive clit. He presses down with just the right amount of pressure, moving in firm circles that make your entire body jolt.

The combination of his thrusts and the attention on your clit sends you spiraling. Your legs tremble around him, and your walls flutter and clench tightly around his length. You cry out, your voice echoing in the room, your hands pulling him closer as if you want to fuse yourself to him.

“That’s it, baby... that's it... cum for me... let go.” he urges, his voice strained as he fights to keep himself together, his own release hanging by a thread. His thrusts grow erratic, each one deeper, harder, more consuming than the last, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

And then it happens. The coil in your stomach snaps, your orgasm crashing into you with a force that steals your breath. Your vision goes white, your entire body arching into him as waves of ecstasy ripple through you, leaving you trembling and crying out his name like a prayer.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Jungkook groans as your walls tighten around him, gripping him like a vice. The sensation sends him over the edge. He buries himself as deep as he can go, his hips stilling as his own release takes over, his groans blending with your cries.

The two of you ride out the aftershocks together, his forehead pressed to yours as your breathing mingles, heavy and uneven. The world feels still, the only sound in the room your shared pants and the faint thrum of your hearts, beating in perfect sync.

//

The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a golden hue over your room, as your head rests on his bicep. Your fingers absentmindedly play with his as your eyes trace the intricate lines of his tattoos, the delicate patterns swirling along his forearm.

After the intimacy of a warm shower and the tender care Jungkook showed you, the two of you are back on the freshly made bed. The clean, cool sheets are a stark contrast to the heat that still lingers between you, your bare skin pressed to his.

His leg lazily drapes over yours beneath the blanket, an unconscious gesture that speaks of his need to be as close to you as possible.

Jungkook leans in, the weight of his gaze melting away any lingering tension. He presses a kiss to your temple, soft and lingering, before letting his lips brush against the scar on your head... a mark of something from the past, but no longer painful. “I love you.” he whispers, his voice low and full of sincerity.

You tilt your head back to meet his eyes, your own gaze softening. Slowly, you let go of his hand, shifting your body to face him fully. The blanket shifts with you as you wrap an arm around his torso, pulling yourself closer to him.

“I love you too.” you murmur, your voice steady, carrying the weight of your feelings. You move your head closer to his chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. His arms encircle you, tugging you closer and holding you as though he never wants to let go.

And in that moment, as the soft embrace of sleep slowly begins to claim both of you, there is a quiet realization that settles in the spaces between your breaths. It’s as though the universe, in its infinite wisdom, has woven the intricate threads of time, bringing you here.

From the days when you were nothing more than neighboring shop owners, each a stranger in the other’s world, to the sharp edges of misunderstandings, to the heated arguments that filled the air with tension. You both once couldn’t stand the mere sight of each other... two souls so different, so distant.

But somehow, through all of that, life found a way to stitch your paths together. From those moments of rivalry at the town fair meetings, when every second seemed to breed another reason for dispute, to this quiet, intimate space where the mere thought of separation feels impossible.

Now, neither of you can seem to imagine a world where the other doesn’t exist. It’s as though your lives were always meant to be interwoven, intricately and beautifully, like the finest of tapestries.

Life has a strange way of bringing two opposing forces together, testing them in ways they never expected, only to reveal the most beautiful of connections.

It pushes and pulls, and in doing so, helps them untangle the complexities of their relationship. It compels them to find the purpose behind their presence in each other’s life... why it was always meant to be, why the stars aligned, even when they didn’t know what they were meant to see.

And through the rough roads, where his rusty bike and prickly tires rattled against the cobblestones, and through the vibrant scent of flowers that lingered in the air, the softness of leaves brushing against your fingers, you both have found something more profound and beautiful than you could ever imagine.

Something that only exists when two souls, through time and struggle, find each other and discover the home they never knew they were looking for.

Post Credits Scene

Yoongi stands in the dimly lit alley, the old baseball racket twirling lazily in his hand. Mingyu, Kihyun, and Jaemin are slumped against the cold brick wall, their faces battered, their hair disheveled, fear radiating from their wide eyes.

The faint hum of a flickering streetlight overhead makes the silence between them even heavier. Yoongi crouches down, his sharp gaze locking onto theirs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What did I say?” he asks, his voice calm but dripping with menace.

The men exchange nervous glances, their bruised faces pale under the weak light. Mingyu opens his mouth to respond, but a sharp pang from his injured ankle makes him wince and falter. Yoongi tilts his head, his smirk widening as he taps the racket lightly against the ground. “I’m waiting.” he says, his tone almost teasing.

“Never...” Mingyu manages, his voice hoarse, but the pain makes it hard to continue. “Go on...” Yoongi urges, his voice dropping an octave, the smirk now a warning.

“We’ll never bother Jungkook and Y/n again !!” Kihyun blurts out, his hands rubbing together in a desperate gesture, like he’s begging for mercy. Yoongi rises slowly, letting out a soft chuckle as he swings the racket onto his shoulder, causing all three men to flinch. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The men dare to breathe, thinking the ordeal might finally be over. But Yoongi’s sharp eyes narrow as he steps closer, towering over them. The smirk vanishes, replaced by a cold, calculating look that makes the air feel oppressive.

“Now...” he says, his voice trailing off. “Do I have to beat you guys up all over again, or will you give me Jungkook’s keys?”

<- part 15

series masterlist

—fin. ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

my masterlist <3

taglist: @kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 @jksusawife @yooforeaa @abbie1847 @myjungkookthighs @thesarcasmqueen-22 @fairypjminie @lovelytaes-blog @jjeonjjk7 @daddyjeonnn @vantelover1306 @jeeykey @shellyyy177 @daskewl @blackswan18 @korian97 @minimoninini @ericawantstoescape @rpwprpwprpwprw @tokkiggukie @jaytheatiny

[chrisisvbun]

old rogers. young!bucky barnes x older!fem reader.

synopsis: bucky had a crush on you since he was fourteen years old, and now, at twenty-four years old, finally gets a chance to make a move.

cw: riding, unprotected piv mommy kink, a little bit of nudity, masturbation, silly teen crush, Freud mentioned but really bad explanation, flirting, sub!top reader, dom!bottom bucky, age gap, secret relationship, crempie, Bucky cums a lot.

a ten nsfw chapter series masterlist.

Bucky and Steve had been friends since high school, and the connection they had was evident. Bucky adored Steve, he was truly his best friend, he wouldn't change him for anything, he wouldn't ever want to push him away.

But going to the beach with Steve's family was always so freaking hard. His mom and dad were the sweetest, his little brother was so fun too. The problem was you.

You were already in college when Steve introduced Bucky to the family. He was fourteen while you were already twenty, and of course you realized how enamored he was with you. He loved your laugh and your eyes, he could've stared at your face for hours, but he couldn't, you were his best friend's older sister and you even had a boyfriend at the time, and clearly, he wasn't old enough. And also, you hadn't even interacted with him a lot, since you were always studying or in college.

But that year, it was the first beach vacation you shared with your family and Bucky. He was already twenty-four, and you were thirty, two adults, right? But still, you were off range, you were his best friend's older sister.

But still, he couldn't help but stare. You were tanning with a towel and an umbrella, you had undone the knot of your bikini and you were laying on your tummy to tan your back smoothy.

He was almost drooling with his milkshake in hand, he felt like a hormonal teen. He thought this was over, that it was just a stupid crush with the first mature, hot girl he saw when he was fourteen, since he went to a only boys school. But it seemed that it wasn't, because he felt like the first time he laid eyes on you.

"Jamie." You called, lifting your sunglasses, and smiling gently at him.

"Y-yeah?" He swallowed hard.

"Can I have a sip?" You rolled over your back, your bikini top still untied. The top was covering almost all of your breasts. Almost. The curve of your tits was completely on sight.

"Sure..." I said with an enamored sigh, drooling at the sight of your tanned skin.

He approached, sitting next to you and handing you the milkshake. You grabbed the straw in your lips without using your hands, sipping from it as you looked at him in his eyes. Once you swallowed the white beverage, you smiled at him. "Thanks."

He nodded quickly, casually standing back up and running to the bathroom. Once inside, he covered his mouth with his free hand while the other was in charge of stroking his cock tightly. He focused on imagining it was your mouth, or your cunt, whatever you would let him use.

(...)

The second day was even worse, you had another bikini now, a red wine one. The color suited you beautifully, your skin glowing in the sun while you read a book.

He took a breath, preparing himself to approach now.

He, nervously, approached and sat next to you. "H-hey." He swallowed hard.

You turned to him and smiled instantly, he felt his heart flutter, and his cock throb. You removed your glasses and closed your book, the attention was making him even more nervous.

"Hi, Jamie." You smiled, you were the only one who called him that, you did it since you met him and he had fantazised for nights with you moaning that stupid nickname.

"What were you reading?" He tried to make conversation.

"My good friend, Sigmund Freud." You chuckled, showing him the book. "Some psychology thing I remembered I read in college. But let's not talk about me, how are you doing now? Gonna enlist?" You asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm... I'm enlisting." He said, smiling stupidly.

"Isn't it kinda scary? I mean, I freak out with just the idea of going."

"Well, it is scary, but it's scarier to think of my loved ones being in danger, you know."

You smiled lovingly, your eyes shining. If he were a dog, he would have started wagging his tail with just that sight.

"You are really brave, Jamie, I like that." You smiled.

He felt his heart skip a bit, his stomach flipping with exciment, he was about to fucking vomit a bouquet of flowers and give it—

That was it. Flowers. He needed to get you flowers, that was it.

He blushed and rubbed the nape of his neck. "Ah, it's nothing, it's just how I feel, I guess."

"I always knew you were kind-hearted."

He felt like you were flirting. Were you flirting with him? He had flirted with women before, but he had totally forgotten how to answer to any compliment. His brain was blank.

"You were always sweet with me, I wouldn't treat you any different." He smiled back, resting on his forearm.

You bit your lip as you smiled, clearly flustered at his comment.

Yes, Barnes, fucking yes. Smart mother fucker. (More like sister fucker.)

"Well, you were worthy of my kindness I guess, you always treated Steve really good, I knew I could trust you that." You shifted a bit to face him better.

"Trust me what?" He furrowed his brows slightly.

"I knew you would take good care of someone you appreciated." You smirked a bit. "So I knew I could trust you my baby bro." You giggled a bit.

He blushed heavily, but tried to act non chalantly.

This is the moment, Bucky, think, think, you gotta give a more explicit sign, come on. Use that stupid head of yours. He thought.

He pretended to think once he had the most risky comment in the tip of his mouth. "You think... I could take good care of you?" He finally looked at you in the eye, his icy blue eyes piercing yours.

You blushed more, your lips parting because of the surprise.

Before you could answer, your younger brother shoot both of you with a water gun.

"Greg! You little shit, I'm gonna kill you!" You said as you grabbed your soaked book.

Greg just laughed and ran away.

"Mom! Greg ruined my book!" You complained, cursing under your breath.

Then, you put a hand on Bucky's right shoulder. Your hand was warm, but the water made it cool down a bit. Still, your touch, even if it was a few seconds, was soft and delicate. His breath hitched as he looked up at you.

"I'll be right back." You said, before going with your parents.

When you came back, Bucky wasn't there. You were confused, but assumed he got bored waiting since you took really long.

Bucky was for his third orgasm already and his cock wouldn't stop getting hard at the memory of the whole interaction.

(...)

The third day, you weren't at the beach at all. Bucky looked around like a lost puppy, trying to get a glance of you, but nothing.

"Hey, your sister didn't come." He said casually to Steve.

"Ah, yeah, she told me to let you know she would stay in her bedroom. I think it's because you were having a chat before Greg got annoying, right?" Steve answered.

Was that it? Could that be the sign he was waiting for?

"Yeah. Yeah, sure." He said, casually, trying to ignore the throb of his cock.

Bucky didn't even bother to put a shirt on, he almost jumped all the way to your hotel room. He knocked on the door eagerly, and a few seconds later, you opened the door.

You were in a pair of grey shorts, a wide t-shirt, clearly no bra on, your hair wet and dump, you had just jumped out of the shower, and that just made him more excited.

"I was wondering when you were gonna show up." You smiled, letting him come in.

"Steve told me you wanted to keep chatting with me." He smiled as he sat on your bed. He smiled back, he had more confidence, he could sense that you wanted him back, and he was just getting more and more excited.

"Stupid Greg made me not want to go out today, I loved that book." You huffed before you sat next to him. "But I felt we had a chat pending." You sat sideways, holding your body in your right hand as you looked at him

"Do we?" He smiled a bit, but internally, he was shivering.

"You know I'm a bit too old, right?" You started. He nodded quickly. "And you know I'm your best friend's sister." He nodded again. "Alright."

You sat straight and pushed him to make him lay on his back. Bucky's pupils went wide when you began to crawl on top of him. "So, when Steve asks, we were reading about Freud, right?"

He nodded eagerly, his lips parted as he sighed, your hands ran up his bare torso.

"You got huge this time, you lift a lot?" You asked, squeezing his muscles with a smile.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "Yeah, a-about a hundred and fourty pounds."

"Hundred and fourty pounds?" You said impressed. "You could lift any girl you want." You teased with a smile. You leaned down, your lips pressed against his sun-kissed collarbone.

"Y-yeah..."

"Could you lift me?" You asked in whispers as your kisses began to climb their way to his throat.

"I..." He sighed of pleasure. "I would love to."

You giggled, the sound making Bucky shiver. His shaking hands moved to grab your clothed waist.

"Steve can't know about this, okay?" You said, your eyes in his, your hands cupping his cheeks.

He nodded obediently and quickly, he sank his fingertips a bit harder into your waist, while his eyes darted between your soft plump lips and your eyes.

"Gonna be good f'r me?" You ran your fingers through his hair.

"Yes, yes, I'll— I'll do anything for you." He muttered. You smiled, and he noticed how much he loved the way your eyes crinkled. He leaned a bit, and he forced himself to not moan when his lips brushed against yours.

Your hand held the back of his neck and you pressed a soft kiss on his lips. That was it? Right? Just— just a kiss? He thought.

(...)

"Oh, fuck!" You moaned out loud while your hips snapped into his.

His eyes were wide as he had his face buried in the crook of your neck. Moaning, drooling, babbling, he was totally overwhelmed, trying so hard not to come too quick like he already did. Three times.

He felt lime a virgin teen, when he was an adult man and definetly not a virgin.

You were riding him so skillingly, you knew some much, he felt just dumb, he gave in the second you had pushed him in that bed. His hands were gripping your back while his legs shook of overstimulation. You were whining and moaning in his ear as you scratched down his back, using him like the perfect sex toy he was.

"Gimme another one." You mumbled in his ear, making him sob a moan again. "C'mon, I'm so close, make me cum, baby."

He pulled away a second, his hands running through your sides as he got drunk in the sight of you. Your soft tanned tummy, your pretty arms, your pink cunt sucking his cock, and your beautiful, bouncing tits.

He sank his face there, sucking them, biting them, while his hands gripped your middle back.

"You like my tits? Wanna get nursed like a baby?" You teased a bit, between moans.

He looked up at you, glassy blue eyes into yours, he squeezed your body, his cock throb and all for the thought of you taking good care of him. For the thought of being your baby.

You saw his eyes full of hunger and desire and kissed him gently, pulling his hair delicately, you started to ride him slower.

"C'mon..." You said softly. "Take what you want."

He didn't have to think twice, he grabbed your left nipple in his mouth, and sucked like he could get milk from it. Your hand ran through his hair, stroking him, petting him.

"That's a good boy, making mommy feel good."

Something snapped at him, like a rubber band. He moaned, and whined like a hurt dog as he sucked and sucked. He planted his feet on the mattress, and he began to thrust upwards, his tip directly hitting your cervix.

He heard you gasped and moan out loud, your nails sank on his shoulders as you tried to find support.

"Mommy, mommy..." He moaned feraly in your ear. "So good, so good, tell me I'm good, mommy..." He begged in sobs.

Your nails were almost piercing his skin. "S-so good, baby, so f-f-freaking great for mommy."

He moaned with just your words, keeping his pace. "Gonna fill you up so good, lemme fill you up, lemme make you a mommy."

His primal needs made his eyes go blurry, he was so desperate to cum, he needed to fill you nice and good, knock you up, having your round and fat with him.

"Baby, you know you can't..." You said breathless.

"Please, please, please, please..." He begged, his sobs filled the room with the slapping sound of his balls against your skin. "I can't pull out, I can't— I can't, please, let me fill you..." He almost cried in your shoulder.

How could you say no to him? How could you deny him anything if he spoke in that tone?

"C'mon, baby, fill momma up." You mumbled in his ear and he moaned at the permission.

"Thank you, oh, mommy, thank you..." He cried as his thrusts began to get sloppier and sloppier.

You pulled his hair and clenched around his shaft. You moaned loudly, and your back arched in his embrace when your climax almost made you tear up.

With that, the gave a final thrust and came inside, his cum filling and spilling all over your bed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't stop, I just can't—" he sobbed, holding your body against him as he kept coming. He never came this much, but the orgasm he just had... you might have ruined him for the rest of women.

"Shh, it's okay, baby, don't worry about it. You did great." You kissed his face gently, making him purr at the soft aftermath.

(...)

"So, what did you guys do?" Steve asked, when all of his family, including you, were having dinner.

"Ah, she showed me a book he had, one Freud wrote." Bucky said casually.

"Wasn't that the one who fucked his mom?" Steve's dad said.

Bucky nearly chocked with his food.

"Dad! Don't be stupid! He didn't fuck his mom, he had his arguments about the unconscious desire of having sexual relationships with the opposite gender parent, like the myth of Oedipus." You explained. "It's a normal sexual wish that kids have when they are really young, and that feeling disappears once they grow, it's almost biological."

"Well, some dudes still have some of that, am I right?" Your dad chuckled.

"Dad, quit it—"

"You know what I mean, Barnes." He elbowed Bucky, whose face was red as a tomato.

"Y-Yeah, sure."

[not-neverland06]

𝙲𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

Next Part - Hell Hath No Fury Series

A/N: my stupid poor-people photo editing app stopped working so now my cropping is all off and I'm sad. My aesthetic 😭

Summary: Something brews between you and Arthur, but as always, the camp comes first. Despite the growing tension, Arthur must leave to rescue one of the gang who'd been separated in Blackwater. Jealously brews as a loud-mouth Irishman returns to camp and sets his sights on you.

Micah’s cough echoes through the camp and you wince at the sound. “He needs to see a doctor before he gets the rest of us sick.”

Arthur shakes his head and sighs, “Caught somethin’ from the Downes fella in town.” He passes you some coffee which you take eagerly. It’s part of a strange morning ritual you’d begun with him a few weeks ago. Just after the hunting trip, you’d taken to having breakfast with him if he happened to be in camp that morning. It’s become your favorite way to start the day.

You smirk slightly and nudge his side. “You’re welcome.”

He laughs and shakes his head at you, “I’m sorry?”

“Well,” you start with a teasing tone. “If I hadn’t needed a gentlemanly escort into town for some shopping, it would have been you calling in on those loans.”

He opens his mouth to argue but it stays hanging as you see the cogs turning in his head. He snaps his jaw shut with a reluctant sigh, “Suppose you’re right.”

“I always am,” you tell him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Arthur just laughs, passing you some bread. You hear a familiar set of footprints pacing outside the tent and roll your eyes, turning towards the entrance. 

Sure enough, Mrs. Grimshaw paces around the perimeter of Arthur’s tent like a cougar. She sniffs when she catches your eye and turns her nose to the air, wholly pretending she hasn’t been stalking you. 

“Shoo!” Arthur shouts, waving her off. 

You let out a bewildered laugh, smacking his arm. “Arthur, stop,” you hiss, but you don’t sound very stern as you giggle at Mrs. Grimshaw’s affronted look. 

“Go on,” he keeps going, pushing her further. “Get,” he snaps like he’s talking to a wild animal. Mrs. Grimshaw says something you can’t quite catch and stomps her foot once before running off. 

You press a hand over your mouth, fingers pinching your lips to try and stop yourself from laughing. Arthur looks at you for approval and you only shake your head. “Come on,” he tries, “she’s been botherin’ us all mornin’. What was I supposed to do?”

“She’s not a dog, Arthur.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” He teases and you swat at his arm again. 

You shake your head, letting out a heavy sigh. “I truly think she hates me,” you whisper, pouring yourself a little more coffee. 

“She don’t hate you,” he reassures. You tilt your head with a deadpan look and he chuckles. “Well, maybe just a little.”

You sigh and shake your head, “Just because I married rich doesn’t mean I had an easy life.”

“I know that,” he objects. 

You look up from your mug and furrow your brows. “Do you? You think I don’t see the way you look at me? You see the same softness they do. I just can’t figure out whether you like it or resent me for it.”

The playfulness of the morning is long gone. You seem to have a knack for ruining the moment. This question, though, has been haunting you for a while. Dutch is passive in his disdain for your upbringing—snide comments here and there but nothing quite so obvious. 

A few of the girls question you about the privileges of being a lady a little too long for comfort. Then, the conversation will end with one of them sniffing and saying, “Must have been a nice life. Too bad you’re stuck with us now.” 

There are always small moments like that to break the ridiculous idea you’ve got in your head, that you belong. No matter how hard you try to tell them, they don’t seem to understand that this freedom is better than anything money could have bought you. Your life hasn't been your own since the moment you were born. Sure, being on the run from the law and fighting for every penny wasn’t fun. But moments like these with Arthur would never happen if you were back at your estate. 

With the others, it’s easy enough to see their resentment. But Arthur’s better at keeping his cards close to his chest. It took a while for you both to settle into something easy like this. Most of the time you don’t spend more than half an hour together a day. You don’t have a good enough read on him to determine whether or not he holds your past against you. 

Sometimes, you think you might see just a hint of bitterness when he catches a glimpse of the smooth skin of your palms. But you never know if that’s real or something your paranoid mind has conjured up. 

Arthur swirls his mug in his hand, a bit of the coffee splashing over the edge as it does. You squirm uncomfortably in your spot beside him. The sun has begun to heat up the canvas tent, but you know that’s not why you’re sweating. 

He gives you a gentle smile that eases some of the dread building up in your chest. “I don’t care either way. And you shouldn't give a damn what the rest of these fools think. It’s what you’ve done with your life, with your money, that matters.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “You mean my father's money, and then my husband’s money. It was never mine. That’s why I care what they think. I’m dealing with their judgments every damn day and they know nothing about the truth of it all. I was a commodity, practically cattle to those men.”

Arthur’s brows furrow in that familiar way they do whenever you talk about the men of your old life. It doesn’t bother you to talk about them because you’re used to it and they’re gone. But you know it makes Arthur angry to think about it. 

You’ve grown comfortable with each other, but it’s still a cold shock when he casually touches you. You glance down, eyes wide, as you see his palm covering your own. You look back up with a soft smile. “You’re smart, Arthur. Smarter than half the people here give you credit for. And far kinder than anyone I’ve ever met. " Your heart kicks up a beat when you see the way he refuses to meet your eye. 

You’ll compliment him a million times a day if only to get him to start believing you. And maybe so you can keep watching that pink flush on his cheeks. 

“That’s enough of that,” his voice is gruff with something you can’t quite name. Having enough sense to know when to stop you hold your hands up in surrender. 

“Only saying the truth,” but you never can seem to stop yourself from pushing just a little bit further. Arthur shoots you a sharp look and you bite your lip to keep from laughing at him. You can see him start to wind up and prepare yourself for the brief scolding you’re about to receive. Once he’s done with that, maybe you’ll do what you’ve wanted for so long and ask him to accompany you to Strawberry. 

You’ve been trying to work up the nerve as your last two outings haven’t gone wonderfully. You’re hoping a redo might help the both of you grow just a little closer. Besides, being away from camp seems to be beneficial to you both. 

Approaching footsteps bring your conversation to an awkward halt. They’re not the heavy foot of Mrs. Grimshaw. This is someone else, someone much more welcome. You turn and smile at Charles as he hovers at the entrance of Arthur’s tent. Arthur scoffs and mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite make out, but it makes Charles grin. 

Charles gives you a brief nod but his intentions are meant for Arthur. “Whaddya want?” Arthur snaps impatiently. 

“Trelawney came back,” Charles answers shortly and your face pinches in confusion. Trelawney? You roll the name around in your mind but you don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone in camp mention him. 

Arthur’s head perks up, the frown on his face softening just ever so slightly, but it's replaced by something more bitter. Curiosity or nosiness, you’re not sure, but rather than give in to the rules of common decency you don’t leave them to finish their conversation alone.  

You try to lean back, pretending you’re not there so they’ll keep talking. “The hell did he want?” Arthur barks, tone still rudely short. You wonder what happened between him and Charles, they seemed to get along well enough a few weeks ago. 

Charles's gaze darts briefly to you but he continues, “He’s got news about Sean. Says he knows where to find him.” Now, that name you know, if only through vague mentions. You know Karen does her damndest to keep a mention of Sean out of everyone’s mouths. And that he made it out of Blackwater alive but got separated from the rest of the gang. Other than that, you don’t know much about him. 

Arthur gets to his feet and Charles backs away a few paces, leaving the two of you relatively alone again. Arthur looks down at you, something like disappointment on his face. “You need to go,” you assume before he can say anything. 

He nods and you give him an expectant smile, “Then you better get moving, cowboy. I’ll be here when you get back.” He lingers for a moment like there’s more he wants to say. But your mornings together have always been short, you can’t imagine why that would have changed today.

He sucks in a sharp breath before nodding and heading towards Charles. You watch him go, your plans for the day being tucked away. You’ll ask him to town another time. As long as it’s anywhere but Valentine. 

A prissy throat clears behind you and your head sinks between your shoulders with a heavy sigh. “Time to get movin’,” Mrs. Grimshaw commands, with far too much glee in her voice. 

You’re sitting on an overturned bucket, running someone’s pants across the washboard. You hate doing this, especially in the brisk of the early morning. Your fingers have already pruned up from the frigid water and you can barely feel them anymore. 

Your gaze drifts to your right, where the heaping pile of laundry lies, and you consider running off with Lady. You know whatever other chores Mrs. Grimshaw would come up with in retaliation would be a million times worse, but it almost seems worth it at this point. 

You dismiss the idea, deciding to honor the unspoken rule of ladies staying in camp, and continue scrubbing. You think this might be Arthur’s blue shirt. You notice a few fraying edges and holes and make a note to fix them up for him once it’s dry. You only hope you don’t stumble across Uncle’s clothes while you’re doing this. That man has got stains in places that make you want to throw them in the fire, rather than wash them. 

“Never gonna get used to a sight like this,” Sadie calls out as she walks up behind you. She kicks a crate over and throws herself down beside you. 

“You will soon enough,” you let out a bitter chuckle and shake your head, “Mrs. Grimshaw’s got some vendetta against me.”

Sadie shrugs and picks at some dirt under her nails. The sun seems to crest just perfectly over her head, almost making her blonde hair glow. She seems to be getting better. She’s put some space between her and the O’Driscolls and has found a place in camp just a little easier than you. 

Still, you know she’s struggling. She wants the freedom that your friendship with Arthur and Charles has granted you. You know she’s feeling cooped up here at camp. You’ll have to invite her for a ride sometime and see if that will help ease some of her anxiety. 

“Nah, it’s not just you. That old hag hates me too. She thinks I’ve got ideas above my station.” You and Sadie turn, glaring at the back of Mrs. Grimshaw who is fussing at Lenny. You shake your head with a huff of laughter and turn back to the laundry in hand. 

“I miss Jake,” Sadie suddenly blurts out. You freeze, hand still partially submerged in water as you debate how to approach this. Sadie’s always preferred the blunt way of going about life. You don’t think she wants simpering sympathy right now. 

“Which parts of him do you miss?” You ask, trying to keep your tone light as you toss the shirt into the basket beside you. 

“The non-controlling parts.” Sadie nudges your side with a laugh, “Relax, I’m not gonna start cryin’ on ya. I just miss runnin’ my own house, not being bossed around by a son of a bitch like that,” she says, motioning vaguely towards Mrs. Grimshaw. 

“She’s not much better than my husband was,” you grouse, trying to drown out the woman’s voice. 

“Ooh,” Sadie groans, tone laced with long-held resentment. “Forgive me for sayin’ it, but he was a real pain in my ass.”

You can’t help the grin that curls at your lips as you straighten up, momentarily abandoning the laundry. “You’re not my employee anymore, Sadie. Say whatever you want.”

“Right,” she shrugs, “He was a real bastard and I hope he became wolf meat.” Your lips pull back into something resembling a smile, but it's not fully there. You imagine the blood of your husband on your hands and it doesn’t fill you with the usually stifling nausea. Instead, it’s like a distant ache. You’re either growing numb to it or finally accepting that you’ve done the world a favor. 

You suck in a deep breath and nod, “I hope the same.” Sadie lingers for a little while longer, not helping with the clothes, but keeping you company. You don’t talk about anything of much substance. Mainly her irritations with everyone in camp and you echoing the sentiment. She doesn’t like Pearson always trying to force her to cook with him and you hate being his taste tester. It doesn’t matter how much seasoning he adds, he doesn’t know how to make even half-decent stew. 

When Sadie eventually leaves to finish her chores and you’re left all alone with your thoughts, you realize just how painfully slow the day passes by. You almost find yourself dragging the laundry out just to provide you some distraction from waiting for Arthur to come back. 

You’ve both been lingering on the edge of something. You need to see if it’s all in your head or if there might actually be hope for the both of you yet. 

You glare down at the basket of laundry at your feet and let out a heavy sigh. You reach for another shirt and begin scrubbing, keeping a careful eye on the camp’s entrance. 

It’s not until the sky is illuminated with glowing swirls of orange and pink that Arthur and the others come riding back into camp. You’d run out of chores a long while ago and had just been restlessly pacing since then. Every time you so much as approached Lady someone would come by and distract you with some meaningless task. 

You’d been sitting in the tent for the past hour, barely reading a book as you pray time moved faster. You stand now, hearing the cheers and whistles of the others. You move around the canvas, smiling when you see Arthur leading the men back into camp. 

There’s a man on the back of Diablo, a loud-mouthed redhead that you’ve never seen before. You can only assume this is the infamous Sean they’d been after. Judging by the look on Arthur’s face, you imagine he’s been running his mouth the entire time since they rescued him. 

He looks about ready to put a bullet in the young man as he drives him into camp. You see the others all taking notice of their return, Dutch being the loudest of them all. “Sean MacGuire!” He approaches Arthur’s horse, giving the boy a hand down and grinning widely. “Welcome back, son!”

His thick Irish accent catches you off guard, “Oh, ‘appy to be back, Dutch! ‘appy to be back,” he responds eagerly, a large smile on his face.  

You hesitate by the fire, waiting for Dutch to finish before you go darting off towards Arthur. “I do think a return like this requires a celebration!” Dutch calls out to the rest of the gang. They whistle and cheer for him, Bill already rushing off to break out the alcohol. The gleefulness of the moment catches up to you, it eases away some of the anxiety balling up in your gut and you find yourself cheering along with the others. 

Dutch keeps Sean tucked under his arm and begins to parade him through camp. You know this is a win for all of them. Even if someone here hadn’t liked Sean, getting one over on some bounty hunters is always a morale booster. Whatever your opinions on Dutch may be, you have to admit that he knows how to lead his people. 

Even if you happen to think manipulate is a better word for what he does. 

You watch Sean interact with everyone in camp, drawn into the boisterous energy he wraps himself in. It’s clear some of them are already beginning to find him a little annoying. But even his smart comments can’t seem to put a damper on the spirits of the night. 

Your mouth ticks up slightly when you see Lenny slug him in the shoulder, yelling at him for letting himself get caught. You divert your attention away from the interaction, looking for Arthur. You feel a little bit of the giddiness give way to disappointment when you realize you’ve lost sight of him. 

He’s no longer by the horses, Diablo having been hitched long enough to already start grazing the grass. You peer around the women’s tent and then take a few steps towards Arthur’s but he’s nowhere to be found. 

Just as soon as you let yourself be disappointed by this, you also chastise yourself for becoming so infatuated. You’ve always had a bad habit of getting in your head and boosting your hopes up over something mundane. You’ve only just begun forming a friendship with the man and already you’re starting to fret over him. You’re not a schoolgirl anymore, you’ll have to grow out of this at some point. 

You rub a tired hand over your face and suck in a deep breath. The aromas of camp rush over you in a wave. You can still smell the remnants of burnt morning coffee amidst the ever-present scent of the campfire and the fragrance of laundry that lingers on your hands. You can no longer tell if the mingling of odors comforts or irritates you. 

You look up to the shining stars above and pray for a semblance of sense. Wrapping your shawl tighter around your shoulders you resolve to get over this infatuation with Arthur and just enjoy the night. If anything is meant to happen, it will do so naturally. 

Dutch walks towards you as you begin to head towards the domino table. You force yourself to stop when you see the expectant look on his face. Sean trails along behind him now, already seeming to have found his way into some of the liquor. 

 “Mrs. Rowe!” Dutch calls out loudly, you give him a polite smile and he motions towards Sean. “I don’t believe you’ve met my good friend, Sean MacGuire. Mouthiest gunman in the west,” he adds with a smarmy grin.

You shake your head and hold your hand out to the boy. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. And please, no need to be so formal.” You give him your name, and he perks up. Stumbling forward and attempting to shake the drunkenness off, he turns your palm and kisses the back of your hand instead of shaking it. 

You can’t help but laugh a little at his performance. Molly suddenly calls for Dutch across camp and the three of you turn to face her. “Dutch, over here for a moment!” She waves him forward and Dutch lets out a long-suffering sigh with an easy smile. 

“Duty calls, I believe the two of you can entertain each other for a little while.” He turns towards Molly, arms wide as he calls out, “Now, Miss O’Shea, what ever can I do for you?”

Sean quickly snags your attention again and you realize that he’s yet to let go of your hand. “Not a missus, eh?” He asks, his eyebrows waggling with what his drunken mind must think is seductiveness. 

You stifle a giggle and shake your head no. “‘Fraid not. He’s not been gone long, but I’m happier for it.”

“Oh, and so am I, fair lady.” You shake your head with amusement. He’s nearly charming with all of his limitless swagger. “Now, I’ve just been cooped up in a camp with about fifty men with mugs nearly as ugly as these,” he motions towards the gang and you let out another unbidden laugh. “Would you care to dance with me?”

Your brows furrow, a disbelieving smile on your face. Leaning in, as though you’re sharing a secret, you tell him, “There’s no music.”

He pulls a little bit back from you, meeting your eyes as your breaths mingle with proximity. “Are you sure?” He asks, a mischievous look on his face. 

You find yourself frowning in confusion, and then, almost as though they had planned it, Dutch puts a record on. It’s scratchy on his worn player, but the music fills the camp as he leads Molly into a sway. 

Your lips part in astonishment and you forget for a moment just how close the two of you are. If anyone else saw, they’d think you were going to kiss. “How did you know he was going to do that?”

He waves you off and leans back. “Magician can’t reveal and all that,” he dismisses. “Now, a dance?”

You’re charmed by him, as much as you hate to admit it. Perhaps he doesn’t have quite the same effect on you as Arthur. But he’s handsome in his own way. Besides, who are you to deny a magic man a dance?

You let him lead you towards the fire and he draws you close. You’re surprised when his hand stays firmly on your waist and he keeps a nearly respectable distance between you both. You’re still what modern society would call a scandal, but this is nothing for a gang of outlaws. 

“I’m sure I’ve never met you before. Where did they find you?” Sean spins you out and then twirls you back into his arms with a flourish that makes you breathless. You almost ask him where he learned to dance before you remember to answer his question. 

“Up in the mountains. Some O’Driscolls came through, killed my friend’s husband, and kept us in a cellar.” You’re no longer surprised how easy it is for you to admit something like that. You’ve become desensitized to situations like your own the longer you’ve been in camp. 

“O’Driscolls,” Sean’s face twists up with distaste and he shakes his head. “Nasty business.”

You scoff, “You’re telling me.” Sean’s gaze drifts behind you and the little color on his pale skin drains. It makes the freckles speckling his cheeks stand out remarkably. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Cutting in, MacGuire,” a rough voice calls out from behind you. Your feet still from where they’d been following Sean’s lead and you risk a glance over your shoulder. Arthur paints a fearsome portrait against the night sky. Impassioned by the sight of him, with the brim of his hat tipped low and the fire casting shadows across him, you hastily drop Sean’s hands and step back from him.  “I’d go find your lady if I were you,” Arthur instructs Sean.

Confusion swirls through you before you spot a very angry, very drunk Karen walking past. “Rotten Irish bastard,” she mutters under her breath, shooting both you and Sean a nasty look. Sean chases, taking quick steps towards Karen without another word to you. 

“Karen, it meant nothing, sweetheart. I only wanted a dance!” You let out a loud laugh as you watch him scramble after her. 

“He’s a damn fool,” Arthur says through a chuckle, walking closer towards you. You smile, turning around and flicking the brim of his hat up so he doesn’t seem so imposing. 

“You stole my dance partner, Mr. Morgan.” You accuse lightly, pretending to be cross with him. 

He rolls his eyes with an attitude you rarely see from him. “I did you a favor. You don’t want to get involved with Sean.”

“No,” you tell him, “of course I don’t. I was only dancing. Can’t do that anymore now, can I?”

Arthur’s mouth opens and closes before he lets out a huff. “Well, you two seemed awful close. I thought that-” he cuts himself off and you frown. 

You were only teasing him. Had he actually thought you were interested in pursuing Sean? You’d barely known the boy an hour. You pause, taking a step back and really getting a good look at Arthur. His shoulders are tense, though, not as tense as they had been a moment ago. The anger on his face, when he approached, had been real and not just the fire playing tricks. 

The pieces connect one by one and you find yourself astonished. Arthur Morgan had been jealous over you. 

That had to mean something. You couldn’t be reading into something like this. You might be a little desperate, but you weren’t a fool. You feel a flutter in your stomach and swallow down nerves. “Dance with me?” You ask, in a breathy whisper, sounding much more confident than you are. 

His eyes widen and he grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m no good at stuff like that.”

You bite down your smile and lean forward, taking his hand in your own. They’re rough against the smooth surface of your palms but you relish in the feeling. “Neither am I. It was the one class I never managed to get the hang of in finishing school.”

You coax him forward slowly, drawing him into you and guiding his hand a little lower on your waist than you should. He takes your other hand in his own and leads you into a slow dance. It’s barely anything more than a sway, but you still feel exhilarated. 

Even with the warning, it’s still a little surprising how awful you both are at dancing. “Even if you're stepping on my toes Arthur, I’m still much happier to be dancing with you,” you tell him, sincerity coating your throat like honey. 

He looks away from you and sighs. “Don’t have to say that.”

Your brows furrow and you tilt your head, catching his eye. “Why would I lie?” He doesn’t respond, caught off guard by the question. 

“Well,” he starts slowly, finally facing you again. He laughs a little at himself and shakes his head, “I don’t know why you would.”

“Because I wouldn’t,” you retort. “I don’t want to dance with anyone else, Arthur.” You know that sometimes he doesn’t always catch the hidden meaning, but you’re hoping he understands this time. You don't know if you could be any more brazen than you currently are.

His brows furrow and you can practically see the dots connecting when you begin to hear it. Low grunting noises, something almost like a whimper, slip out of the closed flap of John’s tent. You both pick up on it at the same time, movements slowing until you come to a complete stop. You stand, tucked into Arthur’s chest, and listen to what seems to be two people having a lot of fun. 

“Is that-”

You’re cut off by a very loud, “Sean!” You gasp, hand covering your mouth as your eyes widen. 

“Oh, Karen,” he sounds on the verge of tears and you practically have to bite your tongue to not laugh. You bury your face in Arthur’s chest, feeling it shake as he lets out a loud chuckle. “I’ve missed you so much!” You hear him begin to cry and force yourself to turn away before they hear you both laughing at them. 

“Oh,” Arthur’s face screws up with disgust but he’s still laughing. “That’s just awful. Come on,” he keeps your hand in his, tucking you under his arm as he leads you away from the tent. He snags a bottle of something off a nearby crate as he guides you toward the trees bordering the camp. 

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we don’t have to listen to that,” he mutters, nodding back toward the sinful tent. You clench your eyes shut, trying not to picture what the two of them are doing. 

You feel your feet sink a little, mud lifting around the edges of your boot. You reach to lift your skirts, out of instinct, before you remember you’ve got your new pants on. It makes you smile a little, living without the weight of your old clothes. 

“Arthur,” you stumble into his back as you trip over a branch and he quickly rights you. “Were you jealous?” You don't give much lead-up, hoping to shock the truth out of him. 

He pauses and turns back to look at you. You smile a little impishly at him and he lets out a long-suffering sigh. “This way, woman,” he grumbles, tugging you towards a thinner patch of trees. You find yourself squeezing his hand absentmindedly, liking the comfort of holding it.

The moon illuminates your path forward and you feel your heart jump up to your throat. He’s led you to a small cliff face, a spot just large enough for the both of you, that feels incredibly intimate. The moon almost creates a halo around the area, lighting it up more than anywhere else in the forest. 

Arthur lets go of you to tug off his coat. He places it on the ground and motions for you to sit. So used to fending for yourself and always being the last priority, something as simple as that has your heart skipping. “You didn’t answer my question,” you tell him as you take a seat. 

He sits beside you, knee brushing against your thigh as he pops open the bottle of whiskey he’d swiped. He twirls it around in his hand for a moment before he places it down beside himself. Your stomach dips when he turns towards you, eyes intensely meeting your eyes. 

You almost want to look away, the blue of them too intense to face. There’s honesty in his gaze and an intention you can’t recognize that forms a lump in your throat. “Yes. I was.”

Your lips twitch and you shake your head, slightly bewildered by how easily he admitted that. “I’m jealous every day I don’t get to call you mine,” he adds.

You used to be someone else’s. First, you were your father’s toy and then your husband's. When they called you theirs it was always with the intention of owning and using you. But it feels different with Arthur. It feels like handing him your bruised heart and knowing he’ll keep it safe. He says those words, and finally, you know that someone other than yourself is looking out for you. 

His hand comes up, gently brushing some hair off your cheek and drifting down to the nape of your neck. You lean forward, following his guidance, as his head dips down. Your lips meet, and the warmth emanating from him makes you realize this is truly happening. 

Cold from the stone below you seeps through his jacket and chills your legs. The feeling only further intensifies the startling realization that this is real. This isn’t one of your silly little fantasies. He’s kissing you and you aren’t doing anything.  

You sit before him, stiff as a stone, not kissing him back or showing him any sign you’re enjoying this. He picks up on that and you can already taste the apology on his lips as he begins to pull back from you. So you dart forward, clumsily pushing your lips up against his before you completely ruin your chance. 

He laughs against your eager lips, but you feel his relief in the way his shoulders slump and he relaxes back into you. One of his hands drifts down towards your waist, tugging you slightly closer, and you could melt into the feeling of him holding you. 

He tightens his hold around you, drawing you back ever so slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “You sure you want to get involved with me? It ain’t gonna be easy.”

Unwilling to part for so long, you close the distance between the both of you and finally, let yourself give in to the sensations of this moment. His palm drifts into your hair and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. 

Perhaps due to his gruff outlaw exterior, you’d had the misguided notion that he wouldn’t be a good kisser. Men like himself seem like the type not to enjoy something as simple as a kiss. They’re used to just getting right to the point. You’re happy to discover just how wrong you were. 

Those romance books Mary-Beth devours always describe something fleeting. There’s always fireworks going off as the two people you’ve been reading about finally kiss. This isn’t like that, there isn’t a spark that reignites a cold heart. You feel safe and comforted, like you’re finally coming home. This feels real, not like some passionate moment shared between two people that will never last.

Arthur pulls back, reluctantly, and you both catch your breath. “We should probably head back soon,” he whispers, eyes trained on your lips.

You nod your head, “Probably.” Neither of you goes to move, instead you tighten your hold on one another, basking in the moment of finally having what you’ve been coveting for so long.

Next Part end. — I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Hell Hath No Fury Taglist: @buckysblondie @littlebirdgot @heloixe @summerdazed @committingcrimes-2047

@m1stea @pokiona

[fireheartpages]

never planned on | b.d.

bodhi durran x reader chapter one series masterlist summary: you never planned on being a rider, and you certainly hadn’t planned on the grinning boy from tail section that weaseled his way into your day to day. word count: 2.9k notes: second person pov, reader uses she/her pronouns, has a nickname (i love dirty dancing) and a last name bc i want this to be readable. mentions of (reader’s) death, canon typical violence, you’re kinda mean to bodhi but it’s justified. i wasn’t really planning on writing any more of this tbh, but then i was listening to mastermind by taylor swift and i was like “oh this is so baby and bodhi” and then i was like okay yeah im writing more bc i literally could not stop thinking about them. i really wanted to end it where i had in the last chapter though, but i had so many ideas it felt unjust to leave them hanging, so i decided this is gonna be a sort of multi part series. this can be read as its own series, but i recommend reading the other part for development purposes :)

There were moments that were mean to test you, and moments that were meant to break you.

Your life, so far, had been full of these moments.

You had never planned to be a rider. Never really saw yourself on the back of a dragon, flying and jumping and falling like it was second nature. Never saw yourself handling things like the parapet or the Gauntlet with ease. You sought information, sought knowledge. Truthfully, you’d never really seen yourself going to Basgiath in the first place.

But when your father had run to the outskirts of the Tyrrendor province and left your mother to fend for herself during a historic rebellion, you had made a vow never to be as cowardice as he was.

Basgiath didn’t charge tuition, but not everyone had the means to pack up and travel hundreds of miles away from home to go study to be a glorified librarian. So, when the opportunity presented itself, you accepted the funds to be sent to the college with one condition and one goal.

The condition: Navarre would send you from the little town on the edge of the cliff side on Tyrrendor’s southernmost coastline to Basgiath if you would join the riders quadrant. The war effort needed fighters, and the Tyrrish had the most to prove. Or to apologize for.

The goal: to find out if your mother’s name was on the death roll.

So, fine. You were quick on your feet, could throw a decent punch, and weren’t terrible with a bow or a dagger. You could, with the right training, and an insane amount of luck, make your way through your education.

You never planned on being a rider, but you would do it if it meant you could get away from your dad. Prove yourself as something more than he ever could be. And find out if your mother was alive or dead.

You were at Basgiath three days before you read the death roll, your finger finding her name, your heart crawling its way up your throat as you stared at the parchment.

You hadn’t heard of separatists’ kids before going to Basgiath, and you were surprised to see the winding black swirls of the relics that marred each of them. It was a surprise, to say the least, and you were more than a bit concerned as to why you didn’t have one. Your mother had been executed for being a part of the rebellion, and yet you were a spared the horrors of everything the other kids had gone through. But it didn’t feel like a relief. It felt like that one word you had been running from: coward.

You toed the line of cowardice, unsure of who you could admit your history to. You hadn’t told anyone in your squad, not yet. You were certain anyone who wasn’t Tyrrish wouldn’t understand, and anyone who wore the rebellion relic would see you for what you are, or just resent you for it.

Suddenly, the saving grace of the riders quadrant turned into your doom.

You never planned on being a rider, and you certainly hadn’t planned on the grinning boy from Tail section that weaseled his way into your day to day.

He was all smiles and eagerness to help, laced with quick thinking and brutal efficiency. He was kind, too kind. Bringing you a balm to soothe the aching skin of your hands in a cold you’d never experienced in Tyrrendor. The cracking and bleeding on your hands was sure to be your downfall, until Bodhi Durran had offed you an olive branch, and practically gotten you through the latter half of your first year at Basgiath.

The sight of his rebellion relic had twisted your stomach in a knot. And then you got to know him. Started to fall for him. Found out that he was observant, and overly kind, and willing to put himself on the line if it meant helping someone else. Found that his skin was really soft, and that he could turn the knots in your stomach into butterflies when you watched one side of his mouth curve before the other, as if being pulled by an invisible string. Found you really, really wanted to know what ran through his mind when he looked at you like that. Found you couldn’t help yourself from running your thumbs along the lips that shaped that smile just for you.

Maybe it was a bad idea to open up the way you found yourself wanting to. Maybe Bodhi Durran was a bad idea. But also, maybe for a moment, maybe for more than a moment, Basgiath War College had become more than the death sentence you had assumed it would be. Maybe it had become a second chance.

And then you developed your signet.

Suddenly, more than your education and training was a death sentence. It was every teacher, every student, every secret that was meant to be your doom.

You hadn’t even considered it. Being an inntinnsic. It didn’t even seem in the realm of possibility. If you had to wager a guess, you’d have thought you would have a physical signet. Maybe a fire wielder, or maybe you could have a signet that made you remember everything you read. If that was a thing. Retrocognition would have been cool. Or illusions.

But then you heard it. Dain Aetos’ voice in your head as if he had spoken out loud, and it had taken all of your willpower, and counselling from your dragon to stay calm. Shocair had diffused the tension in you and gotten you somewhere safe, but even she couldn’t save you from an execution.

Every waking moment seemed to bring more stress and panic.

You weren't safe anymore. Every conversation, every look from someone had you convinced you were going to be found out. Every breath you took might be your last. You'd spent quite a few nights in the flight field, curled around a meager fire under Shocair's wing, just to have a moment of quiet. Of peace inside your own mind.

It was noise all the time. Every class, every conversation,

You would have given anything at this point to go back in time and change something—yourself, your mind, anything—to change the outcome of your signet.

You considered just turning yourself in a handful of times. Just walking up to Professor Carr and confessing. He probably wouldn’t even give you a warning before you were dead. It sounded peaceful. Shocair was adamantly against this.

Everything is exhausting now. Classes, training, all of it. If you knew how to use the signet, how to read the thoughts you hear as predictions instead of distracting clatter, you might be good at sparring. But all it does is serve as a block, a sledgehammer in your brain until you yield during challenges without putting up much of a fight. Everyone was going to figure it out, they had to. It was obvious something had shifted with you. You were just good enough at hiding this particular secret so that no one knew what.

It was all exhausting. All of it. From waking up and mentally preparing yourself to face the day, to dodging questions about why you were heading out to the flight field after dark. You were playing mental gymnastics just to get yourself from point A to point Z, and it was taking a toll.

There was one relief. Shocair was there to walk you from waking to sleep, through anxiety and panic attacks and interruptions and interactions. You were fairly certain that the only reason you got any sleep at night was because she was there.

You had never wanted to be a rider. Never pictured it for yourself. But you didn’t see another option anymore. You couldn’t imagine a you without Shocair. There was no going back, just through. You didn’t know what the other side of this looked like, but you were facing it. You hadn’t stepped towards it yet, but you were going to. Eventually. If you could stay alive.

It was the dead of night, and you were freezing, and the fire you had next to you was doing little to thwart the cold. It was one of those nights when other people’s thoughts were plaguing you, making it impossible for you to sleep, let alone take a full breath. No one ever thinks to shield in the safety of their room. Not that most first years were very adept at shielding.

But the flight field is quiet. You weren’t sure if Shocair was just really good at keeping her shields up after the development, or if your signet ability just didn’t extend to dragons, but either way, being tucked under her wing with a meager fire is peaceful, even if you’re still very, very cold.

You were just dozing off then a low rumble shook you awake. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought it was an earthquake, but it was just—

Shocair. And if she’s growling, she’s growling at something. Or someone.

You shoot up, shaking any lingering sleep from your brain as you make to leave the confines of her wing, but she doesn’t allow it. Doesn’t lift the protection to let you assess the situation.

“Shield,” Shocair says into your mind. “Now.”

There are voices, low, male, angry. And you’re panicking.

But there are no thoughts. Not until—

Daggers with weird makings, a mountainous region you were unfamiliar with, and two faces you did recognize.

Xaden Riorson, and Garrick Tavis.

You hear it.

“Is that—what the hell? We have to—”

Hear is a bad word for what your abilities show you, but you lack the proper understanding to explain it. Not that anyone is asking, and not that you’ll ever gain the understanding. You make do with what you have.

Another flash—gryphons and fliers. You suck in a breath.

“Fuck, if she finds out about the rebellion—”

“Put your shields up,” someone hisses, Xaden, you’re pretty sure.

“What?” someone else asks, and—oh, you recognize that voice—and the noise inside your mind quiets.

“Shocair! Let me out!”

“I will not put you in danger.”

“You need to trust me to handle myself.” You almost stomp your foot, frustration boiling to the surface as a last line of defense, simply the tip of the iceberg that is everything in your brain at present, but you weren’t about to take it out on Shocair. Not when you couldn’t have survived a day without her.

You felt the hesitation down the bond as she begrudgingly lifted her wing, revealing you and your measly fire. You’re faced with three men—Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi as your heart attempts to take flight out of your chest.

“Baby?” Bodhi asks, all of his attention trained on you, sans that smile you loved so much.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Xaden asks—demands—using the wingleader voice. Shocair lowers her head, a low growl escaping from her as she bares her teeth in a snarl. Xaden is unfazed, but Bodhi and Garrick have the good sense to at least glance at her with reverence.

“Do not answer that. You are not his to command,” Shocair tells you.

“He’s my wingleader,” you respond to her, then to Xaden, “I’m not—”

But another growl, angrier with a puff of steam this time, crawls out of Shocair. You wince.

“Tell him.”

“Shocair would prefer I didn’t answer that,” you say.

Xaden sighs, and glances up to Shocair, who is still snarling at him, then back to you. “Anything I need to be concerned about?” He sounds tired, and a little wrung out, and you really can’t blame him.

The way he looks at you makes a shiver run down your spine. And not in a fun way.

“No,” you say. “Nothing. I just sleep out here some nights.” Another growl, and you clamp down on the urge to roll your eyes. “It’s peaceful.”

Xaden narrows his eyes at you, but it’s more in a that’s-the-weirdest-thing-I’ve-ever-heard way, and not in a you’re-hiding-something way. Relief is a palpable thing.

“Get to bed,” he says with an assessing gaze. “Or, whatever it is you’re doing. At least make it back to dorms in the morning and pretend like you slept there. I’ve heard your wingleader can be strict about curfew.”

You roll your eyes, but smile despite yourself. “Yes, sir,” you toss out.

Xaden motions to Garrick and Bodhi behind him, and Garrick makes to leave, following him. Bodhi loiters behind, casting you an assessing glance.

“I’ll catch up with you guys.”

“Bodhi—”

“Go.” He turns his full attention to you, but there’s no hint of your favorite smile. Only curiosity, and a bit of apprehension.

“You sleep out here?” he asks.

You nod. “It’s peaceful. Safe.”

His brow furrows, concern lacing through his features. “You don’t feel safe in your dorm? Did something happen?”

“No,” you answer quickly. “Just, you know. Unbonded cadets. Stuff like that.”

Bodhi nods slowly, but it’s obvious he doesn’t believe the flimsy lie. “You’ve been…” he begins, and it’s obvious he’s choosing his words carefully, “distant. Lately. I feel like I haven’t seen you much.”

Well, if that doesn’t hit you like an anvil to the chest. “I don’t mean to be,” you say. Even though you do. You wish you weren’t. You have to be.

“How are your hands?” Bodhi asks, glancing down to where they are balled at your side. You had been wearing your gloves more often, since riding and the colder winter months had you going through the little tins of balm too often. You couldn’t ask Bodhi for more.

“Okay,” you say. It’s a lie. They are so, so painful. Every day is a cacophony of physical and mental pain, and with the cold weather, the joint pain had settled in.

“Do you need more of the balm?” he asks.

You had expected Shocair to butt in by now, but when you chance a glance behind you, she’s settled her head back into the grass, golden eyes half shut.

“No, it’s okay. You really don’t have to go through the trouble—”

“I don’t mind,” Bodhi says quickly. “I want to.”

“Okay,” you say. You can’t help the smile that wiggles out of where you were suppressing it. “I guess I can’t say no to you.”

The statement was meant as a joke, a light and airy tension diffuser. It doesn’t come out like that though. There’s more truth in it than you would care to admit. It settles between you, the admission pulled taught like a rope tied to each of your ribs, bringing you into one another’s gravity.

“Let me walk you back to the dorm.”

Oh, maybe you can say no to him. But it might break your heart in two.

“I’m gonna stay out here tonight,” you say, then, as if your tongue had a mind of its own, “I’m sorry.”

“How often do you sleep out here?” he asks, and it’s real, genuine concern in every fold and crease of him. Your pulse picks up.

“Sometimes,” you answer noncommittally.

He steps closer to you, and now you’re in each other’s space as if that rope had dragged you in. He reaches for your hand, and you let him take it. You stare at his mouth, because, holy shit, you want to know what his lips taste like so bad.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His gaze is on where he’s turning your hand over so it’s palm up and resting in his own.

“I’m fine,” you lie.

Bodhi screws up his nose, and it’s an adorable gesture that just about stops your heart for all the wrong reasons.

“You’ve just been so—” He sighs. “You’re so reclusive, and you’re pushing everyone away.” He goes to the buckle of your gloves, as if to pull them off and test your lies for himself, and suddenly it’s all too much. “I’m worried about you.”

You snatch your hand away. “You don’t know me well enough to be worried about me.”

You regret the words as soon as they’re in the air between you. The expression on his face—the confusion, the hurt— is enough to make you want to fall to your knees and beg forgiveness.

“And whose fault is that?” he asks. There’s no malice in his voice. It’s a real, genuine question.

You don’t answer.

“Have a good night, Baby,” he says, and he turns to walk away. This time, he didn’t say your name the way he usually did. It was a brand now. Not the affectionate honorific it usually came out as.

Your face is screwed up as you drop to the ground, your knees finding purchase in the grass and dirt as your breathe saws out of you. You can’t get enough air, and finally, your vision goes dark.

Not your vision, just the stars. Shocair’s wing is around you again, blocking out the world around you. She’s silent as you try to weather the panic, but there’s no use. It’s consuming you.

“Breathe,” she says, her voice a comforting presence in your mind. “You must breathe.”

“I’m trying,” you send back to her, unable to form the words verbally.

There’s some light let in, and then her giant nose is at your chest. You hear her inhale, and feel her exhale. She does it again.

You match your own breath to hers.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

[lortsyall]

Echoes of Eywa's Child.

chapter 4.

(Neteyam x Human!Reader series)

author's note: Happy New Year, everyone! I hope 2025 brings you everything you wish for and more! I had a blast writing this chapter, and I’m so excited for you all to dive into it. But, as always, my exams are calling my name, so I’ll be back when I can. In the meantime, enjoy this chapter! ✨

Pending…Pending…

Date: August 17th,2174.

Location: Sully Marui,High Camp,Mons Veritatis,Hallelujah Mountains,Pandora.

Time: 1:28AM.

The stars always had a way of making me feel small. Not in a bad way, though—more like I was part of something much bigger, something infinite. My father once told me which one of those stars was Earth. He’d pointed it out during one of our rare quiet moments together, his voice low and steady, full of memories he didn’t share often.

“That’s Earth,” he’d said, his hand resting on my shoulder. “Where I came from. Where humans come from.”

I remember staring at the tiny dot of light, so far away, and thinking how strange it was that my blood carried a piece of that place. That tiny, distant star was supposed to be part of me, part of my story.

But I never felt it.

I never wanted to feel it.

The idea that I was part human always left a bitter taste in my mouth. It wasn’t shame exactly, more like... rejection. Like if I didn’t think about it, it wouldn’t be true. I could just be Na’vi. Fully Na’vi. The son of Toruk Makto, the son of the People. Not this... mix, this in-between thing that didn’t quite fit anywhere.

I think that’s why her words hit me the way they did.

“I don’t belong here,” she’d said last night, her voice so quiet it was almost swallowed by the darkness around us.

I understood that. Too well.

I’d felt it the moment we arrived in Awa’atlu, surrounded by the sea clan with their skeptical eyes and quiet whispers. I’d been the golden boy back in the forest, the future Olo’eyktan, the one who had it all figured out. But in the reef, I was a stranger. A fish out of water. Literally.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t enough. Not strong enough, not skilled enough, not... enough.

I’d see it in their eyes sometimes, the Metkayina. That subtle shift when they looked at me. The respect was still there,yet the feeling lingered. Like I didn’t quite belong, no matter how hard I tried.

And now, here I was again, caught between worlds.

She reminded me of myself back then. That restless energy, that sharp defensiveness. She was trying so hard to figure out where she fit, just like I had. But she didn’t see what I saw in her: a spark, something unyielding, like she’d find her place no matter what it took.

That scared me, I think. The way I found myself wanting to be part of her story, wanting to help her figure it out. She wasn’t like anyone else I’d met.

She was... different.

And that terrified me.

Because I didn’t know what to do with that. Didn’t know how to handle the way my thoughts kept circling back to her, the way I noticed every little detail about her. The curve of her lips when she was annoyed. How she got so mad at me when I saved her,and I couldn’t help but feel amused,thanks to her fiery nature.

It was distracting, and I didn’t like being distracted.

I sighed, running a hand through my braids as I stared up at the stars again. The night was quiet, the village still. Somewhere in the distance, the soft hum of the forest blended with the faint whispers of the breeze.

I told myself to stop thinking about her. We’ve known each other for what,a few weeks?That is,if you count the fact that I didn’t see her for some time after the first ambush when Eywa sent the atokirina her way.

 I need to focus. To focus on the tasks ahead, on my duty to my people, to my father. But it was harder than I wanted to admit.

Because she wasn’t just in my head anymore.

She was under my skin.

The morning came not with the rising sun but with the familiar pull of duty, a rhythm as natural to me as breathing. Sleep had been fleeting, fractured by restless dreams and thoughts I didn’t care to name. It wasn’t unusual—restlessness had been my companion since the day we left the Omatikaya forests for Awa’atlu. But today, it felt different, heavier somehow.

As the first hints of light crept over the trees, I stepped out of my tent, the cool morning air brushing against my skin. Tendrils of bioluminescence still lingered, fading with the approach of dawn.

I made my way toward the ikran rookery, my steps purposeful yet unhurried. Na’la was already awake, perched on a high branch, preening her bright green and blue feathers. She chirped as I approached, a sharp, almost impatient sound that made me smile.

“You’re eager today,” I said in Na’vi, running my hand along her neck. Her scales were warm beneath my palm, and she tilted her head toward me, demanding more attention.

“Na’la, we have work to do,” I murmured, though my tone was more affectionate than scolding. I untangled the leather reins and checked the straps carefully.

A familiar voice broke the quiet. “You talk to her like she’s your child.”

I turned to see Lo’ak leaning against a nearby tree, a teasing grin plastered across his face. He had the kind of ease about him that I envied sometimes, like the weight of the world hadn’t yet found a way to settle on his shoulders.

“And you talk like you’re not late,” I shot back, raising a brow.

Lo’ak laughed, stepping closer. “Father’s been asking about the perimeter check. You’re supposed to report in after.”

“I know,” I replied, securing the final strap on Na’la’s harness. “I’m heading out now.”

Lo’ak’s gaze lingered on me, his grin fading slightly. “You didn’t sleep again, did you?”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, brushing off his concern.

“You’re always ‘fine,’” Lo’ak muttered, crossing his arms. “One day, you’re going to have to admit you’re not perfect, bro.”

“I’ll let you know when that day comes,” I replied, swinging onto Na’la’s back. “Now, are you coming, or are you just here to criticize me?”

Lo’ak chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve got my own tasks, thanks. I have to go over some strategies with Za'ruk for the next ambush. But try not to overthink everything, alright? You’re worse than Kiri sometimes.”

I ignored his jab, giving Na’la the signal to take off. The rush of wind and the sudden burst of speed cleared my mind, at least for a moment. The forest spread out beneath us, an endless expanse of green and blue, dotted with the faint glow of the morning’s first light.

As we approached the eastern perimeter, I scanned the ground below, noting the subtle signs of movement among the foliage. A small group of hunters was already out, their bows slung across their backs as they moved with practiced precision.

I landed Na’la near the group, dismounting with a fluid motion. The lead hunter, a tall Na’vi named Ayzek, approached with a nod of greeting.

“Neteyam. Oel ngati kameie,ma tsmukan.” he said, his voice steady,as he greets me in the Na’vi way. “Everything’s quiet this morning. No sign of activity from the Sky People.”

“I see you,brother.Good,” I replied, glancing toward the horizon. “But stay alert. They’ve been quiet for too long.”

Ayzek nodded again, his expression serious. “We’ll keep watch.”

I spent the next hour moving along the perimeter, checking for any signs of disturbance. The forest was eerily peaceful, the kind of quiet that always felt like the calm before a storm. Yet the storm never came.

By the time I finished, the sun was fully above the trees, casting long shadows across the ground. I guided Na’la back towards the village, my mind already shifting to the next task on my list.Grandmother asked me if I could gather some herbs for her,so I got to work.

I found the plants I needed, bending low to carefully pluck the delicate leaves. The task was simple enough, but my thoughts kept returning to the conversation we’d had last night. She had been so guarded, so closed off. But underneath that was something more—something I couldn’t quite put into words. It reminded me of the way the forest was sometimes: unpredictable, wild, full of life, but also dangerous.

As I landed back at base,I made my way quickly to my grandmother’s tent, the familiar scent of herbs and smoke greeted me. The Tsahìk was seated cross-legged near a low fire, her hands deftly mixing a paste in a stone bowl.

“Grandmother,I see you." I said, bowing my head respectfully.

“Neteyam,” she replied without looking up. “You are late.”

“My apologies,” I said, kneeling beside her. “The perimeter was secure.”

She finally looked at me, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “And yet your mind is elsewhere.”

I hesitated, unsure how to respond. My grandmother had a way of seeing through me, of pulling truths I wasn’t ready to confront.

“There is much to think about,” I said carefully.

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer,a small smile making its way on her face before she returned to her work. “Your father has asked for you. Go to him when you are done here.”

I nodded, rising to my feet. Her words stayed with me as I made my way toward his marui. There was always something to think about, always something to do. But lately, my thoughts kept returning to her—to the human girl who didn’t belong here, yet somehow felt like she might.

For now, though, there was work to be done. And work was the one thing I could always count on to keep my mind in check.

The low hum of the base was the only sound besides the soft padding of my footsteps as I made my way to my father’s marui. My mind was still spinning from the conversation I’d had earlier, the one that had gotten under my skin more than I wanted to admit. I wasn’t sure what it was about her that kept pulling my attention, but the more I saw of her, the harder it was to ignore the strange pull.

I rounded a corner, barely glancing up before—

Bam!

I felt the impact hard in my chest as she collided with me, sending a jolt through both of us. My body instinctively moved to catch her, but she was already stepping back, muttering under her breath.

“Dammit,” she hissed, her hand flying to her left shoulder, massaging the spot she’d rammed into me. “Fucking hell, watch where—”

Her voice faltered mid-curse as her eyes flicked up to meet mine. Wide and startled, her gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, we both froze. The air between us thickened, silent except for the faint hum of the base and the echo of her earlier words.

“Neteyam?” she said finally, her voice softer now, tinged with surprise.

I blinked, the initial shock fading as I took her in. Her cheeks were flushed—whether from embarrassment or irritation, I couldn’t tell—and her lips were slightly parted as if she wasn’t sure what to say next. Fucking hell, she’s so pretty.

“Syulang,” I said, letting out a breathless laugh and easing into a grin. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

She straightened up and let out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she muttered, then huffed in frustration. “I swear, I need to be more careful. My brain’s on autopilot lately.”

I chuckled, the sound breaking some of the tension. “No harm done. You sure you’re okay? That was a pretty solid hit.” I asked, studying her face. The frustration from earlier had softened, but I couldn’t help noticing how much more relaxed she looked.

She rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. “I’ve had worse,” she said, rubbing her shoulder one more time before she gestured vaguely down the hall, a little too animated, her voice picking up speed. “I was actually heading to Unit 2—kind of a weird place, but cozy enough. I’ve already taken some blood samples, nothing too fancy, you know? Just figuring out some things with the new enhanced Avatar technology and—” She paused, blinking as if she hadn’t realized how much she was talking.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her. She was talking so fast, her words tumbling over each other like she was on a mission to distract herself, or maybe... distract me. She was so different from the defensive girl I had bumped into last night in the common room. Either way, I could feel my heart rate picking up in the strangest way.

“Blood samples?” I repeated, trying to focus on the words, though I couldn’t stop staring at how her lips moved when she spoke. “What... kind of samples?” Did I really just ask what kind of samples? Am I a fucking idiot?

"Oh, you know,” she said, waving her hand dismissively, “baseline stuff. Standard variables. I can’t really get into the fun experiments until I have a solid foundation to work with.” She grinned like she was sharing some inside secret, and for a moment, I found myself completely captivated by the spark in her eyes.

She was so different from anyone I’d met. So...alive, in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

“Right,” I said, quieter than I intended, distracted by the way her hair caught the faint light. “You’re settling in, I see?”

Her laugh was soft, disarming. “What else am I supposed to do around here? Besides, I’ve got to keep busy or else I’ll start thinking too much about... everything else.”

The way she said everything else stirred something in my chest. It was in her tone, the way her words seemed heavier than they should have been. I didn’t want to push, but I couldn’t stop myself. “What do you mean, everything else?”

She hesitated, a fleeting expression of vulnerability crossing her face. Like she hadn’t meant to let that slip. Then, with a small shrug and a half-smile, she answered, “It’s nothing, really. Just... adjusting. I know I’m not exactly welcome here, but I don’t have a lot of options right now,do I?”

Her voice softened toward the end, her posture shifting slightly, as though the weight of her words had finally settled on her shoulders. My eyes caught the way her fingers tugged at her cuticles—a nervous habit I’d seen around before. It was subtle but telling, the kind of gesture that hinted at something deeper bubbling under the surface.

She’s anxious... huh.

“I get it,” I said gently, my voice dropping in volume as though I didn’t want to break the fragile moment between us. “It’s... a lot to take in. But you’ll find your place. In time. You just have to trust the process.”

Her eyes flickered toward me, and for a second, something unreadable passed through them—an emotion too layered to pin down.The look lingered just long enough to make my chest tighten before she glanced away, letting her gaze drift to the floor.

That’s when I saw it again—the same vulnerable look she’d had last night. The mask she wore, the one that made her seem sharp and untouchable, slipped just a little. Beneath it was something raw, something almost fragile.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she let out a soft sigh. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke. “You’re right,” she said, her voice quieter now, thoughtful but distant, as if she was speaking more to herself than to me.

I didn’t press her, even though the pause felt heavy with unspoken things. I could sense the struggle she was having, the way she weighed every word like it might tip some precarious balance. Instead, I let the silence stretch between us, offering her the space to decide what she wanted to say—or not say.

But even as her eyes stayed fixed on the floor below, her fingers had stopped pulling at her cuticles. A small thing, but I noticed.

And just like that, the moment seemed to waver, as fragile as a thread. She stepped back, her attention shifting toward the path. “Anyway... I should get back to the lab. I’ve still got a ton of data to go through.”

I watched her pull away, feeling a sudden, inexplicable tightness in my chest. There was no reason for me to feel like this, no reason for the way my feet wanted to follow hers even as she moved further away. I don’t even know her that well. 

“Yeah, okay,” I muttered. “I’ll see you later?”

She glanced back at me, her lips curling into a small smile. “Actually,” she said, a mischievous,yet shy glint in her eyes, “how about we meet in the common room tonight,around 11? You know, talk more. Like last night. I could use a distraction.”

Her invitation—casual, but somehow intimate—had my heart beating faster than it should have. For a split second, I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or panicked. There was something about her that pulled at me in a way that I couldn’t control. But I nodded anyway.

“Sure. Tonight. I’ll uh…I’ll see you there.” I said, my voice quieter and more shy than usual. 

Her smile lingered for a moment, her gaze soft and warm, before she turned and walked off down the hall. I couldn’t stop watching her as she disappeared into the distance.

The moment she was out of sight, I exhaled sharply, trying to calm the racing thoughts in my mind. What is wrong with me?

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Between the two of us, something was changing—something I wasn’t prepared for. And I didn’t know whether to embrace it or run. But all I knew for sure was that I’d be in that common room tonight, just like she wanted.

Whatever happens then, I’ll deal with it.

I stood there for a few moments after she walked away, my mind swirling with the unexpected tension that had sparked between us. It wasn’t like me to get so... flustered. I wasn’t some teenager caught off guard by a fleeting glance or a playful smile. But the way she spoke, how she was so full of energy now that she was in her own element, and how the words seemed to flow out of her like she couldn’t stop herself—it made me feel... unsteady.

Shaking my head to clear the thoughts clouding my mind, I turned on my heel and continued my path toward my father's marui. There was no time to be distracted right now. I had duties to attend to, responsibilities I couldn’t afford to ignore.

I hadn’t been on my way for more than a few minutes before the weight of the moment caught up with me again. She had asked to meet later—tonight—and I hadn’t expected it. I had thought maybe it was a fluke, a casual comment. But the look in her eyes, the sincerity of her words, made it clear she meant it. And despite everything, part of me wanted to meet her. Wanted to see what would happen when we spoke more, when we spent more time together.

But now wasn’t the time for that. I had bigger things to worry about.

I reached my father’s marui, the familiar earthy scent of the woven structure greeting me as I stepped inside. The dim light of late morning filtered through the arched openings, casting intricate patterns over the floor. My thoughts were still scattered, each one vying for attention like a restless storm.

Dad was already there, sitting cross-legged at the center of the room, his posture as straight as ever, exuding a quiet authority. A map of the surrounding territories was spread out before him, his fingers tracing lines and markings that detailed our fragile hold on this land.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with mild reprimand. He didn’t look up; he didn’t need to. His tone carried enough weight.

“Sorry, Dad,” I muttered, lowering myself to sit across from him. The woven mat beneath me felt rough, grounding. “Got... distracted.”

At that, his eyes flicked up, sharp and discerning. Concern flickered briefly in his gaze, though it was hidden beneath his stoic exterior. “Distracted?” His brow furrowed. “You’re still thinking about those reports from yesterday?”

I almost laughed at that—those reports were the last thing on my mind—but I stopped myself, shaking my head. “No, not exactly.” My tone was too neutral, betraying nothing of the whirlwind in my head. The lab, the ambushes, the strange pull I felt toward her—all of it churned within me, just out of reach.

Dad’s gaze lingered for a moment, his keen eyes assessing me. “You’re sure? Because…whatever’s bothering you, we need to stay focused. We’ve got more problems than just the RDA and their new push for territory.”

“I know,” I said, nodding quickly, trying to appear more resolute than I felt. “I’m focused, Dad. It’s just...there’s a lot going on right now. Everything’s changing so fast, and I don’t think I’ve caught up yet.”

For a moment, silence stretched between us. Then, to my surprise, his expression softened. He leaned back slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You know,” he began, his tone uncharacteristically reflective, “I’ve been where you are. When I came here as a human. When we moved to Awa’atlu, to live with the Metkayina. I felt like I was walking into another world,every single time. Everything I knew was stripped away. For the first time, I didn’t know where I fit.”

I blinked, taken aback. My father—so steady, so unwavering—had felt that way? I’d never heard him speak like this before.

“You?” I asked, skepticism coloring my voice despite myself.

He smirked faintly, but his eyes remained serious. “Yes, me. I was used to being in control, to knowing my role and what was expected of me,especially here with the people. Our people. But there, among the Metkayina... I was an outsider. Not to mention,back when I came here to Pandora,almost everyone looked  down on me because of my…condition. I had to learn everything from scratch, adapt to a way of life that was completely foreign to me.”

“And you found your place eventually,” I said quietly, as though seeking confirmation.

“I did,” he said with a slow nod. “But it wasn’t easy. And it wasn’t always clear. Sometimes, finding your place isn’t about fitting in. It’s about carving out your own path, even if it’s not what you expected.”

His words settled heavily in the air between us. They were meant to reassure me, I knew, but they only seemed to magnify the doubts I hadn’t yet voiced.

“What if I’m not sure where I belong anymore?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it. I could feel the regret seeping into my bones almost instantly.

My father’s gaze softened, and for a moment, he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone. “You’re my son, Neteyam. You’ve always been destined to lead. But leadership isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about making the hard choices when no one else will. And right now, you’re needed. By your family, by the clan. Don’t forget that.”

I nodded, his words hitting their mark. The familiar weight of responsibility settled on my shoulders again, grounding me even as the unease within me continued to churn.

“Got it,” I said, standing up, summoning a conviction I didn’t truly feel. My legs felt heavy, as if the weight of every expectation was dragging me down. I am so, so tired. The kind of exhaustion that seeps into your bones, that lingers even after the day is done. But I couldn’t let it show, not now. Not in front of him.

I glanced at my father’s face—strong, unwavering, the image of everything I was supposed to be—and felt the pressure tighten around me like a vise. I can’t let him down. I can’t let anyone down.

“I’ll handle it, Dad,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me. I squared my shoulders, as if straightening my spine could bear the weight a little better. “I’ll take care of everything.”

But even as I spoke the words, they felt hollow, as though I was pouring from a well that had long since run dry. The weight of responsibility, of duty, of always being the one everyone relied on—it was crushing. Yet I swallowed the heaviness, shoving it down where no one could see, because that’s what was expected of me. That’s what I had to be.

“I know you will,” he replied firmly. “Now, let’s go over those raid reports from the Aranahe. Priya said Etuwa mentioned something important about their movements.”

We spent the next hour combing through the maps and plans, dissecting strategies and weighing risks. By the time we finished, my head was spinning with logistical details, but the unease hadn’t left me. It clung to me, stubborn and unrelenting.

As I stepped out of the marui, the mid-morning sun had risen higher, casting dappled light through the canopy above. The air felt thick with possibility and tension, the kind that promised change.

And tonight, I would talk to her. Maybe then I’d start to make sense of the storm inside me. Maybe then I’d begin to understand what it was about her that had shifted my entire world off its axis.

The soft glow of the lamps in the common room greeted me as I pushed open the door, expecting to see her sitting at one of the tables, waiting for me like we had planned. But the room was empty, save for a few scattered papers and a faint hum in the air. The silence felt heavier than it should have, and I couldn't help but feel a small knot form in my stomach. Had she changed her mind? Was I being too... eager?

I stood there for a moment, my gaze flicking from one corner of the room to the other, my thoughts racing. It wasn’t like her to ditch without saying something. She didn't seem like that kind of person. My hand lingered on the doorframe as I considered the possibility that I’d misread her intentions. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk tonight.

"Great," I muttered under my breath. "Did she forget, or did I get the time wrong?"

I lingered for a minute, debating if I should just call it a night, but something told me to check on her. Her room wasn’t far, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to swing by.

When I reached her door, I knocked softly. "You in there?"

There was a pause, then her voice came through, muffled but annoyed. "Yeah, come in."

I stepped inside and found her sitting on her bed, one hand digging into her left shoulder with an almost pained expression. Her hair was loose, framing her face, and she looked… tired. Not just physically, but like she was carrying something heavy.

“What’s going on? You okay?” I asked, stepping closer, my voice laced with concern.

She sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face as she gave me a weak smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t meet you in the common room. My shoulder’s acting up, and I couldn’t drag myself out of bed.”

My brows knit together in a deep frown, the memory of her earlier bumping into me flashing in my mind. “Did you… did you hurt yourself when you bumped into me today?”

“What?” she asked, her expression confused before shaking her head quickly. “No, no, I—”

Her words trailed off, and for a moment, she hesitated. The confident, sharp-tongued girl I knew seemed to falter, her smile fading into something more vulnerable. Then, with a frustrated groan, she dropped the façade altogether.

“...Gah. A long time ago, I had an accident at the gym. Lifted before I warmed up and messed up my shoulder pretty bad,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “I got it fixed back on Earth, but sometimes it still flares up. I think it’s the pressure here, the mountains, the Flux Vortex. Everything feels heavier, and sometimes it just… hurts like hell.”

Her honesty hit me like a wave, and I found myself at a loss for words. For all her fire and wit, there was a fragility to her I hadn’t expected.

“Why didn’t you tell someone?” I asked, confusion—and maybe a hint of frustration—coloring my voice.

She sighed again, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the blanket covering her legs. “I don’t like people fussing over me, okay? It’s… embarrassing. Makes me feel weird and emotional. And when the pain gets bad, I turn into a total asshole. Groggy, snappy, all that fun stuff. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to be around me then."

I tilted my head, smirking. "Paskalin, I’ve seen you pissed off at me for saving your life. I think I can handle snappy.’" 

The term of endearment fit her so well, even better than syulang. She wasn’t delicate like a flower, something to be admired from a distance or sheltered from the wind. No, she was something else entirely. She had a resilience, a sharpness under her sweetness that reminded me of the wild berries that grew deep in the forest. Small, vibrant, and full of flavor, but with a tang that lingered.

Paskalin.

The word rolled through my lips like a whisper, soft and unassuming, yet it carried so much weight. Sweet berry. It was her—unexpected, unapologetic, and impossible to forget. Every interaction with her left a taste, something unique that stayed with me long after she was gone. She wasn’t just something pretty to look at; she had depth, layers, and a wildness that drew you in.

Calling her syulang like I did when I bumped into her wouldn’t have done her justice in this moment. She wasn’t fragile or fleeting. She was vibrant, alive in a way that commanded attention without trying. Paskalin. That was her.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized the name wasn’t just fitting—it felt like it had been waiting for her all along.

That made her laugh for real. For a moment,I could feel she didn't want to admit that I had saved her life. "...Okay, fair point. But still, it’s annoying as hell. Plus,I told you,I don’t like people fussing over me. I don’t want to seem like I’m trying to get attention.”

“Too bad,” I said firmly, moving closer and sitting on the edge of her bed without a second thought. Gosh,these beds are small. “You’re stuck with me now.”

She blinked at me, momentarily surprised, before letting out a soft, genuine laugh. It wasn’t the sharp, sarcastic sound I was used to—it was warm, unguarded. It made something tighten in my chest.

“Great,” she said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “Just what I needed—Prince Charming to the rescue.”

I smirked, leaning back slightly but keeping my gaze steady on her. “I’m serious, though. You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. You don’t have to.”

She rolled her eyes, but I could see the faintest hint of gratitude in her expression. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve made your point.”

We spent the hour or so talking about the dumbest things—stories about the douchebags at her college back on Earth, our childhood memories, and random jokes that had us both laughing so hard my ribs hurt. To my surprise,it was so…natural. At some point, we decided we were starving, so we raided the common room for leftover snacks,and munched on them on the floor. It felt more comfortable sitting on the floor,given our…size difference.

I watched as she shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her shoulder again. I remembered how my grandmother used to massage my chest after I got shot, easing the tension on my back and helping the muscles heal. Before I could second-guess it, I asked her.

"Uh… do you want me to try something?" I asked, scratching the back of my neck.

She raised an eyebrow. "Try what?"

"My grandmother taught me a massage technique. It’s supposed to help with muscle pain. Worked for me when I, uh… got hurt." I didn’t elaborate. I couldn't open that part of myself to her. Not yet,at least. 

She raised an eyebrow, skeptical,the sass dripping from her tone. “What, you suddenly moonlight as a masseur now?”

“Shut up and turn around,” I said, rolling my eyes.

She snorted but complied, sitting cross-legged on the floor and turning her back to me. I positioned myself behind her,trying to remember the technique. As soon as I started kneading the tight muscles,she let out a long,low groan of relief.

My ears twitched,and I fought to keep my focus. It’s just a massage. Relax. But fuck,the way she was melting under my touch wasn’t helping.

“Holy shit,” she muttered, her voice muffled. “That feels… really good.”

“You’re tense as hell,” I said,trying to lighten up the mood. “Do you ever not carry the world on your shoulders?”

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned,though her voice was softer. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

We stayed like that for a while,her groaning softly and me trying not to die of embarrassment. But somewhere in the rhythm of it,I realized something. We were becoming…friends. Real friends.

“Where were you when I needed this back on Earth?” she asks,a tinge of amusement present in her voice.

“Probably trying not to fall out of trees,” I said, grinning.

She laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You’re terrible.”

I chuckled, though my face felt a little warmer as her laughter turned into soft groans of relief yet again,which weren't exactly helping me stay focused as my mind started drifting to other places.

I froze for half a second, my face heating up before I forced myself to focus. "Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I charge for this kind of service."

She laughed, the sound muffled by another groan. "How much? I’ll pay whatever you want if you just keep doing that."

I couldn’t help but laugh as well, shaking my head. "You’re ridiculous."

"So are you," she shot back, her voice softer now. "Seriously, though. Thanks. I don’t... I don’t usually let people help me with this kind of stuff."

"Why not?"

She hesitated, then sighed. "I guess I don’t like feeling... vulnerable. Weak."

"That’s not weak,though." I said, my hands still working on her shoulder. "Just like your people have that saying. It’s human. Or,you know,whatever."

"Yeah. Or whatever." she said,her tone sarcastic,yet I could hear the faint smile in her voice.

We stayed like that for a while, the room quiet except for her soft breathing and the occasional sarcastic remark from her when I hit a particularly sore spot. By the time I finished, her shoulder was noticeably less tense, and she looked… lighter, somehow.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “I mean it.”

“Anytime,” I replied, meaning it more than I realized. 

Her eyes lowered suddenly, a flicker of vulnerability creeping into her expression. “I guess... sometimes it’s hard for people to understand. They either see me as the tough, independent person,because that’s what I want them to see. Sometimes,I show them my softer part and I’m usually taken advantage of when I act like that. But… I’m not invincible,you know?”

I felt a knot tighten in my chest at her words. She was tough. She was smart. She was so much more than she seemed to give herself credit for. “You don’t have to apologize for being real and vulnerable,” I said, my voice low and reassuring. “You’re allowed to feel the way you do. You’re not alone here.”

She looked up at me, her eyes softening a little as she took in my words. “I didn’t realize how much I’ve been hiding. I guess it just gets... exhausting sometimes. Pretending that everything’s fine when it’s not.”

I couldn’t help but feel a wave of empathy wash over me. I knew that feeling. The pressure of always having to be strong, to always hold it together, even when everything inside you was falling apart. I had been in her shoes, more times than I cared to admit.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” I said, meeting her gaze with a kind of sincerity I wasn’t sure I’d ever expressed before. “I know we haven’t known each other for long but…I get it. You’re not the only one trying to find their place. Sometimes, it’s easier to hide behind walls. But you don’t have to do that with me. Not anymore.”

For a moment, she just stared at me, her expression unreadable, and then something shifted in her eyes. Maybe she saw the truth in my words, or maybe she just needed to hear them. Either way, the tension in the room seemed to ease, just a little.

“I’m not great at this whole... opening up thing,” she said, letting out a weak,quiet laugh. “But I think... maybe it’s worth trying. Right?”

I smiled at her, feeling something warm blossom in my chest. “It’s worth trying,” I agreed. “And maybe, we can help each other with that. Maybe we can even be friends.”

She raised an eyebrow at me, an amused smile tugging at her lips. “Friends?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice,but I could see the excitement behind her wide eyes. “You sure you’re up for it, Neteyam?”

I said, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Of course I’m sure. Better yet,I’ll even make sure you don’t murder anyone with your mood swings.”

Her lips twitched into a smile, and she rolled her eyes, but I could see the appreciation in the small way her shoulders relaxed. “You���re a real charmer, you know.” she muttered, though there was no heat in her words.

“Hey, I’m just speaking the truth,” I replied with a grin. “The world needs more of me, I’m just saying.”

She let out a laugh, the sound a little strained but genuine. “Maybe one Neteyam is enough. I don’t know if the world could handle two.”

“I think you’re just jealous,” I teased, nudging her good shoulder lightly with my elbow.

She snorted, shaking her head. “Please. I’d rather be in pain than deal with your ego any more than I have to.”

“Fair enough,” I said, giving her a mock pout. “I’m trying to be helpful here, and you’re rejecting my kindness.”

She smirked. “I’m rejecting your sarcasm. But thanks... for listening. And for not running off the second I started talking about how much of a pain in the ass I am.”

I didn’t know why, but that made me feel warmer than it should’ve. “You’re not a pain in the ass. You’re... pretty cool, actually.” I paused, then added, “Pain or not.”

She raised an eyebrow at me. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in, like, an hour.”

I chuckled. “Well, I’m happy to help.”

Slowly,we fell into a comfortable silence. The soft glow of the dim light casting shadows that danced gently across her features. The faint hum of the base filled the silence, but I barely noticed it. My attention was entirely on her.

She was leaning back on her palms, her head tilted slightly upward as she stared at the ceiling. Her hair, unbound and free, pooled around her shoulders and down her back like an ocean of soft waves. The light caught the natural sheen in it, creating an almost halo-like effect around her head. The strands seemed to ripple with her every subtle movement, and I couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly beautiful she looked—like a moment frozen in time, raw and unfiltered.

Her face, partially illuminated, carried an ethereal softness under the subdued light. The curve of her cheekbones, the delicate arch of her brows, and the faint shadow of her lashes against her skin—all of it felt magnified in this quiet, intimate moment. Her lips, slightly parted, caught my attention for a beat too long. Full and natural, they had a way of drawing my gaze without her even trying.

The dim light softened the sharpness of her features, making her look almost dreamlike. Her doe-like eyes, though unfocused as they traced patterns across the ceiling, seemed deeper somehow, like they held an entire galaxy behind them.

Her shoulders were relaxed, but there was a tension in the way her hands pressed into the floor, grounding her. The fabric of her loose shirt shifted slightly as she breathed, the neckline dipping just enough to reveal the faint outline of her collarbones. It wasn’t intentional—nothing about her ever seemed forced—but the simplicity of it only made her more alluring.

I watched as her chest rose and fell with each breath, the steady rhythm hypnotizing me. Her posture gave her an air of quiet confidence, as if she was completely at ease in this moment. Yet, there was a vulnerability there too, something that made her seem so real and tangible, like the delicate balance between strength and softness.

She shifted slightly, her fingers curling against the floor, and the movement was so subtle, so natural, it sent a strange thrill through me. I realized then just how intently I’d been watching her, how I couldn’t seem to look away. Every little detail—the way her hair framed her face, the soft curve of her lips, the calm yet restless energy she carried—was pulling me in, bit by bit.

This was dangerous—this pull she had over me, so effortless, so natural, yet so completely overwhelming. It wasn’t just her beauty, though that alone was enough to make my thoughts scatter. It was the way she existed in this moment, unguarded and unassuming, as if she didn’t even realize how much space she took up in my mind.

And yet, the longer I looked at her, the harder it became to remember why I shouldn’t. Why I shouldn’t let my mind wander to the way her hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall. Why I shouldn’t think about how her lips, slightly parted, seemed to invite thoughts I had no business entertaining. Why I shouldn’t dwell on the way she held herself—with a mix of strength and vulnerability that made me want to learn every story, every scar, every smile.

It wasn’t just attraction; it was something deeper, more insidious. A seed of something I couldn’t quite name yet but knew would grow if I let it. She was starting to take root in my thoughts, her laugh, her voice, her endless curiosity all lingering in the corners of my mind long after she was gone.

I found myself breathing as if the air between us had grown heavier. Something was shifting in me—something I hadn’t expected, something I wasn’t sure I wanted. This wasn’t part of the plan. She wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan. And yet, she was becoming impossible to ignore.

The way she sat there, so perfectly unaware of the effect she was having on me, made it all the more dangerous. Because every second I spent watching her, every detail I memorized—the slight tilt of her head, the rhythm of her breathing, the way her fingers tapped absently against the floor—was another step toward something I couldn’t afford.

I wasn’t so sure about my loyalties anymore. That’s the thing with humans. They have a way of making you question everything. 

And still, I couldn’t stop myself. Couldn’t stop the way my chest tightened every time she moved. Couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through my mind, each one more foolish than the last.

She was becoming a gravity I couldn’t escape, a quiet pull drawing me closer with every breath. And as I stood there, caught in the silent orbit of her presence, I realized with a sinking clarity that I was falling. Slowly, maybe, but undeniably.

Her voice brought me back to reality, soft and melodic, like a breeze stirring the stillness of the night. I hadn’t even realized how lost I had become in my thoughts until she spoke, her words cutting through the haze and pulling me back into the moment.

I blinked, forcing myself to focus on her. She was still sitting there, leaning back on her palms, her eyes flickering to mine.

“You know,” she said, staring up at the ceiling, “I think this might be the most fun I’ve had in weeks.”

“Glad I could be of service,” I said, tossing a piece of fruit into my mouth.

Our conversation was then cut short by Norm as he stumbled in, half-asleep, rubbing his eyes and muttering something about needing stronger coffee around here, while we were sprawled on the floor, mid-laugh. We froze as his gaze landed on us, his sleepy expression shifting into one of confusion.

“What are you two doing?” he mumbled, scratching his head.

Never one to back down from an opportunity to tease,she turned to him. “Star gazing,” she said, deadpan, despite the fact that we were indoors.

Norm squinted, clearly too tired to argue. “Right. Well, carry on. Just… keep it down.” He shuffled over to the kitchenette, grabbed a glass of water, and disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived.

As soon as the door closed behind him, we burst out laughing again. I rolled onto my side, clutching my stomach. “Star gazing? Really?”

She grinned, unrepentant. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Shaking my head, I let the laughter fade and leaned back against the floor, staring up at the ceiling. The quiet hum of the outpost settled around us, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt completely relaxed. In a moment of confidence,I turned my head to look at her.

She turned her head to look at me as well,her cheek resting softly against the cool floor, and for a moment, I couldn't tear my gaze away. Her hair fanned out around her like a halo,tendrils spilling in all directions, catching the dim light in a way that made her seem almost otherworldly. In that split second, I was completely entranced, my heart doing a strange, sudden lurch in my chest. It was like everything around me went quiet, and all that mattered was the sight of her there, so effortlessly beautiful. I swear, my heart physically skipped a beat.

"You're staring," she said, her voice teasing, with a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

I blinked rapidly, forcing myself to pull my eyes away from her. "Was not," I mumbled, but my voice betrayed me, the words coming out a little too quick, too defensive.

"Totally were," she shot back, poking me in the side with one finger, sending a small, unexpected jolt through me.

I let out a quiet breath, glancing at her with surprise. Her playfulness was so unexpected, and it threw me off balance more than I cared to admit.

"As if," I muttered, a small laugh bubbling up despite myself.

She smiled then, a small, genuine smile that seemed to warm the room, making my chest tighten in ways I couldn’t name. There was something about the way her expression softened, something that tugged at me. That simple, unguarded smile made the space between us feel both impossibly close and unbearably far, all at once. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt exposed under her gaze, and I didn’t want to look away—didn’t want to lose the moment.

"Okay, enough deep shit," she said with a dramatic flourish, flopping her back onto the floor like she’d just completed an intense workout. "Tell me something dumb. Like… what’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?"

I groaned, instantly feeling the weight of the question. "Oh, come on. That’s not fair."

"Fairness is overrated," she teased, smirking at me as if daring me to resist. "Come on, spill. I know you’ve got something good."

I sighed, running a hand through my braids, already regretting this conversation. "Fine. When I was like… ten, I tried to impress this girl by climbing a tree. Thought I was being all cool and smooth, y’know? But then I fell right out of it and landed in a pile of… well, let’s just say it wasn’t dirt."

She burst out laughing immediately, clutching her stomach like she couldn’t control herself. Her laugh was so contagious, I found myself cracking a smile, even though I was still cringing at the memory. "Oh my god! Please tell me she didn’t see the whole thing."

I grimaced, leaning back against the floor, trying to escape the embarrassment. "Unfortunately, yes. And she never, ever let me live it down."

She wiped a tear from her eye, still laughing uncontrollably. "Okay, your turn. Ask me something."

I thought for a moment, a mischievous grin slowly creeping onto my face. "Alright. What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done to impress someone?"

She groaned and covered her face with both hands, clearly regretting her decision to play along. "Oh, you’re evil. Okay, fine." She sighed deeply, as if preparing to dive into the depths of embarrassment. "When I was fifteen, I had this huge crush on a guy, and he was obsessed with some TV series, so I… painted a triquetra on my wall in black paint to impress him. It’s like… a triangle symbol, I don’t know how to describe it."

I stared at her for a moment, speechless, before I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I burst out laughing, leaning forward in disbelief. "You’re kidding."

"Wish I was," she said, her voice muffled behind her hands, but I could still hear the faint edge of humiliation in it. "He didn’t even think it was that impressive, and my parents thought I was in a cult."

I doubled over in laughter, clutching my sides as the ridiculousness of her story hit me. It was almost too perfect. The image of her—who could be so effortlessly composed and sharp—doing something so… ridiculous to impress some guy was too much for me. I could barely breathe, still laughing so hard I thought I might pass out.

We kept trading stories like that for a while, our voices rising in fits of laughter, each ridiculous tale more outrageous than the last. By the time we realized how late it was, the sun had already begun to rise. Its soft glow filtered through the windows, casting long beams of pale light across the room, making everything feel a little softer, a little quieter.

"Shit," she said, looking around in sudden realization. "We pulled an all-nighter???"

"Looks like it," I muttered, stretching as a yawn escaped me. I was exhausted, but in that moment, it felt like the kind of tiredness you could sink into, not the kind that dragged you down. The kind that comes after a night spent with someone who makes everything feel a little lighter.

She groaned, glancing at the clock and then back at me, her expression still a mix of disbelief and amusement. "We seriously need to stop doing this. I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that we stayed up all night or the fact that I actually enjoy it."

I chuckled softly, rubbing my eyes. "We’ll deal with that later. But right now, I’m pretty sure we both need coffee."

She shot me a grin, her eyes sparkling even in the early morning light. "Coffee sounds like a good idea. Let’s go make some bad decisions."

I helped her up, my hand steady as I offered her a small, teasing smile. But as soon as she stood, her eyes widened just slightly, and I couldn't suppress a chuckle at the look on her face. In that moment, the difference in our heights felt more pronounced than it ever had before.

Her gaze flickered up to me, a little self-conscious, and I could tell she was probably calculating how much taller I was than her. I couldn’t help but find it amusing—the way she looked up at me like I was some towering figure.

We both began to walk toward the kitchen, and her voice rang out, light and easy, bouncing off the walls as we moved through the quiet, stillness of the morning. “Thanks for tonight, Neteyam. For real. I didn’t think I needed this, but… I did.”

I turned my head to look at her,a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You don’t have to thank me,” I said. “I had fun too.”

She laughed lightly. “Fun, huh? Even with my bitching about my shoulder and my terrible jokes?”

I smirked. “Your jokes are pretty bad. But the shoulder thing? I get it. Everyone’s got their stuff. Doesn’t make you weak.”

As we walked side by side toward the kitchen, her words hung in the air, a soft echo I couldn’t quite shake. I didn’t think I needed this, but... I did.

Something inside me shifted. The usual weight of responsibility and expectations that always seemed to press down on me felt a little less suffocating in that moment. Maybe it was the simplicity of her gratitude, the way she didn’t try to hide the vulnerability in her voice. Maybe it was because I hadn’t felt this light in a long time—not in a way that wasn’t tied to duty or obligation.

I glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at my lips, and despite the teasing, there was something different in the way she looked at me. It wasn’t just the playful glint in her eyes or the way she always managed to make me feel like I was part of something bigger than the chaos of my life. No, this was something deeper—something that cut through the layers of expectation that had built up around me for as long as I could remember. It was like she saw me, really saw me—not just the son of Toruk Makto, not just the Olo’Eyktan-in-training, not the perfect older brother everyone expected me to be. She didn’t see the role I played or the image I projected for the world. She saw the person beneath it all.

She saw me beyond the weight of duty, beyond the endless training, beyond the constant pressure to be something I didn’t always know how to be. She saw the guy who almost lost his life to a bullet, the one who had doubts and scars that no one else seemed to notice. She didn’t flinch at the messiness of who I was or what I’d been through. She felt it, without even having to ask.

And for a split second, I wondered if maybe I was finally starting to feel seen too—really seen in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to be in so long.

The connection we’d shared over the past few hours—the jokes, the quiet moments, the easy conversation—had slowly started to weave something between us. A thread that was pulling tighter with every passing minute. And it made me realize just how much I didn’t want it to unravel.

I turned my head, watching her laugh, that light sound filling the space between us. There was something magnetic about her presence, something I hadn’t expected to find. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but she had a way of making everything else fade into the background.

“You’re annoyingly good at this whole ‘being supportive’ thing,” she said, her words almost a whisper, but they hit me harder than I expected.

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that sort of compliment—being the strong, reliable older sibling had earned me a reputation for being the go-to guy when things got tough. But hearing it from her? It made me want to be better, to actually be the kind of person she thought I was. It made me want to do more than just live up to expectations; it made me want to live up to her expectations.

I chuckled softly, the lightness of the moment easing some of the tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying. "Comes with the territory of being the older brother. You learn to deal with people's shit." I said, shrugging casually, though I wasn’t so sure I believed it myself.

“Wow, way to ruin the moment,” she said, rolling her eyes, but there was a playful edge to her voice.

But as we reached the kitchen, I realized something else too. I wasn’t just the older brother anymore. I wasn’t just the guy everyone turned to. In that space, in the quiet moments we shared, I felt something else stirring inside me—something I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time. Something that made my chest tighten and my thoughts race, but not in the usual way. It wasn’t pressure, or the weight of a thousand expectations—it was something lighter. Something hopeful.

And as we both stood there, exchanging the last of our banter, I couldn’t help but wonder if this—this—wasn’t just about being supportive. Maybe, just maybe, I was starting to feel something more. And it terrified me.

But for the first time in a long time, it felt like something worth chasing.

[whereisyourstar]

So Should I?

Part 5 of the Stand By, Hold Back, Be Patient series

Part 4

Rating: SFW

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: Minor descriptions of harm to an animal, mentions of blood, mentions of animal abandonment, reader will never have savings again, is it really baby trapping if the baby is a dog and Jason loves it

The day is completely perfect. There's a light, faintly floral breeze carried from somewhere with wildflowers, and the sun just at the beginning of its descent is ever-so-slightly shaded by fluffy clouds. You're sat on the steps of the porch, soaking it all in while ostensibly reading a book. The pressure is on to finish it, the W.F. Muriel library back in town will be wanting it back in just a few days, but you're having a hard time keeping your eyes open at all right now, let alone on a page. The day is just so nice, and the air is cool on your neck, and it's so easy to just lean your head against the screen door and doze.

Heracles snores from somewhere behind you in the enclosed porch, and you smile. It's a lazy day, no walks planned for either of you, and you think that you both deserve this opportunity to do nothing but exist for a while. There's a comfort deep down in your bones being here right now—thanks, no doubt, to the fact your adrenaline hasn't had a reason to spike for days.

To that point, it's been two weeks since you last saw Jason. No visits, no chance encounters in the woods, not even a glimpse when you rumble to and from town in your truck. He's just…not in the area. Which, honestly, is a good thing. You've reminded yourself nearly every day of these last two weeks that it's actually a very, very good thing when a murderer isn't hanging around. You're relieved…kind of. A part of you, louder than you'd like it to be, is a touch insulted. You know he hasn't been visiting for you, but he'd seemed genuinely interested when the two of you were talking in the forest. He asked your name. You did research for him. Was it something you said? Was pushing the croissant onto him some kind of woodsy faux pas that you're not aware of? (You figure the towel you wrapped the croissant in is out there tumbling around on the forest floor now, because it definitely hasn't made its way back yet. At the very least, you hope some of those cute, fat birds you see on walks are able to use it for nesting material.) You can't help but feel it's your fault he's not around, and that makes the absence worse. Like you came on too strong, somehow, and scared him off. God knows it's not your first time getting ghosted by a guy, but this one does sting more than most. Add it to your list of accomplishments: successfully infodumped on Jason Voorhees and ran him off.

It sucks the most for Heracles, obviously, so you've been doing your best to make up for Jason's absence in the meantime. The older couple that runs the only cafe in town that'll let you bring a dog inside has taken a quick shine to him, and you've had to turn a blind eye more than once when Mrs. Fletcher "accidentally" drops a slice of bacon on the floor for him. They're good people, and despite Mr. Fletcher's insistence that it's not right for someone to be living out in those dangerous woods alone, they're nice to talk to. You like them, and Heracles does too, but that doesn't stop him from whining sometimes when you're walking back to the house, his big head turning this way and that in search of the person he misses most.

This train of thought wrenches you out of your dozy, comfy mindspace, and you force yourself to return to the book with a bit more force. You're out here to enjoy yourself, not get caught up in wondering where some guy is. Granted, Jason is quite a bit more than some guy. Whatever else he is to you, he's not entirely human, and that by itself marks him out past just some guy status.

As if summoned by your brain finally getting reinvested in the story, something comes crashing through the trees that surround your house with a urgency that says he doesn't care at all about doing this quietly. You catch sight of the mask first, then the rest of his massive frame barreling forward, and you're on your feet in an instant. Because that is undoubtedly Jason Voorhees, and not for the first time, you think he's really here to kill you. One hand goes to the handle on the frame door at your back, and the other touches the shape of the hunting knife on your hip, hidden by your shirt. And it may actually be the death of you someday, because while every instinct is creaming at you to get inside, you wait. You're grimly interested in what could compel a man to move like this if not to murder you.

Heracles is bouncing off the walls of the enclosed porch, all high pitched yips and the thunderous sound of his paws hitting the floor as he dances. At least someone is happy to see him. After this long, you're more than a little wary.

Jason doesn't give you a chance to say anything, because as soon as he's stepped through the last of the trees, he's signing your name. His shoulders heave with how heavily he's panting, you can hear every breath clear as anything. He signs your name near-frantically, then beckons you with a universal come here movement. You can just make out the shine in his eye and its boring into you with an intensity that makes you feel his urgency.

He's not killing you yet, so you release the handle and take a singular step down. "What's this about? What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, clearly frustrated and more animated than you've ever seen him, and fumbles with his hands when he signs you, touches his chest, then points off in the direction he just came. Dog, he signs, then shakes his head when he haltingly spells out Heracles' name.

Connections lock into place. "There's a dog out there? Is it hurt?" Yes, he signs instantly. You feel your stomach drop. "Oh, shit, okay—do you think we can help it? Can you take me there?" Another yes, and he's trying to get you to come forward again, but you've already turned around to get a look at Heracles through the screen of the door. "Okay, okay, um—stay here, Heracles. Stay. We'll be back. Please stay." There's no way to latch the screen door from the outside, and Heracles is probably strong enough to push it off its hinges without a problem anyway, so you really, really need him to listen to you.

Bless his little doggy soul, because though he quivers with excitement, he sits down on the floor and does not move.

You're down the steps without a second glance, and you say as you go to Jason, "I'm not as fast as you, but I'll try to keep up. Let's go."

It's all the encouragement he needs. He's pushing back through the trees instantly, clearly not interested in wasting time. He doesn't run, not quite using that insane, coming-to-fuck-you-up speed he's capable of, but you're pushed to something close to a sprint to keep up with him. The mostly walks have been doing you good, clearly, because it takes several minutes of twisting between trees and narrowly avoiding roots before your lungs start to really burn. This terrain isn't great for running to begin with, both uneven and steadily inclining, but Jason's massive stride makes short work of it, so you do your best to not fall. You don't want him deciding you're not worth the effort to wait for and just leaving you here, not with your sense of direction so completely reliant on Heracles. Then you remember that even he was panting when he got to you and if you had the air to groan, you absolutely would.

There's a stitch in your side that's gone from uncomfortable to pure agony when Jason abruptly just stops, and it's all you can do to avoid crashing into him. You have half a mind to tell him off for not giving you a warning, while the other half thinks about how incredible it would be to just keel over and rest right here on the forest floor, but neither is an option when you hear the unmistakable whine of a dog in pain.

You're pushing ahead of him before you've anywhere near caught your breath and your heart breaks into a million frantic pieces. Jason was right, there is a dog here, and it is very badly hurt. The sharp smell of its blood settles in your stomach with a wave of nausea, just as its panting, wide-eyed look cranks your sympathy up to eleven. It's a smaller dog, less blocky in the shoulders than Heracles, with long fur that's all chocolate and off white where it's not stained with blood. It lays on its side, its breaths shallow and pained, and from this distance you can see exposed skin and ragged-looking punctures.

You take a step forward and the dog growls hard. It can't have the energy to get up and snap, not with that injury on its side, but its eyes are white around the edges while it tries to keep you, then Jason, in its sights. "Shhh," you hush, lowering yourself so you don't look as threatening, then motioning for Jason to do the same. In your peripheral, you see him hunch in on himself, the white of his mask trained forward on the dog. "Hey, it's okay, we're not gonna hurt you. Can I come closer?" The dog whines again, but it doesn't growl, so you take another step. Then another, and another, until you're right up on it and you can lower yourself down to your knees. "That's it, that's a good puppy. Please don't bite me, there's a good puppy."

The dog allows you to brush your fingers through its dirty, matted fur, and you carefully inspect the wounds. The punctures are still somewhat fresh and deep enough to make your stomach writhe, oozing blood when the dog tries to sit up. You glance where the dog is looking and see that Jason is right there, crouched down and staring. It whines, looking from you to him with a trembling lower jaw. God, you hope he didn't do this to the dog. This looks like a bite to your inexpert eyes, and you don't think Jason goes around biting things to death, but the worry is there. You haven't come anywhere close to forgetting the way he drew that machete back when Heracles rushed to protect you. Still, you have to work with what you've got, and you do not want to deal with a strange dog biting you because of him. "Shh, it's okay, puppy, he's here to help you." You reach further up and press your fingertips to the dog's head and oh, your heart aches when it leans into the touch, its tail swishing once across the forest floor. To Jason, just as softly, you say, "We're going to have to move it. Do you have—?" And you stop yourself short, because you realize that of course Jason wouldn't have a blanket, or a towel, or anything to wrap the dog up in. All he has is that same green work shirt, jacket discarded with the nice weather, and you can't make yourself ask that he take it off. So you take a half-second to ask the universe why me before you shake your head, mutter a "never mind", and remove your own thankfully oversized t-shirt.

You don't allow yourself to focus on the way the air feels on your skin, or to think too hard on the bra you chose to wear today, and you certainly don't linger on the heat creeping up your neck from where you can feel Jason's attention. All that matters is the dog.

It cries out when you wrap it up in your shirt, but you do it fast and give it hushed apologies the entire time. You gather it into your arms—so light—and stand, nearly knocking into Jason's shoulder from how close he was crouched next to you. "All right," you start, voice more unsteady than you'd like. You're having a hard time looking at him just now. "I think you need to carry it back to my place. It needs a vet, and it needs one fast, and between the two of us, you're less likely to drop it by accident going back." It's downhill, sure, but that terrain isn't about to play nice with your equilibrium to begin with, and certainly not with your arms occupied. Jason starts a little when you adjust the dog, but you're not really looking for an argument, so you just move in close and press the bundled up creature to his chest. Your face scrunches up reflexively when you smell him—old blood and sweat and sebum and whatever else is on him—but the important thing is that he cradles the dog in a hold very much like your own, and the dog doesn't lose its mind in the process. It gives one singular warning growl, then decides it isn't worth the energy.

Jason does run this time. He's sprinting through the forest at breakneck speed and you, shirtless and still winded, have to use every last bit of your energy reserves just to not lose sight of him. Goddamn but the world has been missing out on a track star, his stride is just devouring his self-set path.

The world is spinning slightly when the forest starts to look familiar again. Every breath is like a million needles in your lungs, and there doesn't seem to be enough of it, but you finish strong. Jason's waiting for you outside the porch, and Heracles is bounding around at his feet—so that stay command definitely has its limits—when you finally break through the last of the trees. Sweat pours down your face, you're overheated and gulping down breath, but there's still work to be done. No passing out on the job, much as you'd like to.

"J-just need to get my…keys. Be right back." And in saying it, you realize that you left your house, completely unlocked, with your keys still in it. What a fucking day.

You grab your keys, your water bottle—half full and heavily needed—and make a pit stop to your room for the first clean shirt your grab. The tank top is as good as anything, so you wriggle into it, pick up your stuff, and are back out the door before the spots have even started to clear from your eyes. Jason can't speak with his arms full of dog, so you ask him to help you bring it to your truck, and his nod works as good as anything. You jog to the awning side of the cabin and, with some back-and-forth between you and Jason, manage to get the dog situated safely on passenger seat of the truck. For your part, you've never regretted more not having a backseat—fuck but maybe you should have dropped that extra 500 for the smaller, quieter car with more than two places to sit—so you just clip the seatbelt and pull it as tightly as you dare around the dog.

Then it's just…doing the damn thing. You shut the door and look up at him. You haven't had a moment to really process the last what, hour of this day? And you still don't, but you look up at Jason, and you can tell he's stressed. There's enough tightness in his body language that it would be comical if the situation weren't so serious. You just hold his eyes as reassuringly as you can while still trying to catch your breath. "I'll call the vet on the way over and make sure they're ready for the dog, um—will you be here when I get back?" He's just staring at you, head bent at an awkward angle to fit under the awning, but he manages to nod and a bright spark of relief catches in your chest. No time to examine that reaction. "Good, thank you. Can you keep an eye on Heracles until then? I don't think he'll go back in the house if I'm not there and I think…well, I know he missed you. So." The finish is awkward, punctuated by a half-shrug, but the point is there. A final nod, and Jason glances at Heracles, who has been driving himself to distraction waiting for attention from the man, like he's noticed him for the first time.

Leaving your dog and your still unlocked house, holy shit, you can't believe you forgot again, with Jason shouldn't be the weight off your shoulders that it is, but it allows you to refocus entirely on the new dog. You know Heracles is safe with Jason, and the worst he'll do with your house, if he even realizes you left it unlocked, is maybe just let himself in? Touch your stuff a little? Which, honestly, is fine. Fair trade for being so good with Heracles.

The dog whines continually through the drive, which breaks your heart into even smaller pieces, but there's nothing you can do about it. The whining is a good sign, it means the dog is alive, but you're already swearing to get a first aid kit together if this vet visit doesn't completely decimate what's left of your last paycheck. As it is, you take the first red light in Crystal Lake proper to give the dog a drink from your bottle, and the pale pink tongue that comes sweeping out is barely encouraging. Blood has already started to saturate the shirt it's wrapped in.

You're left to wait when the dog is finally handed over to the vet. The receptionist up front must see how visibly upset you are just standing there, so she tries to coax the dog's history from you. When you say it must be a stray and that you found it in the woods, she heaves an incredibly long-suffering sigh. "Yeah, that's a popular spot to dump animals, unfortunately. People just take them to the walking trails around there and leave them. Poor little thing…it was lucky you came along when you did." Not a single question for what you were doing out there, which you're grateful for—you're a little too strung out to hear another warning about how dangerous those woods are right now—so the two of you commiserate over how much people suck for a while. When she's called away with work more important that you, you take a seat and are treated to a visit from the only other animal and owner duo in the front office. Wriggles the turtle is a delight who lives up to his namesake when you stroke your nails over his shell. His owner, a kid who can't be older than fifteen, is awkward and a little sullen, but you do your best to keep the conversation going since it seems like she really does want to talk. If you can get Jason Voorhees to talk to you—and you do not think about you may or may not have scared him off before today—then dealing with weird teens is nothing.

By the time the vet in charge of the dog's treatment is finally able to break away and talk to you, it's been just over two hours and your phone battery has died. She's a tired-looking woman, short and draped in robin blue scrubs, who wastes no time with pleasantries. "She's stable now, and we've gotten her stitched up as well as we're going to be able for the time being. Depending on how tonight goes, she should be able to go home before the week's out, and provided she doesn't do anything strenuous, we're looking down the barrel of a full recovery. Looks like whatever had a hold of her left before it could do any permanent damage. Now," and here she crosses her arms and gives you an appraising look, "I'm required to inform you that she is microchipped, and the owner's name pulls up as a Mr. Ernest Lennox. I'm assuming that's not you? Or a boyfriend?" You shake your head and she sighs. "All right, well, we'll be contacting Mr. Lennox as soon as we can to let him know we've got his dog. Maybe he's looking for her. I doubt it, but what I need from you is confirmation that, should Mr. Lennox not claim this dog, you intend to take full responsibility for her vet bills. I hate this part as much as anyone, but we've had too many injured dogs come in and not enough people taking responsibility for them, so I'll need your signature before we proceed."

"What happens if I don't sign? If her owner doesn't want her?"

The vet doesn't flinch when she says, "Euthanasia. Quick and painless."

And obviously you're not going to let this dog die after you nearly burst a lung trying to save her in the first place. Your throat tightens at the thought. So you just rub a hand over your suddenly very tired eyes and say, "Yeah, that's fine, I…kind of figured I was going to pay for this anyway. I'll sign, no problem."

The vet cracks a smile at that, something brief and relieved that lights up her whole face, and she grabs the paperwork herself. She gives you a rough estimate on the bill and when you grimace, rushes to explain the various payment plans available. But you do sign and try to look over the payment plans like a responsible adult should.

With a promise to call you tomorrow depending on Mr. Lennox's decision, there's nothing to do but drive back home and wait.

It's full dark when you pull up to the house, the headlights of the truck briefly bleaching everything yellow-white before you back under the awning and kill the engine. Your body is feeling the exertion of the day now, all your limbs shake like jelly as you try to compel them into getting out of the truck, and you're exhausted mentally as well. It takes everything you have not to crumple into a boneless pile the second your shoes hit the grass.

But Jason's there, just like he said he would be, coming around the back of the house with Heracles at his heels. You summon a smile for your dog, who breaks into a run just so he can more quickly jump all over you, and you use some unknown reserve of energy to bend down and kiss the middle of his big, happy head. You're leaning against your house for support when Jason makes his way over, shoulders tense while he signs dog yes?

"She's okay," you tell him by way of greeting. "They're keeping her at the vet for a while, there's…they're going to try to find her owner first. Make sure she's not missing. But the vet seems confident that she'll recover just fine. Apparently they see a lot of coyote attacks, and she's in better shape than most." A massive yawn interrupts you and you're not feeling entirely awake right now. "Mm, sorry, I'm more tired than I thought. Lots of running today. The vet's going to call me tomorrow with updates."

Even in the dark and your exhausted state, you don't miss the way the tension just leaves Jason's shoulders. "You were really worried about her, weren't you?" you ask, and Jason's immediate yes hits you in a very soft place. You smile. "I was too. Thanks for bringing me out to her, and for not abandoning me in the woods—I know I slowed you down. Would've really sucked to leave a half-naked corpse behind." You're tired enough to joke about it now, but both his hands both twitch at the exact same time on either side of him, and you breathe a laugh. He can't be more uncomfortable about that than you were—serves him right for not being magically prepared for any situation thanks to his ghostly powers. Or however it works. "But we saved a dog today, so, y'know, perspective. We did a good thing, go us." This is delirious enough that it actually wakes you up a bit, helps you remember exactly who you're talking to. You straighten and rub a hand over your face, suddenly nervous. "Mm, okay, that's my cue to get to bed. Uh—I'll see you tomorrow? To let you know how things go with her?"

There's no hesitance in his nod, which brings back that little relief spark, nice and warm in your chest. For the dog, obviously—it's nice that you won't have to hunt him down, or wait until the next crisis to give him a news update—but also for that part of you that's still nursing the insult of his absence. And you are entirely too tired to think about it. So you thank him again for watching Heracles and manage not to collapse long enough for Jason to get a final pet in, then you tell him good night. The entire thing is so normal, so completely mundane, that it just serves as a strange cap for this weird, exhausting day.

The call comes mid-morning the next day, informing you that, to no one's surprise, Ernest Lennox suddenly has no knowledge of having a dog and can't imagine how his name got attached to that microchip. The responsibility for her care transfers entirely to you, like you promised, but the new vet on the other side of the phone is diligent in reminding you that this does not mean you have to adopt her. But you know as well as anyone from your consistent scouring of the local animal shelter's page that they're struggling to adopt out pets at the same rate they acquire them and the word euthanasia keeps circling in your thoughts. Plus, there's a bond there now—you can't save an abandoned creature's life then not care for it.

So you tell the vet that you'll be happy to bring your dog home when she's fully cleared. Then you stand up, stretch, and prepare to tell Jason the news.

He's exactly where you left him an hour ago when you ran out to the truck to grab your water bottle and he popped out of the treeline, scaring the daylights out of you. Those two weeks where your adrenaline levels returned to more or less normal are certainly up now, but even as you explained you had work to do and that you'd come tell him as soon as you knew something, you couldn't bring yourself to be upset about it. Rather, while you walk up to him and watch him watching you, you can't help but feel…pleased. And a little bad that he's just been standing here while you half-heartedly worked inside. Does he ever get bored? Do his legs get tired? What's his daily schedule like if he can afford to just stand around for an hour waiting on you?

"So," you start once you're a normal talking distance from him, "good news first: puppy's okay and she's responding great to treatment. Mediocre news: her piece of shit owner abandoned her out here on purpose, so I'm taking care of the vet bill." Fascinating minute reactions from Jason to both pieces of news—any physical stress he loses when he learns the dog is okay is gained back tenfold when you say the word abandoned. You remember how he reacted when you told him about Heracles' former owner, how he's always very careful with that wildly wagging tail, and feel something click in your brain. The mass murderer that stalks Crystal Lake is very keenly attuned to the injustices of animals, it seems. You're not sure how those mental gymnastics work—how does someone kill people so mercilessly, yet draw the line at animals? Wherever that soft spot comes from, you're all too happy to use it. "Now, for the part I really need your opinion on. I want to bring her home, here, to…you know, live with me. And I've kind of already told the vet I'm adopting her, but since I live here on your say-so, I wanted to check: are you okay with another dog hanging around full time here?"

And oh it feels like a gamble, prodding around the edges of the agreement already, but you're sure you're reading him right. He just stares at you while you silently steel your resolve, trying not to give away how nervous you actually are asking this. Then he tilts his head, not like he's letting it loll to the side, but like it's something intentional—like he needs to see this, or you, from a new angle. His breathing is even, hands still, and eyes hidden by the mask, but you can feel yourself being inspected. The urge to cross your arms over your chest and back off is only barely squished down.

Yes, he signs. And, shocking you to the core, he adds: thank you.

Did you teach him that? You can't remember, and it doesn't even matter, because you are abruptly overjoyed. You beam at him, already running through a list of the million and one things you need to do before bringing another dog home. "Yes! That's so great, um—thanks!" He stares, and while that isn't necessarily weird for him, it does make you feel a little shy. You don't expect people thank him for anything—for good reason—and you've just been piling it on recently. Are you making it weird? Do you care if you're making it weird?

That should, realistically, be the end of the conversation. The news update is given, you've gotten something you wanted—this is usually the part where he leaves. But he doesn't. At first you think he's just waiting for his requisite Heracles time, so you let Heracles out and watch with a nice fluttery feeling in your chest when Jason thunks his hands over Heracles' ribs in what's become a customary greeting, but even when Heracles wanders his way back to you…there's this sense of lingering. You're not really operating on a timetable with how flexible your job is, and it seems he's not busy with murder, so you both stay. Right there in the small clearing around your house that makes up a yard, remarkably similar to the first time the two of you spoke, only now you're not feeling particularly scared. Damningly, you're not even feeling uneasy.

You end up perched on the hood of your truck, not willing to stand when the option to lean presents itself, and just talk. You sneak some questions based off observations in there—("So do you like all animals? Or is it just dogs." Dogs. "You're missing out on appreciating the chubby little birds around here with that mindset, but I get it. Wait, if you like dogs so much, were you actually going to kill Heracles that first night?" Yes-no. "Did you want to?" No. "Huh. Well I'm really glad you didn't." Yes.)—and find yourself getting far too comfortable smiling up at that blank face.

Which means that you do, actually, have to inform him that he hurt your feelings. Just a bit. In a roundabout way.

"I've been waiting to tell you the rest of that story, by the way," you remark after Heracles has gone in for another round of pets from Jason, who kneels to pay special attention to Heracles' ears. The way his mask snaps up to you makes your breath hitch. "The Golden Fleece one. It's not every day I talk to someone who cares who Chiron is. I don't know, maybe I just read you wrong, but it seemed like you were having a good time. Were…you…?" The last part comes out unintentionally, a case of your brain screeching to a halt and your mouth going along without it. You abruptly drop your eyes and opt to stare at your left hand, splayed over the faded paint of the truck. You hadn't meant to actually make it a question, thereby opening yourself up to having to explain.Time to change the topic. "I'm, um, going to have to think about a name for the new dog. Maybe Medea, she marries Jason in the myth, but that gets…complicated. And not Hera, that'll get complicated in real li—oh."

How did he do that? While you've been babbling and undoubtedly making a fool of yourself, Jason has silently closed the space between the two of you. You don't even realize he's moved until his shadow falls over you and his massive hands land on the hood of the truck behind you, a metallic thunk that makes you jump. In the span of however long you took your eyes off him, he has completely boxed you in.

All you can do is tilt your head back and meet the twin voids of his eyes. You scarcely dare to breathe. "…is this your way of telling me to shut up?"

Jason slowly moves his head side to side. No.

That's not exactly a relief. "Then I'm not…entirely sure what's happening right now." You're instinctually leaning away from him, but if you moved forward just a little, you could tap his chest with your forehead. He's eating up your personal space like he has a right to it. There's that sense of anything could happen that you've had with him before, but it's not entirely unpleasant this time. Your heart is racing, adrenaline spiking, and you can't entirely blame fear for it. How long has it been since you were this close to someone and it didn't send you into a blind panic?

He's clearly not interested in talking the usual way, so you have to cast your mind back—what did you say to make him react like this? Were you too familiar? Or is this a positive reaction? Can looming like this be positive?

Another gamble, and if this one pays off, you'll buy a lottery ticket. "You make me so nervous," you tell him, a little above a whisper. "I never know if I'm saying the right thing, or if you even care, so I—I just keep talking around you. Incessantly, like now, and like…a few weeks ago, in the forest. And I think I made you uncomfortable, or upset, or…something, because it took a crisis for you to come see me again. See Heracles, I mean, but also…yeah, I was hoping that I was part of the equation, too. Somehow." And you do finally allow yourself a full breath, and the scent of him—an olfactory assault, the rancid smell of old blood strong enough to make your stomach flip—actually makes it easier to speak. You haven't even been this honest with yourself, but here you are, spilling your guts to a blank mask. "I meant what I said, we did a good thing, and I'm glad you got me so I could help. Just—I need you to tell me if I should back off. I know I'm assuming a lot based on one agreement, and if you're really just tolerating me because I'm attached to Heracles and you couldn't care less about anything I say, then that's fine. I'll stay out of your way when you want to see Heracles, or the new dog, and I'll mind my business. So…should I?"

Your heart is beating out of your chest. Asking him this while he basically has you pinned to the hood of the truck is scattering your senses too fast and widespread to catch them, but you know one thing. You are much, much less scared than you should be.

Jason makes you wait for it. His breathing is getting erratic again, like he can't pull enough air into his lungs, and you find yourself staring at the place his mouth should be. And asking yourself, for the very first time, if you would like to know what is underneath that mask.

Then he shakes his head, a definitive no, and you nearly collapse back on the hood of your truck when stress you didn't even realize was there rushes away, but he's not done. Jason lifts one of his hands and spreads it dead center on his chest, points two fingers toward the eyes of the mask, then turns them on you. He signs your name with a forcefulness that makes your heart do a little leap.

Whatever he just said was positive, you think, but it takes longer than normal to parse it out. You could blame being caged in like this, that you're feeling uncomfortable, but the sun overhead catches the glint off his eyes and you can see just how intensely he's actually looking at you, and—yeah, that's not it. But you do force your brain into overdrive, knowing that you've been silent for just a moment too long. "You want to see me?"

He nods and finally, finally straightens back up, putting a respectable amount of distance between the two of you again. Despite everything, you're caught by a strong urge to reach up to those wide shoulders and shake him. Which you don't do, obviously, but it's a near thing. He clearly has a concept of personal space, and while you're not displeased that he invaded yours, you still have no idea why he felt the need to get up close like that. But then again, you don't understand most of what he does, so the status quo hasn't changed too much.

You hop off your perch a moment after, glad for the distraction Heracles offers by pawing at your leg for some attention. From the ground, not quite looking at him, you say, "Well, I…want to see you, too." Then you ignore your still-racing heart and smile in his general direction, "So, you know, come back as much as you'd like. Or disappear long enough for me to go trudging into the woods after you, where I'm one hundred percent going to get eaten by a bear or something. Your choice."

Jason's shoulders lift a bit, just like they did the last time you said something he might have thought was funny, and you can't help but dissolve into a breathless little laugh of your own. This is your life now. Semi-pathetically asking serial killers to keep hanging out with you. And maybe you are losing it out here, isolated from the world, because Jason's hand shoots out to rub at your dog's neck until those bright little eyes roll back a bit, and you think you could do much, much worse.

The new dog has all of three hours to settle in at your house, a howling Heracles trapped in your bedroom until he's calm enough to make an introduction, when you catch that now-familiar shape in the treeline. It's an unspoken thing the two of you have established in the past couple days—he always shows up from the same direction, right out of the trees that face the front of your house, and you've taken to leaving the curtain on the window near the door open, so you know when he shows up. Not the most efficient system, and he's already had to tap on the window when your back was to it just to get your attention, but it works.

The dog is a sweetheart. She's healing wonderfully, and though she can stand and walk around a little despite the bandages around her midsection, the various medications she's on keep her mostly laying down. Even still, she wags her tail every time you come near, and has greatly enjoyed nibbling on pieces of boiled chicken while you stroke her soft, long fur. Her bed is right next to Heracles', and you've already seen her stretch her neck out to sniff at the Heracles-scented fabric, which you find encouraging. God you hope they get along. The thought of rehoming her due to incompatibility makes your heart hurt.

When you see Jason's mask peering into the window from the treeline, you can't fight back your grin. He hadn't been around when you got the call that the dog was ready to pick up, which means there's a very good chance he has no idea she's here.

So you go to where the new dog is once again sniffing curiously at Heracles' bed and softly pet her furry head. "Hi, puppy. Someone's here to see you." You manage to coax her out of bed with a few gentle calls, reminding yourself that it's good for her to walk so her legs don't atrophy too much, and when she's gotten a full-body shake in, you unlock the front door and guide her outside.

This is how you end up sitting in the clearing across from Jason while he holds the sleeping dog in his lap. She went to him so calmly, tail lightly swaying, like she'd known him all her life. He had signed your name three times while she sniffed around his ankles, and it took the fourth to realize what he was asking you. Once you showed him where it was safe to pet her and where to avoid, he climbed so slowly onto the ground and had barely settled before she hopped daintily into his waiting arms.

You're just watching, legs tucked up under you. There's something so curiously gentle about the whole thing—you'd been worried the dog would take longer to warm up to Jason, considering the way she growled when you handed her off, but maybe she remembers that it was him who held her so securely on the way back to your house. She's clearly not scared of him now, snoring softly while Jason pets his still-gloved hand through her fur. He hasn't taken his eyes off her since the two of you left the house over a half hour ago, and you smile at an unexpectedly lovely thought. You are likely the first person to see Jason Voorhees so enamored with something in a very, very long time.

"She still needs a name," you whisper, careful not to wake the sleeping dog. "Her old papers have her as Russet, but she must not have been called that often, because she doesn't respond to it. And I can't just call her 'puppy' forever." Jason nods a little, just to show he's listening, but he's still completely wrapped up in the dog. "I think you should be the one to name her."

That gets his attention, and Jason's mask whips up to lock on to your eyes. The angle's no good to see how he's looking at you, the day's cloudy enough to shade in the eyeholes completely, but you can practically feel the shock from where you sit. If you stretched out your leg, you could touch his knee with the tip of your shoe. Not that you're going to, but the novelty of sitting this close is still there. "Look at her, look how happy she is. My name's on the papers, but she couldn't more clearly be your dog. You're the one that saved her in the first place, so it's only fair."

By now you've delved further into the myth with Jason, and gotten sidetracked on so many tangents prompted by his questions that he's got a wealth of mythical men and women to choose a name from, if he wants. Not that you expect him to stick to your silly little naming convention—though you've been considering Penelope, liking that it's so close to puppy—but it's nice to know he has the option.

You realize too late that you have no idea if he can read, let alone spell a name to you. He's got your name, as well as Heracles', down perfectly when he signs them, but is that just muscle memory? He's completely mute, as far as you can tell, and only knew a few signs when you met him, so you don't think it's completely unfair to assume he's illiterate—which means you stand to be a huge, inconsiderate asshole by asking this of him. But his memory is good, and he picks up on things quickly…you've been fingerspelling every word you don't know when you sign to him, which means you've been spelling out a lot of long, complicated names recently. Could he have picked up the alphabet just from that? God you don't know, and the last thing you want is to embarrass him, or insult him, or—

Completely immune to your inner turmoil, Jason gives the dog's back a brush with the back of his hand, then lifts it to sign: A-B-B-Y.

The weight lifts from your chest instantly. "Abby," you say, testing it on your tongue. His nod helps the stress melt from your shoulders, and you finally reach out to touch where Jason's petting has made her fur extra warm. She sighs contentedly in her sleep, and Jason's next exhale nearly matches it. You have to bite your cheek to keep from beaming. "That's perfect."

[pepperyduck]

“roomates” with satoru gojo

 this is part five of my kinktober event!

word count: 2.3k

warnings: nsfw, roomate au, fingering, gojo has a nasty mouth, pwp!, virgin reader, overstim. (18+ mdni!)

notes: i love the idea of actor and roomate gojo so much,,, may talk about it later. uploading early again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

kinktober masterlist | masterlist

having the satoru gojo as your roommate is quite the experience.

it was odd—

you had known satoru in college, always somehow getting stuck in the same overflow housing on campus. you had gotten to know each other well, being forced to live with the other off and on. after he had gotten his degree in drama—and you got your degree in a successful STEM major—he proposed moving in together. you needed a place off campus, and he needed someone to room with, because rent was too high for him to afford on his own as a budding actor.

things were fine for a while, daily routines consisted of seeing one another regularly. but then satoru had his first big gig. he disappeared for months, needed for a last minute replacement. he told you about the role; a younger version of a strong—no, the strongest—sorcerer. apparently, he got to play his part in a dramatic friendship breakup, which you figured perfectly suited the way satoru acted normally.

his fame quickly rose, with the series being released only a few months later. after that, satoru never really came around all that often; you saw him maybe twice a month, if you got lucky. but even after that, satoru stayed in the apartment. you didn’t mind, honestly, he kept up with his side of the rent plus some.

but the really odd part?

your social media feed.

every social wouldn’t shut up about him—“upcoming star, satoru gojo makes an impact in new tv series,” “he’s so hot, i’d let him do whatever he wanted,” “I NEED HIM,”

and yeah, maybe curiosity got the best of you when you searched up the fanfiction—but hey, people seemed like they would kill to be in your position. the creative minds of those online made you see your goofy, struggling artist of a roommate in a different light. the way they wrote about his chest, and how smooth and toned it is, or his sparkly blue eyes and how they could make clothes fall of with just a look. recently, satoru had shared in an interview his fingers are 6 inches, and boy did people go feral over that.

they focused on every part. his soft fingertips, and how lengthy his fingers actually are the more you look at them. the subtle veins that ran over the back of his hand and up his arm. his middle and ring finger, how nicely they slide in and out, hitting that spot, coaxing you toward—

“whatcha readin’?”

the abrupt question shocks you out of your trance, making you yelp and practically throw your phone across the room. it lands face down beside your vanity, earning a loud thud when it hits the floor. your heart speeds up as you turn to face your roommate, internal temperature rapidly rising.

“jesus, satoru! what are you doing home?” you ask, praying that he wouldn’t take it upon himself to grab your phone for you.

“it’s my apartment, too, y’know,” he retorts, throwing his hands on his hips dramatically. “i’m gonna be here for a few days, if you don’t mind.” every word off his tongue is laced in sarcasm. it’s annoying.

and just as you try to reply, gojo swoops to the other side of the room to grab your phone, intently staring at the screen before you can even say, “stop!” you want to run away because you just know he’s reading pure filth about himself that you looked up. but you find yourself unable to move whatsoever, only able to watch in horror as your roommate reads fanfiction about himself. immediately, a sly grin overcomes satoru’s expression, and his eyes flicker from the phone to you over his sunglasses.

“this is pretty detailed stuff,” satoru teases. you’re able to tell he is in fact reading whatever you had pulled up on your phone, because he’s taking his sweet time scrolling and reading through all the divine things said about his hands.

“stop, satoru,” you whine, pathetically reaching for your phone. gojo holds it out of your reach, of course, and even though you almost came to grab your phone that was almost touching the ceiling, you can’t quite reach it. “please just go away,” you sigh, giving up and flopping back down on your mattress. you can only look on, still mortified, as satoru continues scrolling.

after a few heavy minutes and some more comments on your choice of fiction to read, he throws your phone back on the bed next to you, placing his hands on his hips once more.

“how long were you gonna keep that from me?”

“never really planned on telling you, satoru. leave me alone.” you reply, grabbing your phone so it’s out of gojo’s reach.

“you could’ve just asked—,”

“go away—huh?” you furrow your brows and look at the taller man, who’s sassily posed next to your bed, “don’t fuck with me like that.”

“i’m not.” he assures you.

satoru wasn’t joking. in fact, he had never been more serious in his life. he’d always thought you were pretty – more like drop dead, breathtakingly beautiful – but never mustered up the courage to talk to you about it. you were his friend, his roommate. he didn’t want to scare you off. but all chances of him not scaring you off were thrown out the window because he knew you wanted him now.

so, yes, he did what he did with every other girl—encouraging a hot make-out session after you got over the embarrassment of what was on your phone. you hadn’t had a chance to think about all those stories you read online, because it was all happening to you in real time.

with your lips in a permanent lock, satoru takes his time rubbing his hands all over your body, grabbing your waist, flipping up the skirt you had worn in the previous hours to run errands—

“wait,” you labored out, breathing heavy as you pushed your roommate’s shoulders away from you, “i’ve never—i haven’t…” your words are tripping over themselves into silence as you try to explain to your �� gorgeous, famous, actor – roommate that you’re a virgin.

queue satoru’s head almost exploding. he swears then and there that his nose should’ve started to bleed, and his face turned an awful shade of red at the news. it was unfathomable in his mind that you, his smoking-hot roommate, was a virgin. he swore he saw you come home with your ex-boyfriend plenty of times…but maybe you were saving yourself, or something.

“stop looking at me like that. you were a virgin too.” you scoff at his ogling, crossing your arms over your chest. you’re still trapped against your headboard, the sheer size of satoru making you stay in one place. your legs are draped over his thighs, not quite straddling but close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off of your clothed pussy.

“do you want me to finger you?”

the crude question rolls off his tongue with ease, and you smack his shoulder with the palm of your hand in return. but again, he’s being serious. it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s being serious, he wants to finger you and it’s written all over his face.

after a few moments and shocked blinks, you nod your head.

satoru’s nosebleed actually happens whenever he gets you in position; you’re laid back with your legs on top of his, knees pressing into his waist. he just stares in utter disbelief at how cute and sexy you look, flustered all because of him. he runs the pad of his thumb over the mound in your panties, relishing in how soft, warm and damp you are. he can’t take his eyes away from how his thumb presses into the flesh, pushing down just to watch how his thumb gets swallowed by it.

“satoru—your nose is bleeding,” you gruffly state, snapping the white-haired man back to reality. one hand stays pressed to you while he lifts the other one to wipe under his nose with the back of his wrist.

low and behold, a few droplets of blood smear on the back of his wrist—but he’s too entranced by you to care. he looks back in your eyes, wiping his face with his shirt grossly.

“i’m okay—can i take them off?” satoru asks, almost politely if he wasn’t bleeding from the nose at how horny he is. his fingers hook into the waistband, eagerly awaiting your nervous little nod that you give him. he rips the thin fabric off your legs, taking it upon himself to lift you up and move your legs so he can toss your panties to the side of the room.

your immediate response is to snap your thighs together, but satoru quickly stops you and holds your legs open, forcing you to show your most intimate area to him. he drools over how pretty it looks, folds spread open and glistening, a perfect display of anatomy. he’s in love with the view alone. a prominent tent pokes in his sweatpants, but he ignores the feeling to focus on the task at hand.

“stop staring,” you meekly speak up, eyes looking anywhere else but at your celebrity roommate.

satoru’s bright irises look up at you before asking, “can i?” with the looks of a child begging for a piece of candy. after another quick, nervous nod, satoru swipes his thumb over your hole, then all the way up to over your clit. the sensation makes you wriggle and gasp, it’s odd being touched by someone else—but it feels good, even better than alone. natural lubrication practically drips off your pussy, so prettily, and satoru continues dragging his thumb up and down, paying close attention to how you whimper or move around when he gets to the bundle of nerves poking out.

you feel particularly needy at his ministrations, they’re so slow and it leaves you aching for more when he moves to less sensitive parts of your cunt. every time your eyes flash to gojo, he’s completely locked on what’s between your plush thighs, making you all the more embarrassed. embarrassment is thrown away, though, when his middle and ring fingers close together and creep up to slowly rub your clit.

your body jolts and satoru silently giggles, god, you’re so sensitive for him, he might go insane. he finds it simply endearing how well you react to him. each small circle he draws over your bud makes your thighs twitch and hole clench, and from his view, he can see it all perfectly. satoru’s eyes look up at you for once, just to see your head thrown back on the pillow and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth to silence yourself.

“don’t be quiet, babe,” he says, and your eyes snap open to be brought back to reality.

“wh—uuht?” you drawl, mind hazy and foggy from just the little bit of pleasure he was providing. but as your mouth is open, he speeds his fingers up, forcing you to practically yell out, “satoru—wait!”

“i wanna hear you,” gojo taunts, his voice light and happy, not at all giving the impression he was playing with your cunt.

he does not wait, or slow down, he only continues to quicken the pace of which his fingers circle your clit. he feels accomplished when you finally begin to let out little moans and suck in air through your teeth, knowing the feeling of his finger pads was becoming all too much. this was the type of thing he lived for—making cute, inexperienced girls (you) lose their mind from pleasure.

it’s the type of pleasure that you weren’t able to achieve yourself; it made the bottoms of your feet tingle, and your legs move on their own—and the familiar feeling of an orgasm was quickly building up. the knot in your lower abdomen grows tighter and more intense, making you whine and thrash below your roommate.

satoru’s other hand comes down to prod his index finger at your tight hole, an unfamiliar feeling to you—especially as it’s being done by someone else. he pushes his finger in, causing another yelp to come from the back of your throat—but it doesn’t hurt. gently fucking you with just the tip of his finger, satoru’s hand focused on your clit speeds up more.

“mm—satoru, think i’m close,” your words are rushed as you warn him, but his movements don’t falter in the slightest.

“yeah? gonna cum on my fingers?” he teases, “gonna cream all my hand?”—and if you weren’t already so close, you would’ve kicked him out at the taunting. instead, you throw your arms over your face and try your best to hold back the feeling—wanting it to last as long as possible. he slowly pushes his finger in more and more, gradually coming to fuck you with one thin, long finger. the first bit he’s fully inside, it’s uncomfortable, but the pressure fades the more he plays with you. the bubble of your orgasm grows and grows until you’re about to topple over the edge.

“i’m gonna cum,” the words come out your mouth in a long, sultry string— satoru’s never heard anyone sound so good while telling him that.

“yeah, that’s it—come on, baby,” satoru encourages you, his voice having dropped multiple octaves to sound a million times more sexy — far from the satoru you’d come to know. his words force the orgasm to crash over you, your body continually jolting and stuttering—beginning to fight satoru because he doesn’t stop.

“i—i finished—stop, satoru—ohmygod—,” you stutter out, and satoru presses his elbows against your thigh, rendering you immobile.

“you’re so sensitive, princess,” satoru teases again, and you catch his eyes in a downright primal stare,

“gonna make you cum on my fingers again, baby.”

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend 

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns. 

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. i do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything! <33

authors note: this is an idea I had that I really needed to write. I’d love to make this a series if you guys want more, just let me know! This is only my second time writing fanfiction and my first time writing for Hugh, please be nice lol. Thank you for reading! <3

Part one: breakup and new beginnings 

Being a young girl living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere made it seem impossible to live your dreams of becoming a singer. You grew up in a tiny little town in Louisiana called Minden. With a population of less than 15,000 people, the closest ‘big’ city being Shreveport, growing up was pretty boring. You had big dreams of making it big and making it the fuck out of the country. Minden wasn’t always so bad. It was a nice community that had fun things here and there, but you craved more. 

Once you graduated highschool back in 2020, you focused on working and saving as much money as you could, only buying essentials and equipment to help make music. You took a few online classes on producing and tried your best to make whatever song was bouncing around in your head come to life. It took a year for you to feel confident enough to release your first few songs out into the world. So in July of 2021, you teased a song on TikTok to your small following. You started to gain a few more followers here and there, it was exciting. At the end of August, you released your first song titled ‘to the point’ and it blew up on the clock app. You gained a hefty following after that, on the brink of hitting one million. 

By the end of 2022, deciding on Los Angeles, you had finally saved enough money to move, so you were packing your bags and heading out. Your agent was ecstatic about the move because it meant more opportunities for your career. After releasing a few more songs over the past year, you hired Stacy to help you manage everything. 

Fastwording to 2024, your dreams have come true and you have been an established and respected artist for almost two years. You started to build a reputation as someone who was dedicated and passionate about their craft- always being involved in any creative process. It was bliss. Lately though, you’ve gained another reputation, the controversial young girlfriend, a whore, a gold digger. Since you’ve been in the spotlight, you’ve had your fair share of dating history and if they all happened to be older men, so what? It wasn’t something you had planned on but older men were just built differently. They were so much sexier and put together than the guys your age. They knew what they were doing and how to treat a woman right. You were so tired of being asked out through instagram direct messages, you wanted someone who wasn’t afraid to talk to you in person, and that seemed to only come from men twice your age. You weren’t complaining though, you enjoyed it. 

Your last ‘scandalous’ relationship ended up being far more public than you intended it to be. In the beginning, the men you were seen with were never anything serious, just dates or one night stands. Though with Pedro it was different. You dated him for six months before it all came crashing down and you felt heartbroken. He was the sweetest man you’d ever been with and it all ended because the hate from fans on our age gap was too much for him. It was an ugly breakup and you were positive that he wouldn’t want to be associated with you anymore, even as friends. 

-

“I should have picked a different song.” You huff in frustration. Today you were going to be performing on BBC’s Radio 1 Live Lounge and as requested, you'd be performing your own song and a cover of your choosing. When Stacy first presented this opportunity to you, it had only been a month after your recent breakup and naturally you chose to cover ‘THE GREATEST’ by Billie Eilish. Now that you were mostly over Pedro, the song seemed silly to sing and you weren’t feeling as vocally confident now that you were here. 

“Babe, you’re gonna kill it! Just let your emotions flow, give the fans what they want.” Stacy is sitting across the room as she comforts you. She’s fidgeting with your vocal humidifier, attempting to put it together before you start warming up. Her advice isn’t terrible, she’s right. You’d been pretty silent on the subject matter, steering clear of social media so you wouldn’t say anything stupid. Rumors of your breakup had been all over the headlines but there hasn’t been confirmation from either of you. Singing this song today would definitely stir the pot again and make everyone realize that it is done between you two. 

“You’re right.” 

“As always. Here, start warming up the money maker.” She laughs while handing you the humidifier. 

“I really hope he doesn’t watch it. I’d literally smash my head into a brick wall out of embarrassment…” 

Placing the humidifier over your mouth and nose, you sit there letting your mind wander. Having your personal life exposed to everyone really sucked and hiding your boyfriends wasn’t something you wanted to do, but you knew that in the future it was something that would have to happen. 

“I think I’m taking a break from men.” You let out proudly, glancing over at Stacy. 

“Whatever you say girl.” You could hear the doubt lingering in her tone and the roll of her eyes. 

“Ugh… You don’t believe me do you? I can totally break off from men and be my own person for once.” 

“I’m not trying to doubt you babe. It’s just…You tend to attract men like a magnet and you have some severe daddy issues.” She's typing away on her laptop as if she didn’t just completely disrespect you. 

“I don’t have daddy issues.” You say flatly. “I happen to have a very loving father who was always present in my life, so the whole dating older men thing does NOT stem from daddy issues. Thank you very much.” You say matter of factly. 

“Hm..Well I give it a week.” 

-

After a few sound checks for your mic and band, you perform your first song. You chose a more upbeat song off your debut album to start, given that you were about to lay your heart out of the line. It was honestly kind of awkward performing in this setting. There was a booth in front of you that had the sound board and all of the other electronic stuff that you didn’t understand. Then right to the left of that, the cameras were positioned with a group of crew members sitting behind them. It always felt awkward performing to smaller audiences. 

The first song went by smoothly, earning a few cheers from the people in the room. As the band prepared for the next song, you could see the door in the booth open and two figures walk in. You weren’t wearing your glasses or contacts since it was supposed to be a short day, so you really couldn’t make out who had just walked in. You assumed more workers came in and brushed it off. 

“All ready?” A man behind the camera asks and you give a thumbs up. 

You somehow managed to get through the song without having any vocal mess ups. It was a challenging song and you'd definitely have to text Billie later to give her some credit. A few tears slipped here and there, feeling the emotions that you thought were gone slowly be released. You pulled yourself together and you felt really proud of the performance as a whole, showing the world the potential your voice had. 

A few soft claps are dying out as everyone starts cleaning up the room. You’re reaching down to grab your water bottle when you feel someone rushing up towards you. 

“Ahhh you did great babe but um two hot dudes will be walking through that door any second!” Stacy is whispering and all you could do was give her a confused look before the door opens. You squint trying to make out the two figures. 

“God you’re talented!” You hear the voice before you see the face. 

“Oh um, thank you so much.” You let out not really sure who you were speaking to. Once the two men get into view, your jaw drops slightly. 

“HOLY SHIT!” You yell a little too loudly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, you hear a very rich man laugh coming from a very good looking man. For some reason, whoever is in charge of the fate of the universe has blessed you with the presence of Ryan Reynalds and Hugh Jackaman. 

“Oh my god i’m so sorry, that’s literally so embarrassing. I just couldn’t see who you were at first.” 

“It’s okay sweetheart.” They both wear big smiles on their faces. 

“I’m y/n, it’s so nice to meet y’all, i’m a big fan!” You gush out, trying your best to refrain from fangirling. 

“We’re big fans as well. We were next door interviewing for the radio show, when we heard you were recording over here. We ran over here to try to catch you.” Ryan lets out. 

“No shit! That’s so cool. I really appreciate it.” Before the conversation could continue, Ryan is being called over by someone, leaving Hugh and yourself alone. 

“Hows Pedro, haven't seen him in awhile.” Hugh asks genuinely, giving you a small smile. It caught you off guard completely. You racked your brain trying to think of a time in your six month relationship that Pedro mentioned Hugh at all but nothing came up. 

“Oh I uh- I wouldn’t know. We aren’t together anymore.” Your voice is soft, trying not to make this any more awkward. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry, with the way he spoke about you, I thought you’d be together longer…” He trails off. 

“Yea me too.. he couldn’t handle the heat I guess.” You shrug. 

“Well, his loss yea?” He smiles trying to cheer you up. 

“Yea..” You say softly, your voice matching your smile. You take a moment to really look at him and he’s beyond handsome. He’s aged but in a way that makes you wish you were able to see the years go by with him. He was tall, almost towering over you, and his muscles were practically popping out of his shirt. 

The same guy that was walking to Ryan, gathers the three of you for a picture for the BBC socials. You stand in the middle, both men placing their arms behind either side of you. Hugh’s hand was placed on the small of your back. You looked up at him quickly, his face already smiling at the camera. You hear the camera go off a few times, causing you to look that way as well. Once the cameraman was satisfied, everyone gave their goodbyes and the room cleared out. 

-

Later that night you were scrolling through your phone when a text popped up from Stacy. 

Stacypoo <33: I told you. You couldn’t even go a week. ;) 

The text is accompanied by a screenshot of a notification stating that “‘thehughjackman’ started following you!”. You rushed to open instagram and went to your followers to search from his name. You stared at his page for a few minutes before following him back. 

While you had control over your own social media, someone handled all of your business related content. You went on your page to see that the picture that was taken at BBC earlier today was already posted with one comment standing out beyond the rest. 

Thehughjackman: Great meeting you sweetheart! :)

Thank you for reading <3

part two

[ambivalence-is-me]

All I Want (One-Shot)

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Do opposites really attract? Feyre didn’t think so but Y/N and Azriel prove her wrong.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: fluff

A/N: this is kinda from Feyre’s pov, beginning of ACOMF. I’m in love with the idea of someone from the outside looking at two people in love. I’m thinking of turning this into a series? Or just more one shots? Like write about the dates, the wedding, that stuff. Let me know if anyone would be interested to read it!

————————————————————-

Feyre was shocked. Well, lately it seemed that’s all she was: shocked with a side of skeptical and scared. How else was she supposed to feel after everything she’s been through? She’s thinking of the very first times Rhysand took her to the Night Court. It was during one of those ‘’visits’’ that she first met you.

‘’She’ll help you with anything you need’’ he had said and that you did.

Feyre had taken one look at you and didn’t really know what to think. Physically you didn’t look like a threat, you were beautiful (it seemed there weren’t ugly faes) and your posture was relaxed, like you weren’t standing in front of the Cursebreaker but just another fae. You were smiling kindly at her, no judgement in your eyes and then you started talking.

And you never really stopped.

You were a yapper. Answered all of Feyre’s questions as best as you could and more. You walked her through the court’s history, culture, customs, everything. On her second meeting with you, she had concluded you definitely weren’t a threat. Instead, you were easygoing, kind and just freaking…happy? It seemed like you were always shinning, that nothing can bring you down. Feyre had tested that after a particularly bad day when Rhysand was driving her up the wall. But instead of running away, you stayed and helped her, saving Rhys from another shoe-throwing incident.

You had this soft and gentle angle that reminded her of her sister Elain. But you weren’t quite as graceful as Elain. You were louder, clumsier and upbeat, not afraid to strike up a conversation with anyone about anything. And you definitely weren’t like her sister Nesta but she could tell you shared her observation skills.

Truthfully, for Feyre, you were a saving grace. Someone she could go to in this new world that was thrown at her. She never really expressed any of this of course, scared that if someone found out you’d be in harm's way but she kept you close to her whenever possible.

That’s why Feyre was extremely happy that you were accompanying her to a dinner with Rhysand’s family. Thanks to the information Feyre had gathered from you and meeting them beforehand briefly, she inferred that you obviously knew them but you never stated what was your relationship with them.

Which is why Feyre is now shocked to see the turn of events.

She had expected you to be close friends with them, how can you not? You were a social butterfly and if Rhysand’s family was anything like him, she was sure you had befriended all of them. And you had but not in the way Feyre had expected.

‘’Feyre darling, care to share why you look so shocked?’’ Rhysand asked her with that stupid smile of his. But she couldn’t even bother to answer him, not when she was still staring at the scene in front of her.

Again, Feyre had met these faes…briefly. She’d experience Mor’s welcoming energy, Cassian’s cheeky smiles and jokes, Amren’s silver bright eyes and of course…Azriel’s quiet and intimidating presence. The latter preferring to stay in his shadows and observe the chaos around him.

Which is why Feyre NEVER expected for him to be with…you.

Obviously Feyre didn’t know him, not at all, just what you and Rhysand had told her but she was confident that her observations of him helped her come up with an idea of him. It seemed that she was wrong.

They were all gathered in this beautiful grand room, just chatting and sipping on expensive wine before dinner. Cassian and Amren were in conversation in a corner of the room, the latter looking annoyed at whatever the big Illyrian was saying. You, Mor and Azriel occupied a big comfortable looking sofa. You and Mor leading the dialogue and Azriel, unsurprisingly, was just sitting there listening and assessing. But that’s not what had Feyre shocked. No, it was the fact that you were almost sitting on the Shadowsinger’s lap.

He had one whole arm wrapped around your waist, it screamed ‘’she’s mine’’. His other hand touching your hair softly, as if he put any more pressure on it, it would break. His eyes went back and forth between all of the faes in the room but stayed mostly on you. And Feyre didn’t know if he knew that he was smiling.

SMILING

A small soft smile that Feyre didn’t know the Shadowsinger was capable of. It made him look a thousand times more irresistible. A thought that didn’t go unnoticed by Rhys, who arched an eyebrow at her in return. But Feyre didn’t say anything, she opted to try and hide her surprise and continue on with the evening.

An evening that only continue to bamboozle her. At the dinner table, you were sitting infront of Feyre. Azriel on your left side, Cassian on your right. It was a pretty funny picture Feyre would love to paint. Your frame and sunshine aura in the middle of two big intimidating Illyrian soldiers. As she had expected, you were mostly leading the conversation during dinner. Cassian and Mor quickly keeping up with your jokes and laughter, Rhysand chimed in at times but seemed content to take it all in with a soft smile. But Feyre was observing Azriel and Azriel was observing you.

His eyes didn’t seem to wander off too much, seemingly staying on you throughout the night. He looked at you like you held the world in your hands. Honestly, Feyre had never seen anything like this up close. There were no doubts that this male was incredibly in love with you and honestly, Feyre didn’t even know how to react.

Feyre thought she loved Tamlin at one point but now, after witnessing how Azriel looked at you, just this one look, she was extremely in the wrong.

If you moved, Azriel moved. He was so attentive to your needs: refilling your drinks, serving you more food, he held your hand, brushed your hair away from your face; all of it without you having to ask once. At one point, you looked at him with a smile Feyre hadn’t seen from you before and kissed his temple. An act so simple and yet so intimate that Feyre had to look away. Small tears graced the corner of her eyes, her chest felt so…whole?

She was in a room full of so much love that it was overwhelming her. This isn’t what she expected at all.

You seemed to notice that something was wrong with Feyre. Asking her with your eyes what was wrong. But she didn’t say anything, just gave her a look that you hoped would understand that said ‘’we’ll talk later’’. And later you did.

‘’You’re with Azriel?!’’ She had all but exploded the next day when it was just the two of you.

You smiled and said ‘’Yes’’ like it was a fact so obvious that Feyre should’ve have known. But it only confused her more.

‘’But-you-you’re so…’’

‘’Different?’’ You finished. The same smile still on your face. Feyre could only nod.

This wasn’t the first time someone had questioned your relationship with Azriel. To be fair, you were the very first one to question it back when you started courting a couple of hundred years ago. Because the truth was that you and him truly were opposites. You, an extrovert and him obviously an introvert.

But it was your differences that somehow made it work, that completed each other. At the beginning it had taken time. You never seemed to stop talking and you worried that it was only annoying Azriel. But you never did, at least, he insists that you don’t. But you’ve learned to know his little quirks and expressions. You’ve learned when to stop your yapping around him, particularly only for few moments after he’s had a bad day. You’ve learned his ways, and he learned yours.

He learned to interpret the moments when you kept a conversation going because you wanted to and not because you felt like you HAD to. He learned how to ground you back and remind you that your job wasn’t to make everyone’s day brighter. He learned to take care of you, and you took care of him.

You explained all of this to Feyre, a soft smile never leaving your face when you talked about your Shadowsinger and Feyre couldn’t help but smile back.

‘’In the human world, we- ‘’..She cleared her throat. ‘’When people love each other, they get married but here that seems so…miniscule. Like, marriage isn’t enough for the love you and Azriel have.’’

It was the best thing Feyre could say because really, she didn’t know how else to compare the love you and Azriel seemed to have.

You beamed at that. ‘’I thought the same actually but our wedding day was one of the best days of my life. Right after our mating ceremony.’’

Feyre looked confused. Mating ceremony? But you only kept smiling.

‘’ We’d already been married for a hundred years when the bond snapped. Mating bonds are so special and rare, Feyre’’ You looked at her.

‘’I was already blessed to have found a male that loved me and all of my loudness. And then, to be gifted a mating bond with him?’’ You shook your head as if you still couldn’t believe it.

In truth, even many years later, you still couldn’t. And that was all Azriel. He made you feel so incredibly happy and whole. He still made you feel like a fool, as if you’re a female who’s experiencing falling in love for the first time. And perhaps that’s why the shock Feyre had felt still hadn’t left. Because she couldn’t comprehend how you and Azriel made it look like it was just yesterday that you got together. Like you were still in the honeymoon phase.

Feyre had seen married couples in her village. They fought and yelled at each other frequently, almost never held hands and especially didn’t show public display of affection. But what you and Azriel had didn’t look like that AT ALL.

Later, after you had left saying ‘’Azriel said he had a surprise but I’m pretty sure I know what it is. I don’t care what his job description is, I can find out what he’s planning!’’, Feyre was still processing your love story.

It didn’t seem real. It didn’t seem real that two people/fae could love each other so much, who would do absolutely freaking anything, including die, for each other. After her experience with Tamlin, Feyre wasn’t sure if she’d ever have what you and Azriel have. Deep down inside, she wanted it. She felt like she didn’t deserve it, specially after what she’s done but…she hoped that maybe one day, however far it may be, she would have someone who would look at her like Azriel looks at you.

[nymphea0]

Kurkans Mate.

Beast and his mate.

Yan! Ishakan x Reader

Part 1.

Manhwa :약탈혼 / predatory marriage

/ 약탈혼 (완전판)

: Adult Manhwa (18+)

Author/Illustrations : Saha / Hera(Art)

Halloo is neva again, is beens longs i had no post any story TvT... well i had some busy stuff to do, so hope you all forgive me.

And this first my series Manhwa chara, soons will be much chara came out, so stay alwalys love🦋🦋.

might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story,love.- Neva🦋🦋

.

.

.

.

.

.

Fire, blood and corpses'

is a view from a small village in the far west which has unspoiled natural beauty.

However, all of that was damaged when an invasion from a foreign continental kingdom came into conflict with another kingdom, resulting in several villages being affected by the conflict.

Day and night only the sound of screams, sadness, wrath, and much more, the beautiful village has become a sea of ​​blood of innocent people.

Village of a thousand nights, a village for nature people which has a million cultures and also unbeatable beauty. village for the Antrabeth race.

Hair is blue as bright as the sky, the brighter and smoother the hair, the higher the inner bond with nature.

They are a closed people, living in a mountainous environment covered by forests and sunlight. However, their blood is their curse, the anthrabeth race is famous for their blood which can cure all diseases for those who drink the blood and also the blood of those who seek a long, eternal life.

The Antrabeth race is the enemy of the witch and the kurkans, the witch really like experimenting and some stuff unormalize thing and the kurkans believe that marrying an antrabeth race will produce invincible offspring.

However, the world thinks that the Antrabeth Tribe is just a myth, because their existence cannot be proven.

.

.

.

The stomping of feet and gasping for breath were silent witnesses in the night.

You, running with your aunt, managed to survive the post-war tragedy between the neighboring kingdom and the kingdom where you live.

The war between these two kingdoms caused damage to small villages, one of which was Antra village, a village for the Antrabeth tribe.

You and your aunt Reane are running from the pursuit of knights from an enemy kingdom who are ordered to kill women and kill men for blood.

Entering the border of the dense forest, your aunt stopped running, you who were running beside her also stopped, your breath was short, with the throbbing of blood flowing very quickly.

Your aunt could only stare at you sadly as you pressed your foreheads together.

"Run, nephew, don't let them catch you!" Your aunt's voice shook violently, ordering you to run as if this was a goodbye.

"What do you mean aunt?! We'll be safe, okay?" Enough lives have been lost tonight! I don't want to lose you too auntie!!." With a voice shaking with sadness you rejected your aunt's idea as if asking you to run.

"Don't be stupid!, they won't stop chasing us until one of us died. Listen nephew, the antrabeth tribe, our family is on the verge of extinction because of our blood, you have to run, save yourself."

"But auntie?! I can't!" you could only cry as your aunt pushed you hard.

"Run, don't let they catch you!" That was the last sound of your aunt running against the current, the voices of the enemy kingdom's knights shouting with a joyful hum as if they had caught a good catch.

You could only stare at the light of the torches and the sound of the horses' stampedes that were getting louder and louder. disappear. Your aunt, has been captured by the enemy knights.

Certainly, once they get your aunt's blood, your aunt will be killed just like that.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you can only run forward, entering the forest deeper, the dark forest with the sound of animal sounds and moonlight are the only things that accompany your sad night.

Running with all your might you can only feel deep sadness, your mother and father were killed cruelly when your father and mother tried to save you, the inhabitants of the antrabeth tribe, the men were killed very cruelly, the women women and children were also killed old and young.

They only seek 1 thing, blood, the blood of the antrabeth tribe against the laws of nature, blood that can give long life like eternity and can cure all kinds of diseases.

Your blue hair is tangled, many leaves and twigs that's caught in your hair, the sweat that sticks to your forehead, the roar of your heart beating so fast that it adds to your running adrenaline.

Until your body is at the very high threshold because of tiredness from running and pushing yourself too hard, you stumble and fall, you faint on the mossy ground lit by the moon and surrounded by trees.

A thin mist covers your figure lying pitifully, as if nature is afraid if there is who tries to hurt you again.

Just when your eyes are almost completely closed, you see the silhouette of an old woman looking at you sympathetically. Until total darkness envelopes you.

.

.

.

A young woman with her hands and feet covered in bandages to heal abrasions, lay weakly and helplessly on an old mattress that had not been used for a long time.

An old woman slowly wiped the dirt that covered the body of the young woman who was lying weakly.

In a soft voice the woman said

"What in seven hells did this poor girl actually experience?"

After cleaning the young woman, the old woman put on a long, soft nightgown.

Carrying a tray carrying a small bucket of murky water and a dirty towel.

Walking slowly, closing the bedroom door gently, leaving the young woman to rest.

.

.

The sound of birds chirping melodiously decorated the beautiful morning in the middle of the dense forest.

Rays of light entered the slightly open window and illuminated a woman resting peacefully on the bed.

Frowning slowly, you opened your eyes slowly but surely, blinking to adjust your vision.

You see a room with minimalist furniture and decoration, with a very pungent smell of dust entering your respiratory tract.

Slowly waking up you look around, wondering who saved your life.

Then you slowly pull aside the blanket that covers your body, staring in shock, your hands and feet are covered with bandages that have a strong herbal aroma.

When you are about to get out of bed and try to stand up you fall onto the wooden floor, making a fairly loud sound.

'Dug'

'Dug'

'Dug'

The sound of quite heavy footsteps can be heard outside this room.

You who fell could only look towards the closed wooden door, until the door opened, indicating that someone had opened it.

There you see an elderly woman, her hair has white strands, skin that is no longer young, with a slightly hunched body.

"Why are you getting out of bed?!, you are not fully recovered!"

Walking slowly, the woman helps you to sit on the bed.

With a still weak voice, you asked the woman.

"Are ... you the one who saved me?"

The woman just nodded her head.

"My name is Esmera" the woman introduced herself as Esmera.

You also introduced yourself to her.

"You're from the Antrabeth tribe, right?" Emsera asked while gently stroking your bright blue hair.

You looked at her warily, thinking that Esmera might have saved you with another intention.

"Don't worry, I don't need your blood, this is just the first time for me to see the Antrabeth tribe directly."

Esmera, the old woman just chuckled softly seeing your confused face, while sitting slowly beside you she said.

"The Antrabeth tribe, everyone on the entire continent thinks that you are just a myth."

You could only stare in confusion, if the Antrabeth tribe is just a myth, why does the enemy kingdom know the existence of the Antra village?

You think, for the first time you finally realize one thing... the antrabeth tribe is a tribe that is close to nature, a village of a thousand nights, a village covered in thick fog and located in a dense forest, how could the enemy kingdom find the village where you live.

Many questions crossed your mind.

"I don't know what happened to you, , but from what I know, your presence can endanger you.".

You who were confused asked Esmera why that was.

The old woman just sighed while looking at you she said.

"Your tribe has not appeared on several common continents for more than 100 years, just your appearance is enough to shake the world."

You could only be silent hearing Esmera's words.

Then when you were about to speak, Esmera cut you off first.

"You are even more unsafe once you meet the Kurkans."

You who have been living in the depths of the forest just stared confusedly and chanted the name of the Kurkan tribe, asking Esmera what Kurkan is.

"Kurkans, are a tribe that has an extraordinary appearance and physical strength and is very strong, they are more often known as barbarians."

"In short, Kurkans will make you a partner if they find you, they are famous for kidnapping partners they choose through their animal blood instincts"

"The Kurkans consider partners important, and if they have acknowledged them as their partners, they will kidnap the person they consider to be their partner, forced or not, they will not let go of the partner they choose easily".

You just stared at Esmera who was busy checking the wounds on your hands and feet.

You then told me about what you experienced, the war, and the massacre.

Esmera looked at you sadly, the woman did not expect the tribe that was thought to be a myth to disappear overnight.

"Of course .... maybe you are the only one left"

Patting your shoulder, Esnera said.

"Let's change your hair and eyes first, because your hair and eyes are the most striking."

.

.

.

That afternoon you passed by trying to walk slowly.

Esmera is a witch, you as an antrabeth tribe know from the elders to stay away from witches, especially dark witches. At first you were quite afraid of Esmera, but Esmera assured you that she had retired, because Esmera is a natural witch, a witch who guards this forest, the same forest where you fell, the same forest where you will live with Esmera.

Witches have many types, but the most famous are dark witches, because they like to hang their victims from trees, create blood rain, during the blood moon and legal witches usually have the ability to hypnotize their victims and do what they want.

And Esmera is a natural witch, a witch who is usually tasked with guarding a forest or natural environment, and they are witches with a retirement age, when they are 40 years old, they are required to retire, in short like that.

But you remain vigilant, because you have only just met Esmera not long ago.

.

.

It's been 3 months since the incident you experienced before, now you live with Esmera, the woman is willing to take you in, because Esmera also said that sometimes she lives lonely, even though there are forest animals that accompany her.

Your hair and eyes have been changed by Esmera with a potion of drops, just 1 drop is enough.

Your bright blue hair and galaxy-colored eyes have changed to black and brown.

At first you were not used to it, but the effect of this potion only works for 5 hours, Esmera said to use this potion in certain conditions, such as going to the market or when you are being chased by something that could harm you.

.

.

.

In the afternoon, as usual, you explore the forest with 1 white ferret and a wild deer. Of course you are in disguise, even though this forest is protected by Esmera's magic, you still have to be careful.

Walking enjoying the forest with your two friends on the path you usually take, only to find a man covered in a robe holding his injured stomach.

You who can't see injured people unconsciously approach the man,

"Hello?" you were surprised almost tripping when the man's face appeared in front of you, a handsome face, very exotic brown skin, and... his eyes that had a sharp structure that was bright gold shining.

You have never seen someone with such bright and beautiful eye color, unfortunately you are not aware that your eyes are also very bright and beautiful.

This is the first time you have interacted with someone other than Esmera and the Antrabeth Tribe, and you also don't know who this man is? And from what tribe. That doesn't matter, what's important now is to heal this man and ask him to leave here immediately.

"Go away! Leave me alone!" A harsh and mocking tone.

You don't like this man, okay face, very bad character. But you have the instinct to help others, obviously you won't let this man go just like that.

"I'll help you, in return please get out of here quickly."

The man just looked at you with a suspicious look, but he wasn't as rude as before.

You realized that Esmera would be here soon, and this man might die, because Esmera has a rule that men are destroyers, and they are not allowed to enter this forest.

You think of a quick way, 1 drop of your blood is enough to heal this man's wounds.

"Can you open your mouth?" Asking in a soft and friendly tone. You were only answered with a rough and arrogant voice again, seriously you are now thinking why is this man so arrogant and rude?.

"Why should I open my mouth?! My wound is in my stomach, not in my mouth!".

You dislike this man more and more, you know he suspects you but being rude is also not right and you also realize the two animals that come with you are moving more restlessly.

With one needle prick, you forcefully direct your index finger into the man's mouth, making him inevitably taste 1 drop of your blood.

The man, of course, was surprised and wanted to push you, but he stopped moving when he tasted your blood, blood usually smells like iron and has an unpleasant taste, but your blood, as sweet as nectar, has no iron smell at all.

You wipe your fingers on the man's robe, because there is his saliva left behind.

Then you stand up and say.

"Go immediately, don't ever come back"

Ride the wild deer and ferret that have stayed on your shoulder, you leave the golden-eyed man.

.

.

.

The man just stares at you with a look that is difficult to interpret, then he lifts his shirt a little and sees, the stab wound in his stomach, slowly heals and leaves no scar at all, the man who feeling tired before, became fit and full of energy.

The man slowly stood up out of the forest, his mind still processing who are you?, how can blood heal a very deep and poisonous stab wound?. There were many questions in the man's mind.

The man walked and a few moments later, 2 other women and man came to the man's side bowing slightly.

"Your Highness, we have been looking for you, it is a relief to see you are okay" the women with a scar on her face spoke, with exotic skin too.

Then followed by a man who had blue eyes with exotic tan skin.

"The rebellion has succeeded your Highness, now all the Kurkans are waiting for you, Your Highness Ishakan".

The man... The King of the Kurkans, the new king of the Kurkans tribe, a tribe with animal blood, a tribe that has extraordinary physical abilities and looks, the King of the Kurkans tribe.

Combing his hair slowly, Ishakan only answered briefly to his two aides, Genin the women with a wound on her face, and Haban the man with blue eyes just stared at Ishakan in confusion.

Then Ishakan said.

"Have you two... ever heard of a case where blood can heal wounds in an instant?"

Haban and Genin just looked at each other. Genin as Ishakan's aide and right hand answered.

"I don't think there is any case like that and it sounds very unreal, your Highness".

Ishakan grinned and said.

"Too bad I just experienced it." Ishakan looked back into the dark forest covered in fog.

"I found something very interesting, a very interesting rabbit."

chuckling while grinning, Ishakan walked away followed by his two aides who just stared confusedly at the forest behind them and walked away, towards their kingdom, the large oasis at the western end of the continent.

Ishakan had found a figure that made his instincts scream ripples, the instinct to claim something that was rightfully his, his mate.

.

.

.

.

*source Images : Pinterest

©️Nymphea0 2024 ,OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Series.

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions , Always be good people Dear. Much love , Neva🦋🦋.

Special Story for my Love; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut

Tag list; @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger

[harunovella]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ love language; s.g.

synopsis: when gojo satoru first fell in love with you content: teen gojo era, fem!reader, gojo is head over heels (love at first sight), hopeless!romantic gojo, 1k+ words of gojo just being an absolute fool in love, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: I've been wanting to create a sort of anthology series for some of my favs so here's a test run! I rlly wanna do lil drabbles/oneshots that can both be standalone but also can be read as something continuous revolving around Gojo's story with his soulmate... pls lmk if you'd like to see more of gojo and his mochi (aka you!)

Gojo Satoru didn't entirely know what love was; what with being raised by other people who weren't his actual mother and father, how could he? All he ever knew was a life of being the Honored One, since the day he was born. Nothing but a weapon. Living as the strongest and treated like a god... he never knew what real love felt like. He never knew what it was like to give or receive it. At least, not this way.

Geto Suguru and Ieiri Shoko were his best friends, the closest thing to real family. It wasn't like he didn't have any, at least not while growing up, but were they really family when all they ever did was train him and treat him like the eighth wonder of the world? Unlike everyone else, at least Suguru and Shoko treated him like a human. They loved him for who he was, but didn't hesitate to snap him into place when his ego was too inflated. They were there for him, even when expressing whatever demons that he held within him was hard to manage. If it wasn't for them, he wasn't sure exactly how he'd go about his life. Sure, he'd act like everything was fine and dandy, money could buy him happiness as he had plenty of it... and he was pretty much unstoppable, but the idea of living a life without either of them didn't sit well in his stomach.

So, sure, Satoru did now a bit about love, at least the love he felt for his best friends, but nothing like what he felt in this moment. The moment his eyes first fell on you.

He hadn't a clue as to who you were, only seeing you stroll along the grounds of Jujutsu High with your little uniform. The typical jacket, a skirt beneath, knee high socks, loafers... and your hair in a low ponytail that was held together by an overly large ribbon. Cute was the first thing that came to mind, along with the terrifying sound of his racing heart. Who were you? How come he had never seen you before? Maybe it was because he didn't pay attention to any one else besides a handful of people. He'd be lying if he said he was sure the technical college held more than five students. 

In the midst of sipping away at his little box of strawberry milk, walking alongside Suguru and Shoko, Satoru's eyes had aimlessly wandered along his environment as his two best friends had been discussing evening plans. It wasn't like him to care about what was going on around him, so it was quite the miracle that his eyes were looking anywhere but ahead of him... but, maybe this was destiny.

It felt like the world was suddenly moving slowly around him, rather dramatically like a movie. His lips parted as the tiny straw fell out of it, hidden gaze behind his circular frames becoming exposed as the glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. You looked so graceful, the afternoon sun beaming down on you, your smile as bright as his eyes... he had to have been in love. This had to have been love. What else could it have been? Why else was his heart fluttering so quickly? Why else was he caught in a daze by your beauty? No one else, not a single soul, ever caught his attention this way so you must've been his soulmate.

There was something about you, from your gorgeous hair, to the cute bow, down to the uniform and the way it suited your form to the way you... wait, were you laughing with... Nanami Kento? Gojo's heart stopped as his grip on the milk grew tight, causing the contents to squeeze right out and squirt all over his face.

The sound of laughter caught his attention as he quickly looked at his two best friends, embarrassment filling his face as he looked back at you to see you now looking in his direction. Quickly wiping his face and turning away to scold his best friends, Gojo tossed the now empty carton at Geto. "Shut up!"

"What the hell did you do?" Suguru shook his head, wiping his tears as his shoulders shook with every laugh that rumbled throughout his torso. "Losing your cool over a girl, huh?"

"I said shut up!" Satoru snapped, cheeks burning with heat, embarrassed that he was that obvious.

"Must've struck something in him for him to spill milk all over his face like the doofus he is," Shoko snickered as Suguru went for a high five.

Swatting their hands and glaring at the two, Gojo hissed, "nothing happened, I squeezed too hard."

"Right," the two said in sync before eyeing one another, smirking and stifling a laugh.

Shoving past them as he kept walking ahead, grumbling to himself, Gojo couldn't help but peak over in your direction. You had already turned your attention back to the two on either side of you—Nanami along with Yu Haibara. Since when did they have a friend that was a girl? And when did you appear? He should've known seeing as both were his junior and both trained quite close to Suguru and himself. So you must've been new... He supposed he'd find more out about you, knowing he'd find a way to get under Nanami's skin and get anything out of him. He must've known a lot about you...

Gojo smirked to himself. He'd get his way.

"No," Nanami spoke as he crossed his arms. The confidence in Gojo's face instantly fading away. He didn't even hesitate, cancelling his plans with his best friends to bribe Kento into giving him some information. He swore taking his junior to his favorite bakery would help him out, but, no! Kento, being the wise boy he was, took advantage of Satoru paying for food in a false exchange for information. "I'm not going to be your middle man."

"Why not?!" Gojo whined, throwing himself back in his seat dramatically. "Just one thing! Something! Anything! She's the love of my life!"

Narrowing his eyes as he sipped away at his water, Nanami settled the glass down before crossing his arms once again. "Love of your life? You don't even know her name—"

"Because you won't tell me!" Gojo cried, throwing his head back and stomping his foot as if he was about to throw a tantrum. "Please, please! I beg of you, tell me something about her! Besides her name, what's her favorite color? Maybe her favorite food? Or... or what's her favorite date spot!"

"Satoru, I am not about to ask her what her favorite date spot is," Nanami deadpanned. "I'll give you her name and that's all. Everything else is on you. I'm not going to play matchmaker, let alone, set you up with someone so far out of your league."

Gasping in offense, Gojo clutched his chest. "Out of my league? Sure, she's a pure angel, a real heavenly being, but I like to think I am, too!"

"Egotistical..." Kento mumbled as Gojo frowned. "I'm only telling you one thing to get you off my back. You can't ask me anything ever again in order to get close to her. That's on you."

Pressing his hands together and interlocking his fingers, Gojo gave his best puppy eyes as he jutted out his bottom lip. "Please, I promise to leave you be after!"

"You better," the blond man grumbled before giving his senior your name. "She likes to sit under the cherry blossoms on the eastern side of the campus. If you want to find her and talk to her, she's usually there on her down time." At that, Nanami stood up and tucked his seat back into the table. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped in his tracks, turning to face the white haired young man. "All I ask of you is to be... gentle. She's a nice girl. I don't need you breaking her heart."

Sitting up with confidence as a wide grin took over his face, Satoru nodded with his thumbs up. "Believe me, I wont! I know this is love!" Seeing Nanami roll his eyes before leaving, Gojo happily sighed before looking out the window. Leaning his chin in the palm of his hand, he eyed the cherry blossom that had petals delicately swaying in the wind. "She's my soulmate, I know we are destined to be."

[pearlymel]

A baby ?!

Summery: his departure always bugs you, and surprise, it was just your lil hormones messing with you.

Wc: 3.4k

Warnings: Fem!reader, sfw because we decided to be sweet, pregnancy, reader is pregnant, there are some suggestive comments but that's all. Happy ending because i love yall.

Part one and two if you missed it my loves.

Notes: welcome to part 3 which i believe is the last part. I am kindly asking not to ask for a part 4 because i have run out of ideas. If i ever decided to write for capitano again, it wouldn't be part of this series, it would be like headcanons instead, you could imagine the reader being the same, apologies for spelling errors and thank you. :)

Credits: the art of the left panel is by @/reaperpie

Fall was slowly approaching in Snezhnaya, and you had already expected it to be colder than the normal autumn. Which to your bad luck, it was not a suitable place for your picnic’s.

Your husband has continuesly rejected your date ideas, but you expected that anyway, you knew he couldn’t. He had duties to attend to, responsibilities to the Fatui, to the Tsaritsa, to the world. He couldn’t stay, as much as you—he wanted to.

It's not fair, You think while pouting as you stare outside the window with your chin resting on the palm of your hand, looking like a princess in need to be rescued from the tower. Your thumb toying with the diamond ring resting around your ring finger.

“Ugh, it's unfair baby.” You slump back on the bed, while your little fur baby only meowed at you in return, the orange cat jumping on the bed to make itself warm on your lap. “meow back if he doesn't love me.”

You're met with silence, only happy purrs reach your ears, and you grin, “obviously he loves me, obsessed even.” Your hand reaches to slowly pat the kitty.

“I miss him.” You sigh dreamily, deciding to stand up while carrying kitty with you so it doesn't feel left out. You make your way towards the desk in the corner, pulling the seat to take your place before pushing yourself closer to the desk.

You rest the kitten on your lap again—who quickly adjusts like nothing happened, looking as sleepy as ever.

You open the drawers to take an envelope, some wax, a stamp, a paper, and a quill.

Yeah, you're going to write him a letter, he said he didn't mind recieving even hundreds of letters from you.

How romantic.

“Dear, husband.” You start, dipping the quill in ink to brush it along the neat surface of the paper.

“i miss you.” you narrow your eyes at the empty page, saying that you miss him felt too boring.

“i utterly miss being next to you.” Hm, it lacks excitement.

“Please come back soon or i will run away.” Huh, you could already imagine the army's he would send to search for you.

“i want you inside—” okay, now you're being desperate.

You rest your arms on the desk, leaning your head on them while sighing.

—

“Do you know when will he return?” You politely ask one of the guards in front of the estate’s gate. Your hands together behind your back.

A leaf flew by in front of the guards with still no answer from them, and you narrow your eyes, wondering if they even heard you in the first place.

Finally, one of them shook their head and you only sigh in resignation, “thank you.” You mumble before heading your way back inside the estate.

It has been more than two weeks since he left, and he would sometimes send you neat letters to inform you about his well being, but the last letter you received was about a week ago, it was worrying you.

“My lady, are you okay?” Your personal maid, Marina, asked out of concern, watching you put an apron with a frown plastered on your face.

“Just hungry.” You take the glassy bowl, eggs, flour, butter, and sugar. Then you set them on the table. “I can help you.” Marina stands next to you, taking the butter to melt it.

“you want to make cookies, correct?” She asks, and you nod with a small smile. With the butter fully melted, you begin mixing in the sugar, beating the mixture until it becomes light and fluffy. The repetitive motion of stirring is almost meditative, and for a brief moment. “Baking is rather calming, i should've tried it before.”

Marina chuckled softly at your admission, a knowing smile on her face. "Yes, baking can be quite therapeutic," she stated, watching as you mixed the sugar and butter together. "I've found that working with your hands, especially when it involves creating something good to eat, is a great way to clear your mind," she continued, adding chocolate to the bowl.

You had both finished combining the ingredients, and the room was now filled with the warm, comforting fragrance of cookie dough. Marina stood beside you, watching as you shaped the dough into small balls and placed them on a baking tray. As you finished placing the last cookie onto the tray, you and Marina stood together, admiring the array of small, round cookies waiting to be baked in the oven.

The sounds of the gates opening is what catches your attention next, making you stand up from your chair to immediately abandon the kitchen and rush towards the entrance, your eyes searches him when you reach the front door, and surely enough, your husband has arrived.

He looked almost disheveled, tired, yet he still held a straight posture.

Capitano's weary eyes widened behind his helmet as you rushed into his arms, his body stiffening as if caught off guard by your sudden affection. But the tension in his form swiftly melted away as he wrapped his strong arms around you. His grip was tight, as he pulled you against his body. He was silent for a moment, his chin resting on the top of your head, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths as he held you.

“I…” you want to break the silence, you want to tell him how much you missed him. “I missed you.”

Capitano's grip intensified as your voice reached his ears, he was more than relieved to hear those words. To know that somone dear is waiting for him, someone as precious as you that he's willing to risk his life for.

He exhaled deeply, "I missed you too," he whispered, making sure the words only reached your ears. He pulled back slightly to look down at you, his gaze raking over you as if to confirm you were real and not a trick of his tired mind.

Capitano allowed you to lead him inside afterwards, his hand careful to be gentle when holding yours. The weariness in his body was evident as he stumbled a bit as you pulled him along. However, he matched your pace as best he could, following obediently as you guided him to your chambers.

Being greeted by the familiar room before him made his shoulders relax, the only place where he can be himself.

"How was is it? Being away from your wife for more than two weeks?" You ask while your hands started working on helping him out of the thick layers of his heavy, dirty clothing. Each layer you removed revealed more of his muscular, battle-worn physique, the scars and marks on his body a testament to the dangers he had faced.

He paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he noticed your pout. He reached out a calloused hand and gently tugged at your lip, "It was a long two weeks," he admitted gruffly. "I have missed you sorely.”

“I'm sure you did,” you hummed, walking towards the closest to grab a sweater for him. "Don't pout like that," he chided gently, "You're making me feel guilty.”

You try hiding your smile when you hand him his new warm clothes, your arms crossing next, “as you should.”

"I've missed that pout," his lowers his voice, "but I don't miss your little attitude.”

You shrug, “i don't know what you're talking about.” Capitano's gaze held yours unflinchingly, his eyes studying your expression. He knew you were baiting him, daring him to guess your reason for being upset.

"Let me see.." he started, his voice taking on a tone of mock contemplation. "Perhaps it's the fact that I was gone for more than two weeks and left you here all alone. That's a start, is it not?”

“maybe.”

"Or perhaps it's the fact that I didn't send you a letter everyday and left you wondering about whether I was alright or not. Hmm, that could be it, couldn't it?”

“Go on.” your raise your eyebrow while tapping your feet impatiently.

"Or maybe," he stepped closer, taking a few strands of your hair in between his fingers, "It's because I didn't come home and ravish you as soon as I returned, instead letting you pout and sulk and complain like a spoiled little thing.”

He could see right through you; the way you suddenly straightened your stance and tried to act nonchalant only confirmed his suspicions.

You gasp, ”whaaaat? Nonsense.”

"Is that so?" he drawled, his hands now taking your upper arms, his thumb thumbs rubbing circles around your skin "i will make it up to you, my wife.”

Despite his promise that you could do later, you wanted him to rest more than anything, so you make him sit down on the bed while you leave to get the cookies you baked together with Marina.

“You have to tell me your opinion.” you hand him one of the chocolate chip cookies. Capitano let the taste of the chocolate chips and the buttery cookie dough settle on his tongue for a moment. He swallowed, his gaze still fixed on you, before giving his verdict.

"They're good," he admitted, "Better than good, actually. Well done.”

Praise kink goes crazy huh? Your smile widens, and it makes you feel all giddy, as you took a bite of the cookies as well.

He leaned back against the plush bedding of the bed, his strong arms resting on his lap as he observed you. "You've been busy while I was away, hm?"

“Not really, more bored than busy.”

“… i am sorry. I do not mean to leave you alone.”

You scoot closer to him once you see how guilty he looks, you sit next to him, your head resting on his shoulder. “When do you have to leave again?”

Capitano's silence spoke volumes, pausing before answering, "My duties are unpredictable, and there's no telling when the Tsaritsa will call for me again. I cannot give you an exact timeline, and that is the reality of what I do. I am a warrior first, a husband second.”

Ouch, that's fine. Totally fine.

You knew what you were getting into when you married him, after all. Still, a part of you couldn't help but wish for more. The thought kind of makes you sick… quite literally.

“I think the cookies had too much sugar.” You put the dessert back on the plate before standing up from the bed. “Shall i go get you wate—”

“no, thank you. I can do it.”

—

You were rotting in bed. From the morning, and now it's afternoon. It makes you feel useless since you barely did anything.

Capitano left before you woke up, even though he promised to return later today.

You felt miserable, your body weak and your spirits low. It was a mixture of loneliness, hormones, and the unease bubbling in your stomach. Capitano's absence only made it worse, adding to the feeling of helplessness that had settled upon you.

You tossed and turned in the bed, the plush sheets tangling up around you as you tried to find a comfortable position. But no matter how much you shifted, the discomfort in your stomach remained, persistent and nagging.

“Make the pain go please, I'll take any disgusting medicine,” you tell Marina weakly as you look up at her while she sat on the wooden stool next to you.

"I can give you some ginger root. It might help soothe your stomach.” she offered gently, handing you the ginger root she prepared just for you.

“… i lied i can't take anything disgusting.”

Marina chuckled softly at your admission, "I thought so," she said, setting aside the ginger root. “Have you considered telling Lord Capitano?”

You shake your head, “not that he's here. It's not that important.” you cover half of your face with the blanket, “why though? Isn't it just a normal cold from the change of weather?”

It was clear that you were trying to downplay the severity of your symptoms, perhaps not wanting to worry anyone or admit that something might be seriously wrong.

"Dearest, it's not just a cold," she chided gently, "the symptoms you're describing are not typical of a mere cold.”

You frown, “is it not?”

She shook her head, her voice soft but serious. "No, it's not. The nausea, the fatigue, the changes in appetite...these are all common symptoms of something else." Shee paused for a moment, "my lady, have you considered the possibility that you might be... Pregnant?”

You immediately rise from the bed, sitting down with eyes wide to stare at her, "what? Pregnant?” you ask in shock.

"I shall ask for a healer right away, my lady.”

—

You stare outside the window at the dark skies, although your eyes fixated on the gates opening, indicating his arrival.

You almost flinch when he dashes inside your shared chambers, taking his helmet off but not bothering to take the rest off before he's gently grabbing you by your arms.

“where?” He asks urgently, “where are you injured? Who did it? Do not hesitate to tell me.” He says in a dangerously sharp tone, his eyes searching for even a single scratch on your body.

“what… are you talking about?” You raise an eyebrow, and your unbothered state made him confused. “the healers were here, yet you're not injured?” he blinked before sighing, his hands caressing your arms instead, “then why? Are you sick?”

“Sick… no not sick.” You tell him, your hands ever so gentle taking a hold of his face, “… but pregnant. I'm pregnant.”

You both stare at eachother, both of you holding your breaths. You have never seen him so distracted, like he didn't hear you the first time.

Does he hate it? You never thought of the possibility.

“Capit—” before you could continue, he's down in one knee and you're bewildered, unsure of what to do.

“you're carrying our child.” he utters out so softly that you think you might tear up—and you really are in the verge of tears. He takes your hand, he's held your hand many times, but this time it feels different, he holds you like you're glass, he's so careful with it.

“I swear to protect you both, and put you both first. Should anyone hurt you, i will not hesitate to draw my sword, if i ever hurt you… then you should not hesitate to draw your sword on me.” his words hung in the air like a sacred vow.

You tried to speak, to respond, but only a soft gasp escaped your lips. Tears welled in your eyes, and you could only stare at him, utterly overwhelmed.

Capitano's gaze softened even more as he saw the tears falling down your face. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his hand still holding yours in a gentle but firm grip, he reached out with the other hand, his large palm cupping your cheek to brush your tears away. “Don't cry, I'm here.”

His embrace, so warm, so protective around you that it eases every single thought in your head.

Everything is going to be okay. With him, it will.

—

Months passed in a blur of morning sickness, cravings, and blossoming excitement for the new life growing inside you. Capitano, as promised, was by your side through it all and he went away for more than a week.

He attended to your every need, from getting up in the middle of the night to find the most ridiculous late-night snack, to comforting you on days when you felt overwhelmed by the changes happening to your body.

You rest back against the bed’s headboard while tracing random shapes on the skin of your swollen belly, a hum of some sort of song followed after. You stop once you hear the sound of slow footsteps, catching your husband freeze.

“I'm sorry, i didn't mean to stalk you like that—”

“you're so silly. Come here, honey.” You pat on your empty side with a smile, inviting him to share this moment you.

Capitano took his place next to you then continued watching as you gently caressed your belly, tracing over the stretch marks with your fingers.

“They're beautiful, you know.” he speaks first, as if sensing what you were about to say. “Beautiful?” You repeat. He lifted your hand to his lips, gently pressing a kiss on your knuckles before he replied, his voice a soft murmur. "Yes, beautiful. They're a sign of life growing within you. A sign of strength. Of creation. That's beautiful.” he continues his trail of kisses to your arm up to your shoulder, “I want to kiss every inch of you, stretch mark or not.”

You've come so far with him that it feels surreal, it feels right, “i love you.” You whisper to him, turning your attention to him again. “I love you.” he doesn't hesitate to say it back, the declaration coming out of his tongue smoothly like it was meant to be.

His hand then moved to your growing bump, "and I love this," he added. “This?” You giggle.

"Mhm," Capitano confirmed, his hand now rubbing your belly in slow, soothing circles. "This. Our baby." His eyes flickered up to yours, "We created this," he continued, his voice with pride and awe. "Our love made this.”

Love.

—

Were toddlers always this fast? Because one second he keeps an eye on her then the next he looks around before she's gone right from infront of him.

He was supposed to play tea party, but a little butterfly flying creature must've caught her attention.

Capitano, despite his size and strength, found himself struggling to keep up with your energetic three-year-old daughter.

He chuckled as he chased her around the garden, his large frame a stark contrast to her small, fleeting form. As she ran past you, you couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight of your husband's face, "almost got her," he panted out, his hand on his knee as he attempted to catch his breath.

“You got this old man!” You decide to tease him from behind, laughing endlessly from the sight. Though he shot you a mock glare through his labored breaths, “old man, huh?" he grumbled, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest. "You think I'm old now, do you?" he continued, raising an eyebrow playfully. "I'll show you 'old,' darling." With that, he took a step further to sweep you off your feet, carrying you effortlessly in his arms, and your smile only widens.

“Me!” Your little girl raises both of her arms at her father, and he kneels down to carry her in his other arm. Now carrying you both in each arm.

“Oh, how strong.” You tease, poking at his bicep and he shakes his head almost shyly, “papa, butterfly.” Your daughter proceeds to show you both the butterfly she caught, the little creature doesn't seem scared of her as it rests on her tiny fingers.

“Looks pretty,” Capitano smiled, his expression amused as your daughter leaned toward the butterfly, attempting to kiss it. "Careful now," he warned gently. "Don't scare it away." He watched as the butterfly fluttered its delicate wings at her attempt and she giggles.

"You have to be gentle," he told her, his voice soft. "Just like how you handle the kittens.”

She gasps, suddenly remembering the cat that's half asleep on the grass with the three of you. “Kitty!” She shouts at the cat, jumping off Capitano’s arm so suddenly that it makes him gasp, worried that she might’ve injured herself.

“she's fine.” You pat your husband's chest and just like that, he's relaxed again. “i think our cat is tired of her sometimes.” You get down as well, watching how your daughter carried the lazy cat in her arms to run in circles with her. The cat that grew within these years, from a mere kitten to a big cat now.

"I think we should just be glad the cat hasn't hissed at her or swatted her yet," he sighed, and you hum in reply, “i don't think it ever will. That cat has been clinging to my belly ever since i was pregnant. Kept me warm i must admit.”

You grin when your daughter runs back to both of you, carrying the cat in the air, it's eyes almost closed, unbothered, "meow."

Tags: @duchessofherself @itsjustnikkixoxo @erasme143 @yvesswoo @mooshbb @bigboygoose

[sexlapis]

[◉°] … LEVI & Y/N BEING A COUPLE FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT … 900k views

⪩　 　  ₊　    🌸 　 　✧ 　 　⁺

꩜ actor!levi x gn!actor/actress!reader

⤷ they’re called delusional all the time, but your fans just know that leviyn is real!

sfw, fluff, protective levi, mean fans (comments on weight), swearing, unwanted groping (this is mostly happy i swear), violence (levi ofc), use of ‘brat’ (cliche i know)

a/n: i missed my man. this is the most ideas i’ve ever had for this little series lol.

masterlists

from the actor!character series:

actor!toji masterlist

actor!nanami & y/n being a couple

*

꩜ first clip

after a decade long run, the successful series of ‘attack on titan’ had finally come to an end, and behind the scenes interviews of all the cast members were released.

it’s really no surprise that levi’s interview gained the most attention & popularity.

“it was an honour working with such great and talented people for ten years and i look forward to the legacy that this series will leave. i have no regrets about partaking in this show and i will forever feel it’s impact.”

the interviewer lets levi’s meaningful answer marinate for a few moments, before completely ruining the effect with just one question.

“which of the cast members will you miss working with the most?”

levi clears his throat, eyes squinting, “i..i will miss working with all of them…obviously.”

“it’s y/n though, right? i mean, isn’t she your favourite?”

levi blinks at the interviewer behind the camera.

the interview cuts to behind the scene clips of you and levi; of levi grudgingly giving you a piggy back ride, to you surprise kissing him on the cheek and running away while he blushes and scowls, letting you steal his food and to the most recent one, of the last day on set where he finally accepts your request to give him a hug after ten whole years.

levi looks back to the camera, “no. no, i don’t have “favourites”.”

꩜ second clip

a blurry TMZ clip of you stumbling out of the after party of an awards show (you and levi both left empty handed) with levi by your side, making sure you didn’t fall over.

he wears his slacks and his white, button up shirt and his suit jacket appears to…be worn by you?

you walk like a baby deer, babbling and giggling inaudibly in levi’s ear. he just nods at you, only mildly annoyed and focuses on holding onto your waist to make sure you don’t topple over.

a patent, black limousine pulls up in front of the both of you and levi opens the back door and helps you in, despite your drunken objections. he guides you in by the top of your head, making sure you don’t hit it on the car ceiling and gets in after you before the it drives away.

꩜ third clip

you, sasha and connie make a late appearance to an ‘attack on titan’ cast interview, being more than 20 minutes late (that being all sasha’s fault).

“and- oh, look who finally decided to show up!” exclaimed jean as you and your peers make your late arrival.

the cast cheers and applauds your trio sarcastically, you’re a little embarrassed but connie and sasha revel in the attention, mock bowing and blowing kisses.

you stroll over to where levi sits, with his arms folded and legs crossed.

you look at him.

he looks at you.

“what?” he asks in his default mood of annoyance. “there’s no space here.”

“yeah there is.” you responded, your eyes dropping down to his lap.

levi pauses, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, his face painted with an expression of incredulousness.

and then he sighs in utter exhaustion, giving in and spreading his legs. you smile gleefully, plopping your full weight in his lap.

despite his ‘annoyance’, you both sit like this for the rest of the interview.

and all of your fans are just both so confused and so happy. because they were not prepared for levi, ever so stoic and astute, to just allow you to sit on him and just accept it.

you’re going to make him go grey early.

꩜ fourth clip

a fan recording of you and levi attending NY fashion week and just as you both stand up and begin to take your leave, you are stopped a handsome gentleman.

he speaks to you animatedly, and you smile and laugh with him.

levi on the other hand…is not so friendly.

he simply glares at this random man, unblinking, arms crossed and he seems to be impatient and…maybe a certain other emotion?

the conversation comes to a close. the stranger gives you a small business card and you thank him and say goodbye. the man also waves to levi, but levi simply responds with a stiff nod and walks away with you.

you both walk through the crowd. you turn to him, looking at his face, and you wrap your arm in his one, leaning on you and smiling. he visibly sighs and relaxes, discreetly rubbing your hand with his own.

꩜ fifth clip

you and levi are at a new years event, along with other actors and actresses, including the ones from ‘attack on titan’.

it is ten minutes before new years, and it is freezing - it is 3°C at most.

you and historia are huddled together, absolutely shaking and teeth chattering in the cold.

that’s until levi walks towards the two of you and appears to notice your situation.

he shrugs off his long black coat, leaving him in only his suit, and drapes over yourself and historia.

your head whips to where he stands.

levi clearly tells you, “you should’ve worn a jacket!”

and you respond, with a wide grin on your face, “seems like i didn’t need to.”

historia thanks levi vehemently and you kiss levi’s cheek.

even from metres away, the blush on his cheeks is so very visible.

꩜ sixth clip

it is halloween! you enjoy halloween, always posting a costume of yourself on your instagram every year!

this year, you dressed as a cute vampire. your hair was slicked back and you had fake fangs on your canines. you were a doll!

on your story, you post a video of you.

and levi.

you are recording yourself walking and you come up behind levi, shoving your phone in his face so you both are in the frame.

levi rests on the couch with his eyes clothes.

but he is wearing a costume too.

levi never celebrates halloween. let alone wears costumes outside of acting.

how did you convince him to do this?

“leviiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…” you growl with face menace, grinning wildly.

“hm?” he hums, barely even paying attention to you.

“i vant to vsuck vour vlood vleeeeviiiiiiiiiiiii…” you chime in jest, opening and closing your mouth to show you fangs.

levi opens one eye, side-eyeing you with immense suspicion. “get away from me.”

“vnoooooooooooooo, vlevvvvvvvvviiii,” you drawl again, opening you mouth an ample amount, and slowly closing in on his neck, “i vant to vsuck vour vblood-”

then his grabbing your hairline and holding you back, causing your eyes to squint and your face to lift.

“are you gonna stop?” he asks. his expression is blank as he scowls.

“nope!” you croak, your voice compromised by the position you’re held in, “vyourr vbloood vvlevvvvvviiii…”

the video cuts to another.

levi is running away from you, his bat cape flapping behind as you chase him.

the camera moves erratically as you manically cackle, “vgivve me vyour vblood vlevviiiiii! vlet ve vsuck vour vblooddd!”

this game of cat and mouse continues until you pounce on him and the video abruptly ends.

in the end, you get a photo with levi, that he willingly partook in, with you biting his smooth, pale neck.

it is safe to say your fans went crazy that day.

꩜ seventh clip

a viral paparazzi clip of you and levi walking out of the set for the movie you’re both working on.

as you walk with levi, an odd man wearing sunglasses comes up behind you and gropes your ass.

you can’t help crying out a loud, “hey!” in complete shock that someone would do that so shamelessly in front of so many people.

levi turns to, wondering what happened. you tell him that, ‘that man’ touched you inappropriately.

he doesn’t even waste any time.

levi storms up to the man, who has the sense to try and walk away, and sucker punches him in the nose.

everyone gasps as the man falls. he clutches his bloody nose, groaning and writhing.

“disgusting scum.” levi spits at the thing crying on the ground.

cameras flash all around you and levi.

levi guides you to the car, opening the passenger door for you and swiftly getting in the drivers side and speeding away.

while he received mostly support from your fans, he also received backlash for “inciting violence” and “not setting a good example”.

he did not care. in his own words, he would “do it again” if he had to.

꩜ eighth clip

a fan q&a was held with the cast of ‘attack on titan’ for the season finale, and fans could ask any questions they wanted!

unfortunately, because they are not interviewers, they lacked the skills usually used by people in media.

and the shame.

after levi answered a question, the host picked out another fan who had their hand raised to ask a question.

“hi, i have a question for ______.” said the fan.

you say hello and then she proceeded to ask, “how much weight did you gain between seasons 3 and 4?”

your looked shocked at the audacity of her to ask such a question and the fans seem to be in agreement, shouting in surprise and even booing the fan.

the host tells her, “please, do not ask inappropriate questions to the cast please.”

“huh? can she not answer questions or…?”

the cast look around awkwardly, glancing at you in concern.

you pick up your microphone to speak. “uh-”

but before you can get a word in, levi is already speaking for you. “can you ask good questions? or…?”

you choke on your spit, and the crowd cheers and whoops, and your cast members laugh and clap as the rude fan is guided out by security.

“tch, these people…” levi curses, “no more shit questions.”

the crowd howls but levi is being dead serious.

the q&a goes on, and levi places his hand on your knee as questions are being answered, seemingly making sure you’re okay. you nod and give him a small smile.

꩜ ninth clip

a clip, recorded by you, of levi working out for his role in a new thriller film.

you wolf whistle, panning down levi’s shirtless body as he does pull ups, “ooh la laaaa!”

levi grunts, dropping down and wiping his head with a cloth. “stop that.”

“an attractive male in his natural habitat - the gym. the attractive male-”

levi snatches the phone from you.

you whine and he points the camera at you, turning the table on you. you are also clothed in gym wear.

“aren’t you supposed to be exercising too? you brat.”

“uhmmm…i’m here for uhhh…moral support?”

cut to you barbell squatting, with levi spotting you from behind.

“ugh! levi i can’t anymore! it’s too heavy!”

“are you serious? it’s ten kilograms.”

“yeah that’s heavy!”

“five more and then you’re done.”

you grunt but power through, doing all five before throwing the barbell onto the floor.

“impressive,” he compliments, “for you.”

you collapse to the floor and give a thumps up to the camera and say, “he loves me, really.”

levi huffs.

he does not deny it though.

*

a/n: i miss him so much i need him back and animated again :’)))

[loserboysandlithium]

Fantasy: Eddie x reader x Billy

Part one, part two, part three, part four

Four part mini series. Minors DNI. Explicit sexual content

I can't just walk up and ask him. Hey! Wanna fuck me and my boyfriend?

How do I do this? Fuck, he's pretty.

"Just an oil change?" Billy mumbles, bringing you out of your thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Just the oil... I think." you say shyly and he meets your eyes for the first time, giving you a little smile.

"Is that your car?" you gesture toward his Camaro. You know it's his. It's the same car he had in school. It still looks just as pretty.

He really smiles then. "Yeah, that's my baby." he grins, glancing over at his pride and joy. The topic opens up the door for conversation, and he begins to talk a little more as he changes your oil. You can’t help but watch him as he works, taking in his white tank top, little grease smears splattered all over it. The fabric clinging to his muscles.

There's something about a man with dirty hands. Working hands. Fuck me.

His sandy curls hang loose around his neck, freckles peppering his tan skin. His jeans hug his muscular thighs, the denim practically painted on. And that ass. Fuck.

He continues making small talk. Asking how life after school has been. It's been a while since you've seen him. Every once in a while you'd run into him in the grocery store or at a gas station but you always avoided him.

"You look good." he drawls and you notice his eyes slowly roaming over your body. He doesn’t try to hide it for a second. A mischievous glint in his pretty blue eyes as his lips curl into a smile.

Shit.. focus.

"So do you. You always do." you blurt out and he chuckles deeply.

Ask him. Say something.

"Good to go." he pats your hood and throws the greasy towel over his shoulder.

"Wait.. Billy. I have something to ask you." you mutter nervously.

He looks at you with a knowing smirk. He's so cocky but it's fucking hot. He already knows I want him.

"You wanna take me on a date, pretty girl?" he winks at you and you can’t stop yourself from blushing.

"Not exactly. I have a boyfriend." you say quickly.

"Okay... so we have to be like.. sneaky?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, no. Not exactly."

Billy steps closer to you and you look up into his blue eyes. His stare makes you even more nervous. He’s so close. You can smell his cologne mixed with Marlboro’s, a little musky scent from his sweat.

"You have my attention." he winks, looming over you.

Here we go.

*******

Billy stands there awkwardly as he lights a cigarette. "I've uh.. never done something like this before." he mumbles, shuffling his feet as he inhales deeply, smoke filling his lungs. You look over at Eddie who is simply smirking at Billy’s discomfort, arms folded casually across his chest.

"So you're just gonna like.. watch?" Billy asks as he exhales the smoke slowly through his nostrils.

Billy had wasted no time saying he would happily "fuck your brains out". But he wasn't keen on the idea of a threesome.

"Until you ask me to join." Eddie states calmly.

"I won't." Billy answers sternly.

"Okay, alright.” Eddie laughs lightly, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Then yeah.. I'll just watch."

"You guys are fucking kinky." Billy chuckles as he turns his attention back to you.

"You ready, doll?" He gives you a look that makes you throb.

"Yes." you whisper as you pull the string of your robe. You let it fall from your frame leaving you in your favorite lingerie.

You watch as both of them look you up and down. "You look good, baby." Eddie rasps.

Billy nods in agreement, keeping his eyes on you as he places his cigarette in the ashtray and makes his way closer.

His hand reaches out, fingertips trailing lightly down your arm before his heavy hand lands on your hip. Your breath quickens as he leans in.

"Billy?" you breathe as his lips get closer.

"Yes?"

"I want it rough." you whisper and he smirks as he reaches down and picks you up easily, tossing you roughly to the bed. Oh shit.

You watch as he takes off his shirt, his chiseled body now on display. As he slips out of his jeans, Eddie comes to kiss you. You hold him close, fingers threading in his curls as his tongue slips in your mouth just for a moment.

His lips move to whisper in your ear. "Mmm, I’m so ready to fuck you myself, baby. But I can’t wait to watch him split you open.”

You moan softly at his words and he kisses you one more time before hopping off the bed.

"She's all yours." he announces to Billy and then suddenly he's on top of you. His weight feels different. Heavier. His body is radiating heat as his arms rest on either side of your head. His blue eyes are piercing. He’s so fucking close.

"Hi." you breathe out staring up at him. His chain dangles in the space between you.

"Hi." he returns with a charming smile. He glances over at Eddie and you quickly grip his chin, bringing his face back to you. You grip the chain pulling him down and finally his lips are on yours.

Your arms immediately wrap around his neck pulling him close. His kiss is firm but gentle.

You slip your tongue in his mouth and moan at the taste of him. Your tongues swirl together wildly, both of you panting into the kiss. Your hips lift up, pressing against his groin, craving any friction at all on your already aching clit. I can feel him. He's big, like Eddie. I knew he would be.

He hums into the kiss as he feels you grinding against his cock, his hand begins to wander your body. He cups your breast, squeezing gently, pulling a needy moan from you.

You keep your hand around his neck as you continue exploring his mouth with your tongue. You don't want his lips to leave yours. He tastes so good. His lips are soft and smooth, his tongue dancing with yours making your stomach flutter. You weave your fingers through his sandy curls as he slips his hand under your lace bra to tease your nipple between his rough fingers.

His lips separate from yours leaving you panting as he moves to suck on your neck. He’s not being easy, his suction sure to leave behind a deep bruise, a nice memory for when he’s gone. His hand travels lower, slowly trailing across your stomach until he finally meets your warmth. A sound almost like a growl escapes Billy’s chest as he realizes you’re wearing crotchless panties.

"You're so fucking wet." he groans into your neck making you smile.

"Touch me, Billy. Please." you whine and he brings his face back to yours as he runs a single finger up and down your slit. Teasing you in the most delicious way.

"You want my fingers, baby? My mouth? Tell me." he burns as he slips a finger inside of you.

"Mmm.. yes. Both.. fuck." you moan as you keep your eyes on his.

He grins wickedly as he begins kissing down your body. His lips are soft and warm as he plants kisses across your breast and stomach.

He removes his finger and spreads your legs wide. You look down and watch carefully as his tongue dips inside of you.

"Ohh.. fuck." you whimper as he licks up your dripping slit.

You've wanted to see this for so long. Billy Hargrove buried between your thighs. Fuck, it's just like you imagined.

Your hips buck up and he presses them back down forcefully, holding you in place as he begins to devour you.

Eddie's POV

Holy shit. I slowly stroke my cock as I watch Billy Hargrove going down on my girl. I never thought I’d see this day come. She's so fucking hot. Her eyes trained on him. Her mouth parted beautifully.

Her cries and whimpers are enough to make me cum already but I want to wait.

I want to cum with her. Need to cum with her.

I watch as she grips his hair tightly, pressing him deeper into her pussy. I can hear the sounds of his tongue lapping. His lips sucking wildly. His low moans being swallowed by her perfect cunt.

I understand. She tastes so fucking sweet.

I spit on my hand and lean back as I continue the slow motion up and down. I’m so fucking hard. Precum leaking from my tip. My cock is aching. Begging for the sweet release. It’s the best kind of torture. She squeals loudly as Billy enters two thick fingers.

You're killing me, sweetheart.

I can tell by her sounds that she's close. Her legs are propped up on Billy's shoulders. I keep my eyes on her as they begin to tremble around his head.

There you go, baby. Cum for him.

It’s almost as if she can hear my thoughts, the tightness in her stomach breaking as she cries out his name, her body jerking wildly. I pick up speed, my hand moving quickly up and down my cock, the slick sounds of me fucking my own hand only add to the obscene noises coming from the two of them. I hear a guttural moan come from Billy’s chest as my pretty girl cums on his face and hand.

I want to taste her. Fuck.. I'll get my turn.

I slow down my hand trying to hold out on busting already. Not yet.

He's about to fuck her. And I can only imagine it's gonna be rough.

Reader’s POV

"Oh my god." you pant as Billy comes up from between your legs. The evidence of your orgasm clear all over his face.

"You're fucking sweet, you know that?" he rasps before kissing you passionately. You taste yourself all over his tongue as he moans into your mouth.

He reaches down, taking his thick cock in his fist, running his tip up and down your pussy before slapping it on your clit again and again. He gives you no time to recover from your first orgasm, lining himself up.

You gasp as you feel the delicious stretch. He takes his time, slowly gliding himself inside. Your legs beginning to tremble immediately.

"You're.. fuck you're big." you whimper. He was almost the same size as Eddie. Just a bit thicker with a little more length. Your mind started swirling with thoughts of both of them inside of you. He'll just need a little convincing.

You look over at Eddie who is watching you with lustful eyes. His hand slides up and down his cock as he gives his lip a small bite. He shoots you a little wink causing your pussy clenches around Billy’s dick. Fuck, he's so hot.

You feel his cock bottom out, he’s so fucking deep you can feel him in your stomach. He pulls almost all the way out and slams back into you bringing your attention back to him.

"Holy fuck!" you squeal and he just smirks down at you, loving the reaction you’re giving him.

"You said rough." he teases with a slick grin.

You nod, your eyes filling with tears as he begins to thrust in and out. Slowly picking up his pace. He rolls his hips into you, pressing down on your stomach, the sensation sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"You feel so fucking good..." he moans as you lift your hips meeting his thrusts.

You reach down taking the sheets in between your fingers, gripping tightly as his long cock fills you again and again. Each thrust seems to somehow reach even deeper.

His hands move to grip the headboard above as he continues pumping in and out agonizingly slow. You look down seeing his cock slick with your cum.

“How’s that feel, baby?”

“So good, Billy.” you sigh blissfully, feeling cock drunk already and he’s barely even fucked you.

"You like my cock stretchin’ you out?" he groans deeply, rotating his hips, stretching your pussy even more.

“Mmm.. faster, Billy. Please.”

“Poor thing.” Billy tuts. “Want me to stop teasin’?”

“P-please.” you beg again, your voice nothing but a whisper.

"Fuck Billy!" You gasp as he begins to thrust into you mercilessly, giving you everything you wanted. You reach up, running your hands down his abs before gripping his waist tightly.

You dig your nails into him as he completely destroys you. The headboard slams against the wall again and again as he pounds your soaked pussy.

"You're so fucking hot.." he praises, kneeling on the bed. He swiftly tosses your leg over his shoulder. His strong hand comes to grip your throat as he leans down.

"Make me cum, Billy." you plead, nothing but a desperate mess for him.

"I'm gonna make you cum. You're gonna cum all over my cock, baby." he burns as his grip around your throat tightens even more.

Billy meets your eyes and runs his tongue across his teeth, a smile playing on his pretty lips.

"Ready?" he teases.

"Yes.." you whimper.

"You sure?" he grins as he slowly pulls out.

"Billy. Fuck. Me." you sass, your bitchy tone making him almost cum right there.

Then the breath is knocked from your lungs as he slams into you. This time he doesn't hold back at all. His grip is tight around your throat as he fucks you with everything in him.

Your head falls back and your mouth drops open silently as your eyes fall shut. Your breasts bouncing with every wild thrust.

You turn your head to the side as your eyelids flutter to watch as Eddie pumps his hand quickly up and down his cock.

He's gonna cum. I can see it on his face.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" Billy grunts as he drives into you, your pussy leaking around his cock, the creamy mess from your last orgasm coating every inch of his cock.

You nod quickly, feeling your leg shake against his shoulder. His fat tip kissing your sweet spot every time he enters you. You feel your body aching for the sweet release.

"Harder.." you barely manage to get the word out.

"Fuck.." Billy breathes as he quickly pulls out, flipping you over effortlessly. He slams your face into the mattress and enters you from behind.

You feel the sting of his firm hand against your ass and you cry out in pleasure. Your eyes zero in on Eddie as your mouth falls open again, little hums escaping your lips as Billy destroys you from behind.

His hand smacks your ass again and you feel your climax coming fast. You struggle to focus your sight on Eddie. Your eyes fighting to stay open. You force them open just long enough to see Eddie mouth one word in your direction.

'Cum.'

Your body reacts to his demand, your cum flooding Billy's cock. He moans deeply as he feels your pussy clenching around him. He keeps thrusting as you ride out your high. His hands massaging and groping your ass. He's breathing heavily as he pulls out of you, making you feel empty. You peek at Eddie, seeing his hand covered in his own sticky cum.

"Holy shit." you breathe, sitting up and turning to Billy, seeing his cock still rock hard. You take him in your mouth and begin sucking. His head falls back as you suck him clean of your juices.

"I want both of you." you purr, looking up at him.

He watches you carefully as you take him back in your mouth, swirling your tongue slowly around his tip.

"I... fuck.." he moans.

"She's really good at getting what she wants isn't she?" Billy chuckles looking over at Eddie.

"You're telling me." Eddie smirks.

You take him deep in your throat and look up at him through your eyelashes, fluttering them perfectly.

"Shit.. yeah.. yeah okay." Billy grunts. "Both of us."

Fuck yes.

Part three coming soon 🖤

Tag list: @gri959 @flory-alexandra @livinnadaydream @anakinsbbgirl @watermeezer @theyellowhaunt @nailbatanddungeon @mugloversonly @bunnyhargrove @ali-r3n @eddiestans-blog @alesiaaa @floredaqueen @josephquinnsfreckles @stargrrrlsworld @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @neville-is-my-husband @nope-thanks @bangchansleftbuttcheekk @daydream-believer19

Divider by @strangergraphics 🖤