#i feared for that mans LIFE in the first gif lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nyrasvoid · 2 months ago

Text

Through Love and Sorrow

♡︎ Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

𖤓 Summary: After the joy of expecting their first child is shattered by a devastating miscarriage, Gwayne Hightower returns home to find his wife consumed by grief.

⚝ Warnings: Angst, Miscarriage, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy Insecurities, Emotional Trauma.

⚝ A/N: this fic also includes a kinda mother-son relationship between reader and Daeron,btw sorry I haven’t posted anything in like two weeks lmao

-Word count: ≈4.4k

This fanfic is a request from a while ago (link)

You sat in your room, the sunlight pouring through the tall windows. Your hands moved skillfully with the needle and thread, working on a small attire—a delicate onesie you had lovingly made for your child, your first with Gwayne.

As you finished the final stitch, you glanced at the door, eager for Gwayne’s return. You had planned carefully how to share the wonderful news with him, and now the moment had arrived.

The door creaked open, and Gwayne stepped in, looking tired but his face brightening when he saw you. “My love,” he greeted, coming over to kiss your cheek. “You look especially happy today. What’s going on?”

You smiled and took his hand, guiding him to sit beside you. “I’ve been working on something,” you said. “And I want to show you.”

Gwayne watched as you pulled the small onesie from behind your back and placed it in his hands. His brow furrowed for a moment in confusion before realization dawned on him. He looked up at you, his eyes wide with disbelief and excitement.

“Is this…?” he started, his voice full of wonder.

You nodded, unable to keep the smile from your face. “Yes, Gwayne. We’re going to have a babe.”

He stared at you for a moment, the onesie still in his hands as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

Then, without warning, he pulled you into his arms, laughing with joy. “A babe! We’re going to have a child!” His voice was full of emotion, his grip on you tightening as he buried his face in your neck. “Gods, I’m the luckiest man alive.”

You laughed with him, feeling the warmth of his love surround you. He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands as he kissed you deeply, then gently placed his hand on your belly. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered, as he got on one knee to kiss your barely swollen belly

“We’ll have a little one running around soon, with your beauty and wit,” Gwayne continued, his voice thick with emotion as he caressed your belly, where your child was beginning to grow. “We’ll teach them everything—how to ride, how to wield a sword, everything. I’ll be by your side through it all.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “And I’ll make sure they know how to be kind and strong, like their father.”

Gwayne laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with the kind of happiness that made your heart swell. “And stubborn like their mother, I’m sure.”

The days following the joyful news were some of the happiest of your life. Gwayne was attentive and loving, always making sure you had everything you needed, always talking about the future and the life you would build together. But as time went on, you began to be more worried and insecure.

The other ladies at court had spoken to you, sharing their experiences with childbirth—how their bodies had changed, how their husbands had sometimes seeked comfort elsewhere during those vulnerable weeks after the birth. They’d laugh softly, as if it were just a fact of life, but their words dug deep into your mind, planting seeds of doubt and fear.

You found yourself pulling away from Gwayne, unsure of how to voice your fears. He would come to you with that familiar smile, eager to talk about the babe or to spend time with you, but you would turn away, offering only brief responses, avoiding his touch.

It was not that you loved him any less—if anything, your love for him had only grown deeper—but the fear of losing him, of not being enough, was paralyzing.

One night, as you lay beside him in bed, the silence stretched on longer than usual. Gwayne finally turned to you, concern evident in his voice. “Darling, what’s wrong? You’ve been so distant lately. Have I done something to upset you?”

You stared up at the ceiling, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to reveal the insecurities that had taken hold of you. But Gwayne was insistent, turning onto his side and taking your hand in his. “Please, my love. Talk to me.”

The words came slowly, hesitantly, as you struggled to express your feelings. “I… I’ve heard the other ladies at court talk,” you began, whispering.

“About how their bodies changed after childbirth, how they couldn’t… couldn’t be with their husbands for weeks, sometimes longer. And how their husbands…” You swallowed hard, unable to finish the thought.

Gwayne’s grip on your hand tightened as he waited for you to continue, his eyes fixed on your face, his worry deepening.

“They said their husbands sought comfort in other women,” you finally confessed, your voice breaking. “In whores. And I—I’m afraid, Gwayne. I’m afraid that I’ll change, that I won’t be… enough for you anymore. That you’ll look elsewhere.”

For a moment, there was silence. You didn’t dare look at him, too ashamed of the words you had spoken. But then Gwayne did something you didn’t expect. He started to laugh—a soft, warm chuckle that caught you off guard.

You turned to him, confused and a little hurt. “Gwayne, this isn’t funny—”

“No, no, it’s not that,” he said quickly, his laughter fading as he saw the tears in your eyes. He leaned in, brushing his lips against your forehead. “It’s just… the thought of me with anyone else is absurd. My love, you are my heart, my soul. There is no one in this world who could ever compare to you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he silenced you with a gentle kiss. “Listen to me,” he said, his tone serious now. “You are the only woman I want, the only woman I will ever want. The idea of seeking pleasure in someone else when I have you is ridiculous. Those other men—they’re fools. I would never betray you, never.”

You felt a rush of relief at his words, though the doubt still lingered. “But what if—”

“No what-ifs,” Gwayne interrupted, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “I swear to you, on every star in the sky, that I will never stray. And if any man tells you differently, I’ll knock his teeth out.”

A small laugh escaped you, despite yourself. Gwayne grinned, his eyes twinkling as he saw the smile return to your face. “See? There’s that smile I love so much. You’re going to be a wonderful mother, and we’re going to be a wonderful family. No matter what changes, I’ll be right here, by your side.”

That night, the two of you found solace in each other, and as you drifted off to sleep, you felt the fears that had plagued you begin to disappear, replaced by the strength of your bond and the love you shared.

---

A few weeks later, you, Gwayne, and Daeron sat at the dining table, enjoying a simple meal. Daeron was telling you about his day, his young face alight with enthusiasm as he described his lessons and adventures. You smiled fondly at him, listening intently as he spoke about a new bird he had seen in the gardens.

“And then it swooped down, right in front of me! I almost thought it would land on my shoulder like the falcons do on their keepers,” Daeron said, eyes wide with excitement.

Gwayne chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair. You laughed softly, reaching out to squeeze Daeron’s hand. “You’re already quite the little adventurer. Perhaps one day you’ll ride with your uncle on his journeys.”

Daeron’s face lit up at the thought, and he looked eagerly at Gwayne. “Will you take me with you one day, Uncle?”

Gwayne smiled, “One day, certainly. But I’m afraid I have to leave again in three days’ time for an important matter in Blackcrown. I’ll only be gone for a month, maybe less.”

You felt a pang of worry at his words, though you did your best to hide it. You had hoped he wouldn’t need to leave again so soon, but you understood the responsibilities that came with his position. “Just promise me you’ll be back well before the babe is due,” you said. “I don’t want to have to deliver without you.”

Gwayne took your hand across the table, squeezing it reassuringly. “I’ll be back in plenty of time, I promise. Nothing could keep me from being here for you and our child.”

Daeron looked between the two of you, his eyes filled with a mix of concern and curiosity. “You’ll come back safe, right, Uncle?”

“Of course, Daeron,” Gwayne replied with a warm smile. “I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me.”

True to his word, Gwayne departed three days later. You and Daeron saw him off, Daeron clutching his uncle’s hand until the very last moment, and you pressing a kiss to Gwayne’s lips, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in your heart. As Gwayne rode away, you couldn’t help but feel a little sadness, but you reminded yourself that he would be back soon, that everything would be alright.

In the days and weeks that followed, you busied yourself with preparations for the babe. You spent hours knitting tiny clothes and blankets, imagining the child that would soon be in your arms. Daeron often kept you company, helping you with small tasks or just sitting nearby, chatting about his day.

One afternoon, you decided to take a walk in the woods with Daeron. The two of you had grown close over the years, and you cherished the bond you shared. As you walked along the familiar paths, Daeron spoke of his lessons.

“Auntie,” he began after a moment of comfortable silence.

Just as you were about to respond, a sharp, sudden pain shot through your abdomen, stealing your breath. You gasped, clutching at your belly as the pain intensified, bringing you to your knees.

“Auntie?” Daeron’s voice was laced with panic as he rushed to your side. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

The pain was unbearable, radiating through your entire body. You could barely find the words, but you managed to gasp, “Daeron, get help. Quickly.”

Daeron hesitated, his face pale with fear, but then he nodded. “I’ll be right back. Stay here, I’ll get help.” With that, he sprinted back toward the keep, his small legs carrying him as fast as they could.

You were left alone in the woods, the cold earth beneath you as the pain continued to wrack your body. You knew, deep down, that something was terribly wrong. Fear gripped you as you realized you might be losing the baby. Your heart ached with the thought, but there was nothing you could do except wait.

By the time help arrived, the miscarriage had already happened. The maids and guards who found you tried to help, but the damage was done. The life that had been growing inside you was gone, leaving you with an overwhelming sense of loss and emptiness.

Ignoring the advice of the maesters, who urged you to rest and be carried back to the keep, you walked on your own, numb to the world around you. The only thing on your mind was the baby you had lost and how Gwayne would react when he found out. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the disappointment in his eyes, even though you knew it wasn’t your fault.

Once you reached the keep, you went straight to the nursery. The small room that had been filled with so much hope and joy now felt empty and desolate. You sat down on the edge of the small bed, your hands trembling as you picked up the half-finished blanket you had been knitting for the babe.

Days passed in a blur. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave the nursery or eat. The maids came and went, offering food and kind words, but you paid them no mind. The world outside the nursery seemed to fade away, leaving you alone with your grief.

Daeron was the only one who could get through to you, even if just a little. He would visit you every day, sitting beside you and talking about anything and everything. His presence was a small comfort, a reminder that you were not entirely alone, even in your darkest moments.

One afternoon, Daeron came to the nursery as usual. He looked at you with concern. “Auntie, you have to eat something. The maesters say it’s important. Uncle Gwayne wouldn’t want you to get sick.”

You shook your head, still clutching the blanket. “I’m not hungry, Daeron. I just… I can’t.”

Daeron sighed, sitting down beside you. “I know you’re sad. I miss the babe too, even though I never got to meet them. But Uncle Gwayne will be back today. Maybe… maybe he can help you feel better.”

You didn’t respond, the weight of your grief pressing down on you. But Daeron’s words lingered in your mind. Gwayne was coming home. You weren’t sure how you would face him, how you would tell him about the baby, but you knew you couldn’t avoid it forever.

Daeron leaned in and gave you a hug, his small arms wrapped around you tightly. “I love you, auntie. And Uncle Gwayne does too. Don’t forget that.”

His simple words brought tears to your eyes, and you hugged him back. “I love you too, Daeron. Thank you.”

Daeron smiled up at you, his eyes full of warmth and understanding. He squeezed your hand before standing up to leave. “I’ll go and make sure everything is ready for Uncle Gwayne’s return. I’ll come back later, alright?”

You nodded, watching as he left the room. Alone again, you stared down at the blanket in your lap, running your fingers over the soft fabric. You had poured so much love into this tiny piece of cloth, and now it felt like a cruel reminder of what you had lost.

Hours later, you heard footsteps approaching the nursery. Your heart clenched with a mix of dread and longing. The door creaked open, and Gwayne entered, his expression filled with concern and urgency.

“My love?” His voice was soft, but it was filled with worry. He rushed to your side, kneeling before you as he gently took your hands in his. “Daeron told me… told me what happened.”

The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, and you couldn’t stop them. “I lost the babe, Gwayne,” you choked out, your voice breaking. “I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry.”

Gwayne’s eyes filled with pain, but he quickly pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you wept. “Shh, it’s not your fault, my love. You have nothing to be sorry for,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he stroked your hair.

“I feel like I failed you,” you sobbed, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping you grounded. “I couldn’t protect our child…”

Gwayne pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own filled with unwavering love and determination. “Love, listen to me. You did nothing wrong. Nothing. You could never fail me, and this… this is not your fault. It was beyond our control, and I don’t blame you for a single moment.”

You searched his face, looking for any hint of disappointment or anger, but all you found was love and compassion. He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispered, “We’re still young, my love. We have time, and we will have children—many, I hope. But right now, all that matters is you. I’m here for you, and we’ll get through this together.”

His words were like a balm to your wounded heart, easing some of the pain that had consumed you. You nodded, resting your head against his chest as you let out a shuddering breath. “I love you, Gwayne,” you whispered.

“And I love you,” he replied, holding you tightly. “More than anything in this world. We will get through this, I promise you that.”

Gwayne held you close for what felt like an eternity, letting you cry, letting you release the pain you’d been holding onto since the miscarriage. His presence was a steady comfort, a reminder that you weren’t alone, that he would be there for you no matter what.

After a long while, Gwayne pulled back slightly, brushing the tears from your cheeks with his thumb. “Come, my love,” he said gently. “Let’s get you out of here. We don’t have to stay in this room. We can go anywhere you’d like—anywhere that will bring you peace.”

You hesitated, looking around the nursery. The room had once been a place of joy and anticipation, but now it felt suffocating, a reminder of the loss you had suffered. You nodded slowly, realizing that staying here would only prolong your grief.

“Alright,” you whispered, letting him help you to your feet. You wavered slightly, still feeling weak, but Gwayne was there to steady you, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

As you left the nursery together, you found yourself leaning on Gwayne more than ever before. He didn’t mind, guiding you gently through the halls of the keep, away from the place that had brought you so much pain. He led you to your chambers, where a fire had been lit, casting a warm, comforting glow over the room.

Gwayne helped you sit by the fire, then knelt beside you, taking your hands in his again. “You don’t have to be strong right now,” he said softly. “Let me take care of you.”

You nodded, too drained to argue, too weary to pretend that you could handle this on your own. Gwayne stayed by your side, talking to you quietly, telling you stories from his travels, stories meant to distract you, to bring a small smile to your face. He was patient, understanding, never pushing you to talk about the miscarriage, but always offering comfort in whatever way he could.

A few days later, when you had gathered enough strength to leave your chambers, Gwayne took you out to the gardens. The air was crisp, and the scent of blooming flowers filled your senses. It was a welcome change from the stifling atmosphere of the keep.

As you walked together, Gwayne kept his arm around you, his presence a steady reassurance. You were quiet for a while, lost in your thoughts, but eventually, Gwayne broke the silence.

“Do you remember the first time we walked through these gardens?” he asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.

You looked up at him, nodding slowly. “I do. You tried to impress me with your knowledge of every flower and plant.”

He chuckled softly. “And I failed miserably, didn’t I? You knew more about the flowers than I did.”

“You were charming, though,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I fell in love with you that day.”

Gwayne’s smile widened, and he pressed a kiss to your temple. “And I’ve been falling in love with you every day since.”

As you continued to walk, you felt some of the tension ease from your shoulders. The pain of losing the babe was still there, and you knew it would take time to heal, but with Gwayne by your side, you felt a glimmer of hope.

Later that evening, as you sat by the fire in your chambers, Gwayne brought out a small wooden box. “I have something for you,” he said, his tone soft, almost hesitant.

You looked at him curiously as he handed you the box. When you opened it, you found a delicate necklace inside, the pendant a small, intricately carved locket.

“It belonged to my mother,” Gwayne explained. “She gave it to me before she passed, and I’ve kept it all these years. I was waiting for the right moment to give it to you.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at the beautiful locket, your heart swelling with emotion. “Gwayne, it’s beautiful,” you whispered.

He took the locket from the box and fastened it around your neck, his fingers brushing against your skin as he did so. “I wanted you to have something that reminds you that you’re never alone,” he said, his voice filled with tenderness. “Whenever you feel lost, or when the grief feels too much, just remember that I’m here, and that I’ll always be here.”

You touched the locket, feeling the cool metal beneath your fingers, and nodded. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ll treasure it always.”

Gwayne smiled, as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, a kiss that was filled with the promise of a future together, a future that, despite the loss you had endured, would still be full of love and hope.

In that moment, you knew that with Gwayne by your side, you could face whatever challenges life threw your way. The grief would not disappear overnight, and the road to healing would be long, but you would walk it together, hand in hand, and eventually, you would find peace.

P.S: i’m sorry my paragraphs look so separated but I have bad eyesight and I can’t read it well if I don’t separate lmao

#gwayne fanfic #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower fanfic #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne hightower x you #gwayne imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #gwayne x reader #gwayne x you #house of the dragon s2 #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd

645 notes · View notes

misfitgirlwrites · 4 months ago

Text

Lucifer Having A Crush On You/How Would He React?

I'm not biased, I'm not biased, I'm not biased, I'm not biased, I'M NOT--

It's time for my fictional love and life and all I hold dear in my daydreams. Bitches, bros, nonbinary hoes, and genderfluid fucks, I present to you the Big Dick in Charge

I may reference works that I've read and when I do I'll drop their @ and link to their story it is law that you read it if you read mine, I don't make the rules

CW: none, slightly angsty but nothing too intense!

Alright, doves, this is post-season one. Lucifer now resides in the hotel with everyone and is slowly adjusting to being graced with Alejandro's Alastor's presence every day.

Let's be honest, our baby pays attention but puts in minimal effort. Saying that the days went by in a blur would be an understatement. Even conversations would be forgotten after a few short moments. On to the next task. Full focus on this thing. Once that's done? Well onto the next task! No tasks? Free time to spend with Charlie!

Things would start slow, and to really interact, you'd most likely start to approach him first. Maybe you've spent long enough watching the blond anxiously bounce around the hotel and graciously give himself a bit too much for even the Big Boss of Hell.

A timid approach from you, offering to help with whatever he's currently doing. Maybe you make snacks for everyone in the hotel and hand him his personally :)

And so it begins! A greeting here, a greeting there, slightly awkward conversations that slowly start to feel less forced with the little information you learn about each other along the way.

It's...nice! Refreshing! Lucifer would be more excited than anything and talking to you would become a part of his regular routine without much thought on the matter. You'd occasionally be on his mind just a little more, and he'd start to seek you out himself too.

I know you're already seeking him out. Bitch I'M seeking him out.

Helping with chores around the hotel quickly turns into simply enjoying the other's company.

One day you gift him his very own ceramic duck! You could have paid for it from somewhere or made it yourself.

Either way, he'd fucking LOVE it! Honestly, if you decide to try your hand at making it, he'd love it even more with all the rough edges and little bumps (it was made out of love for my babies who never touched clay in their lives)

In response, please expect many gifts in return. I like to think it's been a while since he's gotten a genuine gift like this

(Bonus headcanon: Charlie will see this and will come to you the next day with a list of things she wants to gift him and you two are unofficially officially the Buy Lucifer Anything Duck-Themed duo)

Lucifer loves how you react when he gifts you your very own rubber duck. Your smile and happiness always seemed contagious to him. It only led to him making/getting you more things.

You will have a rubber duck collection by the end of this, but what can you really say? Each one of them is based on something you mentioned before. A movie character, a book character, a cartoon character, even friends or family members if they were mentioned. The gesture is way too sweet for you to turn down, even if it is the 30th duck you've received.

Now prepare for what I like to call the "get along t-shirt" phase but both parties are willing LMAO.

Lucifer will be by your side as long as you'll accept the company and if you're reading this and we brain the same, that will be all the time.

I love the GenZ!Reader memes and fics. Someone show this man bacon pancakes and if it was already done, SHOW ME.

Between his relationship with Charlie and with you, Lucifer actually feels the need and wants to be a little more present bit by bit. He notices that he is spending less time in his head, but he continues on in fear of fucking it up if he thinks too hard about it.

So instead he'll 100% focus on the little familiarity of happiness, as small as those moments may be sometimes. This is EXACTLY why the thought of him potentially feeling romantic interest again goes right over his head.

Who notices first, you ask? Charlie, of course. You slowly but surely became one of his main topics in conversation, it wasn't hard for her to pick up on it and ask.

Baby boy would straight up deny it at first. Him?? Liking someone else??? LMAO, am I right? Of course, after he does this, he'll have the time to actually pay attention to his actions.

So then he'll notice how excited he is every morning knowing that you'll be the first face he sees. He'll notice how he managed to fit you into any task he had to do. When he'd get lunch for himself and Charlie he'd have the automatic thought of making something for you as well. Even when the day was over, he'd be thinking about spending the next day with you. To be frank, you were constantly on his mind.

Once he notices it's a big mental "fuck". Nothing about you is wrong of course, it's him, or so he thinks.

Let's start with the elephant in the room, or shall I say the ring on his finger lmao

In Lucifer's mind, he's still married technically. Even thinking about it in a technical term was a new development and it made him feel absolutely horrible. Lilith left, sure, but who knows what happened? Regardless of how he felt, he didn't want to hurt her.

But at the same time what about him? Lucifer hasn't been happy in a long time and he's finally building that again, not just with Charlie, but with you as well. He didn't want to just cut you out, he didn't want to hurt you either.

Plus, did you even like him? How would he even approach you? If he wanted to, even after thinking about everything.

Who was he kidding, of course, he still wanted you!

@liveontelevision *drops to my knees and bows* they worded it extremely well here and if you're reading this but you haven't read this already or you clicked the link then clicked back here, go back and read it. I don't care how long it is. Do the thing then come back.

Welcome back. It was good, wasn't it? I know.

The only awkward period for you two is the week-long contemplation of everything (half him attempting not to do what he always does when stressed but by the time he realizes he already made like 30 ducks--)

He would clearly go out of his way to either try and talk to you or avoid you. Or a cute mixture of both where he makes a scene approaching you, realizes he's not ready yet, then makes a scene so he can disappear *finger guns*

A little crisis here, a few little rubber ducks there, and a looooonnnggg conversation with Charlie and Maggie Vaggie.

Those are the ingredients to a semi-stable Lucifer with enough bravado to talk to you normally again.

He'd apologize for the times he basically pulled a Houdini in your face and he'd explain himself fully, all while also confessing his love for you.

It's choppy, it's fast-paced in some areas, and the poor blond was ready to disappear at any given moment, but that's what made it so real for you.

The weight that's lifted off of him couldn't be described, and neither could the joy that welled in him the moment he saw your beautiful smile and heard nothing but your acceptance and love.

What an emotional roller-coaster, am I right?

Lucifer Taglist: @alastorssimp @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @heart-of-the-morningstar

Requests are open! If you'd like to be tagged in future Lucifer or Hazbin Hotel content, please let me know! My asks and DMs are open to all!

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar x reader

362 notes · View notes

thelastofhyde · 2 years ago

Text

the likeability paradox.

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing living under bill and frank's roof, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.

warnings. no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, slow burn ( i have several oneshots planned for this couple ), unrequited love ( except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion ), pining, poor communication no communication, no seriously joel is down bad it's actually disgusting and highkey 🚩toxic🚩 but luckily red is your favourite colour, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel ( if you squint ), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap ( reader implied late-20s ), descriptions of canon-typical violence, smut ( oral- f receiving, fingering, degradation, panty stealing, hair pulling, dirty talk, dubcon due to intoxication, joel kinda gives her a wedgie at some point and honestly i don’t know what i was hoping to achieve with that, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse ). reader is a) hinted at being shorter than joel but it’s not central to the plot and b) described as lithe but the meaning intended is graceful, not thin!

word count. 12.9k

hyde’s input. half-way through, the regret of choosing to write this from joel's pov started to settle in but lmao i was too far in to not commit to the bit. don't come at me for the fact the timeline or events may not seem plausible with canon, i just wanna write this silly little depraved fic about joel in peace :( anyway, enjoy my first attempt at writing for tlou, forming a prayer circle rn in hopes that this doesn't flop because i will cry and you will hear about it

read on ao3. series masterlist. next chapter.

Distaste is not new in the life of Joel Miller.

In particular, one that is loaded, aimed and fired directly at him. He is not a likeable guy, often by choice and rarely by accident. The years of pain from a bleeding wound have now scarred over into nothing but an empty shell of the man that once was, from a world that no longer is, and he’s tried little to fill himself back up.

If anything, he’s made himself more empty.

Rid himself of feelings, that which saves him the weakness of appearing sympathetic. Discarded the need for luxuries, for which he’d scarcely cared for prior to his world ending. Lay to rest what was left of the optimist inside him, leaving behind the danger of hope for it to rot with the rest of the infected.

An apocalyptic world brings out all sides of man that one would never dare to engage with in normal civilisation. Joel learned swiftly that he was built to endure, quick to evolve and adapt to the new world order. The man who once worked his hardest to keep the peace among his neighbours, smiling that little bit wider on days he’d catch them scowling to themselves in hopes of brightening one part of their day for even a simple moment, would be at odds with the man who wears a heavy layer of enjoyment when met with the scowling glances and the hushed voices, all the watch out for that Miller guys passed between cowardly members of FEDRA and the keep away from Mr Miller's lawns spoken harshly from mother to child becoming music to his failing ears.

This plague of fear-driven dislike keeps him alone, how he likes to be, no one to lose and nothing to be taken. Somewhere along the years the idea of safety in numbers has morphed into an illusion, something people say and never truly mean, to distract themselves from a reality more bitter than a snowstorm: in times of survival, people become deadweight.

“So that’s all I am to ya, huh? Dead-fucking-weight?” His brother’s voice still echoes in that damned space he calls a home, weeks or months or years since the day he’d departed for something else, somewhere else, leaving Joel to do what Joel does best: endure.

Somehow, silence was easier than telling the man he’d taught to tie a shoelace, to shave his beard, to tune a guitar that he was the deadweight, doomed to drag all those who remained too close down into his pit of despair.

She was an exception, his Tess, buried 5-feet-under in her own swell of darkness, nothing but the tips of her fingers stretched out above her head to feel the sun upon her skin and keep her from going that last foot deeper. They’d made a home for themselves in one another, one where he keeps them fed, and she keeps them safe, and neither of them keeps the place clean.

She never asks for more, and he never offers it, both content to survive without the weight of affection smothering them. Contrary to the belief of any misfortunate soul who’s encountered the pair within the quarantine zone, she is the one who holds the leash, tugging Joel along close by her heel and keeping him from wandering off into the wild to surrender himself to a feral lifestyle.

Which lands him here, sat at a table playing happy family, each time he dares to snark out a few words being met with the sharp kick of Tess’ foot against his shin.

“... And then,” Frank struggles over a cough, so excited in his story-telling that he fails to separate taking a breath from taking a sip of his wine. With a roll of eyes and a disapproving grunt, Bill’s no more than two seconds away from clapping down on his back, urging the other man’s wind-pipes to unblock and welcome back airflow. “Otis dragged his muddied self over the whole house. We were finding paw-prints for days!”

Joel's unamused, too keen to think of what a nuisance that would be. As if incapable of feeling the buzzing energy of disinterest, the German Shepherd drops its head further up his lap, begging for a morsel of anything that sits atop the table.

“Which means I was cleaning paw-prints for days.” Bill, the only one at the table besides himself who wears the looks of a cynic, grumbles out before shovelling what remains on his plate into his mouth.

Frank is quick to shush him.

“I’m sorry, again, Bill,” he doesn’t mean to break eye-contact from the mutt at his thigh, but the voice calls to him like a siren calls to a ship in the night, like a flame dances and seduces a moth into its brightly burning touch of death, a spotlight in the dark which promises- or threatens- more light to come. “I’d no clue there was a storm coming till we were already a good few miles away, and there was nowhere to take cover to wait it out.”

There you sit, parallel to him.

The sun rests lower in the sky as time carries you all into the late noon, its rays a beacon of light bursting out just behind your head, painting you in the glow of the golden hour and staining a mockery of a halo above you. It hurts his eyes, this brightness that you so easily bask in, forcing him to squint and deepen the frown on his face.

You catch him with his sights on you, at some point, and the smile you meet his scowl with has him cursing at the sun, and the moon, and every star that sits between.

The threat of a great war looms in the air as you rush to rise up and help clear the table of the remnants left behind- none of which Joel can account for, mouth too keen and body too starved to skip out on enjoying the mundane luxury of a fresh, home-cooked meal. The battle ends swiftly as you surrender to Bill’s hardened stare, and Frank’s disapproving head-shakes, and Tess’ own plan of action to simply force you down back into the seat you’d been sat in- the one you always sit in.

“You, sit. No one should have to clean up the food they made.”

They get no fight out of him when they insist he’d done enough catching the so-called food.

Silence casts its shadow over the table, dampening the light and smothering you both in a mockery of greyed tones- truthfully, it is the disappearance of the sun behind a large cloud that causes such a thing.

Being alone, with you, is something Joel’s never mastered. The affliction of your presence is so much greater when there’s no one else to balance out your natural shine- the kind that has his head spinning and his cock aching-, no one but him.

Were he not a sick bastard, he’d try harder to not make you sad.

Something bumps his hands, ripping him out of his moral self-condemnation. The dog meets his gaze, eyes a widened mess of puppy-dog pleading that punctuates its existence with an impatient whine.

Just like your owner, he finds himself thinking and not saying- never saying-, yet to find your bark.

The ball’s a sticky mess of slobber and dirt, and Joel touches it all the same, throwing it up in the air once, then twice, before tossing it across the yard. He’s slumped back in his chair by the time he registers the dog’s departure, a ball of dark fluff bouncing its way across the garden, and all the man can think is fuck, he’ll be feeling the effect of that throw on his shoulder come the morning.

The pain is not enough to stop him from tossing the ball again, and once more, and then yet again, sending the dog in a never-ending loop of chase, grab, retrieve- a parallel to his life of wake, survive, sleep.

“He likes you,” you never leave things the way he wishes them to be, bursting his bubble with the vocal reminder of your presence.

As if on queue, prompted by your addressing of it, the dog drops its interest in Joel, and the ball, and the chasing, tail wagging uncontrollably by the time it reaches your side. Standing on its hind legs, it collapses the front of itself into your waiting lap, and Joel watches how you wrap your arms so easily around something that could cause you harm.

To envy a creature that licks its own shit off its ass is a new low for Joel.

“Thinkin’ he might like ya more, Sol.” The nickname rolls off his tongue with ease, the safer option than uttering your name, a vice and virtue he’s only permitted himself in idealistic fantasies that play out in his own troubled thoughts.

“Most people do,” whether you mean to make it seem like you’re degrading his very existence or not, he’s unsure, but it rouses a chuckle out of him.

He takes note of how you don’t protest the name he’s branded you with, not like how you’d fought tooth and nail against it every other visit he and Tess have made.

“You’ve got a whole load in common, you know? I think that’s got something to do with his fascination-”

“How the hell’s a man like me got somethin’ in common with a four-legged mutt?” There he goes again, making that smile slip down your cheeks with a simple use of his voice. It helps as much as it hurts, frown loosening up and eyes no longer strained beneath the bright shine of your visceral optimism.

“Well, you’re both... hairy,” he restrains himself from reacting, washing down a laugh with the help of the dregs of wine that lay collecting at the bottom of his glass. He’s let his appearance grow more rugged over the past few months and your noticing of this brings an unwanted warmth to his aching bones. “And have the most kickass women in your lives to stop you from dying.”

He’s interested to know what life would be like under your protection.

Discovering the answer brings the threat of pain, and loss, and an openness to vulnerability he can not afford himself, so he takes the safer option: “‘S easy stayin’ safe when you live in this fantasy land. Doubt your mutt’d last any longer than a day out in reality.”

With you as its protector.

He doesn’t say it and, still, it somehow hovers in the space between you both, a heavy, syrupy implication that slips down your throats and threatens to suffocate you. He watches you choke on it, coughing on his cruelty and feigning it to be a simple clearing of your throat. Your eyes glue themselves on the dog, delicate fingers smoothing over the well-groomed hairs down its back.

Survival has turned him into a man who knows when to seize an opportunity, and this is one he takes with both hands, basking in the simplicity of staring, watching, observing you without the crime of being caught.

But I could keep you safe.

He toys with the danger of uttering such a thing aloud. It’s not the first time he’s thought it. Truthfully, he’s unsure when it first nestled its way into his mind.

His memory, which ails him more than it aids him these past years, would have him believe it was way before the dog had even appeared, back when it was just Bill, Frank and you. A few whiskeys in and a campfire lit for you all to gather for warmth around- why you’d all chosen to sit out in the gardens on a winter’s night Joel remains unsure of to this day-, it was Frank who’d prompted the question. “Where were you all when... this started?” Tess went first, braver than most people he knows, sharing stories of a version of herself he’d never meet.

He never imagined her working in a bank.

Bill, with reluctance, took the next step, keeping his account factual and to the point. “Was shit-faced drunk and getting my stomach pumped.” He’d been quick to skim over the story of the young nurse who’d guided him to safety out the hospital, losing her own life in exchange for his survival. She was barely out of school. “I knew her dad, bit of an asshole, but boy, was he proud of his baby for graduating.” Frank couldn’t let him swim too deep in his thoughts, afraid a current of guilt would trap him and drown him in the depths of it, and so he raised his own voice and began his tale.

Joel had always been a good listener. Being a single parent to a teenage girl required him to be, or so... she would have had him believe, nights at the table set for two spent listening to the playground he-said-she-said gossip. Years later and he at last prefers things this way, a rare gem of safety found in the act of saying nothing and hearing everything- that his hearing will allow. All this to say, he’d tried his best to pay attention to Frank’s impassioned retelling of his heroic misadventures that had lead him to the unintentional arms of Bill.

But you weren’t smiling.

He watched you, you watched the dancing flames, face stoic and drained of that natural shine his eyes had only just started to be able to gaze upon without the threat of being blinded by such light.

The desire crept up on him like a tiger to it’s prey, hiding in the far off bushes until the opportunity to strike presented itself and the feeling lunged for Joel’s back, gripping him in its claws and piercing his ribcage with its gnashing teeth. With each bite, it plagued him with the delusions of a wandering mind, imagination left free to run laps around his head with visions of you from another life, another time, another set of people gathered round a dining table. He’d wanted to hear about the ones you’d lost, and comfort you with all the things he hated hearing (“You’ll keep ‘em alive, in spirit and memory!” “Those we remember never truly die!”). He’d needed to bend a knee and swear a vow to be the one to stand between you and death, to fight for your survival on your behalf. ‘Could keep you safe. There, then, the thought did cross his mind.

He’d washed it down with a swig of lukewarm, flat beer.

“-Could fix it, you know. I’m good with my hands.”

He almost chokes on his own breath.

I'm good with my hands, it swims in circles round his mind, replaying and echoing off the walls of his skull. And he knows- oh, how he knows- that he’ll be replaying it in those moments of solitude for the next few nights, weeks, months- however long it may take till he forgets the way such thought-provoking words sound on your lips.

“What?” The question leaves him harsher than he intends, drawing an enemy line between you both with the foul sound of it. In the corner of his eye, he swears he sees you flinch backwards, physically recoiling from the disdain-filled bullet he fires in your direction.

The mutt in your lap retreats, hackles rising as it turns to face Joel once more.

He sees it, in the dog’s brutal protectiveness over you, this similarity you claim exists.

“Your watch, it’s broken.”

“Hadn’t noticed,” he’s retreating into his own space now, mentally and physically, scraping the legs of his chair against the ground as his mind works to strengthen those walls that threaten to crumble so often in your presence. “Don’t need ya to fix it.”

You pull a face, brows furrowing and lips pouting. Confusion.

“Don’t you want to know the time?” You ask, as if time could ever be relevant in a rotten world where down is up, and up is down, and Joel Miller is not the overprotective father to the most delicate creature the god he’d stopped believing in had gifted him, just to force him to watch as life snatched her away.

“I don’t keep it for the time.”

You smile, and this one’s a killer, piercing straight through the cages of his ribs to carve itself into his withered heart.

The German Shepherd relaxes with the rebrightening of your aura, shaking out the tension from its body before sauntering its way back over to Joel, ball in mouth and tail wagging excitedly, as if it hadn’t just contemplated having its first taste of human flesh.

He’s throwing the toy in a matter of minutes, enjoying the repeated run and retrieve game, and the renewed silence that comes along with it. Nature sings its tune with rustling leaves, cawing crows, and pounding paws. It’s almost so easy to leave your offer, your words, his broken watch in the rearview mirror of this otherwise pleasant afterno-

“Ooh, so there’s a story to tell!” You’re blinding him with your excitement, lithe limbs leaning forward in your own chair in an attempt to reach closer, table between you be damned. “I’ve never heard any of the Joel Miller backstory, this should be-”

“I get that likin’ everyone is your thing, but would’ya give it a rest?”

Nature falls silent.

Skies grow dull.

You juggle sadness.

There’s a crash that comes from within the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of Tess’ sailor mouth, cursing whichever delicate dish she’s broken into smithereens with the help of her accident prone hands. The dog’s lain itself down upon the grass, ball between it’s paws as it begins to bite, and chew, and break it under the pressure of its canines.

Joel wonders what the mutt’s practicing for.

“Sure,” then, with the return of your voice, all sounds resume, harmony upon planet earth once more. Only, the gates have been shut in his face and Joel finds himself forced to watch as everything unfolds from the outside, an unwelcome visitor forced out into exile with the fungal freaks and the inhumane. “But you’re wrong. I don’t like everyone.”

“‘S that so.” His eyes roll. The hole he’s dug for himself sinks deeper, casting you higher up on the pedestal Joel will always be wiling to place you on.

“Yeah,” you’ve risen out your chair, gifting him the view of how the fabric of your dress dances above your knee, a final twist of the knife in his heart that he lets you pierce his flesh with each time he surrenders himself to your existence. “I don’t like you, Joel.”

The hours come and go, but your words linger like a bad tattoo, shamefully engraved into his skin and banning him to a life of noticing the horrendous thing each time he passes by his own reflection.

We’re staying, for tonight. Tess had called the shots, and he’s been learning not to argue when she gives him one of her stern looks, biting down on the comments he’d wanted to make of the dangers of being out of the QZ for too long, which would likely earn him nothing but a shrug and the reminder that they both were off duty the following day

The nights are beginning to grow darker as winter grows nearer, leading Bill and Frank- mostly Frank- to excuse themselves to bed, bidding the two visitors with a final reminder to make themselves comfortable in whichever room they can find. If only Joel could remember which door leads to yours.

The two women in his life remain awakened, passing a bottle of wine between each other as you both converse back and forth, catching each other up on one another’s life, satiating that craving for mundane gossip.

Tess recounts the scandal of the poor boy who’d been caught sleeping with a FEDRA agent’s wife, you whisper that Frank and Bill had been fighting again recently. The memory of being ambushed by raiders- now dead raiders- comes to life once more with the help of Tess’ voice, while the promise to uncover what exactly Bill and Frank were hiding from you as of late is sealed in your words.

At some point, he lays himself to rest atop the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed over his chest, ignoring the squeeze of the fabric over his forearms as the too-small flannel struggles to contain the muscles forged by the need to survive. At another point, he’s lulled to sleep by the lullaby of your mingling voices, a safety blanket draping itself over his tired body and enveloping him in the comforts of having that which he struggles to care so little for, so near him once more.

-N’t tell me you’re a virgin.

The words are muffled as the man slips back into consciousness, a frown coming to rest on his forehead as he battles against the demons urging him awake, the nightmarish memories of car crashes, and soldiers, and so much red chasing him away from the sleep he longs for so badly.

A protest rings true in his head and his ears.

Was gonna say. Knew you were young, but not that young.

It’s the sound of your laughter that awakens him fully, saving him from the tortures of his own mind.

“God, no! me and my ex, we... a few times. It was alright, I guess. I just, yeah, there’s not much to miss.”

He’s unwilling, unable to reopen his eyes, curling in on himself as he rolls over onto his side. A groan slips past his lips, one he’s hoping Tess and you will dismiss as nothing more than the sleep-filled rambles of a dreaming man.

Neither of you make any acknowledgement of him.

“Not much to miss?! Sweet Christ, you’re breaking my fuckin’ heart.” He’s learnt over time the common traits of a drunken Tess. Each word becoming an exclamation, curses becoming more frequent, and that irritating habit she’s picked up of imitating his own accent. There’s no need to bother opening his eyes, Joel’s already sure he’ll find his companion with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “I’d give up a hand for some head!”

You must do something, pull a face or shake your head, for the sound of Tess’ renewed shock fills the room. He wonders, as the sound bounces off the walls, how late into the night it’s grown.

Late enough that the cicadas singing outside the window are now accompanied by the hoots of an owl.

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

“It bores me!”

“It bores you!?”

The couch beneath Joel creaks as he shifts once more, turning his back on you both as the ability to contain his laughter grows harder with each word you exchange and each gasp Tess gives. The last thing he needs is to be caught eavesdropping on your sex life like some dirty old pervert.

The crueler part of his mind replays your voice, I don’t like you, and the knife twists in his guts this time.

You like Tess. Love her, even. It’s been that way since the first time you’d met the duo, eyes giving one look over the woman before the smile on your face grew even wider, voice as sweet as honey sighing out Finally someone with a pair of boobs, I’m bored of the sight of my own. Joel’d gotten caught up in the thought of how he’d never tire of such a sight that he’d failed to acknowledge your greeting towards him, catching just the moment you drew your outstretched hand back to your side and offered him an understanding smile.

Maybe that was the moment you decided you didn’t like him.

“Must not have been doin’ ya right,” The bottle of southern comfort is working its wonders on the older woman, accent growing further and further from its true nature with each glass she nurses. Joel hears the faint sound of ice smacking against glass and knows it must be yours. You’ve always struggled with liquors, slipping as many ice cubes as you can manage into a glass in hopes that they’ll eventually melt and water the alcohol down. It’s oddly endearing that you think no one has noticed. Because he has, he always notices the little details that surround you. “This fella of yours.”

Joel has no right to despise the idea of you and some fella.

He does so, regardless.

“Well,” he imagines the shape of your meek smile and the way you shrug your shoulders. “We were each others firsts.”

“That’s no excuse! Trust I left mine cryin’ into her pillow the first time I went down.” Tess and he have a silent agreement to never speak of the nights Joel would take refuge on their beaten-up couch while Tess indulges herself between someone’s thighs in the bedroom. No discussing the sounds she pulls from her concubines, no addressing the wet patches left behind to stain their shared sheets, and definitely no speaking on how his hand winds up stained in his own cum.

You scoff and follow it up with a saccharine laced giggle, so sweet its bound to rot your teeth if you even attempt to hold it in. “What, are you offering your services?”

tThis he likes less than the image of you with some fella, the thought of having to lay upon a mattress on which Tess has raised you to heaven on while he once again remained locked out in the dark leaving his skin crawling with unwarranted rage.

“‘As sure as I am that you’re sweet all over, ‘fraid to tell you I like my women a little older than you.”

He knows he should do the same, should lust after those women his own age who shoot him carnal looks in the streets of the QZ. It should be skin his own age that he longs to taste, and eyes who’ve seen as much as his own he wants to stare into, and lips as cruel as the ones he owns that he fights off the urges to kiss. But he can’t, and he won’t.

And you’re the one to blame.

You, with the glow of a thousand suns. You, with the hands that tend to flowers instead of corpses. You, with the gentle nature he’d have to spend the rest of his days fighting off every other living thing just to protect.

His own self being the first he’d need fight.

Joel wonders what he’d missed in his hours- if it had even been so long- of rest, how the playground gossiping dissipated into reminiscing the pleasures of supple flesh and the sins of unfulfilling lovers. Sleep steals him away once more before he can find the answers.

The next time he awakens, he’s drowning in a plight of cruel memories, a cold and brutal ocean of faces, places, and traces of the ephemeral sentiment of happiness he’d possessed once upon a time, back when the price of letting one’s guard down was not so high.

He’s learnt, with time, that losing her comes in waves. Some small, meaningless little things, that ripple Joel’s surface and coast gently over his dirt ridden skin. Others, tsunamis. Big, angry, all imposing. They’re born in ground-shaking explosions of grief, building speed, and height, and weight the closer they grow to crashing over him.

Amidst the passing of time, he’s tried to keep himself busy in his awakened hours, to keep his mind occupied and avoid thinking about her too much. But the waves always come back, no matter how hard he tries to fight them or swim away from them. They catch him off guard, crashing over him when he least expects it. In the middle of a raid, lost in thought and standing ten inches deep in grime, blood, infected, and suddenly the weight of her absence will hit him like a ton of bricks.

The currents grow more violent whenever he closes his eyes.

This evening, it had been a minuscule wave, yet it’s damage still leaves him with sweat slicked skin. He reenters the land of the living choking on his own fear and shooting up-right, hardly registering his surroundings till his feet hit solid ground. The gentle, barely-there croon of a Sinatra record punctuates the room alongside the dim glow of a lightbulb which flickers with the threat of expiring and leaving naught but the moonlight to wash over the dark of the night. Across from him is Tess, nursing a half-emptied cup against her chest and wearing tired eyes. Snoring comes from below him, where Joel finds he’s a mere foot away from having stepped upon the sleeping dog, curled in on itself and laying soundly by his side.

You take up no space of this room.

Neither the dog nor the drunk pay him any mind as he pushes up onto his creaking knees, stretching out his limbs in a fight to undo the tension in his aching bod. Languid steps carry him out into the hall, where he freezes under the self-questioning of where he’s going.

There are three answer to this: where he should, where he could, and where he would.

He should find himself a bedroom, perhaps be ostentatious enough to rid himself of those stale clothes and let the warmth of running water wash away the sins he’d committed throughout the day. A good night’s sleep, atop a mattress where springs do not dig into his back and the sheets are clean as could be, it would do him good.

He could head towards the kitchen, quench that thirst that he’s awoken with, cottonmouth and a headache to go with it too. Perhaps he’ll find himself something to eat, indulge in the luxury of readily available food just this once, he’s sure Frank wouldn’t mind. Bill definitely would, but that’s not something he’ll need care about when he’s miles out and heading back to the QZ.

He would try find you, open whichever door it is that leads into the haven that must be your bedroom. He imagines its clean, and organised, and smells of some syrupy lavender that is bound to nauseate him as he smothers his face into your bedsheets, eyes shut, and mind relaxed, the threat of those violent waves no concern to him as he anchors himself with an arm around your warm skin. Skin he’s never felt, yet he stands firm in his belief it must be the most soothing thing to touch, as gentle and inviting as the heart it keeps safe within it.

I don’t like you, Joel.

Those words stop him from trying.

He tells himself it’s for the best.

With a mind of their own, his legs have made the choice for him and deliver him outside the opening to the kitchen. He swallows down a gulp of his own saliva at the prospect of a glass of water. The door’s already half-opened, and Joel nearly thanks Christ for it as the fear of waking anyone with the squeaking of the handle is eliminated. The darkness of the night encompasses the room, even with the moon’s shine reflecting off every surface it touches: the counters, the knife stand, the metal drawer handles, the refrigerator.

The refrigerator.

It’s open, a blue light shining out of it and illuminating anything it its proximity. A subtle beeping noise rings from it, and suddenly Joel’s back in his thirties, dead-beat yet well-intentioned brother stealing the food off his own plate as he beckons his pre-teen daughter back into the kitchen.

Keep leavin’ this open and it’s a job you’ll be gettin’ this summer, not a dog.

She never lived long enough to get either.

He catches something move beneath the artificial light. Cautious at first, it’s all the more startling to find the object of his ire and the embodiment of his desire stood leaning back against the countertop, a glass full of orange liquid pressed to a mouth that parts and welcomes in the sugary sweet delight.

“Why aren’t ya sleepin’?” The words rasp out his throat, catching and scratching on the parts of him that still yearn for something to wet his tongue with.

Beneath the light, you shrug. “Could ask you the same thing, Texas.”

He curses Tess for teaching you such a nickname.

He curses himself more for the way you saying it twists up his insides.

You’re teasing him, smile a little looser and eyes less focused than he’s used to seeing. Whether you’re tipsy or simply delirious with exhaustion, Joel remains unaware.

He grunts, daring to take a few steps further into the kitchen. The door behind him closes over and gives the illusion of the space becoming smaller, tighter, more compact.

“I asked first.” You laugh, at him. Full on chest-rumbling, hand over your belly, head thrown back- so abruptly it nearly crashes against the corner of the opened cabinet door. The corner of his mouth is curling upwards before he can catch himself. He hopes the refrigerator light shows less of him than it shows of you. Bare legs, and messed hair, and pointed nipples all on display for his undeserving eyes. “‘S so funny, huh?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he successfully fights off the urge to follow the drop of orange juice that spills down the side of your mouth, over your chin, down your neck, disappearing beneath the collar of your dress. Perhaps he is not as successful as he believes. “Just never heard the Joel Miller say something so childish. You’ve usually got your panties all in a bunch if someone so much as looks at you for too long.”

You make way as he inches closer, sliding yourself over to rest against the island counter. A fragrance of things he can’t quite pinpoint, but enjoys nonetheless, wafts in his face as he travels down the path to the sink. Uncouth and unbothered, Joel opens the tap and cups his hands beneath the stream of water.

“You know there’s a cupboard full of glasses right next to you, right?” You call out behind him as the man brings water to his dry lips, splashing and just about guiding his head beneath the stream. The thirst does not budge. He hums an acknowledgement of you, yet continues with his method.

By the time he switches the water off, you’ve made yourself busy, back facing him while you work at something atop the counter, a consistent chop-chop-chop filling the silence that settles between you both.

“iIm making soup,” you state, like there’s nothing quite more logical you could be doing at whatever-o’clock in the morning it is. “Make sure you take some with you when you leave. Tess said she’s been fighting off a cold the past few days, need you to keep her warm and fed for me.”

Would you do the same for him, if you knew he’d been the one to catch that damned cold in the first place? Four days of just about coughing up his lungs, and not a single soul- not even his Tess- had offered soup, nor warmth, nor sympathy. He’d not needed it, until now, when he hears you gifting it to someone else.

I don’t like you, Joel.

Of course you would do the same. Not because you care, nor because doing otherwise would way heavy on your conscious, but because you’re nice. Nice in a way he’ll never be, has never been. Patient, welcoming, comforting, warm. All words that spring to mind when one thinks of you. They violently oppose the closed-off, angry, dark cloud that had rolled in years ago and casted it’s shadow over Joel’s entire persona.

He straightens his back, weight shifting from one foot to another as he contemplates you from behind. The sway of your dress as you move has him in a trance, beckoning him closer before he can even realise he’s taken a step. His hands drip water onto the floor in a rhythm, the record player sings in the distance as a reminder of Tess and your sweet out-of-tune humming fills the empty kitchen with a brightness greater than the moon, but that’s not what Joel hears.

I don’t like you, Joel.

Over and over, you taunt him without even trying, nailing the words into his head and heart, impaling him with your sweet condemnation. You’re not the first to say it, to his face or otherwise, yet you’re the first to evoke such a reaction out of him, to leave a lasting impression hours after you’d declared such a thing.

And, suddenly, Joel’s angry. At you, at himself, at the sound of that damned knife in your hand slicing down onto the chopping board. The fog of his ire blurs his vision, rendering him to move blindly through the night.

Only when he finds himself looming over you from behind does his vision clear.

A hand meets the curve of your hip and you gasp, leaving Joel to wonder if it’s because the shock of his cold, damp touch or, simply, because it’s his touch. Without a thought spared, he firms his grip, fingers squeezing tight enough he feels your flesh bulge between each one, a bruising promise Joel gifts you.

You may leave your marks emotionally, but Joel’s will always be physical.

“Why,” he pulls in a breath, loading up the will to keep his voice a low rumble, a quiet disturbance in the night for no ears but your own to hear. “Don’t ya like me?”

If not for the pause in your practiced movements, knife stilling midway through slicing a carrot, he’d believe you’re unaffected by his proximity. “Why do you care?”

He scoffs, “I don’t.”

“Hmm,” this hum is far less delightful than the way you’d been following along to whatever melody Tess was playing in the living room. “Sure sounds like you do.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t,” he insists, and he swears he almost feels the way it only digs deeper the hole he’s created for himself.

Joel knows he cares. It’s been burning at his skin and itching on his mind since the moment you’d welcomed yourself to a little bit of unfiltered honesty, dropping the perfectly poised and eternally polite mask you’d worn since the moment he’d first met you, an attitude he loathes as much as he anticipates surrounding himself with it each time he’s tugged along for the trek to Bill and Frank’s.

What Joel doesn’t know is why he cares. There’s nothing to be desired about him, no traits to respect and certainly no looks to admire. He’s near crafted his entire being in a way that makes sure of this, the more undesirable his presence is, the less likely he is to be approached, be it by other people or fate itself.

Maybe there was a part of him that had wrongfully imagined you being the exception.

Instead, you’re stood barefoot in the latest of hours, knife working away the vegetables in front of you, dress sticking to skin beneath his damp hand, and you don’t like him.

Not one bit.

Joel grabs at your hips harder, his free hand curling round the shape of your left forearm. His feet shuffle forwards, until there comes a point where one would struggle to make out where you end and he begins. His chest pressed to your back, his muscular legs trapping your soft thighs, his forehead digging into the side of your head so intensely it threatens to shatter both your craniums and leave nothing but dust made by bones blown into smithereens.

He inhales, and finds you don’t smell of lavender.

“For the record,” he watches your movements over your shoulder, entranced with the back and forth sawing of the knife through unidentified vegetables. ‘S just like how I sliced that raider’s throat, he thinks, and instantly regrets it. No part of him should ever be compared to you. “I don’t like ya either.”

He’s lying through his teeth, hoping you don’t notice.

The knife never ceases its movement. Back and forth, back and forth. Chop, chop, chop. Blurs of greens, and oranges, and more greens cover the counter before you. It’s oddly soothing, this repeated and unbroken pattern, reminding Joel of times he’d found comfort in the mundaneness of cooking a meal after an emotionally exhausting day. Perhaps, this has the same affect on you, a momentary lifejacket to keep yourself afloat amongst the waves that haunt you awake.

The hand on your forearm travels, mind of its own, drawing up the shape of your shoulder with featherlight touches that contradict the way his nails dig deeper into the the skin you hide beneath the waistline of your dress.

“That’s not news,” you must think he’s blind to the hitch in your breath when his fingers slip over your pulse-point.

It’s his turn to respond with a hum.

“You only like yourself,” words more untrue have never been spoken before the man who’s every moment is spent drowning in his loses. His wandering touch halts. “A little selfish, if you ask me. but, that’s just what I think.”

This strikes a nerve. Fury commands his hand into a fist and fingers find themselves tangled in the tresses of your hair. The realisation of how surprisingly soft it feels barely finishes registering when he’s pulling on it, dragging your head along with, till it lays flat on his puffing chest and your eyes stare up at him. “D’ya know what I think?”

Even upside down, your beauty is striking.

“No, unlike you I don’t care what you think about-” Joel tugs on your hair once more.

“I think you’re a brat. A silly little girl who thinks she can smile and get away with murder.” You could. He’d forgive you as you soak your hands in the blood you draw from him. Knife in the heart, bullet through the brain, bat to the face, he’d slip away easily from this life if only to have you smile as he goes.

“You’re hurting me,” you whine, Joel growls.

Animalistic, beastly, a rabid animal sinking its claws into its defenceless prey. His gaze dances over your features, catching himself before he can sink deep into your captivating eyes, tracing the shape of your mouth, slipping down the peaks of your collarbones.

Your dress- red, a colour Joel Miller will no longer associate with bleeding wounds and stained weapons- sits tight on your chest, squeezing the swell of your chest beneath the fabric, and gives away all your secrets.

“You like it,” he speaks in awe, unable to pull his eyes off the two stiff buds that poke against the red fabric.

“No, I don’-” Dampness follows wherever his hand goes, fleeting as he makes the journey around your waist and up your side, crawling higher and higher to where he can feel your heart beating from within your chest. “Joel.”

He retightens his grip on your hair, aiding you with the way your curve your spine and force yourself deeper into his uncaring, ungentle, enamoured touch. Whoever Joel had been in a past life must have moved mountains or performed miracles to grant him the luck to be holding you this way, the fingers he’d gifted with nothing but the cocking of guns and the feel of his own pulsating lust now expertly tweaking at one of your stiff nipples, all thoughts of the fabric scratching at your sensitive skin dissipating into the abyss as he realises you’re enjoying the pain.

“Heard ya, earlier, in the living room,” at the time, he’d been mortified to be overhearing such intimate words between you and Tess. The blood that insists on rushing to his crotch now wants you to know, to hear the admission of guilt be spoken from his own mouth. “ Talkin’ bout your past.”

He doesn’t specify.

He doesn’t need to.

You give away your shock with parted lips, widened eyes, frozen eyelashes, pupils staring up at him like a wounded fawn he’s about to take his first bite out of and, hopefully, it won’t be the last one.

“Tess turned you down,” the hand on your chest switches sides, donning your other breast with some much needed attention. His hand must still carry residue of the water, for you gasp and shut your eyes in the shock of his touch, your own fingers shooting up to scratch at his wrist. Near convinced you mean to push him away, the pressure against his hand that pushes deeper into his unholy affection has him realising otherwise. “I wouldn’t.”

You say nothing. Joel pulls harder.

“Too bad I’m-” You cut yourself off as he presses himself closer to you, your poor hips bound to awaken with bruises from the counter he’s got you pressed against. With a distance so small he can hear your teeth grind, Joel watches you like a hawk. The twitch in your brow, the flutter of your eyelids, the bobbing of your throat as you silence what he imagines would be an otherworldly kind of moan, a whine he’d let kiss his ears and wind up poisoning himself with the torture of it replaying in his head each waking moment till he kicks the bucket, once and for all. The want to see you fall apart evolves into a need. “Too bad I’m not offering you the chance.”

Joel Miller is a hot blooded man, at his core, weak to emotions and vulnerable to the warmths of flesh. With notches on his bedpost and a tally of lives beneath his belt, he sees little wrong with taking what he needs.

“Who said anything about an offer?”

The descent to the floor is far from graceful, with bitten back groans of pain as clicking noises resound throughout the room while his joints bend and break in an effort to get him where he needs to be, where he’s needed to be for far longer than merely this exchange on kitchen grounds: on his knees for you.

A part of him would prefer it if you weren’t wielding a butchers knife.

The other part wishes you were facing him, eyes full of that repressed anger, hatred and discontent you likely harbour for him as you point the blade down at him and threaten to paint the floors with his blood. You’ve yet to do that, and so he takes it as his queue to progress.

Smoothing his hands up your legs, he admires the landscapes of your body from this angle, with legs that seem longer than any tree in the Amazonian jungle and curves with peaks that resemble the mountains of the Himalayas. Arriving at the top of your knees, the hem of your dress both welcomes and conceals his touch, inviting him into the wonderful world it hides beneath it yet denying him the privilege of feasting his eyes on your paradise, an island of safety amongst the open ocean of his mind.

Your breathing is measured, precise, too rhythmical to be natural, the subconscious action now turned into a practiced routine you mean to maintain nonchalance with. Perhaps you’re yet to realise that, while he may remain indifferent to those that surround him, Joel knows how to read people. And, right now, you’re a whole novel of lust, awaiting for someone to open up your pages and drink in every lyrical prose you promise to tell.

Joel finds purchase mid-way up your thighs, hands sliding around to the front of them to grip the buttery smooth skin and ground himself in the reality he kneels before.

You breathe in, you breathe out.

One knee buckles, ever so slightly, the weight of you collapsing into his welcoming hold. He revels in the feeling of supporting you, in every meaning of the word, thumbs not even waiting on a command from his consciousness to begin soothing your tingling skin with a gentle back and forth movement to match the knife in your hand.

Inhale, exhale.

Your legs straighten once more, a hand of his winds its way back out from under your skirt and shoots up to grab your free one, dragging it down his pits of desire.

“Hold,” he’s parched all over again, mouth drier than the Texan wastelands on a hot summer’s day. All he can do to survive is peel up that infuriatingly soft, red fabric of your dress, skin unveiling itself to his hunger struck eyes. With the skirt bunched up, he shoves it into your awaiting palms, pinning your hand against your own waist. “Don’t move.”

Where he expects protest, he receives more breathing.

Lace covers your skin, a delicate shade of a colour his eyes can’t quite distinguish in the dark of the night. One flicker of his sight to the very core of your body and he notices it, that tell-tale sign that you’re enjoying this little display of attention, despite what your measured breaths may have him believe. A wet patch, your wetness. The stickiest, sweetest of honeys that only a woman like you can possess, and a man like him should never bare himself witness to.

Curiosity gets the better of him- one day, Joel hopes, this will get him killed- and his touch is reaching for the lacy fabric, fingers digging themselves into the waistband of your panties and around the fabric that covers your right asscheek before curling his hand into a fist, tugging upwards.

In and out, shaky breathing comes from above.

The lace pulls tight on your delicate skin, no choice but to nestle itself in the slit of your cunt as two pretty soaked lips peak out from each side. A heady smell he can only begin to describe as stiflingly sweet, tongue-tingling tanginess hits his nose. He makes sure to take a deep breath, letting the blood rush straight to his head- the one that sits packed uncomfortably in his tightened trousers.

Delectable as sin, you keen back into his fist, back curving ever so slightly. There’s a tremor in the hold you have on the fabric of your dress. Joel basks in the visual affect he’s beginning to have on you, no need to doubt if the fabric of your underwear rubs at your likely aching clit. He wonders if the sting of the lace digging into your skin hurts. He thinks it must hurt.

His fist curls tighter, pulls higher.

“Ah,” at last, a ripple in your surface. Though you still wield a knife, the carrot you’d been failing to chop rolls off the counter and onto the floor, lost somewhere in Joel’s peripheral vision.

“Shut up,” he grunts, like it doesn’t make his balls throb to hear you whine. “People are tryin’ to sleep.”

You scoff, and for a moment you seem to have rediscovered your composure. “Tess is drunk as a sailor, and the old men could sleep through nuclear warfare.”

“‘S that an invitation to see how loud I can get ya,” he’s still caught in the way you mold against the lace, slickened skin carrying a reflection of the moonlight. This, he thinks, is what all them poets were writing about in their prose of love and beauty. “Or a challenge?”

“It’s an invitation to stop lecturing me on volume control,-” you catch yourself, he realises, right before you can gift him some nickname a sweet girl like you would never use. Asshole, dickhead, bastard, he’s heard them all and, still, he wants them on your tongue, in his mouth, condemning him for all the brutish, oafish ways he masks his obsession for you.

As coquettish as it may be, painting a picture worthy of a front-page on some Playboy magazine, the sight of lace becomes a nuisance he no longer holds the patience for. So he strips you of it, hand moving to pull the garment down, down, down the length of you, till it hits your ankles. He awaits no movement of your own, taking it upon himself to lift each of your feet individually out the leg-holes.

It’s merely impulse that has him shoving the soiled lace into his back pocket, though he’s sure he’ll make use of them on lonely nights.

“You’re drippin’,” his proclamation is ego-driven, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in the full sight of your bare heat. The view is a little obscured from behind you, but with the right amount of tilting of your hips at a certain angle and the widening of your legs, he’s bound to sit front row and centre for your private show. “‘S actually a little pathetic, sweetheart. Is it 'cause ya like it when men get mean wit’ ya?”

He can imagine the way you’d roll your eyes at his words, and it has him thinking about how you’d look with your eyes rolling back for different reasons, reasons he’s about to gift you.

But first, he curls one hand around your ankle and tugs the limb along as far as he wants it. Much better, he now faces no blockage in the path up to your slit, freely letting his wandering hands ascend to his newfound heaven. Perhaps he’ll revisit the life of gospel, if you promise to be the altar he prays before.

Cool fingers to warm skin, you swallow a gasp a little too late for Joel to not notice as he drags the tips of his middle finger up the length of your slit. Soft, puffy lips part for him, until he presses against that special button that’s bound to turn on your engines.

Rolling his finger over your clit a few times, he refamiliarises himself with the female anatomy, with your anatomy, memorising each soft bump and meaty lump he finds along the way.

It happens so suddenly, and unwillingly, the way his mind switches to thinking of Tess. He wonders what exactly it is she does to those poor things she sends home on shaky legs, where she even begins to touch them. Joel imagines she makes use of what she has and starts with her fingers.

So he does the same.

Working over your slippery wetness, he coats the tip of his middle finger with it, till he finds what he’s been searching for: the gateways to your heaven, your entrance. He breaches your walls with that single digit and somehow that’s enough to have you squeezing around him so tightly he wonders if blood still manages to flow to his digit.

Two, three, four pumps of his hand and he’s introducing his pointer finger too, pressing them both into you to witness the ways you mould around this wider stretch, the lips of your cunt a pair of cushions his knuckles collide against each time he fucks his fingers in.

“So now you shut up. ‘S the matter, huh?” He’s contradicting himself and he doesn’t even care, too busy focusing on curling his fingers inside you, delighting in the feel of that spongy tissue they press against. “Am I too borin’ for ya?”

“You’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever- Oh!”

A tongue meets skin.

The knife clatters onto the counter.

You lurch forward.

His hand pulls you back.

“Tess was right, ya know?” He can still taste you on his tongue, nothing more than a simple lick over your slit and your salty pleasure already seeps deep into his veins, staining his very being with the memory of his new favourite flavour. He pulls his fingers out, slipping them up to your clit. Three little taps to the pulsing bud- tap, tap, tap- and he’s slipping them into his mouth, tongue working overtime to clean up every last drop of you that coats him. “That boy of yours wasn’t doin’ ya right.”

The common sense that screams at him to not feel envy over some ex-lover, someone who was likely barely even an adult at the time and no longer appears to be around, is no match for the green eyed beast that commands him to tell you, without using words, that he can do better- touch you better, protect you better, fuck you better-, if you’d just let him.

‘Could keep ya satisfied.

That’s a new thought, one he’s never needed before yet never wanted more, a burning ache to be worthy of your trust, affection, lust. He’ll never forget the first time he thinks it, mouth salivating at the sight of you.

“Is this the part you say some cheesy line straight out a porno? What ya need is a man, a man like me!” The softness of your giggle is still sharp enough to cut through the tension. God, it’s never sounded sweet, and Joel finds himself freely smiling into the darkness, yet still too stubborn to laugh at the deep voice you attempt to imitate him with.

“Well, was you who said it,” his mouth finds it’s way back onto your soaked heat, taking his time to work his tongue up the length of it, his saliva mixing itself in a nasty cocktail with your wetness. He imagines the air is cold against your skin, and that you like it, memory of those hardened nipples hidden beneath the fabric of your dress. “But if ya insist.”

Diving in head first had always been his style, from his first lover to his last, and to now, knees aching on the kitchen floor. The tip of his tongue dances round your clit, tantalising you to grind your hips to the rhythm of his sinful touches.

Licking into you, he’s reminded how much he enjoys that swelling in the chest that only comes from bringing another pleasure.

He’d not been a perfect lover, far from it, but he’d liked to believe at one point he’d been trained by experience that only comes with age, years of touching wrong and kissing badly to learn the right ways to make those he shared a bed- or a counter, or a backseat, or a club bathroom- with see angelic white as they writhed and squirmed under his touch. You’re lucky to have him now, matured by past lovers and broadened by age, with all the knowledge he needs to open your eyes to how a man pleasures, kisses, loves.

He’s out of practice, sure, with recent years adding notches to his belt that were merely frantic, unexpected, barely undressed run-ins with strangers, in strange places, cock barely getting a moments affection before he’d be spilling his seed and tucking it, limp, back into the confines of his trousers and locking it away beneath a zip.

What a perfect excuse you are, for Joel to remaster the arts of lust.

It’s messy, wet dripping down his chin and staining itself into the stubble of his growing facial hair. It’s noisy, his mouth openly groaning depraved joy into your warmth as you sing him a song of sweet euphoria, slowly building towards that crescendo on the horizon. It’s animalistic, barely human as he revokes all earthly needs such as rest, and food, and socialising, his mind, and soul, and heart, and cock all screaming in unison to spend whatever remaining days he shall possess on his knees before you.

And all the while you writhe and wriggle, some times running away from him touch, other times rutting so far back into him that you threaten to suffocate him somewhere between your warm thighs, and sugar-sweet cunt, and the two well-rounded globes of your ass.

His only saving grace is that he can’t see you.

Hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.

Burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. It does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint, and up the crack of your behind.

“N- Ah,” You can’t deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. “No, don’t, not there.”

Next time, he thinks, we’ll try that next time.

Sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip out every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you’ll grace him with. The sound of whatever record Tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.

And, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.

His eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within Bill and Frank’s- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. There’s little that’s remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he’s sure you’ve spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he’s come to anticipate each time Tess tells him they’re due a visit.

Except, the oven door is made of glass.

Glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. You, with a hand gripping the island’s counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he’s envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs now bunched up in your tight grip, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he’d be able to bend and break you beneath his touch.

And then there’s him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.

The image will haunt him more than the face of any man he’s killed.

“D’ya touch yourself, Sol?” You don’t answer him, but that’s okay. In a sweet change of pace, Joel Miller’s perfectly fine with talking enough for the both of you. “Yeah, bet ya do. Late at night, right? Once you’re all alone in bed. Ya seem like the kind who can make herself scream.”

You back into him, smothering him under the weigh of your body. Becoming his holy grail, he drinks from you like it’s the key to eternal life, and what a way of living this would be, time disregarded as nothing but meaningless while your bodies melt together in the heat of passion.

Fucking his fingers back inside, he becomes frantic beneath the need to make you cry, fall completely apart with only his hands to hold you together. “Let me do the honours this time though.”

You don’t scream, can’t scream, hand over mouth muffling whatever profanities and theatrical proclamations he rips from within you with the stroke of his agile tongue, the only muscle of his that’s yet to develop aches and pains. He imagines that will no longer ring true once he awakens past sunrise.

He’s unsure how much longer he works his tongue over you, slipping and sliding through the liquid pleasure, but it ends with fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him away and tilting his head up.

You’ve never looked more holy, moon casting it’s shine around you, eyes glossed with unshed tears, lips parted and swollen from the pressure your own teeth had bitten down on them with. Your expression, he can’t quite read. Not sad, not happy, not mad.

Your eyes catch on something, abandoning his own for something closer to the floor, to which he follows and finds exactly what you’re staring at: the evidently dark patch that now stains the front of his jeans.

The discomfort of trekking back to the QZ will now be tenfolds worse in the stains of his own pleasure.

“Joel...” his name is nearly a beg, a prayer, an invitation. Hand still in his hair, you tug, pulling him upwards off the ground. Legs open wider and back arches deeper, a seductive sight that your body pleas for him with.

He swallows a groan, knees alleviated at last from the floor, and presses himself against you once more. Strong arms crush you in an embrace, pulling you back into him as his head slips to rest against your shoulder. He’s capricious with the way he lets himself litter a few wet kisses over your neck, breathing in the smell of you.

“That,” you grind back into him, a torturer who takes his aged body as her victim and toys with his barely recovered cock, the cum in his trousers sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He pulls tighter on your body, grounding himself in the weight of it against his own to find the sanity to finish his sentence. “Shouldn’t have happened.”

Joel hopes no one awakens as he slams the door on the way out of the kitchen.

People once spoke of how the only certainties in life were death and taxes but, nowadays, the words don’t ring as true and the guarantee of life with taxes has morphed into something else entirely; a reality where death and time go hand in hand. As sure as tomorrow will arrive, death will come too, eventually. Not today, however, and Joel Miller finds himself stood throwing a ball back and forth for a dog.

It chases and retrieves, trailing it’s happy self all the way back to him only to spit the ball down at his feet, siting and waiting to repeat the process once more. There’d been a time where this is all he’d wanted: white picket fence, dog in the yard, home-cooked meals filling a house with warmth.

That dream seems so far away now, even as he stands within it.

He cracks his back, huffing out a groan. “No, not again. My back’s fucked as it is, buddy,” with no one around to witness, Joel lets himself crouch down onto his knees- both popping obnoxiously as he does so- and rakes his hand over the German Shepherd’s head. It whines and makes an attempt to nudge the ball against him, protesting in the only way it can. A scratch to the ear does the trick to distract the animal, to which it tilts its head and forces itself deeper into his blunt nails. “Not so bad, are ya? Huh?” Never in a million years did Joel think he’d be talking to a dog when him and Tess had set out for their routinely visit to the Bill and Frank’s. Never would he have thought that would be the least shocking event to unfold on this trip.

He hears you before he sees you.

“You planning to make your knees familiar with every surface of this place, Texas?”

He tries to rise, he truly does, but the four-legged foe he’d been petting mere seconds ago betrays him the instant it catches sight of you, charging past him and knocking him over in the process, ass to floor and head to sky.

The world above is a storm of greys, clouds swallowing one another with a looming threat of danger on the horizon and not a lick of the sun’s warmth seems to make its way through.

So instead, it sends you.

Peering over him from above, hair a tangled mess, eyes a wreck of under-bags and sleepless tears, the collar of your jumper lowered just enough at this angle that he can see a tease of cleavage, you radiate a brightness like no other, more dangerous to his naked eyes than UV rays could ever be. He’s squinting again, frown etching itself on his forehead with the threat of becoming permanent soon. A few more years and his face will be nothing but frown lines and crows feet. At the very least, he considers, I’ve survived long enough to wrinkle.

The smile above him is worth a million laugh lines, a kindness laced within it that matches perfectly with the hand you hold out. When he does nothing but stare at it, you wriggle your fingers, enticing him to take a hold. He does most of the work, truthfully, but you play a part in pulling him back to his feet. Upright once more, he can’t help but bask in the way he’s able to physically look down on you.

“Thanks for tiring him out,” you’re the first to talk. You’re always the first to talk, and he curses you for it. “Won’t need to walk him as far tonight.”

A queasy feeling overtakes him at the thought of you walking the dog alone at night, nothing but the moon to light your way. He’ll need to remember to tire the dog out next time he visits. “No problem, thanks... for feeding Tess and I.”

“No worries!” You’re so kind, so good, smiling at him with a cheerful chirp in your voice. He can’t wrap his head around how you can bring yourself to treat him this way. “Oh, actually, that’s why I came out here, I was looking for Tess-” Of course you were, when would you ever be looking for him? “Hold on!”

You shoot off back inside so quickly that Otis just reaches the doorway by the time you return. With an idle pet to his head as you pass by, Joel once again sees, in the way such little affection can have the dog so elated, that resemblance between them you’d spoke of. In your hands, you carry an array of containers full of food- soup- each filled to the brim.

“I wanted to give you these, before you guys leave,” you’re explaining yourself, and Joel wonders if it’s nerves that bring you to need constant babbling to fill any gaps of silence. He can’t imagine how he could make you nervous and therefore that thought is quick to be discarded. “I know the journey up here and back can be long, consider them a token of my appreciation towards you both for-”

“Why don’t ya like me?” he cuts you off.

Pathetic, he knows, but he can not stop himself, a deer caught in the headlights of your brightly burning, too-good-to-be-true, too-pure-to-be-fake personality.

You show no signs of hearing him, smile unwavering as you continue to hold out the boxes to him. “There should be enough to last you a few days, if you watch your proportions.”

It’s too much for him to handle- the food, the smiles, the sweetly glistening eyes-, and Joel just has to know, needs an answer before the heat of his confusion consumes him entirely in its flames and leaves nothing but his smoking remains.

So he tries again, louder.

“Why don’t ya like me?”

“And I’d probably say you’re best to heat it up, especially for Tess,” you ignore him, again, lips stretching what can only be described as uncomfortably wider. “Winter is sure coming in faster than last year, isn’t it?”

He grabs at your arm, fingers curling round the swell of your bicep as he speaks through gritted teeth, "Answer me." Like a frightened dog backed into a corner, he bares his teeth and yells his bark.

"For someone who doesn't care,” you try his patience, knowingly or not, and his grip tightens. You don’t flinch, welcoming the sting of his blunt and bitten nails against your flesh. “You sure do talk about my opinion a lot."

"Answer the damn question, girl.”

“Or, what?” You’ve got him there, he’ll admit, holding no real plan as to how to punish your silence. “You gonna give me the same treatment as last night?”

Had he known you’d be so unabashed to mention the events on the kitchen floor so flippantly, as casually as one would speak about the weather, he’d never have dared to get on his knees. Truthfully, he’d not given things a second thought, disregarding the later for the now, living in the moment with caution thrown to the wind over what the morning would bring. Perhaps he’d hoped you’d been intoxicated enough to dismiss the memory as a nightmare, maybe he’d wished you’d keep away from him to free him of the volatile grip you have on his soul.

Instead, you stand tall, proud, eyes fiercely staring back at his own as you challenge him to retaliate, mock you with none of those saccharine smiles you hide harsh tones behind.

Joel says nothing.

“How about this, let’s make a deal, like the ones you and Bill make.” Inching closer, crowding in on his space and forcing him to take note of the smell of freshly cleaned clothes mixed in with your own fragrance. Clean, warm, inviting, scents he’d never given meaning to before now. “You get me something, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

He grunts out a response, hands meeting his hips as he juts out one knee, the shifting of weight between feet a perfect distraction to the rising tension in his worn-out jeans. “What d’ya want? ‘Cause if it’s somethin’ like a gun, think again. I ain’t messing with none of Bill’s strange politics on you havin’-”

“A dress.”

“A dress?” The statement has him quirking his brow, burning questions swimming in the depths of his eyes as he stares back at you.

“Yes, and don’t look at me like that!” It’s hypocritical, he believes, for you to berate him for the looks he sends you when all you do is cast stones his way with your gaze yet shake him to his very core each time you smile. “I need a new one, my favourite one got ruined whilst making soup.”

Unaware he’d even began to lean closer, Joel’s quick to recoil, as if your words are bullets and his skin the target you hit on the bullseye every time.

“Joel!” his name resonates from somewhere in the house.

Neither of you dare to break eye contact. Again, his name is yelled. This time, he manages to identify Tess as the owner of the voice. Habits have him used to running to her whenever she calls, but habits have never been caught between the choice of Tess or you.

His feet remain glued to the ground.

Tess yells once more and, though you speak up, you don’t dare look away. “Think you might be needed inside, macho man. Your missus is calling.”

“She ain’t my-”

“You two just gonna stand and stare at each other all day, or will you help a woman out already?” Tess enters the scene somewhere behind you, a blur of her familiar shape standing out the front door.

Only when your head spins and he no longer finds himself lost in the black of your eyes does Joel take her in completely, hair clearly damp and complexion a little paled by her hungover body. In her arms, she struggles with the weight of a folded table. You approach first, he follows, his two hands aiding in carrying it out into the front yard as you retighten your grip on the boxes of soup in your arms.

“I should probably,” laying the containers down on the now unfolded table, you fidget with the sleeves in your hands, eyes downcast with something he can only read as guilt. He decides he much prefers the fire they hold when you berate him. “Go check on the food, before it burns.”

You’re in the door and out his sight before he can so much as ask you to stay.

Tess and him hit the road by noon. Earlier than predicted, later than he’d wished for. The bite of cold already marks the air, despite the sun breaking through the clouds and heating the world with its rays. He walks a little ahead, feigning ignorance to the repeated coughing coming from Tess and wracking his brain for answers.

Answers to why he’d never noticed how hoarse she’d been sounding till you pointed it out. Answers to what awaited them both upon returning to the QZ. Answers to when will be their next chance to visit the safe haven Bill’s created. Answers to why you don’t like him.

I don’t like you, Joel.

It motivates him to walk quicker, faster, racing to put as much distance between himself and that damn kitchen floor, miles upon miles not enough to rid him of the dull ache in his knees that goes hand in hand with the throb within his too-tight-jeans. If he were alone, he’d break out in a sprint. but Tess is here, he’s not alone, and home will simply have to wait on the passing of time to drag him back to it.

Till then, he needs to find a dress.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller oneshot #joel miller fic #pedro pascal smut

3K notes · View notes

stargirlrchive · 2 years ago

Text

song chord ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: jake sully x female!reader but no use of y/n, arranged marriage, sunshine!jake x grumpy!reader, kind of lmao. angst, jealousy, mentions of death, feelings of insecurities. fluff. <3 i think that is all, pls lmk if i missed anything

word count: 5,112

tìyawn (n) - love

comments: first fic in a few months, first avatar fic ever <3 i really loved writing this, so i hope you all love it too, okay mwah mwah bye ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You had not wanted your night to end like this, angrily picking at your song chord as your mother whispered to the elders of her desire to have you wed, and to the Olo’eyktan none the less. Every stone, every achievement, you had earned felt as though it was taken from you. Ripped from your fingers just as you were starting to enjoy the fruits of your labors.

Toruk Makto sat across from your mother, listening closely as the elders proposed the idea of uniting your family. Joining forces to strengthen the clan, providing security and faith to the people he led.

You had wished so much more for yourself, to have your accomplishments be only your own. Not tied to a man you would never be equal to. All your life you had fought to be perfect, to be an accomplished warrior and fight for your people. Your eyes welled with tears as your fingers ran across the newest bead on your song chord. An iridescent pearl that your father had picked for you, that you held so dearly and were waiting for the perfect culminating moment in your life to add to your chord. Your Iknimaya was given the grace of bearing the pearl.

Your mind swirled with the prospect of being wed, being mated to a man you knew very little about, a man you had only met in passing. As much as you tried to find a way to fix this you couldn't, it felt like your thoughts were running a millions miles a minute and getting no answer. It was very clear that you had no way to object, your family would be so disappointed and the fear that nestled into your chest far outweighed the fear of sacrificing your future, it was almost debilitating. Either way you ended up losing.

You roughly wiped at your eyes and tried to calm your breathing, quietly counting to ten as you willed yourself to object, to tell them your future was yours and no one else's. You had lost so much due to the war with the sky-people, you did not want to lose this too. The words were on the tip of your tongue but your eyes locked onto Jake’s and his fear was clear as day within his eyes. It comforted you, a bit. Knowing you were not the only one silently suffering, but he was the last person you wanted to find comfort in.

He cleared his throat and the room was silenced instantly, causing a lump to form at your throat. “Before I agree I would like us to speak, privately.”

You nodded as he stood, following after him outside of the tent. He walked outside of the camp, towards the dark forest that was only illuminated by the fluorescent lights of the plants and small insects native to the land. Normally you would question why he was leading you away from everyone, but it felt as though all the energy was taken from you.

Not too far into the forest there was a clearing, a small pond with glowing fish. He grunted quietly as he lowered himself to sit, dipping his feet into the pond as he sighed quietly. None of you said anything for a while, you had stayed standing by the trees and looking up into the sky. Silently praying to Eywa to give you the strength to fulfill your duty with an open mind, and even an open heart.

He turned to look at you, watching as your brows furrowed even more as a shooting star passed by, “Do you mind sitting with me?”

A small huff left your lips but you did as he asked, slowly approaching him and keeping a sizeable distance between the two of you, dipping your feet into the water just as he had. “I did not expect to be mated, the thought had never really crossed my mind.”

You kept quiet, trying to focus on his words as you fought the tears trying to fall from your eyes, he took your silence as a sign to keep speaking. “I know a lot of the Na’vi still blame me for what happened, I do too.” His throat tightened, gruff with guilt and unshed tears balling up, and for the second time tonight you found comfort that you were both suffering. “I am trying to be better, and I will prove to you everyday that I am no longer loyal to the sky-people. Believe me, the Clan’s best interest is my main priority and I would never again willingly do something to harm them.”

Silence.

“I know it is not ideal, having to marry a skxawng like me, but I would like to continue the engagement if you wish.”

You sighed quietly and tucked your knees in, resting your arms on them to lay your head gently, “I do not blame you.”

He nodded and averted his eyes to the pond, not believing your words, “I-I just did not picture my life to be this way. After my father died I tried so hard to accomplish everything he wanted for me, that is why it took me time to complete my Iknimaya, I wanted everything to be perfect.” His ears twitched as he listened to you.

“I just do not know if this is what he would have wanted for me.” Your last words were whispered quietly, almost as if you did not want him to hear.

“I fear everything I have ever accomplished will be stripped from me, and I will just be seen as Toruk Makto’s wife. Expected to be the next Tsahik and I can barely interpret the will of Eywa for myself, how am I expected to do so for the rest of the clan?”

He laughed loudly, as if what you said was the funniest thing in the world. As if your worries were comical and before you could stop yourself you hissed in his direction, making your way to stand up. “I’m sorry-wait I’m sorry-you made me laugh but I did not mean to offend you.”

You stopped yourself from leaving, “See what I mean? Skxawng.”

Your lips barely twitched at the end and you hoped he hadn’t caught it. He did.

“I am a warrior JakeSully, I will not sit back and watch the people fight. I will be front line.”

He smiled at your words, “I would also like to get to know you better, no wedding within the next two-three weeks, yes?”

He leaned back on his arms and looked up at the night sky, millions of tiny stars scattered all across you. “Ok, no wedding soon.”

He sent you a warm smile and it eased the gnawing feeling in your chest, “One final request, I wish to be seen as your equal, taken into consideration when it comes to decisions of the clan, not just your wife but your partner.”

His silence scared you, fearful of what would leave his mouth, “That is all I want.”

A small smile made its way onto your features, feeling far more content then how you expected this night to go.

You were both silent for a long time, just enjoying the beautiful forest of Pandora, “I must go, it is well past Eclipse and my mother will be worried.”

Jake nodded and stood up, leaning his arm forward to help you too. You both silently made your way through the short distance back to the camp, quickly making your way to your tent. You were about to go in, without sparing him another look but his hand reached for your forearm to stop you from walking, “We are in this together, from here on out it is you and me. I am not taking this lightly and-and I will be your friend through all of this.”

Your eyes welled with tears again, having to come to terms with your future in those few seconds as you looked up into his golden eyes. “Thank you, I will try my best too.”

You sent him a small smile before moving into your tent, hoping to sleep away the still overwhelming fear of having no control of your life.

You blinked the sleep away from the night before, trying to relax the nauseating feeling that nestled in your stomach as you recalled the events of last night. Why had you so willingly opened up to JakeSully, why?

You did not know him, and from the whispers that followed him around you were one of the few Na’vi women that did not want to. You had opened up some of your deepest concerns last night, and for the life of you, you didn’t know why. You soothingly rubbed the beads of your song chord, trying to ground yourself and push the tears down that seemed to flow like a never ending river.

Your ears twitched gently as you heard movement outside of your tent, “Who is there?”

Someone cleared their throat as you sat up, fixing your chest beads and loin cloth on your way to stand up. “It’s Jake, um-I wanted to spend some time with you. As friends do.”

You tsk’ed lowly, slowly making your way towards the opening of the tent, head peeking out only to be met with a gentle smile on the Toruk Makto’s face. You refrained from rolling your eyes at the tall man, going back into your tent but leaving it open so he could follow. “Give me a few minutes and I will be ready.”

He hummed quietly as he stepped in, eyes jumping from corner to corner of your tent. Curiously walking towards a make-shift shelf, filled from top to bottom with your trinkets. From your first arrow, to dried flowers and pretty stones you had collected since you were a child. You observed him, feeling your heart jump to your throat as he reached to pick something up. Feeling exposed to him in a way you couldn’t describe.

Your mind eased as he gently picked up the only picture you had on there, one that Grace had taken of your mother and father that she gifted you on a random day during her classes. “My condolences for your father, I never got to meet him.”

You said nothing as you continued to ready yourself, turning your back to him and making sure he was still occupied with the shelf before changing quickly, adjusting the straps on the cloth that fell on your hips as he turned towards you. “What will we be doing, JakeSully?”

His nose twitched softly at his full name.

“Is it your hunting or training day?”

You shook your head no, “Perfect, let’s go for a ride.”

Your eyes lit up softly, anytime you got to spend with your Ikran was so special to you, your sweet Pey’lal. Following behind him happily as he threaded through the forest where the claimed Ikran’s rested. Your tongue instinctively started clicking once you made it to the large tree, looking towards the sky for a large blur of purple and blue.

There was a large gust of wind and a powerful thud as Pey’lal landed gracefully in front of you, nuzzling her head against your cheek as you laughed happily. “My sweet girl, I have missed you.”

You cooed happily as she made happy clicking noises at the attention you were giving her, Jake clearing his throat made you snap out of your happy bubble. Pey’lal looked up as if just noticing him for the first time, moving her head to the side in question, flapping her wings as a warning sign. Your hand reached out to soothe her, letting her know to stand down. She relaxed instantly. “This is Pey’lal, my Ikran. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Your smile reached your eyes for the first time and Jake nodded, “This is Bob.” He patted his Ikran’s head who huffed in slight annoyance and it caused a laugh to ripple from your throat, “Bob?”

Jake’s face flared as his ears twitched, “I think it fits him, he is quite goofy.”

“If you say so, JakeSully.”

There was a beat of silence before you connected your queue to Pey’lal’s, jumping smoothly onto her back, “Well, let’s get to flying.”

In the next instant you were off, looking back momentarily only to see Jake jumping onto his Ikran to catch up.

It had been several weeks since Jake had taken you out to fly, or out on a date as he called it. But ever since then it was as if he was glued to your hip, accompanying you even when it was not necessary. Like when you went to pick fruit or went hunting, Pey’lal was even growing accustomed to him being around. Just yesterday she nuzzled her head against his chest as he called out for Bob, something she had only ever done with you.

You had tried to be annoyed with him, wanting to keep him as far away from you as possible but he had slowly, very slowly, started to crack the walls you had built up and began staking claim.

Like even now, as he sat across from you and smiled at your annoyance towards him, your tail swishing in frustration. “You are Olo'eyktan and cannot even pronounce basic words.”

You tsk’ed quietly as he leaned back on his arms, not focusing on what you were saying. He laughed deeply, one that you could tell started in his chest, “I cannot focus today.”

“You can never focus.”

“You are distracting me.”

Your brows furrowed together, confusion evident on your face. Another laugh left his throat, “I do not like being laughed at, JakeSully.”

“I am not laughing at you.” It continued, the sound warming your chest as you feigned being offended, purposely dropping your ears, “I just think you are so-so-interesting.”

You huffed and moved away from him, “You really know how to woo me.”

His face dropped and you bit back the smile that threatened to crack across your face, tucking your tail away as he scooted closer to you, “I meant that in a good way-I did not want to offend you.”

You turned your face to him, the laugh escaped you as soon as your eyes locked onto his, face full of concern, “I was only kidding you Skxawng. I think you are interesting too.”

He pushed your shoulder with his own, smiling so hard his cheeks felt sore.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, and in the next instant it hit you just how close he was, the side of his thigh pressed against yours and you flushed deeply. Ears twitching as you tried to stop your body from going rigid against his.

Jake's finger twitched softly as he contemplated reaching for your hand, he wouldn’t put it past you to flick him with your tail if he tried to, but even still he wanted to know how your hands would feel against his.

Your face was turned away from him, clearly trying not to face him and he swore you knew what he was up to, your fingers twitched softly as it rested on your leg. Before he could think about it too much he slipped his hand under your own, tangling his fingers with yours and closing, rubbing gently along your knuckles.

Your hand had tensed as he held it, still avoiding his gaze and he almost retracted but slowly your fingers relaxed into his, his tail swished softly in excitement as you folded your fingers to hold his hand.

“Your hands are sweaty, Toruk Makto.”

He refrained from laughing, “Yeah well-you make me nervous. One wrong move and I know it will earn me a tail flick to the head.”

You laughed at his words and turned to him, cheeks still blazing as he got a good look at you. Your cheeks were a soft purple and a smile that reached all the way to your eyes.

“Do not tempt me.”

Your tail gently flicked against his arm and he felt a warm sensation start in his belly and make its way up to his chest, causing goosebumps to rise all across his arms.

After a beat of silence he began speaking again, “So, how do you say it? Kalultal?”

“No-no! Kelutral!”

The weeks had started to bleed into each other the more time you spent with Jake. Your eyes instinctively looked through the sea of Na’vi as you searched for him, a proud smile on your face as you lugged around the Hexapede you had hunted not too long ago.

You had noticed him a couple of feet away, his back towards you and there was an instant smile that made its way to your face, trying to get to him faster. Your eyes were taking in his back, a small heat rising to your cheeks as you let your stare run across his shoulders and down to his arms.

You opened your mouth to call out for him but you clamped up almost instantly, ears twitching in question as his head was thrown back and a loud laugh left his lips. Your eyes finally shifted to who was in front of him and felt a sting begin to settle in your stomach. It was Neytiri.

They were talking animatedly between each other, laughing and you were not sure why it left such a bitter taste in your mouth. Cheeks now flushed but for an entirely different reason, anger bubbled in your chest. You tried to wrack your brain for what it could be, you had always gotten along with Neytiri so why had you started to feel a sense of insecurity in yourself as you noticed how easy it was for them to get along? How easy it had been for them since the beginning.

The realization scared you even more so when you came to the conclusion that it was jealousy, you had started to feel some sort of claim to the Toruk Makto and it hurt. You felt so stupid, how could you think he wanted you when Neytiri had been a part of his life from the moment he was introduced to the clan? She had shown him the in’s and out’s, he had fallen in love with your people, with your home, through her.

You felt a lump rise to your throat as you handed off the Hexapede to be skinned for the feast later in the evening, rushing past the crowd of people behind you. You wanted to be far away from him, from her, from everyone. Your ears had turned inward and all you could hear was the beating of your heart. It came in loud thuds, deep and sorrowful.

You had made it towards your tent, not noticing that Jake had clocked you dropping the animal off. He had called you several times which you had not heard. He had noticed how your shoulders were tensed, a look so unfamiliar to him on your face and he knew something was wrong. His fingers tangled around your forearm before you slipped into your tent, you jolted back against his chest showing him just how distracted you were.

Jake called your name softly and his brows furrowed together as you refused to look at him. “Is everything alright?”

You hissed in his direction and yanked your forearm from his grip, Jake stepped back in astonishment as he took in the anger swirling in your eyes. “Leave me alone, JakeSully.”

“Woah-what? Did I-what’s wrong?”

You ignored him and walked into your tent, pacing the perimeters as you tried to keep the emotions from erupting into something uglier. You felt like an open wound and hated that it was caused by the man who only a few months ago you wanted nothing to do with. Your tent was opened as Jake stepped in, confusion evident in his face.

Your angry haze landed on him, his hands up in surrender trying to not overwhelm you as he neared you, “I do not want you near me, Toruk Makto. Just go!”

“I am just trying to figure out what’s wrong, yeah? Let me help.”

“You are the last person I would want help from, get out!”

Your hands had reached up to push at his chest and even Jake knew you were going easy on him, but the pushes were persistent. The frustration more evident each time your palms landed on his chest.

His hands reached out to grab at your wrist, the beads of your song chord digging gently into your skin. Your wrist felt like they were on fire at his touch and felt the anger surge through your body all over again. Hands wriggling angrily against his as he stepped closer, concern clear as day on his features but you could not bring yourself to care. All your deepest insecurities rearing their ugly head at you, a sob threatening to escape from your throat as an uncomfortable feeling settled into your stomach. A feeling that you would not be enough, not for your family, not for Jake, not for the clan.

Your anger peaked, a scream was ready to erupt from your throat as Jake was not letting your wrist go, he was still trying to calm you down. You ripped your wrist from his grip in a whip of anger and felt all the air leave you at once. Your song chord had tangled along the leather braided clasps on Jake's wrist and ripped from yours, the beads falling like a waterfall all around the two of you. “No-no-no!”

Your eyes and hands frantically searched around for the pearl your father had given you, not locating it anywhere and a small whimper left your mouth as the tears flowed from your eyes and down to your neck.

Jake was on his hands and knees instantly as you wept, helping you gather the stones that had been placed on your chord, “Please just leave, Jake! Go with Neytiri and leave me alone.”

Your voice was raw with emotion and it made his heart clench, his ears twitched in confusion but he said nothing as he continued to gather all the beads he saw, an uncomfortable sting making its way to his wrist.

He could tell your holding back from sobbing, you had folded into yourself after all the stones were gathered, your back shaking from your tears. “I will help you build it back, I will weave the chord with you. I am so sorry.”

His hand had reached out to your shoulders pulling you up against him and into his chest, there was a strain on his wrist at the awkward way it bent causing a low hiss to fall from his lips. His hand settled on your head, rubbing soothingly as he felt you calm in his arms, a pinch each time his hand dragged forward but he didn’t care. “Will you let me help you?”

You whimpered quietly as you melted into his embrace, “There is no point.”

“What do you mean, tìyawn?”

You felt your heart flutter at the affectionate name, but your heart felt heavy as you realized you had lost the pearl your father had gifted you, “I lost the pearl for my Iknimaya. It was a pearl my father had gifted me, it meant so much to me and-and I waited for something that felt worthy of carrying the stone and now I have lost it. I no longer want a song chord.”

You broke out into another fit of tears, only this time wrapping your arms around Jake’s neck to find solace in him, and he comforted as best he could, wrapping his arms around you as his fingers traced your back to calm you down once again.

He felt the pinch against his wrist again, an irritation settling softly in his chest at the persistent sting. He pulled his arms closer to you so one rested on your hip while the other tried to unclamp the leather bracelets that sat on his wrist. When the bracelet was off he felt instant relief, his ears twitching at the sound of a pebble landing on the floor. He swore a silent prayer to Eywa fell from his lips as his eyes locked onto the pearl. It was iridescent and had small scratches since you wore your song chord almost everywhere. His fingers reached for the stone, picking it up gently as if he feared it would break under the weight of his fingers. “Is this it?”

Your head lifted from his chest, looking into his palm and a watery laugh left your throat, still thick with emotion as you reached out for it. You looked up into Jake’s eyes and it seemed like hundreds of tears kept flowing from your eyes, Jake's lips were turned downwards as he rubbed at your cheeks, trying to erase the evidence of your sadness. He hated it, he hated seeing you hurting and in that instant swore that he would spend the rest of his life trying to keep you happy.

“I do not like knowing you are sad.”

Your emotions consumed you once again as you stared up at him, eyes flickering to his lips for a brief second. Sniffling softly you leaned your face closer to him, pressing your forehead against his and you let your eyes flutter closed. You could not bear to look at him, he consumed you in every way and the clarity hit you like a ton of bricks. You were in love.

You let your lips fall against his in a quick motion, it was soft even though it only lasted a few seconds. When you pulled back his eyes were closed, cheeks a deep purple, ears twinging pink as he reeled from having your lips on his. “I am no longer sad, Jake. Just sorry, and embarrassed for how I behaved.”

He was all over you in the next instant, lips pressing into yours almost bruisingly as if he tried to forever engrain the feeling of your lips on his. Hands gripped at your hips tightly, pulling you flush against him and a small whine left your mouth. He used the gap between your lips to his advantage as he gently slipped his tongue, almost as if asking for permission. Your teeth softly bit down on the tip of his tongue, soothing it by sliding your own across his. He felt the groan come from the center of his chest, he felt all of you as he wrapped pulled you in closer.

You were the first to pull away, Jake’s lips chasing after your own as you sucked in a long breath, trying to fill your lungs with as much air as possible. You turned from him slightly and placed the pearl with your other stones, turning back to him as your eyes scanned all across his face. “I only want you, my tìyawn. No one else, do you understand me?”

You nodded and let your forehead fall against his again, whispering the words that told him just how you felt, “Oel ngati kameie.”

A laugh rippled from his throat and he placed a kiss to your cheek, “Oel”, a kiss to your nose, “Ngati”, a kiss to your lips, “Kameie”.

You finally pulled away from him, looking at the beads that Jake had gathered for you. “So you will help me?”

He nodded happily, watching your every move as you stood up, picking up a small box that was on your shelf. He couldn't stop the smile that fell on his lips as your tail switched softly, contemplating what material you wanted to hold your beads. You settled on a weaved tan thread, sitting back down next to Jake and you hummed quietly, “You do not have one right, Ma’Jake?”

Jake swore his heart was going to fall out of his chest, “No I do not-no one ever told me to make it so I did not think to do it.”

“You must make one now, we sing the song chord to remember. Each bead is a story in our life.”

Your fingers brushed Jake’s as you handed over the extra piece of string for him to use, placing the box in between the two of you, full of beads, some simpler than others but just as beautiful. The two of you settled into a comfort silence, Jake pausing on occasion to think on certain events that were important enough to add to his chord, digging his fingers into the box.

You had finished your chord quickly, knowing it by memory and Jake noticed you had not added any new beads, until the last one, that one was new.

It was a soft shade of blue, it stood out beautifully against the majority of white and brown of it. “That is new.”

His fingers ran across your song chord, it was so much more intricate than his, showing just how proud you should be of yourself, now a constant reminder how he will always be proud of you. “It is for you, Toruk Makto.”

You flushed and shied away from him as his ears twitched, pulling his own chord out to share it with you, explaining what each one meant. When he reached the last stone, it was a deep red, one that shined if light reflected on, “This one-It’s for you. My tìyawn.”

You reached for his hand and wrapped the chord twice around his wrist, “I am ready, to be mated.”

He let his fingers trace your palm, going over each line and scar, even tracing over the small callouses the tips of your finger had accumulated from training with your arrow. He was smiling so hard, cheeks hurting as he leaned over to pick up your own chord and wrap it around your wrist, it looped three times. “I want a huge ceremony, with a huge feast and lots of music and dancing.”

Your hand flew to your mouth as you tried to stop the laughter that bubbled at your throat, “I do not need such a big fuss over me, Ma’Jake.”

He brought you even closer to him, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he announced, “But I do, I want all of the Omaticaya clan to know I am mated to you. Forever you and me.”

Another burst of warmth fell over you, pressing a kiss to his lips before you moved to sit against him, your back pressed firmly to his chest as his arms wrapped around your frame, “Now tell me, what do the other beads represent?”

4K notes · View notes

fandomxo00 · 8 days ago

Text

Okay well:

Logan catches you reading one of your smut books

note: smut from the book and then smut, oral male rec!, unprotected p in v, ,cockwarming dom/sub dyn, autistic reader! and like this boyfriend!Logan is lumberjack Logan (not necessarily origins Lo) but like if he was lumberjack Logan in the world after Deadpool + Wolverine? hopefully that made sense lmao self indulgent rant as always loves! i got carried away with the book... idk how to properly site but the words in italics bold are from The Kiss Quotient, Helen Hoang

During the winter, you’d always like to leave the window open slightly to let the smell of the bitter cold fill your room. Opening the sill enough to make the spot around it cold but not messing with the heat of the rest of the room. Though your boyfriend, Logan didn’t really care about the cost of the heating, he had a load of superhero money put away. It wasn’t much but it was from Charles, his fortune was split amongst the four, him, Scott, Jean and Ororo. Which meant that he didn’t have to worry about you keeping a window open in zero-degree weather. Logan had promised very early on that he would take care of you, and he'd somehow wound up filling in the blanks for you.

You sat by the window, the curtains clipped to the sides of windows, a gray knitted blanket laid over your lap. One of your favorite books, The Kiss Quotient sat in your hands, your thighs pressing together as the main character, Stella, started being undressed by Micheal, the other main character. Your book was about an autistic woman, Stella, dealing with her sexuality, with specific needs and wants in bed, it was hard for her to find a caring partner who would prioritize her pleasure. So, she hires an escort, Micheal, who she starts seeing through paid sessions but the two start falling in love, and she works on her intimacy issues and Micheal shows her how she should be treated, the relationship eventually becoming very real. It reminded you an awful lot of your relationship with Logan, not in the sense of the relationship itself but rather how you slowly became comfortable with intimacy.

From the beginning Logan always cared about your needs above his own, it was just the man he was. Even as the two of you started out as friends, he acted like your boyfriend. But after months of friendship, he'd finally moved on to telling you how he felt for you, but there was a big pause within your relationship happened because of your intimacy issues. Logan never really had to wait for sex, or even just kissing in a relationship before. You had blossomed like a flower, dead all Winter but slowly coming to life in the Spring. There were times where you were more affectionate and other times where you needed space. Not that Logan minded sometimes he needed time alone aswell.

But the moment you wanted him he was by your side, ready to take whatever you would give. You pushed yourself, not out of your comfort zone, but past the threshold of your fears of intimacy. Letting Logan hold your hand, letting him softly kiss your lips as he said goodbye. The slowness added to the love that Logan had for you because he didn't have anything else like that. You didn't intend for it to be a slowburn but you warned him it would take you time. But it wasn't that you didn't want to touch him or grow closer, there was just a mental block. There'd been a slip of tongue the first time you met him, he promised you he'd give you anything. Logan never went back on his word though; he gave you just about everything he could. He was overwhelmingly patient with you and always heard you out.

Logan had never longed so hard for a lasting relationship, but it had been two hundred years, and he hadn't found anyone. Before you he had come to the conclusion that he would wound up alone. Then you came in and eventually you started to trust him. He didn't like to explicitly call things beautiful but the way you opened up to him made his chest feel warm. Because you casually mentioned in the car that he could hold your thigh, something he immediately jumped at the opportunity to do. Logan's large fingers spanning over the expanse of your thick thighs, feeling your soft skin underneath the pad of his finger.

The two of you were already attached to the hip even in the first month of the relationship. Eventually you started reaching for his hand, even going as far as to wrap your arm around his, when you stood in line. Leaning into his side until he'd sling his arm over your shoulder, as you sighed into his side, smelling the smokey vanilla cologne. The smell grew familiar in the follow weeks as the hugging became more frequent and more lingering. Logan could feel things changing but a natural change like a season changing or hair growing. The girl who didn't want to cuddle was curling up in his arms during a movie night.

Wade adamantly teased him about his relationship with you or rather the way he acted around you. When the sword wielding anti-hero found out that Logan had kissed you, he gasped, milking the dramatics as he mocked his friend. Logan offered him a swift smack in the back of head, Wade was just happy it wasn't his claws. He eventually would explain that it wasn't any of Wade's business but when you were ready it would happen, and that's that. Another time when you asked him to grab your lip gloss from the bathroom, that Wade called him for him being a 'simp'. Whatever the hell that meant. Logan thought. All that mattered were the feelings you had for each other, it's what made it all make sense. Because even though you weren't the best at speaking your words, you wrote them for Logan. You wrote him lengthy longing notes after the night he confessed his feelings for you. Your heart had been racing so fast that you couldn't possibly say anything, almost feeling as if you were going to pass out. Logan put you first once again, putting his feelings to the side to get you water and put you to bed for a nap. Softly kissing your head and promising you that he would wait and that he'd do anything for you. And Logan desperately wanted more, he knew that you weren't stringing him along or lying to him.

Every Sunday you found yourself out running errands with Logan, at first it happened on accident. Your paychecks lining up perfectly to get your groceries before the start of the new week. The two of you spent a lot of time together, Logan coming up with every excuse in the book so he would be able to stick around. Then you made your move telling him he could come around anytime no questions asked. But the two of you were growing touchy, feely and you'd been so close to kissing on several occasions.

You'd been in the middle of pasta aisle when he asked what was for supper, his hands resting on the cart in front of him, you just started towards him.

Your hands shakily came up to his cheeks, at first, he just stared at you, as a shaky breath fell from his nose. Logan relaxed into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut, as your hands rubbing against his mutton chops. Your eyes scanned over his rugged features, taking in his prominent frown lines and wrinkles on his forehead. Then his soft lips, that opened with a breath as you moved forward to softly kiss his lips. Logan's hands were hesitant, but he'd wrapped his arms around you.

You’ve made him focus on himself at times where he’d rather care about how his feelings hurt you. But you’d have to remind him that just because it hurts you doesn’t mean you couldn’t accept it or compromise. It was things like marriage, where he looked into the future, he wanted to marry you. You were far younger than Logan and you had come to the conclusion that marriage was arbitrary and patriarchal. Logan agreed with that, he was very openminded and never really liked the conservative path. He always seemed to be fighting for something but when he looked at his dream, it was marriage, promising himself to another. Something he’d been waiting centuries for, meeting women that he would marry, that he thought he would love forever.

But he also loved you, he’d never felt this safe for this long before. His reality was no longer war, no longer fighting or saving the world. Logan’s life was working to give you the life you deserve, because he saw all the pain you had endured, and he understood. His trauma only made him closer to you because he looked at you and he saw a strong person. As Logan gave you everything it wasn’t as if he was losing anything or compromising. A lot of things he just did naturally, like scratching an inch or washing your hands.

You hadn’t known the real reason why Logan went out; he made an excuse before asking if you needed anything. But as you sat in one of his warm flannels that smelt like him, you wished your boyfriend was home, curled up next to you, doing these things to you rather than you reading about them. You knew that you could've gone with him, it was Sunday, and you usually did these things together. Logan argued that you needed to sleep in and take time for yourself, and you usually relented with a swat to the butt and a kiss.

With the absence of your boyfriend you grumbled, stuffing your nose into your book,

"Will you be disappointed if I don't like it and I don't respond like other women?" She wanted to like it, wanted to orgasm for his mouth like so many other women had, and because of that, her arousal started fading away as performance anxiety took its place.

"If you don't like it, then we'll move on." Running his hands down her inner thighs, he spread her wiser. The tip of his tongue pressed against his gorgeous upper lip.

He bent down close to her wet flesh, making her nervousness spike to heart-pounding levels, and took a deep breath.

"I'm beginning to understand your addiction to my smell. It's a good thing you don't smell like this everywhere, though. I'd have a constant hard-on for you. I'm having enough trouble as it is."

You sighed as the memory of Logan sensing your anxiety the first time the two of you had sex, reading you like a book, he knew that you got caught up in your head. But that didn't stop him, he took his time, asking you questions about what you liked, worshipping your body. You remember all your nerves melting away as he buried his mouth in your pussy.

Because if the character, Micheal, was addicted to Stella's smell. Then Logan would be practically suicidal over yours.

When he mumbled something about your smell, you'd completely flush, slapping at his chest and trying to ignore the lust in his eyes. And because your boyfriend was exceptionally hot, and he didn't really have to do much to turn you on. The subtle teasing only made the smell of your wetness grow thicker. Then in a not-so-subtle way, sometimes you wound fucking up in a bathroom or in your car. Never in your life did you think that would be a possibility for you. You'd never be so spontaneous you'd never trust your significant other that much.

When you were younger it was something, you'd only dreamt of and now it was becoming an unrealistic reality. You needed books like these when you were younger, it was one of the reasons you found out you were autistic. Because you related to the characters exact thought patterns and feelings, that you just didn't think were things other people experienced. And if they did that, they were crazy, but you knew that Stella wasn't crazy, and you knew that you weren't. You just went your whole life thinking and being treated like you were neurotypical when you were very neurodivergent. Creating an abusive environment in a lot of situations because of the lack of communication, not that you didn't want to communicate. It was that sometimes you just didn't get to the point of things and other times you just couldn't speak the words wouldn't come out or form on your lips.

Because you have social anxiety, you do. But you were right it wasn't just social anxiety. Your social anxiety was created by a system that simply does not work for neurodivergent people. You were taught and practically trained to act a certain way, and a lot of times you get caught in the way you are supposed to be acting over being authentic. It's not because you want to suck up to people or that you enjoy being shut down or fake. It's the fact that you are heavily masking because you don't feel safe enough to be yourself. That when you start acting like way you've been triggered, and you need to come back to yourself before you burn out from overthinking.

This book didn't only make you feel less alone but made you feel like you wouldn't end up alone.

A gentle closed-mouthed kiss landed on her clitoris, and her entire body stiffened. That was not what she'd expected.

"Hate it?" he asked.

"I-I..."

You felt your thighs clenched together as you thought of Logan sitting between your legs, his beard rubbing against the sensitive skin. You loved the way his arms hooked around your thighs, pulling your core in closer to his mouth. Your muscles tense as you felt the stirring in your stomach. If he wasn't home in the next five minutes you were calling him.

Another, kiss followed by a slow tasting. He hummed his approval and covered her with his mouth, sucking with slight pressure as his tongue laved her. Soft and warm and delicious. Stella's body went limp as heat bloomed inside her. (The Kiss Quotient, on Apple Books by Helen Hoang).

Your head shot up as Logan opens the apartment door, his eyes widen as you throw off your blanket and walk over to him. He clears his throat before moving his arm behind his back. As you went into kiss Logan, you paused, your hands going to your hips as you lightly glared at him. "What are you hiding?" You grinned, as Logan's eyes flickered over to the couch and down to your pajama pants. You tilted your head as you watched his nose twitched your breath growing unsteady as Logan's eyes went dark.

He stepped closer to you, looking down at you in that way he does. His mossy green eyes always flecked with a twinkle when he looked at you, even when he was angry, or upset with you. Because there was always an underlying feeling of love even in his darkest moments. You were a light in the darkest places, you could hit rock bottom more than once and get back up every time. Logan leans down to drop the groceries in his other hand, as your hands came up to his jaw and his shoulder. He gazes into your eyes with this serious-lovelorn look in them as your fingers move along his face a soft smile coming to your lips. His arm wrapping around you and tugging you in closer before sealing lips over yours.

The hand on his shoulder moves to wrap around his head, as you delve your tongue into his mouth. Logan groans as smells your pussy slicken at the taste of his tongue, his large burly arms moving down to your rear and he pulled you into his crotch. A soft whiny moan fell from your lips, and he ate it up like a treat. Logan separated the two of you as his heart began to race, moving the bag that was hidden behind your back, relaxing his arm to the side. He had a whole thing plan, but you had caught him, he knows you don't like wondering and waiting. You get completely in your head and start overthinking like crazy. Your eyes wondered his face, watching the nervous way his eyes blinked over at you. Ignoring the bag completely, as your hand lightly pets at his beard, your brow dipping.

"What's wrong, Lo?"

"Nothing baby." Logan assured, shaking his head before he started talking again, you interrupted, your hand falling to his shoulder as he kept you close.

Your eyes were full of concern, "Lo, seriously, don't-."

"Baby, just listen to me. I'm alright, just a little nervous." Logan admitted, his eyes flickering back and forth from your eyes.

"Why?" You whispered, softly as he smiled over at you raising the bag before handing it to you. "What-? You really didn't have to...I might not even wear it...I don't like the feeling of jewelry, Lo, you know that. It can be too overstimulating..."

"I think you'll like this one, Y/n." Logan retorted, cutting you off with a soft look in his eyes. He urged you towards the bag and you just nibble at your lip as you looked at it.

Playfully rolling his eyes as you refused to put your hand inside, his own hand pulling the small box out of the bag. His heart thundered against his chest, as he let out a shaky breath before getting down on one knee. Logan glancing up at you to see tears immediately start welling up in your eyes and your hands began to shake. "I was gonna get a different box, take you out, but I really wanna give you this and then see what's stirring you up so much..."

A sexy smile stretched over his face as he gazed up at you as you tried to process what was happening, that Logan was on a knee in front of you with a-god that really is a ring.

Logan started opening the box and your hand came up to cover it up from your view, "Wait, Lo, is it a ring? Are you asking me to...ya know." He burst out laughing at your question, feeling so much joy in his heart as he glanced back you. Logan hadn't felt this happy in a very long time, no. He doesn't think he's ever felt this before. Because you were being explicitly you, checking in with him to make sure this was what he really wanted. That he wasn't people pleasing or putting himself at risk. You didn't have to go into detail for him to know what was floating through your mind.

"Yeah, baby. I'm asking you to...ya know." Logan joked, grinning over at you, as your hand came up to your face as you tried to suppress your wet giggle. Logan's hand coming up to yours so he could see your face while you laughed. "Marry me, Y/n/n." He asked, as he reopened the box, showing you a small dainty golden ring with a single round diamond the size of a ladybug. Your face was frozen in shock, as you nibbled at your lips staring at the gorgeous ring. He knew everything, he knew your dream ring, he knew your dream life. Even though you didn't want to get married, you were always gonna get a ring, always showing him different ones off of Pinterest, he'd paid attention. Your felt your heart sore in your chest, because he really did want to marry you.

"Of course, Logan." You cried, launching forward to hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you squished your lips against his.

Logan's hands coming to your back as he stood up with you in his arms. Moving back to take the ring out of the box, throwing the box to the ground as you shakily reached out your hand for your ring. Logan's own hands were shaking as he slowly slid the ring on your ring finger. Though the sweet atmosphere between the two of you almost forgotten as Logan let out a territorial growl, swiftly picked you up like you weighed nothing. Always surprised by lifting your over X pound body into his arms as he walked over to the couch. Plopping down on the couch, he tugs you on to his lap, when his hands span over your thick thighs before moving up to your hips. You grinned over at him, then your lips met his in hard kiss, as he pulled down your hips to his.

"What was working you up baby?" Logan's deep voice rattled up your spine as started lightly kissing at his jaw.

"My book." You murmured, moving your mouth against his neck, sucking bruises into his skin. Logan liked when you bit hard, so you did, knowing he'd heal verily quickly. He felt his cock strain against his jeans as you sucked right over his pulse point. "Mine." You whined, nibbling his ear, as his hands moved up your back and pushing you breasts against his chest.

"Yeah baby, gonna be yours forever." Logan hummed, the feeling of his chest against yours made you feel so grounded in the moment, made you feel him. Your hands come back to his jaw as you mold your lips to his. Logan's hands came to belt buckle, needing to relieve the pressure on his cock. Practically moaning at the sight of his hardened shaft through his briefs, your hands came down to push his jeans off of him. Your fingers wrapping around his cock through the material of his underwear, his mouth sealing over yours as he started to moan. "Get on your knees."

You shuffled your legs together as you got down on your knees, "Strip." He ordered, as your hands came to your flannel, pushing it off your shoulders before pulling off your sports bra. Your hands peeled off your pajama pants quickly, your body knew the routine well, as you spun around in your lacey panties. "Fuck." Logan groaned, reaching out for your ass, his hands traveling over the black mesh, before pulling on your hips to grind your ass against his cock. Logan's large hand slid over your sex, feeling the heat against his palm, soaking through the cotton. "So fucking wet, who's this for? That book character or me?"

"You-Lo, always for you." You promised, as he started rubbing at your material covered clit making you sigh as you relaxed against his body.

Then Logan pulled his hands to the sides of the lace, pulling them down your body. You swiftly twirl around before getting down on your knees trying to avoid the crack of your knees that always made you cringe. The look on your face made Logan scrunch his nose in laughter, as bit your lip your hands coming to rub at his hairy thick thighs. Your hands coming to his band of his black briefs pulling them while the material that was stretched with the size of his erect cock. You felt a soft moan leave your mouth as you tugged the confines away from his legs. Logan spread his thighs for you, as you moved in closer. The moment his briefs came off your eyes went to his manhood that stood hard against his stomach. Admiring the thick hairy curls around the base, the way his balls looked heavy, and the tip of his cock reminded you of a glistening lollipop as precum came out of the thin slit. Your hand reached out for his hot aching dick, his hands coming to his shirt to peel it off his body as you hummed in agreement.

A whine came out of your mouth as you leaned into his abdomen, kissing the thrumming vein that ran from his Adonis belt to the length of his shaft. Before kissing down to his cock, teasing him before you spat on his tip. Logan moaned, his hips lightly bucking up at the feeling of your saliva on his burning cock. Moving your hand over his tip, to spread the rest of the spit on his shaft before placing him into your mouth. Your ring hand moving over the bottom half of him, his eyes focused on the glimmering ring, to the way drool start welling up on the side of your lips. The feeling of your throat closing around his throbbing length, a moan falling from his mouth as he grabbed at the back of your hair. Your ring clad hand staying around the base off his cock but pulling your mouth off with a soft pop as you looked up at him with crystalized wanting eyes, his erection throbbing. "So, fucking sexy, baby." Logan groaned, looking into your eyes and wiping off the saliva the sides of your mouth, he felt pride in himself. Not just to the fact that he had a hot girl on his knees in front of him. But that you had gotten to a point in your relationship where you felt comfortable enough to be yourself.

Logan reaches towards your book, as you start to crawl on top of his lap, needy for him as you rubbed your soaked folds against his warm cock, his wet tip rubbing at your clit. "Fuck baby, wait." He flipped open the book to the page with your bookmark, his eyes scanning down the page before a smile comes over his face. "Sit on my cock, I'm gonna read to you." Your hand came back down to his aching dick as your eyes scanned his face, that were focused adamantly on the page finding the spot he wanted as you brought him to your core. Getting his tip wet with your arousal before sinking down on to him, a moan ripping from your throat. Your eyes clenched shut as you put your hands on Logan's shoulder before moving your hips up and back down on him.

"Oh god, Lo."

"I said sit." Logan grunted, pulling you right back down on his cock. "Still." His voice warned, as he leant into your ear, feeling his beard scratch against your neck, before moving back to kiss your lips. Sighing as he felt your gummy walls flutter around his as he opened the book to recite it. His rough voice made your skin heat up as he read the smut,

Her body coiling tighter, grasping at his fingers, so wet now she could hear the slippery sound every time he drove back into her.

Your hands moved down Logan's chest, your hands no longer resting on his shoulders. Gripping at his pecs, as your breathing grew heavier. The urge to roll your hips or move up along his length made your head roll back. Logan didn't read in order as he continued along reading different paragraphs from the book. Ones that made your cunt grow wetter around his cock, you knew that he was struggling, his cock pulsing inside of you.

She'd just had the most intense orgasm of her life, but she wanted more. She wanted that. It made her mouth water, and she'd never given a man oral sex.

"Oh god put the book down Logan." Your voice was deeper as you pushed the book out of his hands, your fingers grasping at his jaw before you smash your lips against his. Logan's lip's part his tongue diving into your mouth as his hands fell to your hips. Guiding your wet flower around his sex, pleasure racking up your spine making the tiniest airiest sounds flow from your mouth into his. He took every last sound, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close. Logan's hand coming to push your hair off your shoulder while his other arm moved around your back to guide you along him. The two of you too wrapped up in each other to continue with foreplay or dirty words. Logan's large fingers coming to soothe against your hair as your mouth moved with is like the two of you were in sync.

tags: @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @onlybunss @squishyfruitloop @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1

#hugh jackman #logan howlett #james howlett #wolverine #the wolverine #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x autistic!reader #male x autistic!reader #autistic reader #the kiss quotient #helen hoang #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfic

94 notes · View notes

lxstfathier · 1 year ago

Note

Dom!William Afton with a breeding kink x an inexperienced and shy F!Reader? Maybe even their first time 🫣

You have no idea how much i love breeding kink, so it was a pleasure to write this, hope you like it! 💗

Innocence

William Afton x Reader

Warnings: blood, breeding kink, loss of virginity, wiliam just killed someone and now he wants to fuck lmao.

As soon as you hear the front door open, you drop whatever you were doing and run all the way there, just to greet your boyfriend with a big hug as you always do.

But tonight is different. When you see William with dried blood all over his hands and his purple shirt, you stop dead in your tracks a few meters away, admiring the horrible scene, not sure of what happened to him. Maybe he had an accident? you don’t know, but it makes you feel really worried.

“Will?” you say his name softly, slowly walking up to him. “Why are you covered in blood? what happened?”.

“I’m fine, bunny, don’t worry about it” he shrugs it off, as if it wasn’t a big deal to be a bloody mess.

“Obviously you’re not fine, you have blood everywhere!”.

You try to touch his stained shirt, but he stops right you before you do it, wrapping his right hand around your wrist.

“It’s not mine” he says, with a deep low voice that makes you feel shivers down your spine. “Now why don’t you stop worrying and give me a little kiss, hm?”

When you look up at him, you can clearly see that something is a bit… odd. His eyes are dilated, leaving little space for his blue irises, small droplets of blood are barely visible on his glasses, and he’s breathing heavy. Something unusual. But you find it strangely hot, so you don’t care, you obey and get on your tiptoes to give him a soft kiss on the lips.

However, William is not in the mood for a simple innocent kiss. He just took the life of someone less than an hour ago, he can still feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and there’s nothing he craves more than to ruin your innocence and take all of his stress out on you.

So he corners you against the wall, deepening the kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth as he puts his knee between your legs, pressing it slightly to your clothed heat.

“You’re gonna be mine tonight” William growls between kisses, more as a declaration than a question, gripping your jaw with his bloody hand, intoxicating all your senses with the intense iron smell. “There’s no escape this time”.

And you would be lying if you said that you don’t feel a little bit of fear. You’ve never been with a man before, you don’t know what to do, and he seems to be out of his mind for some reason. But you try your best to stay calm, just letting it happen, unbuttoning his shirt with shaky hands.

William moves his lips from your mouth to your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin while his big hands find its way under your shirt, playing with your soft tits, making you feel butterflies in your lower belly.

“Will” you whimper, not sure of what else to say, but clearly begging for more than just kisses and lingering touches.

“What, bunny?” he asks, pinching your hard nipples. “Want me to fuck you already?”

“Y-Yes. Please.”

When he hears those sweet words come out of your lips, he takes you to the couch, not even bothering in going to the bedroom. So desperate to finally break you and ruin you for any other man, stripping you naked as fast as he can, admiring your beautiful body for a second before pushing you to the comfy sofa.

But you feel exposed, and really nervous, so you close your legs as you lay on your back, too shy to fully reveal yourself to him.

“C’mon, don’t hide now. Let me see that pretty pussy” William says, prying your legs open with his hands, watching with a hungry gaze at you perfectly untouched cunt, all ready for him.

He runs a thumb over your slick folds, and then rubs your clit in fast circular motions, causing you to squirm and whine at the sudden pleasure.

“So fucking wet already” he grunts. “You want this as much as i do, don’t you, bunny?.”

“Mhm” is all you manage to say, too lost in the way he’s touching you so deliciously.

But, when you feel your orgasm start to build up, William stops his movements, taking his hand up to lick his thumb, enjoying the sweet taste of your juices mixed with the innocent blood.

You should feel grossed out, but there’s something in the sickness of it that makes you feel even more aroused, biting your lower lip in anticipation as you see him take off his shirt and unbuckle his belt.

Finally, his cock springs free, and your heart beats faster when you see the size of it. It’s big, way more than you thought, how are you supposed to take that if you can barely take one of your fingers?.

“I- It’s not gonna fit” you say, shaking your head as he lines the pink tip of his cock to your tiny hole.

“I’ll make it fit.”

Without a warning, William starts sliding inside your wet cunt, and you can’t help but whine at the painful stretch, digging your nails into his arms, toughing it out like a good girl.

“So fucking tight” William growls once he’s fully sheathed in your walls, looking down at the bulge he’s creating in your tummy. “You’re taking me so well, fuck-“

He gives you few seconds to adjust to his cock, and then starts thrusting at a slow pace, so deep that you can almost feel him in your guts, making you roll your eyes back in pleasure.

But William can’t hold back anymore, he speeds his movements, soon fucking you at a brutal pace, pounding your tight pussy as if there was no tomorrow, while you just moan and squirm under him.

“You feel so good, bunny” he grunts, hitting that soft spot inside you that has you seeing stars. “This pussy was made for me, fuck-“

You scratch his back, so lost in the delicious sensation of his cock dragging against your walls, feeling the knot in your stomach grow tighter.

“Cum in me, Will, please” you whine, wanting nothing more than to feel his load inside you.

“Yeah? you want me to fill you up?” He groans, reaching down to play with your clit again. “You want me to breed this little pussy? Get you pregnant just for everyone to see that i ruined your innocence?”

His words, mixed with the fast movements on you bundle of nerves is enough to drive you over te edge, clenching hard around him as you writhe in pure bliss, letting the orgasm flow through every part of your body.

William follows right after you, grunting as he thrusts hard a few times, finally spilling all of his hot cum into your fertile womb, almost crushing you under his weight as he comes down from his high.

After you’re both done, he doesn’t pull out, he stays inside you for a while as you catch your breath, just sharing a tender moment, with your sweaty bodies still intertwined.

“Can’t wait to see you all round with my child” he says, looking down at you with his pretty blue eyes, giving you a soft kiss on the lips as you play with his beard. “You’re gonna be the best mom ever, i know it…”

#william afton smut #william afton x reader #william afton fanfic #fnaf fanfic

819 notes · View notes

chelseachilly · 8 months ago

Text

tired of loving from afar

pairing: mason mount x reader warnings: none, mostly fluff with a tiny bit of angst! word count: 5.3k

a/n: not me writing for someone other than ben lmao?? been really in my mase feels lately so here's a fluffy little long distance relationship fic (also was very happy to read this morning that he's likely going to be back after the international break! my heart has been hurting for him this season 🥺) have a great weekend loves 💓

Of the three years you’ve been with Mason, the past six months have been the hardest by far.

You’d overcome other hurdles in your relationship, like adjusting to the exposure and demanding schedule of a professional footballer, learning to cope with your life being somewhat public and thousands of girls being in love with your boyfriend. None of this was nearly as challenging as having to adjust to him living 200 miles away from you.

His move to Manchester was bittersweet - you were so proud of him for getting a spot at such a massive club and finally receiving the appreciation and recognition he deserves. You knew he was happy to have a fresh start and a chance to prove himself as a player.

At the same time, it was incredibly emotional for him to leave his boyhood club, his friends, his family, and you all at the same time. You would’ve given anything to go with him, even if it meant leaving your own friends and family in London, but you were about to start your final year of uni there. You couldn’t just pack up and go, no matter how much you wanted to do so.

You’re passionate about your studies, and you knew it would all be worth it when you graduate and get a job in your chosen field - and in the same city as the man you love. You knew it was only a year.

That didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye.

You’ve both made a massive effort to see each other as much as humanly possible, going up to Manchester every time you have a break from classes or a weekend without an exam or assignment due. Mason has also come back to London any time he gets the chance, sometimes flying out just to see you for the day. You’ve been making it work, but it’s not nearly the same as living in the same house as him. Even when you were both super busy, you at least got to see each other when you woke up and before bed, and now all you have are texts and FaceTime calls.

On a night like tonight, when you’re exhausted from the week and you just want to be wrapped in his arms watching a film, FaceTime really feels like a poor replacement for the real thing.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Mason says, a sleepy smile on his face as he answers your call. “How was your day?”

“Hey, Mase,” you say, curling up with a blanket and admiring his face in the soft glow of his bedroom lamp. Judging by the fact that he’s in bed by quarter to nine, you figure he’s as worn out as you are. “It was okay, felt long. I finally turned in my essay, though.”

“Good work, babe, I’m sure you aced it like always.”

You blush a little, never growing tired of how he takes every opportunity to praise your intelligence. Any time someone asks about your studies, he does a full spiel about how smart you are.

“We’ll see,” you say. “How was your day, love? Any updates at physio?”

The way his smile instantly fades makes your heart drop to your stomach, fearing the worst.

“Yeah, um-it’s looking like a bit longer,” Mason says, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice steady so you don’t worry too much. “Maybe another few weeks. They’re not sure.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you sigh. “I’m sorry. I know how frustrating this is.”

The hardest part about being away from Mason has unquestionably been watching him struggle from afar without being able to properly support him. From the rocky start to the season, to being out due to injuries basically ever since, it’s been torture not being there for him.

You went up straight away when he first injured his calf in November, needing to both emotionally and physically care for him, but you couldn’t stay long before your exams started. Since then, you’ve done your best to help from London - sending him care packages, calling him as much as your schedule allows, asking Luke and Anouska to keep an eye on him and let you know how he’s holding up.

In moments like these, though, what you really need is to hug him and tell him everything is going to be alright.

“Yeah, it’s a bit tough,” Mason admits, fiddling with his hoodie string. “But at least I’m back in partial training, it could be worse. I could’ve done my ACL or something, you know? I’ve been pretty lucky in my career so far.”

One of the many things you love about him is his infectious optimism, how he always sees the best in situations and in people.

Right now, though, you’re not sure you fully believe the words leaving his mouth. He looks so disheartened and downtrodden.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, frowning. “I know it’s not the news you’re expecting, you’re allowed to be disappointed.”

“I’ll be fine, angel, don’t worry about me,” Mason reassures you. “Just missing you a little extra today.”

“Me too,” you murmur, touching the screen and wishing it were his face. “I’m sorry I can’t make it up this weekend, but this group assignment-“

“Don’t apologize, baby, I know how busy you are this term,” Mason cuts you off, just as he always does when you try to apologize for being so far away.

You do the same to him when he tries to say he’s sorry for uprooting your life together, for not being there when you’re stressed about school or just having a bad day. Truthfully, neither of you are at fault, it’s just life. But it still sucks sometimes.

“We’ll see each other in a few weeks when I have my reading break,” you remind him. “Just a while longer.”

“I know, I’m counting down the minutes,” Mason smiles.

You talk for a little while longer before you reluctantly have to go so you can get ready for bed, and you promise to call him again tomorrow night.

The sad look on his face when you say goodnight lingers in your mind as you shower and do your skincare routine, and by the time you climb into bed, you’ve made a decision.

First, you message your group for the assignment you’re working on and ask if you can push your planned meeting to Monday rather than Saturday. Next, you text Luke and ask him to make sure Mason doesn’t have plans tomorrow night.

Lastly, you book a train to Manchester, because you’ll be damned if you don’t go cheer up your man when he needs you.

The moment you arrive at the train station in Manchester the next day, you hop in an Uber and make your way straight to Mason’s.

You know that he’s still at training and will be for at least another hour or so, as you’ve been texting Luke for updates so Mason doesn’t get suspicious. It’s not unusual for you to ask how his day is going, but you don’t typically ask for the exact time he plans on leaving Carrington or instruct him to go straight home after training.

Using the key that Mason gave you when he moved in, insisting that it was still your home even if you don’t live there the majority of the time, you let yourself into his house.

You drop your bags and immediately get to work on creating the perfect cozy, romantic Friday night in.

By the time you get the text from Luke that he’s on his way back with Mason, having devised a fake plan of coming over to play FIFA after training to ensure Mason didn’t make other plans, you’re just finishing up.

You’ve successfully transformed his house, which he bought furnished and has put very little effort into making homey, into a much more welcoming environment.

You ordered flowers for the kitchen table, as well as enough groceries to make dinner for him tonight and to replenish his far too empty fridge. You did a bit of tidying, deciding to do a few loads of laundry for him when you noticed there was quite a pile forming, and it must have been a week or so since the cleaning service he pays for came.

You put some soft music on his speakers and lit a few candles in the kitchen as well, popping a bottle of white wine into the fridge so it’s ready for your dinner.

You’ve just started chopping a few veggies to get a head start on dinner when you hear the sound of the front door opening followed by distant voices, one of which you immediately recognize as Mason.

“Do you hear that music?”

The sound of your boyfriend’s voice after weeks apart fills your stomach with butterflies - you’re just as giddy to see him as you were in your early days of dating.

“Probably the neighbours, mate,” Luke responds, still playing along with your ruse.

“I don’t think-“

Finally, the guys turn the corner into the kitchen, and you see Mason come into view with Luke trailing behind him. His eyes widen in surprise for a moment, slightly startled by there being someone in his house, and then he realizes it’s you and his mouth falls open in shock.

“Surprise,” you say shyly, while Mason is still at a loss for words.

He immediately drops his training bag to the floor and makes a beeline for you, pulling you into a tight hug and lifting you off your feet before you can even hug him back properly.

You relax into his arms right away, squeezing him just as tightly as he’s squeezing you and breathing in the familiar scent of his soap and aftershave, freshly showered after training. It’s the same scent that lingers on the t-shirts and hoodies that you steal from him every time you come up, wearing them until you regrettably have to put them through the wash.

“Baby,” Mason mumbles into your neck, pressing little kisses there. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I’m here,” you confirm, wrapping your legs around his waist as he refuses to set you down or let you go. “I missed you way too much to wait another three weeks.”

He pulls back far enough to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, his hands sliding down to your thighs to support your weight as you kiss him back. You can feel the pieces of your world shifting back into place, your heart settling in your chest as you sink into his warmth.

Mason presses a few more quick pecks to your lips before reluctantly setting you down, arms still wrapped around you. It’s only then that you realize Luke is still here, shuffling awkwardly in the corner.

“Thanks for your help, Luke,” you say with a shy smile, moving to Mason’s side.

“Of course, the man never shuts up about how much he misses you, so it’s really a favour for me as well,” Luke jokes. “I’ll leave you guys. Enjoy your evening.”

“Thanks, mate,” Mason says with an eye roll and a grin before turning his attention back to you, pressing kisses to your head.

“Night, Luke! Give my love to Anouska and the kids,” you call out, though you’ve also turned back to face Mason and bury your face in his chest.

You remain in each other’s arms, just holding one another and breathing in and out for a minute or two.

You knew you missed him, but you don’t think you realized quite how much until right now. It’s taken such a toll on both of you being apart for so long.

“How long are you staying?” Mason asks quietly, almost like he’s afraid of the answer, as he lightly rubs your lower back.

“Until Monday morning,” you say. You wish it were longer, but three nights together is the best you’ve gotten in a long time.

“Really?” Mason asks, pulling back and looking at you with bright eyes. “I thought you had to do your group assignment tomorrow?”

“I pushed it to Monday, I had to come see you after we spoke last night.”

You reach up to cup Mason’s face with one hand, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. Judging by the way he’s avoiding eye contact with you, you know you were right to come. He’s obviously been struggling with the disappointment of the never-ending injuries, all the uncertainty it’s brought.

“I’m okay,” he says softly, turning his face to press a kiss to your palm. “Now that you’re here, everything’s okay.”

You melt at his gentle words, but they don’t do much to ease your worries about his emotional wellbeing.

Mason gives you a quick peck on the forehead before looking around the room, noticing the food you’re preparing and the cozy, romantic vibe you created for your evening.

“What’s all this?” he asks, a small smile on his face.

You’re not keen to drop the subject, but you don’t want to ruin your rare weekend together by bombarding him with questions either. You know he’ll talk about it when he’s ready.

“I just ordered some food for dinner and restocked your fridge a bit,” you explain. “I figured you would be happy to stay in tonight, so I got stuff to make your favourite pasta.”

Before he can respond, the dryer beeps, signalling that the load is done. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you doing laundry?”

“I just threw a couple loads of your clothes in, I noticed you were running behind,” you shrug.

Mason looks at you with complete awe, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he says softly. “You being here is enough. It’s more than enough.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck once more.

“I know, but I wanted tonight to be perfect and relaxing,” you explain, pecking his lips. “No stressing about football or school or anything else. Just you and me.”

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” Mason sighs, squeezing your waist. “Can I help you cook?”

“No, but you can pour us both a glass of wine from the bottle in the fridge and sit down and tell me about your day,” you smile, kissing him one more time before pulling away to return to your meal preparations.

Mason does as told, sneaking another few kisses when he brings you over your glass, then sitting at one of the stools at the kitchen island.

You treasure this domesticity more than almost anything with him - the simple act of chatting about your days while making dinner is something you’ve missed terribly.

When the pasta is ready, you dish it out into two bowls and bring them over to the table.

“God, I missed your cooking,” Mason grins as he dives into his portion, obviously starving after a day of training. “It’s delicious, babe.”

“Thanks, Mase,” you reply, pouring yourself a little bit more wine. “You want some more?”

“Might as well, it’s not like I’m playing tomorrow,” Mason says, the offhand comment hurting your heart much more than he intended.

He’s still smiling at you as you pour his drink, but you don’t believe for a second that it’s real.

“Do you want to go tomorrow?” you ask after a minute of silence while you both eat. “I know you usually go to the home games, right?”

Mason shrugs. “Yeah, we can if you want.”

Once again, you don’t press him further, listening as he changes the subject and starts updating you on Ben’s latest girl troubles.

After you’ve finished and cleaned up, you head into the living room to catch up on the new episodes of Drive to Survive. You always save your favourite shows for when you’re together, sometimes dodging spoilers for weeks just so you can enjoy it properly with Mason.

The moment you sit down on the couch, Mason pulls you into his arms for the first real cuddle you’ve had in weeks. You very contently lean into him, resting your head on his chest and humming in delight as Mason slides his hand under your hoodie and begins to gently stroke your lower back. It’s not with the intention of anything sexual, though you’re sure that will come later, it’s just an innate need to be as close to you as possible.

It’s the most relaxed you’ve felt since he left your flat in London three weeks ago, your body and mind decompressing with every moment spent in his arms.

A few hours pass, and you can feel yourself growing tired, but you’re enjoying Mason’s commentary on the Alpine rivalry far too much to interrupt and suggest you go to bed. Your yawns are betraying you, though, and Mason begins to gently run his hand through your hair.

“You ready for bed, sweetheart?” he asks softly, kissing your forehead.

“It’s so early,” you murmur as you glance at the time on your phone, barely past 9PM, yet you can’t contain another small yawn which makes Mason chuckle. “Sorry, I guess I’m tired out from the week.”

“No worries, we have the whole weekend,” Mason smiles. “Honestly, I’m a bit worn out too. Wanna go upstairs and I’ll get us some water?”

You nod as he stands and helps you to your feet, pressing one more gentle kiss to your forehead before heading into the kitchen. You make your way up the stairs to his bedroom and head into his ensuite bathroom.

It occurs to you as you’re flicking the light on that you forgot to grab your toiletry bag from your suitcase in his room, and you’re just about to turn back for it when something catches your eye. On one of the shelves above the toilet, there’s an array of products that wasn’t here last time you visited. More specifically, there’s a version of just about every hair and skincare product you use on a regular basis, and you really doubt that Mason has taken up doing hair treatments or using Drunk Elephant serums.

Maybe it shouldn’t mean as much to you as it does - he’s always been thoughtful, and you know the expense of buying all this is nothing to him - but for some reason, the simple gesture nearly brings you to tears.

Mason appears in the doorway a moment later, smiling softly at you.

“You okay, love?”

“When did you buy all this stuff?” you ask, gesturing to the shelf.

“Oh, uh, a couple days after the last time I came to London,” Mason says casually. “I took pictures of everything in your bathroom to make sure I got the right stuff, I just wanted to make it easier for you when you visit.”

As you look into his soft, sincere gaze, your love for him feels more overwhelming than ever.

Which means your guilt does, too.

“Mase, I’m so sorry I haven’t been up to visit more lately,” you say, your voice unsteady. “I know you’ve been struggling, and I know you’ve been keeping a lot of it from me because I’m busy with uni, but you’re my priority and I should’ve-“

“Hey,” Mason says gently, interrupting you with a hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “Don’t ever apologize for focusing on your studies. I know how hard you’ve been working, and I’m so proud of you. You don’t need to worry about me, I’m gonna be fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you shake your head, tears now streaming down your face. “You’ve always been there for me, and now you’re in a new city and a new club and you’ve been dealing with injuries and I’m all the way across the country.”

“Y/N, we knew this would be hard, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t,” Mason says, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “But it’s not your fault I moved clubs while you still had a degree to finish, or that I’ve had a tough season. Some things are out of our control.”

You know he’s right, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Hearing his sad, defeated voice on the phone after a disappointing medical assessment or bad game and not being able to hold him has been one of the hardest things you’ve ever done.

“I just worry about you being here all alone,” you say quietly. “I know you have your teammates and you spend a lot of time with Luke, but in London you had me and all your friends and your family was closer and - I just hate that I’m not with you.”

“You’re here right now,” Mason says, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment. “You dropped everything to come see me today, babe. You have no idea how much that meant.”

“I would do it every weekend if I could.”

“I know,” he says with a sad smile. “And I would leave all of this and spend my time helping you study and supporting you if I could, but this is our reality for a little while longer, angel.”

You sigh, nodding in agreement and staring into his big brown eyes that bring you so much comfort.

“I’ve just missed you so much,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tight hug.

His own arms circle your waist and tug you impossibly closer, his nose buried in your hair so he can breathe you in.

“I know, baby, I’ve missed you too,” he exhales. “So, so much.”

You hold him for a while longer, cherishing every brush of his hand against your back and every kiss he presses to your temple. You want to memorize the feeling of his touch, so when you’re back in your bed in London a few days from now you can close your eyes and try to imagine you’re still in his arms.

After a few minutes, you break apart to finish preparing for bed. You brush your teeth together then go through your skincare routine while Mason watches fondly, letting you put some moisturizer on him when you’re done with it. Then he strips down to just his boxers, teasing you lovingly when you obviously check him out, and passes you a comfy t-shirt from his drawer to change into. You make a mental note to fill up your suitcase with a few of his hoodies before you leave - the ones you have at home no longer smell like him.

You climb into the bed together, noticing that the side you usually sleep on has all of its pillows in place and that the nightstand is almost empty except for the glass of water he set down for you. Like he’s still been leaving that space for you even when you’re not there to fill it.

“C’mere,” Mason says immediately, tugging you into his chest.

You relax against him, laying your head over his heartbeat and tracing his tattoos with your finger.

“Will you tell me how you’ve really been feeling lately?” you ask in a gentle voice. He immediately tenses, and you know he still doesn’t want to discuss it, but you’re not leaving Manchester without talking to him about this. “I saw the look on your face when I asked about the game tomorrow, babe. Please just talk to me.”

“I don’t want to burden you with all this,” Mason says, refusing to meet your gaze. “I know how busy you are-“

“I told you, you’re my priority, Mase,” you insist. “And it’s actually more concerning when I don’t know what’s going on with you. If you talk to me, then maybe I can help.”

Mason sighs and moves into a more upright position, still holding your hand and playing with your fingers as a way of grounding himself as he gathers his thoughts.

“I just never thought it would be like this, you know?” he mutters. “I thought that coming here would solve everything I was going through at Chelsea, but in a lot of ways it’s been even harder.”

You nod for him to continue, gently squeezing his hand.

“I thought when all the contract stuff was resolved and I was at a new club everything would be fine, but then it’s just been constant injuries and trying to adjust to a whole new life without actually being able to do the thing I love most,” he goes on, making your heart splinter even more. “Fifty-five million pounds and I don’t have a single goal to show for it.”

“You can’t help that you’ve been injured, baby,” you say softly, though you know he already knows that. “If you were in top form, you’d be scoring goals all over the place. I know it.”

He smiles slightly, always grateful for your neverending confidence in him. You’ve been his biggest fan from the moment you met, cheering him on through every high and low of his career.

“Maybe, but I haven’t had the chance to try,” he mutters. “I’m just stuck here, being useless to the club and hours away from you. I basically upended our lives just to end up not playing for months.”

“Mase, if I’m not allowed to feel guilty for us being apart, neither are you,” you say firmly. “Coming to United was the right decision. It may not feel like it now, but I promise it will in the long run. And if not, we’ll find a new place for you to show everyone how amazing of a footballer you are. Even if it’s in a different city or another country, we’ll figure it out.”

“Babe, I feel bad enough that you’re moving away from London to be here next year, I’m not gonna ask you to move again,” Mason says, still fiddling with your fingers. “I have to make it work here.”

“And I’m sure you will as soon as you’re better,” you tell him, bringing your joined hands to your lips. “But if it ends up not being a good fit, I will happily follow you anywhere you want to go.”

“Even the States?” Mason jokes, making you roll your eyes and poke him the ribs. “It would be cool to play with Messi.”

“You are not going to the MLS any time soon,” you reprimand him. “But yes, I would go to Florida for you, babe. That is how much I love you.”

Mason laughs, moving your joined hands so it’s his turn to lay kisses on your knuckles.

“Wouldn’t be so bad. The weather’s good, and we could hang out with the Beckhams,” he says, smiling against your skin. “We could take our kids to the beach-“

“Oh, our kids, huh?” you remark, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, by the time I’m actually ready to play in the MLS…”

“Alright, we’ll move to Florida with our hypothetical children in ten years,” you say decisively. “Then you can retire and stay home with them while I work.”

“I could take them to Disney World every day,” Mason sighs happily. “Oh, and the Harry Potter thing! Our kids would love that.”

As much as you’re both joking, the thought of a time in the future when you’re settled with a family and not having to deal with all the separation and uncertainty makes your heart feel warm and fuzzy. You can’t wait to have a family with him someday.

“In all seriousness, babe, you’ve already accomplished so much in your career and I know you’re going to do so many more amazing things,” you tell him, reaching out to cup his cheek. “And even more importantly, you are such an incredible person off the pitch.“

Mason blushes, leaning into your palm and holding it to his face so you don’t withdraw your touch. You know he struggles to take compliments sometimes, but you also know that this is something he needs to hear.

“Which is why I refuse to listen to you call yourself useless when you do so much for your family, the community, for me - you make everything better, Mase,” you say softly. “That’s why are so loved. It’s why I fell in love with you, not because of your job.”

He takes a moment to soak up what you’re saying, still holding your hand to his face and pressing a few kisses to your palm.

“You mean you’re not in it for the money?” he says after a minute, eliciting an eye roll from you.

“It’s mostly for the money, but the abs don’t hurt either,” you tease, poking his stomach and making him laugh out loud for the first time in as long as you can remember.

Mason pulls you into his arms again, leaning back and tucking you into his chest so your nose is pressed to his neck. You give him another tight squeeze, unable to get enough of his cuddles.

“Thank you so much, baby,” he mumbles into your hair as he slowly rubs his hand over your back. “For coming and for making me talk about this stuff. You always know exactly what I need.”

“Of course, my love,” you murmur. “Just promise me you’ll keep talking to me, okay? I don’t care how busy I am, I want to know what’s going on with you.”

“I promise,” Mason swears, squeezing your hand that rests over his heart. “And the same goes for you. I know how stressful this term has been, but I’m always here even if I can’t physically be there to help.”

“I know you are,” you smile. “And I know you’re the reason Ben or Woody brought me dinner or care packages before every midterm. They wouldn’t admit it, but I suspected they were under orders to check in on me.”

Mason chuckles. “Yeah, well, gotta send in the subs when I can’t do it myself.”

You hug him even tighter, throwing a leg over his and letting him shift you back into a more comfortable position for sleep. You’re yawning again, the exhaustion finally catching up to you now that the worry gnawing at your mind over Mason has been relieved.

“So, for tomorrow,” you say, your voice lower now that you’re both getting sleepy. “I think we should go to the game with Luke and Anouska, she already texted me and asked us to come over for dinner afterward. That way you and Luke can show your faces at Old Trafford and we can spend some time with them and the kids. Then, you and I can come back home and have a bit of a romantic night in.”

Mason doesn’t respond right away, and you give him a moment before you look up at him to see if something’s wrong. But when you do, you see only an adoring gaze and gentle smile on his face.

“Is that plan good with you?” you ask, “we don’t have to do any of it, I just thought-“

“No, no, it sounds perfect,” Mason cuts you off. “You’re perfect. I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

Your heart melts even more for him, if that’s possible, and you can’t resist leaning in to press another lingering kiss to his lips.

“I love you too,” you say, pressing a few more kisses to his cheeks and nose for good measure. “Now, let’s get a good night’s sleep so I can show you how much I love you in the morning, yeah?”

Mason nods with childlike enthusiasm, making you giggle again as you lay your head back on his chest.

You can’t wait for the time to come that all of your nights end like this, curled up next to the love of your life, but for now, you’re grateful for this one.

No matter how many miles are between you, your heart is always gonna be wherever Mason is. He’s your home, whether you’re on opposite ends of the globe or in the same bed.

You sleep better than you have in months.

please leave me a comment if you enjoyed this or send me an ask just to chat, love hearing from all of you xx

#mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #mason mount imagine #mason mount #manchester united imagine #my fics

352 notes · View notes

igetnosleep · 4 months ago

Text

The Night We Met

Second attempt at angst might try again with the next one. I'm glad you all liked "Finally home" I guess you people were rabid for something soft..makes me feel like I hold power here lmao. Also this is connected to "Finally Home" and "Comfort" since those kind of inspired me to write this...Strangers to Lovers cause I like that shit.

So canon typical violence (it's RE so not surprising) and happy reading!

You didn’t like Leon.

Maybe it was the situation or the fact that you couldn’t bear to separate yourself from him after you managed to escape Raccoon City but you didn’t want to stay away from him.

You’d so happen to meet the stupid blonde when you nearly bludgeoned him with a rusty pipe in the darkened halls of the police station. Too many fucking rooms too many of the undead trying to crawl through the windows, not enough sleep in your system to get through the night that seemed never ending.

All of this happening in the span of a day or two.

You’d seen your friend die in front of you by one of those..things. Now here you were with a man you’d just met who was supposed to be a cop.

“Come on, aren't you a cop?!” You hissed hearing the groans and shuffling through the halls as he held your hand like he was trying to guide you. You’d be kicking and screaming if it didn’t mean certain death. Leon only shrugged, looking to the side almost nervously under your scrutinizing gaze, “It’s my first day.”

You blinked, staring at him, “The fuck did you just say?” you whispered a bit too quietly, too calmly for his liking. Leon didn’t need to turn around to see your face; he could feel your piercing gaze against his temple, almost debating if you should take him out with you.

“I said-”

“I know what you just said.”

“Then why did you-”

“Leon, I'm going to hit you if you don’t shut up.”

He promptly kept his mouth shut until you deemed it okay.

Leon didn’t have survival instincts like you’d expect him to. Always eager to help, always sticking to the rules, you’d even tried to reason with him but he wasn’t swayed, if it weren’t for the fact that you were in the middle of the apocalypse, you’d admire him, but you’d almost hit him before you jumped at the sight of the man on the other side of the jail cell turn into a bloody pulp by the..whatever it was as it walked away.

You never considered yourself kind, some of the things you did while finding a place to hide out would be considered heartless. You accepted that you’d never get into heaven, your tongue having spewed more blasphemy in your life time that you were sure that Saint Peter would smile kindly before pushing you down into the lake of fire before disinfecting his hands and going back to his post.

Leon believed in an afterlife. He liked to believe that his parents were somewhere better, somewhere kinder than the life that they were given. Something more peaceful than the death they had lived.

“You speak from experience?” You asked him, earning an expression you could only read as shame from him, you could picture the dog ears pressed against his head. The way he looked like he wanted to cry maybe it was him missing home, you didn’t blame him, you wanted to go home too. You sighed not imagining that this was how you’d spend the apocalypse squeezing the hand of a rookie cop in an attempt to tell him that it would be okay?

The halls of the police station and the foreboding dread in your gut, Leon was a good distraction from the constant stream of fear. You’d squeezed his hand and tried to imagine something better than whatever was trying to kill you at the moment.

You didn’t like Leon, you found him cute, like a puppy it was hard not to look at him and forgive him right away. His face was soft, eyes wide and hopeful. All he had to do was look at you a certain way and you wanted to pet him. You obviously wouldn’t because hello you just met the guy. He felt soft too, healthy and still had his baby fat.

He reminded you of a golden retriever, maybe even a labrador. Dogs were nice to think about. Now imagining him with dog ears made you smile a bit. A small bit of peace one he gave you while he was flattered by the attention you gave him he never admitted it though. With cheeks tinted red “That would be embarrassing.” the rookie cop thought to himself.

Leon liked you. Maybe more than he could admit at the moment. Maybe because he latched onto you faster than a baby chick would to the first thing it saw. He liked the way you latched onto him recalling the way Marvin side-eyed him reminding him to keep his head on a swivel. “Just because you found someone doesn’t mean you can have your head in the clouds, understand?” a quick “Yes, sir.” from him and he pulled you along with him.

Was that the selfish thing to do?

Drag a civilian along with him?

You were pretty, yes, he would never deny it, the way you did things the hard way because it was the only thing you could think of at the moment. But it did make him smile when he bothered you about it.

You looked cute when you pouted, cheeks tinted red in embarrassment. “Shut up. It was the only thing I could think of.” you whined as he laughed.

Why’d he have to look like a ray of sunshine? Why’d he have to make you feel..happy?

You didn’t like Leon.

You didn’t.

You don’t.

“What did you do before this?” he asked curiously while you were stuck in one of the rooms waiting for the undead to pass by, his voice cutting you out of your thoughts. You looked up from the ground humming in thought.

“Tax fraud.”

“Seriously?”

“No, you big goof. I was a barista, worked in a coffee shop, over…somewhere.”

He noted the way your hand waved dismissively down the street from the police station right he noticed it from the fence. He fumbled around with his gun for a moment pretending to check the magazine while he pondered, maybe if he’d been here just a week early.

Maybe he would have met you, how would you look when you smiled or laughed at a joke.

He pushed the magazine back into place, shaking himself out of his thoughts. A weight settling on his shoulder had him tense, turning and looking over at you seeing you lean on his shoulder. Leon relaxed a small smile playing on his lips as he admired you.

You leaned on him, your body relaxing just a moment as he offered his shoulder, he was thoughtful, you liked that about him. His hand came up to your back and gently rubbed circles between your shoulders. “You’re doing great.” he hummed, leaning his forehead against yours, you could only glare weakly as he was using those stupid puppy eyes on you. You poked the soft pudge hiding under the bulletproof vest. “Shut up.”

A small bit of silence left you two relaxed momentarily forgetting about the shuffling and the random thumps and bumps against the door.

Ada was someone you didn’t trust, she spoke to the point but in circles, never willing to give you a straight answer. In all honesty, if it were any other day if it didn’t feel like the world was ending, you’d be fawning over her like some sort of moron.

For fucks sake she was wearing heels during a zombie outbreak you internally felt yourself putting her on a pedestal practically forgetting about survival and choosing to trust this woman who looked like she was coming out of a fashion catalog.

Noticing your staring Ada, snapped her fingers at you and you stood in attention feeling your face burn in embarrassment. Great, now you look stupid in front of the pretty lady.

Leon didn’t hide his admiration for her, you couldn’t blame him, she had an air of confidence, independence, a person who you wanted to be with but couldn’t attain.

She was mildly amused by your poor attempts at flirting “You’d have better luck telling Leon those jokes of yours.” She hummed as you helped bandage her leg. You only looked confused “What do you mean?” “Come on, you're practically clinging to him giving him those eyes,” She gestured vaguely to your face, you’d still stared at her confused, she rolled her eyes staring at you in disbelief “You’re telling me you don’t like him?” You snort hearing it echo through the sewer “No.” she didn’t seem amused with you.

The train leading away from the city was melancholic and frankly bittersweet, you made it. Somehow you survived just when you were about to leave a note or something for someone to find on your corpse. Leon looked somewhat satisfied relaxing as he just leaned on your shoulder as the train went on towards an unknown location.

His hand gripped yours, fingers interlacing, a nap sounded perfect at the moment. His body was screaming for rest and you felt like a small piece of heaven. Your thumb swiped over his knuckles. “Go on. I’ll wake you up when we stop, okay?” He couldn’t say no to that.

The woman, Claire, stared at you from the corner of her eye. A clear need of an explanation was visibly wanting to pry you for an explanation.

“We met in the police station.” She deflated sitting down on the ground next to…Sherry? Her name was? Yeah she introduced herself to you almost enthusiastically in her tired state, fell asleep like a rock to the insistence of you and Claire. “Sorry we arrived in the city together and we got separated. I thought something happened to him.” She admitted their relationship, acquaintances, “Something almost happened, I almost hit him with a pipe.” Claire felt bad that she laughed at that.

The train stopped a few hours later and once you all reached civilization it was time to go your separate ways. Claire was looking for someone and whatever happened down in Umbrella she looked determined to investigate it.

You understood why but after everything, you just wanted to suppress the memories and go on with your life and you agreed to take in Sherry. Claire looked like she felt bad but you waved her off, “I’ve got like five cousins her age. She’ll be fine.” you assured the redhead as she hugged you, she didn’t look like she was the maternal type anyway, she was younger from what you gathered about her talking about her brother.

She should be able to find him without worrying about the safety of someone else.

A brief glance around your shoulder saw Leon looking exhausted, the mental fortitude he had to not break down crying was worrisome. You couldn’t blame him. You felt the same, what do you do in that situation now that you had to look after someone, you couldn’t cry or scream. No, Sherry wouldn’t react well to a breakdown.

You offered your hand to the little girl and she hesitantly accepted as Leon led the way with a hand on your back as you managed to find a military base ahead.

Looking back, a part of him wished he had been more vigilant, maybe he could have protected you and Sherry. Instead you were both dragged off somewhere with blindfolds over your eyes. He fought against the men screaming at them to bring both of you back only to get a whack to the back of his head and he was out like a light.

Leon woke up after the men had separated from both of you. Heart pounding his breathing erratic as a man in front of him commended him for making it out of Raccoon City alive. “Rookie with a hell of a first day.” wearing a crooked smile that made his stomach turn.

Where were you? Were you okay? Did they hurt you?

They made him an offer. An ultimatum. They didn’t really give him much of a choice.

You had been sitting alone clutching Sherry close afraid of the men surrounding you, hands close to their weapons and their eyes wandering staring trying to get a read on you. Your leg bounced the heel of your shoe clicking against the ground, you were sweating bullets, heart beating rapidly.

You tried to calm down. Nothing was working.

When you saw Leon again after what felt like hours you practically ran up and hugged him, his arms wrapping around you squeezing you so close you almost missed the way he was shaking. His face buried in your neck fingers curling around your shirt wrinkling the already ruined fabric. He only pulled away to kiss your shoulder whispering apologies into your skin. “I’m sorry.”

It was like you blinked and he was gone, gone to whatever new hell they’d introduce him to. The government relocated you and Sherry, not together I’m afraid.

You tried to live life like normal but nothing got rid of the nightmares. Dates ran away from your screaming like roaches to sudden exposure to light. New forms of comfort taken from scalding hot showers and wrapping yourself in blankets galore. You nabbed a pitbull from some dumpster. It didn’t seem to matter.

A part of you wanted Leon back. Someone who understood you, someone who'd give you a shoulder to cry on at the moment. You were ashamed to admit that you needed him so bad. It was only one night. One fucking night he didn’t sleep with you. Not like that anyway. Why did you feel so strongly for that dumb blond?

You didn’t like Leon.

You didn’t.

Six years later you saw Leon again.

Standing at your door looking different from the rookie cop you met that night.

A frozen look of shock on your face as you stared at him.

Your mouth felt dry, your blood went cold.

Oh fuck.

You liked Leon.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy

106 notes · View notes

localemofreak · 8 months ago

Text

There’s Just No Time To Die.

(AQP Eric x fem!reader)

Based on this song:

No Time To Die - Billie Eilish

—————————————

(Just a little heads up- I made this fic before the trailer or anything about AQP Day One came out- literally I found out Joe’s characters name and that was it- but please enjoy lmao)

‼️Warnings‼️: HEAVY ANGST, a little bit of fluff but mostly angst, major character death, pure sad shit, no happy ending, etc. (if I forgot anything please tell me)

—————————————

You never expected this to happen.

Yeah that random shower thought has come up before- ‘what would happen if something invaded earth??’

But you never expected it to happen..

It had been a few days since those ‘creatures’ crashed onto earth- and you were doing your best to survive with the small group of people you were with.

One of those people in that group was a man named Eric, he had saved your life the day those things came- even though you couldn't talk, you had gotten to know each other well over the past few days.

And the more you got to know each other, the more it was obvious that your relationship was more than just some people working together to survive- or possibly even more than friends..

-FLASHBACK-

It was the day those aliens came to earth, you had just gotten off work and you were walking down the busy sidewalks of New York, just like any other boring day.

As you were walking, there was a sound in the sky, the city just seemed to just freeze for a moment- it confused you at first, but then you glanced up at the sky.

Something was shooting through the sky- and it wasn't a meteor.

Without even another second of thought being able to come through your mind, everything just seemed to turn into terror.

Floods of people had started screaming and running as this disturbing creature started ripping through cars and people, causing full chaos to blow out.

You just froze for a second, watching all these people and objects getting ripped apart- which only caused more people to scream.

It just seemed to be going after any sound.

Finally after just standing there frozen in shock- you seemed to snap out of it and started running like everyone else, you were just in too much shock to even make a noise, right now you just had to get out of there.

While you were running, trying to get away from those strange creatures- you felt someone grab onto your arm and yank you towards them, their hand automatically going over your mouth which instantly caused you to stark panicking.

Your screams were muffled thanks to the hand over your mouth, silencing you while you were quickly dragged you into a building.

Everything just seemed to happen so quickly, but you had managed to glance around your surroundings- it looked like a little book shop you were dragged in, books and other random shit scattered on the floor slightly from the instant chaos and panic.

You just continued to try and break out of the strangers arms while humming into their hand, which didn’t do anything at all.

Soon enough you were quickly dragged behind a counter- your breathing was heavy and quick into the strangers hand as you looked up at them in panic, noticing how they brought their finger to their lips, signaling for you to be quiet.

After a second you had finally stopped humming into the person’s hand, your breathing still quick as you glanced around, adrenaline just running through your veins.

You had slowly turned your gaze back to the person who practically saved your life after a moment.

It was a man- he had short curly hair, beautiful brown doe eyes that were filled with fear and panic as well and he was wearing a brown suit.

As you continued to look up at the random man who was glancing around the store, your ears were filled with the sound of screams and crashing from outside the building and on the street.

You glanced around once again, seeing people quietly hiding under tables in panic as these strange ‘creatures’ seems to rip the city apart.

Soon- all the sudden, there was silence.

For the first time in forever, New York City was quiet.

You could hear the quiet, shaky sigh of relief fall from the man’s lips- causing you to quickly shoot your wide eyes back to look at him, his hand still over your mouth as he crouched hidden in front of you.

"What the hell was that?!" One person yelled in the shop, causing your eyes to quickly move over to the person.

Before anyone could actually react- one of those creatures came bursting in, breaking the front wall of the building as it started ripping up the place.

Out of instinct, you just quickly shut your wide eyes and put your hands over your ears as the man's hand on your mouth got rougher- trying to make sure you didn’t make any sounds.

As the little shop continued to basically get ripped apart- you felt the random man’s strong arm pull you into his side, pulling you into the corner of the counter with him.

His body basically covered yours, using himself as a human shield to try and protect you- as well as himself as this monster just continued to cause terror.

You just wanted to scream, but you couldn't- you couldn’t get yourself to let out a single noise.

Finally, after a moment you suddenly felt yourself getting pulled up from the ground, which caused you to finally open your eyes.

The man moved his hand on your mouth to your hand as he quickly dragged you out of the store, running into the street to get away.

While running with the man you glanced around, there was more creatures- you couldn't even count how many, it didn't matter at that moment, you had to get shelter.

Soon enough, the man quickly yanked you into another small shop with you, quickly closing the door behind him and locking it so nobody could come in.

As you and the stranger glanced around, you noticed there was only two other people in that small shop and they were hidden behind tables, their eyes also wide with fear.

The man who saved your life was still holding your hand as he looked over at them- his breathing heavy as he just stood them for a moment staring at them, before finally putting his shaking finger up to his lips.

As he quickly pulled you to hide behind something with him- you were all were dead quiet, just waiting for the chaos to go down.

You were all strangers to each other, but at that moment, without saying a single word you all knew you guys had to work together- to survive whatever this was.

-FLASHBACK OVER-

It had been a few days, New York was still quiet and it honestly looked apocalyptic at this point.

Everybody had either fled the city or died when the creatures attacked- and you guys were planning on fleeing soon as well.

While you and the rest of your small group had started working together to survive and escape the city- you had managed to find out the stranger’s name who saved your life.

His name was Eric.

Right now, you and Eric had decided to go out, to try and get some more materials- you had both been walking the streets for a little bit before you ended up in the middle of a little shopping center.

It was obviously abandoned, nobody seen in sight- you and Eric were in the middle of the little center, walking around a dried up fountain.

Eric had his eyes open, glancing around inside empty abandoned stores while you decided to take a seat on the fountain’s edge- your legs tired from all the walking.

You both were just there, staying quiet when all the sudden you both heard something.

It was almost like a clicking/quiet screeching sound.

In panic you and Eric both froze, your wide eyes looking into his- you and him instantly knew what it was, and you both knew you had to get out immediately.

Eric had quietly motioned for you to follow him, causing you to stand up slowly before you both started quietly but quickly making your way to the large entrance of a Macy's since it was the only exit, away from the area that the sound obviously came from.

Everything seemed to be alright, you both weren’t making any noises- but as you took another step, your foot tripped over a wire- it was a trap.

You instantly both looked at each other with wide, panicked eyes.

A loud clatter was made by cans that fell from the trap- you both seemed like you were both just frozen in fear.

"Run.." Eric whispered out with wide eyes, grabbing onto your hand.

Before you even knew it, you both were sprinting down the hall of the mall, the strange creature quickly following behind while tearing apart and throwing everything in its way to the side

You mind started racing as you ran, you instantly knew there was no way out without making it out alive, but your mind also just forced you to think you could- you and Eric both could just quickly make it out of there.

As you continued to sprint hand in hand with him, monster was catching up- but you were so close to an exit.

Right as you were about to hit the exit, the creature just seemed to appear besides you and Eric out of nowhere, quickly jumping up to get at you.

Eric’s reflexes were quick enough to save you because he instantly just tackled you down to the side, pushing you and him out of the way and onto the ground with quiet little grunts.

You were on the ground for a second, Eric on top of you as you both let out quiet but heavy breaths.

Your wide eyes glanced up at him as he hovered over you, both your chest heaving up and down from the adrenaline as his wide eyes looked down into yours.

Soon enough, Eric had managed to quickly pull you behind a glass counter- the creature lurking and blocking the only exit nearby.

You slowly turned your gaze to look over at Eric, your breathing still heavy- but he was already looking at you, and there was a soft look in his eyes.. you instantly knew the look.

You just instantly started shaking your head, your eyes already filling up with tears as you tried to stay as quiet as possible.

"Please- no..." You mouthed to him, but he just nodded his head, the soft look still in his eyes while you brought your gaze down.

Tears were already starting to slowly spill down your cheeks, his hand slowly moved up to cup the side of your face as he gently made you look back up at him, his thumb wiping away the tears as you both made eye contact

"You need to run okay.." he mouthed- you just shook your head once again, letting out silent sobs while he continued to hold your face.

You were refusing to let him sacrifice himself for you, you couldn’t live on knowing that without the guilt eating you alive.

As you sat there with Eric, both looking into each other’s eyes- you had finally realized how close both your faces have gotten, so close to the point you could feel his shaky breath over your lips.

Soon enough, his lips were on yours in a soft but also passionate kiss.

You instantly kissed back, his hand still holding onto the side of your head as your hand moved up to gently grasp onto his wrist while he held your face.

Even though both of your eyes were closed, your tears were starting to slowly fall onto his cheeks, mixing with his small tears as he had started to cry as well.

After a moment, he finally slowly pulled away, continuing to cup your face as he looked into your eyes, giving a sad reassuring smile.

You already missed the feeling of his lips as soon as he pulled away, your tear filled eyes looking up into his as you continued to hold onto his wrist.

"I love you.." He mouthed, looking into your eyes as he wiped more tears from your face before slowly pulling his hand away, causing your light grip on his wrist to slowly fall.

"I love you too.." you mouthed back, both of your hands moving to hold onto his face- just not wanting him to leave you.

But Eric shook his head and slowly pulled your hands away slowly, holding onto both of your wrists as he placed small kisses in the palm of your hand while sitting there with you.

It all seemed to happen in slow mo as you quickly shook your head while he started slowly letting go of your hands, moving them onto your lap as he started standing up.

Silent sobs started escaping from you once again as he quickly ran out from behind the glass counter, running out of the department store and back into the mall.

"Hey- come get me you son of a bitch! Come on!!" He yelled out, causing the creature to instantly sprint out of the area you were hiding in.

You had slowly stood up from behind the counter, your eyes wider than they have ever been as you watched as the creature quickly run after Eric.

You just froze as you watched it basically start ripping him into shreds in front of your eyes, his screams of pain filling your ringing ears before it went silent- the only sound being the creature and the ringing in your ears

Your heart just dropped into your stomach right there- you didn’t even know what you were feeling, it was worst than any pain you ever felt- it just felt like everything inside of you collapsed, your brain felt numb and everything stung inside and outside of you.

Tears streamed down your face before finally- you had gotten yourself to move and made a run for it, running out of the exit even though your legs felt like they just wanted to give out.

You just wanted to scream at that moment, you didn’t find a purpose in trying to survive anymore without Eric- but you knew you had too, it was what he would have wanted, it IS what he wanted.

You just continued running away, leaving behind the man who not only saved your life, but sacrificed himself for you.

179 notes · View notes

tokoyamisstuff · 5 days ago

Text

They're on the complete opposite ends of the Introvert-Extrovert spectrum lmao.

x gn! Reader | no warnings

Alucard:

"I have loved you for a hundred lifetimes, and I will love you for infinite times to come. So say yes; like you did 500 years ago, like you did 100 years ago...like you will when I find you again after this life."

Let's just say due to rebirth, this is not your first time around with this man, even though only he can remember. So he's very confident that you'll accept.

Will be very old-fashioned about his approach, because, well...he's old. Asks your family (or preferable friends) for their blessing, even though he doesn't really care. It's more symbolical than anything. Because no force, earthly or otherworldly, could keep him away from you either way.

The vampire is a drama queen and also a man of big gestures. Asks you in public, surrounded by your loved ones, and has thought every little detail through.

Later on he'll ask you in private again, just to be sure he didn't pressure you. Probably has a lot of keepsakes from your past lives to show and reminisce about.

Will make a very symbolic gift, such as his literal heart or an artifact able to kill him to symbolize how much you mean to him, and that his life wouldn't make any sense without you in it.

Anderson:

"Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame deep inside of me."

Song of Solomon 8:6 (modified)

With him it will come totally out of the blue, probably during an intimate moment the two of you share. You'll take an innocent stroll through the garden and he'd simply admire you tucking a flower behind your ear when he suddenly blurts out 'marry me'.

If your answer is yes he's absolutely flabbergasted. Instantly gets reduced to a stuttering, flustered mess. Like did he really just say that aloud? And you accepted?? What is happening?! Kiss him and the poor guy will have a short circuit.

This man is repressed and does not talk about what's going on inside of him at all - partly due to religious aspects, but mostly fear of your reaction shall you ever see how disturbed he truly is. Tries to explain his feelings for you through bible verses, obviously.

As soon as Heinkel and Yumie get wind of this they'll scold him severely for being so unromantic and ill-prepared. Convince him to wrap this up again, properly this time. He'll most likely involve the orphans into this, it'll be adorable. Falls onto one knee and solemny swears to protect and care for you until his dying breath, if that's truly what you wish.

When you're finally alone with each other he'll break down, opening up about how he had always cursed his twisted existence but how you changed his whole perception of life, and that he can finally allow himself to be happy at your side.

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #alucard #alexander anderson #alucard x reader #alexander anderson x reader #reader insert #drabble #anon #ask #request #writing

44 notes · View notes

gatorbites-imagines · 2 years ago

Note

Male Reader X 141 boyfriends (individually) where he has a pet wolf and the rest of 141 reacts to it on and off the field

Also can it be a BIG ass wolf too plzzzz?

(Super simple really lol)

141 x male reader

Headcanons

You said big wolf, so I made it a big wolf, big enough to ride on. I know this isn’t realistically possible, but I don’t care :)

You callsign in this is Lycan, because of the wolf lmao. It isn’t really mentioned but yeah.

John Price

- Now Price added you to the 141 he had read in your file that you had a canine with you. He just assumed it was like any other dog that was in the military, imagine his surprise when you pull up with a wolf big enough to ride on.

- It takes a good while to get used to the big wolf, which he learned it was and not a dog, especially when he sees it walking around on base at night, it almost gives the poor guy a heart attack.

- At first, he would think it would be a disadvantage to have such a big animal with you on missions, but when the wolf turns out to be super useful during missions, he will change his mind.

- He acts all tough, but you’ve caught him petting and cuddling your wolf more and once, but you have a mutual agreement to never mention what you saw to anyone.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

- Gaz had no idea how to react to the huge wolf you brought along, and he’s kinda nervous around it in the beginning but its mouth it big enough to rip someone’s head off. When he learns the wolf is friendly outside of missions though, he becomes close friends with your wolf.

- He half heartedly complains about the dog hair everywhere, even though he’s the one cuddling your wolf and getting covered in the stuff.

- Gaz would be kinda on edge for a little bit after the first time he sees your wolf rip a poor enemy soldier apart as if they were a chew toy. The cautiousness stays for a while though your wolf searching for cuddles with Gaz helps warm the man up to the canine again.

- He takes pictures of your wolf all the time, he’s also the one who started calling you Lycan when you joined the team.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

- Ghost gives the vibe of the kind of guy who likes animals more than people, so he wouldn’t outwardly show it but he’s ecstatic when you show up with your wolf.

- He would of course be cautious in the beginning because that’s a big animal that can easily kill a man and has military training, but when your wolf turns out to be pretty much harmless, he would allow himself to pet it when no one was looking.

- At some point you notice how Ghost sticks around your wolf and finds comfort in its presence, so you offer to teach him the commands and how to fight closer alongside the wolf. In exchange he teaches you some of his moves too.

- It becomes a thing that if your wolf isn’t with you, it’s with ghost during missions and outside missions. Ghost makes a horrifying picture walking around with your wolf, it only makes the legend of Ghost even greater.

- He secretly carries treats for your wolf in his gear, not that he would ever tell anyone.

John “Soap” MacTavish

- I headcanon that soap hates dogs, this stems from him being attacked by dogs when he was younger and the fear just kinda stuck. So, when you rock up with a wolf the size of a horse, he doesn’t know what to do and almost just keels over right then and there.

- Soap would avoid your wolf most of the time because of him not being super comfortable around them, so this would also mean the two of you wouldn’t bond as quickly as normal since you are typically around your wolf.

- After your wolf saves his life during a mission, he grows a little more comfortable with your animal partner, though he still isn’t the biggest fan of being too close or touching.

- As time goes on, he grows more comfortable and might even pet your wolf every now and then, though he isn’t all over their fur like some of the others are.

- Soap sketches your wolf in his notebook every now and then since it’s a great reference.

2K notes · View notes

depressopax · 7 months ago

Note

hiii! im not sure if you write for gus (brba/bcs) but if you do, could i request a few headcanons (sfw or nsfw) of him with a gender neutral partner if possible :0 maybe qualities he finds attractive/would like in a partner, physically or personality wise or whatever you have in mind:] tysm ! i hope youre having a good one ♡

Tysm for the request!! <3 I made it into some relationship headcanons but tried mentioning what he likes in a partner etc… It may have turned out a bit dark lol, sorry ‘bout that 😭 Anywaysss hope ya like it! Have a good day anon!! 🫶

Gus Fring relationship headcanons

Fandom - Breaking Bad/Better call Saul

Gus x gn!reader - (N)SFW headcanons

Pairing: Gus Fring x gender-neutral reader Genre: Fluff, smut, (kinda angst too??), headcanons Warning(s): Slightly possessive Gus, cuss words. Sexual content (marked further down as “NSFW”, MDNI! Dom/sub dynamic, degradation. Words: 1.4k Summary: Being in a relationship with Gus Fring would include… English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 || AO3 link || Masterlist || Request ||

SFW

First time Gus saw you was at Los Pollos Hermanos.

You were there with some friends and you immediately caught his eye.

Maybe it was your smile, your eyes or the way you talked to your friends that made his heart skip a beat

That, or the fact you and him made eye contact at least 4 times.

But because of his dangerous life and past relationship traumas, he let you slip through his fingers, to not drag you into his chaos.

Or so he thought at least.

Truth is, you felt a spark, too. There was something dangerous about him, but also something charming.

Curious as you were, you went to LPH more often, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious man - eventually learning he’s the manager.

Gus of course noticed you being there more often. Ignoring you got harder.

One day you decided to shoot your shot - the same day he decided to strike a conversation with you.

You learned his name is Gustavo Fring.

There was something about his smile and way of talking that charmed you.

But he also seemed very reserved and troubled. He seemed afraid to answer your flirting and got really flustered from it.

Just as you were about to give up your flirting attempts, he surprised you by asking you out on a date.

Of course, you said yes.

Gus enjoys good food and luxury, so it was no surprise he took you to a 5-star restaurant for the first date - his treat.

Not having been on a “real date” in over a decade, Gus was a nervous wreck lmao

Luckily he is good at handling stress. You barely noticed the emotions he kept under the surface.

The date went really well. Gus is a good listener and listened to you in a way that was rare.

Even when you got a bit too nerdy about your interests, he listened with a smile.

But it did make you a bit concerned when he dodged questions about his own personal life.

He realized himself how weird that must've come across, getting anxious that you wouldn’t contact him again.

Luckily, you did.

Gus kept taking you on dates.

The more he got to know you, the harder he fell in love.

Actually - he figured he was in love already after the first kiss.

Once getting clarity in what he felt, he knew what he had to do - Telling you the truth about who he is.

The fear of losing you was big.

…But the fear of you staying, becoming part of his dangers - was bigger.

He explained to you how he had fallen in love with you, before dropping the bomb.

You were shocked, of course.

After some days of thinking about what he’d told you, you made a decision.

Upon telling him; Gus felt a wave of emotions: Confusion, happiness, relief but also anxiety. But he put all that aside.

Gus officially became your boyfriend and you couldn’t be more happy - neither could he.

All dangers aside - Gus does everything to be “boyfriend material” lol

His love language is touch, and words of affirmation.

He doesn’t let a day go by without telling you how much he loves you.

He always wants you close - just holding your hand makes him feel good.

He also likes spoiling you - expensive gifts, homemade dinners, road trips with him etc…

He basically spends all his spare-time with you.

You spend a lot of time in his house, with or without him.

He has money, enough to provide you safety.

Because of his enemies, and dangerous life, Gus gets very overprotective and a bit possessive.

Ngl he’d probably hire a bodyguard for you whenever you are away in another town with friends/family 😭 Or ask Mike to keep an eye on you lol

He’d be too paranoid to openly be in a relationship with you - but tell a few people he really trusted. If he could, he’d tell the whole world tho. He loves you and it frustrates him to not be able to tell people.

Gus is very good at reading people, so he often can see if something is wrong.

He’s a good listener and tries to always see things from your POV

He rarely gets mad at you either.

Most of the time he’s calm and understanding.

He tries to always be there for you, if not with advice, at least with support and to offer you comfort.

He also gives really good hugs 😌✨

Same goes for your interests/hobbies. He learns for example how to crochet, paint or whatever so you can make it a date.

He’ll let you talk about things you like for hours

Gus is not the type of person that likes indoor activities. Of course he appreciates movie nights, but I feel like he enjoys spending time outdoors.

Going hiking, walks in the forest, sightseeing etc etc

Weather doesn’t really matter to him. He’s def one of those that tells you to “Dress depending on the weather 🤪🤪”

He enjoys cooking food for you, but also with you.

He’ll teach you some old family recipes

When eating, he lits candles and makes it cozy so it feels like a restaurant.

Gus appreciates movie nights too. Snacks, wine and cuddles whilst watching something.

Gus is cheesy in the way of envisioning his future with you.

He knows that one day, he wants to marry you.

As for starting a family, he’d like that - if you want to have kids too, ofc.

Otherwise he’ll just be happy to marry you and always have you by his side.

To summarize: Gus is very overprotective when it comes to you, but his criminal lifestyle aside - he loves you deeply and a relationship with him would be passionate.

NSFW

I feel like he’s definitely a dom

But more of a soft dom.

He’s on top, always. Convincing him otherwise is not easy.

He can get pretty rough, but would never hurt you or make you uncomfortable.

His sex drive isn’t that high, but he makes an exception for you.

Besides, you just happen to turn him on a lot 🤭

He prefers to do it at home and in bed

However… If you happen to tease him when in public, he’ll find a private spot and just take you there. “You couldn’t wait until we got home? Pathetic” …As he thrusts into you and muffles your moans with his palm

He prefers to take you at a fast pace, one that’ll leave you breathless.

He has a lot of pent up frustrations and releases all tension in the bedroom.

He’ll have you laying under him, pinning your wrist over your head as he makes you into a moaning mess.

He has a lot of stamina and can go at it for hours.

If he’s feeling rude, he’ll have you beg for him and/or plead for him to slow down to give you a break.

Only for him to laugh and tease you for it “My poor baby… Look at me.” “I’m not done with you just yet.” “Be good for me, my love.”

When it comes to you, he likes both praising and degrading you - doing so equally.

He’ll have sweet nicknames for you as well as insulting ones.

After sex, you’ll be covered in hickeys, which he’ll praise you for.

He prefers giving oral, merely because he’s in full control of your pleasure.

When going down on you, he’s a tease.

He’ll have you begging for him to use his mouth on you.

And he knows how to do it, too.

Gus likes using his hands too, to stimulate your area or other body parts.

He’ll grab your hips, thighs etc roughly, hard enough to leave marks.

When receiving, he likes being in control too.

He’ll hold your head still and move his hips to his own liking.

Gus prioritizes aftercare. He wouldn’t go to sleep without being reassured you’re ok after a rough session.

He’ll clean you and the bed up, run a bath for you, cuddle, give massage etc

Although he can be meanie during sex, he gives affection, praise and love afterwards, putting the dominant act away.

He falls asleep after you.

Since he’s rough in bed, you often end up falling asleep faster than usual - especially when he hugs you lovingly too.

He likes seeing your sleeping figure and falling asleep knowing that you’re all his…

86 notes · View notes

voltronisanobsession · 2 years ago

Text

Keith's Glowing Eyes Headcanons

I always liked the idea of Keith having like glowing yellow eyes in the dark because of his galra genes. I’ve seen a couple of posts and fan art of it and I just find it so SILLY💔💔 so I decided imma make my own headcanons of how life would be around the castle with his eyes

First of all, Keith forgets that his eyes tend to 'change' during the night time, specifically when it's dark

During the night when the lights are out, everyone usually stays in their rooms so they have no idea of Keith's little weird galra thing

So imagine Hunk's absolute fear when he decides to go to the kitchen for a late night snack when he sees two yellow eyes staring at him from the darkness of the room

Keith is literally so confused when Hunk starts yelling LMAO

"WHAT ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY KITCHEN?!"

Cue Hunk switching on the lights only to see Keith staring at him in shock

He turns them off and sees yellow eyes where he saw Keith, and then switches the lights back on to see him still staring at him

Hunk does this a few more times before stepping out of the room, deciding food was not worth him almost having a heart attack

Poor Keith had no idea what just happened, homie only wanted a cup of water

Another time this happens is when you spent the night cuddling with him and suddenly woke up

Groggily you wake him, moving to get up and hearing him shuffling awake, you turn around only to be met with yellow eyes looking at you

"OH MY GOSH!"

You're shoving yourself off the bed and stumbling onto the floor because what the HELL was that?!

"Are you ok??"

You watch as the yellow orbs move around and get closer to you

"Keith is that you?? What the hell!"

Cue this dude being confused again cuz he literally has no idea what you were talking about (my clueless man)

"What are you talking about?"

"Your EYES! They're yellow! Are they normally like that?"

It finally hit him on why you and Hunk both reacted the same way when looking at him

"Oh! That makes sense now. Yeah this is normal, my eyes have always been like this since I was little."

"Do you like uh, switch them on?"

"No."

Now that you and Hunk both know about Keith's glow in the dark eyes, you guys definitely share your stories on how you found out

Shiro walks by and hears your conversation and just jumps in too because he understands that jumpscare Keith unknowingly did too!

Pretty soon the others would have their own stories about finding Keith's yellow eyes in the dark

Lance on the other hand fully believes that a ghost is haunting the castle when he sees two glowing eyes in the hallways one night

I can imagine him screaming the whole way back to his room😭😭

I’m just gonna say that Keith can see better in the dark than normal people can😻

#keith kogane #voltron legendary defender #galra keith #keith x reader #voltron x reader #vld x reader #vld #vld Keith #voltron

1K notes · View notes

stargirlrchive · 2 years ago

Text

ocean eyes: chapter two ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ocean eyes masterlist

summary: widow!jake sully x female!reader, 10 year age-gap. jake is lowkey sunshine <3 reader is grumpy! arranged marriage/marriage of convenience, eventual smut + wc - 1,753

comments: part two lovers, i love reader, she's is slay girl boss fr ! idk what to say lmao but tysm for the love on part one, i hope you love this just as much! also omg pls check this out, @saltsacc drew what they think reader looks like and she's gorg! i litch cried ! but okay bye lovers <3 part three should be up on thursday <3

previous ✩ next

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The morning time had come quickly, the bright sun hitting your features and it disrupted your wonderful slumber. But if the sun hadn't woken you up, your sister's voice certainly would have. “Tsmuke! You need to be ready by now. Oh Great Mother, give me strength!”

You rubbed at your sleepy eyes, throwing her an annoyed glance, “Why are you being so strange? They are just other Na’vi. Or let me guess, Eywa has let you know they are of importance?”

Ronal pinched at her nose, “If you must know, he is Toruk Makto. He was the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. He is important, more than you know!”

You laughed quietly, “Do not let Tonowari hear you, you sound enamored.”

“Stupid girl!”

You laughed louder, shaking your head as you stretched before getting up. “Make haste!”

You hissed at her lightly, your good-hearted nature wearing thin as she rushed you. You quickly washed your face, Ronal helping you by fixing up your hair. “Oh Eywa, you are preparing me like I am going to marry the man!”

She said nothing, her nervous fingers quickly braiding a few pearls into your hair. “What is so special about him anyway?”

“Did you not hear what I said? He is Toruk Makto.”

You huffed in annoyance, “Of course I heard you sister, but-” Your shoulders shrugged, “How mighty can he be if he left his whole clan behind?”

She smacked your shoulder roughly, “Ow! Ronal-”

“Must you always be so crass? His mate died a few years back.”

“How did she die?”

“Protecting her children, in the battle field. I do not know much else.”

You bit down on your bottom lip, instantly feeling guilty, “Oh.”

“Yes, oh. So be kind to him, to all of them.”

“You may think poorly of me sister, but I am not mean.”

Ronal’s fingers stilled in her movements, face scrunching up as she mulled over what you said, “I do not think poorly of you.”

You didn't say anything else, toying with your fingers as you sat in front of Ronal, “Tsmuke, I do not think poorly of you.”

You grumbled out quietly, “You already said that.”

“I-I just want what is best for you, and at times I do not think you know how to find that for yourself.”

“Ronal, I am happy.”

“You are reckless! You think I do not know why you behave the way you do? You want the attention you lacked as a child, but you are grown now. There are responsibilities and duties you must fulfill.”

Her harsh words caused tears to well to your eyes, pulling away from her, “You do not listen!”

“And you do not obey!”

“Why should I? You are my sister, not my mother! Just because you ended up happy with Tonowari does not mean I will end up happy with whoever you stick me with. I love my freedom far too much to give it up.”

She sighed in exasperation, “Well that is not your decision. It is the Great Mother’s and she has spoken to me.”

It dawned upon you then, what all this was about. The enthusiasm to have you meet the Toruk Makto, dressing you up. “You are planning to mate me with that man?”

There was a glimmer of guilt in her eyes, but it was shaken away as she nodded her head. “He is a good man, with a strong heart. He will be good for you.”

Your words were low, quite with disbelief, “I cannot believe you.”

Ronal said nothing, “I always knew you wanted me out of your life, too much of a burden for you and Tonowari but I did not expect you to push me into the arms of the first man you saw!”

A spike of pain ran through Ronal, this is exactly what she feared. She made her way to you, the apology already starting to fall from her mouth but your shaky finger pointing at her stopped her movements. “Stop! Don’t-do not come near me!”

Your ears flattened against your head, the words getting caught in Ronal’s throat as she watched your eyes pool with tears. “Please get out so I can change.”

Ronal’s fear of hurting you even more had her walking out of the marui, leaving you to wallow in your own pity as you dressed yourself.

Tonowari instantly wrapped Ronal into his arms, rubbing against her back to soothe her, “Wari, she is going to hate me for the rest of her life.”

He shushed her quietly, having heard everything that happened, “No she will not, Yawne. You know how nervous you were before we actually mated. It is a big step in our lives, we just need to let her be.”

Ronal let herself bask in the warmth Tonowari provided, pulling away just a few seconds before you stepped out. Ronal’s eyes scanned over you, you looked so beautiful. She wanted to compliment you but knew you'd take it as mockery, some sort of jab to make you feel worse. So she said nothing, walking besides Tonowari and you followed quickly behind the two.

You were far more quiet than normal, and it hit Ronal just how much she actually enjoyed your inability to remain quiet. Tonowari called your name, “Did you hear me?”

“No-I did not.”

“I said I think he will be good for you.”

“If you say so.”

The pair shared a look, your tame behavior caused a sense of worry to nestle into Ronal. They entered the marui of Jake Sully, the Na’vi was sharpening his knives but other than that, it was empty. Tonowari cleared his throat, Jake’s head snapped up and was greeted with the three of you. “Tonowari, Ronal-oel ngati kameie.”

His eyes shifted to you, your eyes were already locked on him and Jake felt his ears twitch. Ronal uttered your name out, “This is my Tsmuke.”

“Oel ngati kameie, Jake Sully.”

“Oel ngati kameie.”

He noticed your intricate top, your pretty hair and how your skin glowed beautifully against the sun. He felt his throat instantly dry up the more he took you in. “We spoke briefly yesterday of your stay here.”

“Oh, yes.”

“The Tsahik and I have discussed what we wish for you to be able to stay. We know you have come seeking Uturu, a fresh start but we must also ensure this is safe for the clan. Beneficial to our people. You understand?”

Jake nodded his head, he more than most understood what it was like to make decisions that he did not entirely want for the prosperity of the clan. “Well, we can allow you and your family to stay if you mate with a woman of the Metkayina Clan. More specifically, with her.”

Your ears turned downwards slightly, but still you held his gaze. That was certainly not what he expected. “We understand that it may be hard to just thrust this upon you, so we will give you both time to adjust. She will be the one to train you, help you adjust to life near the water.”

A swift flicker of anger made its way to your eyes, turning towards Tonowari, “I do not have time to train him.”

“Well then you will make time.”

Your eyes rolled back, anger seeping into his family home from you alone. Jake would be lying if he said he did not enjoy seeing you so agitated, especially when it came to him. He fought the smile that was trying to make its way to his face the more he watched you. “What do you say, JakeSully?”

Your eyes jumped back to him, there was a look in your eyes that he could not quite place but it excited him beyond belief, “If that is what you wish. I only hope I can speak to my children about this before the clan is made aware?”

Your mouth dropped slightly in disbelief, confusion webbing its way into your mind as to why he would agree to this so willingly. You thought you'd have time, time to be on your worst behavior around him so he can back out before he even agreed. But no, he had already said yes to you.

Your arms crossed over your chest stubbornly, huffing out a breath of annoyance as you watched the smallest of smiles fall across his features. Ronal was trying her best to contain her excitement, she had always wanted you to mate with someone, and it appeared that the time was soon.

She turned to look at you and was unsurprised to find you glaring at the Toruk Makto, your lip jutting out in an angry pout. “Very well, JakeSully. Make your preparations and we will announce it during a feast a few weeks down the line, yes?”

He only hummed, eyes still locked onto yours. You rolled your eyes at him, he was clearly enjoying himself, “Can I leave now?”

Ronal called your name but you ignored her, walking fast out of the home and towards the beach.

Tonowari’s mouth turned into a thin line as he sent an awkward look towards Jake. “She is very kind, just-strong willed.”

A quiet laugh left Jake’s mouth, “I can see that.”

He walked with the two out of his mauri, his eyes scanning the waters and he locked onto your form, jumping head first into the water as an ilu swam towards you. Ronal tsk’ed quietly, “She is going to ruin her clothes.”

Jake watched you retreat further into the water, your animal easily gliding along as you got smaller and smaller. “Are you sure she will show up to train me?”

Jake’s eyes moved over to Tonowari, “Yes, I will make sure of it.”

Jake’s fingers reached his forehead, signing them goodbye as they walked away. He let out a quiet breath, his thoughts consumed with excitement and wonderment at just how these next few weeks may play out.

Your feelings on the matter were entirely different, anger coursing through your veins as you swam out past the reef.

Ao’nung and Tsireya shared a look, noticing the angry glare on your face when you didn’t even bother to stop and talk to them. “Should we tell Sa’nok and Sempul?”

Ao’nung shook his head at his younger sister, “Ma’ will pluck her eyes out for real this time.”

Tsireya fumbled with her fingers nervously, “Ao’nung, it is going to storm, she didn’t look to be thinking clearly-”

He watched your form retreating farther and farther, heading towards the Three Brothers rocks. “If she does not return in an hour we will call for father.”

Tsireya sighed quietly but listened all the same, returning back to her task at hand. “So, you must learn to breathe from here.” She pointed to her stomach, “Take deep breaths, fill your lungs and slow your heart. It will assist with staying underwater longer.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Three hours had passed by and you were still out past the reef, finding refuge in the mountains as the waters turned violent, your ilu having swam away as it noticed the dangers of the water. You huffed out in frustration, Ronal was truly going to kill you now.

Ao’nung was the first to notice just how late it had become. By the way the sun was hitting just a few moments ago, he could tell that well more than an hour's time had passed, and you were still not back. The water rocked them violently, and Tsireya’s sharp gasp of air at seeing a lone ilu swimming back only furthered his fear for you. His parents were going to kill you.

“Tsireya-”

“We must cut the training short, we will see you all tomorrow.”

Both Ao’nung and Tsireya swam quickly back to shore, leaving behind four confused Omatikaya Na’vi. “Their aunt, she’s-how do I put this nicely-rebellious?”

Rotxo laughed quietly, shaking his head as he watched his two friends swim as fast they could back to the beach. “Lets head back, no point in training with the waters like this.”

The two siblings entered their marui, surprised to find Jake sitting with their parents, they both dipped their heads to the former Olo’eyktan before turning to their parents, “Have you seen Tanhí?”

“That is why we are here, Sa’nok.”

Ronal’s brows raised in question, noticing the tremble of worry in her daughter's voice, “She-she left past the reef a few hours ago.”

Ronal swore she felt her blood pressure go up, feeling woozy at her sister's complete disregard for rules. “But-”

“But what?”

Ao’nung watched his younger sister's ears pin to her head, losing her voice, “But she has not returned, and the ilu she rode on did. She rode in the direction of the Three Brothers.”

Tonowari let out a deep breath, his head throbbed roughly as he looked out to see how violent the waters were. “I will be back shortly.”

“Sempul-the water is dangerous.”

“Yes, but knowing your Aunt the trouble she is in is more volatile than the waters.”

Jake noticed how calm the breeze was despite the rain, it was perfect weather to take flight. “I know where Three Brother’s rocks are. I can fly on my Ikran, it is safer than you riding out on a Tsurak.”

Ronal protested quickly, knowing her sister, “I do not think that is a good idea, JakeSully.”

He felt a bit of disappointment settle into his chest, he couldn’t help it, he was so intrigued by you. And truth be told, maybe it was a stupid part of him, but he liked the idea of saving you. Or at least helping you. From what he had heard, you were more than capable to fend for yourself. “It really is no big deal, I will be back quickly.”

He was hoping his eagerness was not evident in his voice, and with the worried look Ronal shared with Tonowari he was sure it wasn’t. “We should let him? Yes-might ease your sister's resistance if he’s the one to go for her?”

Tonowari was asking, but Ronal knew he had already made up his mind. She sighed quietly, “Fine-sure. Just-I cannot guarantee she will greet you with a warm smile.”

Jake refrained from thumping his tail in excitement, “It’s fine. I will not take it to heart.”

Jake quickly made his way outside, calling for Bob just as his children made their way towards the beach. “Sir?”

Neteyam, his oldest, was looking at him in confusion. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I will be back shortly.”

He sent all of them a smile, instructing his Ikran to take flight. The air got colder the further he was from the beach and it caused a shiver to run down his spine. He was well past the reef, and searching for you within ten minutes. As his Ikran gently flew around he caught the blur of teal blue amongst one of the tall rocks. His head shook, a laugh threatening to fall from his mouth, as even from this far away you looked upset.

He did not know you, but he was curious, beyond interested in knowing you. There was a deep itch in the back of his brain that seemed to only simmer at the thought of you. Call him stupid, he had only caught a few glimpses of you, but he felt the pull. He hoped you felt it too.

With quick glides he was by your side, dismounting Bob with ease as he sent you a smile. Your eyes narrowed in on him, annoyance clear as day on your features. Jake’s lips tugged gently, refraining from cracking you a toothy smile. “Why are you here?”

“Hello to you too.”

You grumbled out angrily, arms crossing along your chest as you looked away from him. “I am here to take you back.”

Your thick tail swayed behind you in annoyance, “I was perfectly fine here. Waiting for the storm to pass.”

“I am sure you were, but I am here now. So let me take you back.”

You did not like the tone he had with you, his accent thick with humor as he watched you. It only caused your irritation to spike up. “I do not know you. Plus I am not used to riding on-those bird things. I rather not.”

Bob huffed at your words, clacking loudly at you. “They’re Ikrans, and very smart.”

Jake was sure his voice was dripping with his amusement, he couldn’t help it. You made him laugh. “I know what they are!” You all but shrieked, “Does not make me trust them anymore so.”

Jake laughed, shaking his head at you. Your eyes narrowed in on him, irritation flowing through you so deeply you refrained from yelling at him. You hissed at him, and it caused a harder laugh to leave his lips.

“If you keep me here for any longer, Tonowari will come searching for us. You are already in trouble with your sister. Do you wish to make it worse?”

“I am not a child!”

“That is very obvious, so why make this harder than it needs to be?”

Jake quickly mounted his Ikran, he was almost positive you would follow after him. You weighed your options, you knew Ronal would be angry with you, should you really test your luck?

You groaned out in frustration, walking towards Jake and his Ikran. This was far scarier than taming a Tsurak, you would have no control on the animal. His five fingered hand extended to you, and you could not help but stare. His fingers were scarred, and calloused, slipping your fingers together as he pulled you up.

You swiftly threw a leg over the Ikran, shifting farther back on the animal as you were pressed too close to him. “Hold on.”

“I am fine as I am.”

He shook his head, creating Tsaheylu with his Ikran and the animal instantly jolted forward. You were thrown back lightly, hands instinctively wrapping around his waist to keep you steady. If you could see Jake’s face he was sure you’d hiss at him once again. The smallest of smirks fell onto his features.

The cool wind caused a shiver to run down your back, admiring how beautiful the island looked even in the darkness of the storm. You peaked your head to look ahead, frowning deeper the closer you arrived to the beach. “I hope you know I could have made my way back without you.”

“And I do not doubt that.”

“Good.”

As you both landed, you could see Ronal’s angry face as she stomped towards you. “Here we go.”

Jake helped you dismount, jumping quickly down after you. “See what I mean! Reckless!”

You rolled your eyes at your sister, walking straight past her and towards your home. Jake could see the exhaustion on Ronal’s face. He would be lying if he said he did not sympathize with her. It was clear that she cared for you deeply, but there were some lines blurred between the two of you. “Thank you, JakeSully.”

Jake only dipped his head down at the Tsahik, watching your figure retreat farther away.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

🏷️; @mashiromochi @midhito @neteyamforlife @adaiasafira @ambria @sillyfreakfanparty @fanboyluvr @jakescumdump @itscheybaby @iwanttohitmyself @janeety @haitanismainhoe @daribakugo @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @lemonmoonmochi @dazedshoon @amanda-678 @randxmthxughts @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @wekiamo @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @theroyalbrownbarbie @1ntefly @nyylovestowrite @rianapntn @crazy4books1 @jakesullylongjuicyshlong @kikookii @ducks118 @bucky12345 @elegantkidfansoul @bold-writing @1-800-fandomsdestroyedme @graysonmalik2550 @milequaritchsslut @23victoria @kamcrazy123 @annamarieisbae @k----a27s @tojigirl @lynbubble @outspokenmatters @amanda-678 @alexandra-001

2K notes · View notes