#on my knees for more people to draw him T T

[sadlad03]

heres a little poster thingy (｡o_o｡)""

[amdiriel]

lonely

Azriel x fem!Archeron!reader

SUMMARY: Reader, the second Archeron sister, finds herself overwhelmed by the sight of her sisters in their respective happinesses one day. Luckily Azriel stops by her room in time to comfort her.

WARNINGS: feelings of loneliness (real), fluff, Azriel being hot (that’s a given), slight suggestiveness at the end, first time writing

NOTE: hey, i’m diri! been sort of a silent spectator on this tag for a while but then i wrote this and thought hell why not!!

WORDS: 2.5k

main masterlist PART 2

•••

The emptiness of loneliness burned hollowly in my chest, blooming when I entered my room at last, stumbled onto my bed.

Pathetically, I just wanted what my sisters had. I didn't dare show it, but I ached to be held, loved, to love fiercely and be happily, healthily devoted to someone.

I wanted to be touched and adored. I wanted to build a life with someone. To not have to look, wish, hope, or dream about it anymore.

My knees curled up under my chin as I sat there in the nest of my bedding, looking blankly at the wall as the tears came.

I hadn't realized that I had been softly weeping until the knock came to my door. Fuck. I heard his soft, beautiful voice announcing himself, asking to come in.

When I don't reply, frozen in terror that he'll come in and see me in this state, Azriel calls my name again in question. I know he can sense me behind the door, and when I sniff, he calls lowly, "I'm coming in."

Panic sweeps through me as he pushes open the door, eyes falling on me in concern as I wipe at my face. The book he borrowed from me goes from his hand to a side table as he comes to me, forgotten. "Hey. Hey, what's going on?" he asks with the softest tenderness I've ever heard him speak. To know that it was reserved for me makes my chest ache for it even more, and another little sob slips from me. He sits on my bed and reaches for me, hands going to my arms and rubbing up and down.

“I’m sorry,” I croak, shaking my head and trying to draw back and wipe my face. He doesn’t release me.

“No,” he says firmly, squeezing my arms. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong. Let me help you.”

I shake my head again, can’t seem to stop, trying to wave him off. “It’s not something you can help with,” I rasp. “It’s my own shit, I’ll deal with it—“

“Tell me what’s going on.” His tone brooks no argument.

I can’t speak for a long moment, for several long moments. The words are embarrassing, stuck like molasses on my tongue. To say them would be to humiliate myself. But he isn’t relenting. I realize that five hundred years of extracting information from people as spymaster had made him patient in a way I could never outpace.

“It’s just hard,” I finally settle on, not quite processing my own words. “It’s hard seeing them—my sisters, I mean. Sorry, I think I’m just tired, out of it—“ He shakes his head with a squeeze of my arms.

“Stop trying to excuse your feelings. It’s merely how you feel,” he murmurs, watching me carefully. A breath puffs uncomfortably in my chest, but I go on.

“I’ve always made myself content in the fact that something like that didn’t really happen to people like me. I’ve never known why,” I rasp, the color finally rising in my cheeks as I gear up to admit, “But I’m—“ I choke. “I just see them and I feel so lonely.”

His expression shutters and his eyes soften. “Sweetheart,” he whispers, stroking my arms. To hear that word from his lips is already a shock, but knowing it’s directed at me makes me fall apart more.

“I’m not one for self pity, ever,” I get out as another cry raises the pitch of my voice. “I just feel so alone.”

A huff of a sigh leaves Azriel’s lips and he draws me forward. “Come here.”

My breath shudders in my chest as I try not to lose it, try to calm myself as the tears stream hotly down my face. “I’m sorry,” I whisper again. “I feel ridiculous. It just hurts sometimes. Right here.” I rub my chest where the hollow ache is.

He hums and soon I’m in his arms. He gently scoops me onto his lap and tucks my head into the crook of his neck. He’s so warm, so strong, and smells so good that I shudder again and let myself break in his embrace.

His hushing and stroking over my hair lulls me as every bad feeling seeps out of my body. He holds me quietly until my crying ceases, until my shaking stills. Until I am merely breathing tiredly against him.

I could fall asleep like this, could die peacefully here. His hand strokes my hair again. “Feel better?” he asks, his voice a quiet rumble that rumbles in his chest, therefore mine.

I blush profusely at how ridiculous I’m being, but make no move. I nod. I can’t move, can’t look at him. I must be the silliest, most ridiculous woman—female, I correct mentally—at my age that he’s ever seen. He’s centuries old and has a better grip on things than I do. I know he feels bad for me, but any respect he had before must have loosened considerably in the minutes he’s seen me in this state.

As I’m trying to overcome my embarrassment, he strokes my hair softly and begins on a murmur, “I get this way too. I feel it right in my chest, like you said. I have for a long time.” I don’t dare breathe or move. He’s revealing very vulnerable feelings and I fear one move will scare him off. He sighs. “It is difficult—seeing everyone pair off and be happy. Just as difficult to see my brothers as it is for you to see your sisters that way. But you aren’t alone. You’re never alone.”

I sigh, whispering haltingly, “I know. But—it isn’t the same, is it?”

He shakes his head. “It isn’t,” he concedes, “But you shouldn’t doubt that you’ll find that. You’re more than deserving of it.”

A little flutter in my chest, and of all things, a smile blooms on my face. “You are too, Azriel.”

I feel his smile against my hair.

I sigh and draw away even as my body screams in argument, not looking him completely in the eye. “I really am sorry. For—this.” I gesture nonsensically between us, eyeing the wet stain at the collar of his shirt with a small wince. “I really am not usually like this,” I grumble.

His soft chuckle draws my eyes to his face, and I find him looking down at me softly, amusedly. “I know. You’re usually very formidable, self-assured. It was a surprise to see you so…” I raise my brows as he searches for the word, something he usually never has to. “Weighed down,” he settles on.

I don’t know what to say. I settle on a small shrug of my shoulder as I take my sleeve and wipe my face again, sighing as a calm settles over me again.

When I glance back over at him, he’s still observing me quietly. “What?” I croak.

“Nothing,” he says softly with a shrewd yet not unkind look in his eye. “It’s just funny.” I frown, but he continues on before I can interrupt. “You give yourself a private moment to let it out, then you reset. Like nothing happened.”

I feel a heat in my face at the accuracy.

“It’s funny because, well,” he shrugs, “It reminds me of myself.”

I glance warily over him with questioning tilt of my head. “You don’t seem like the type to deal in self-pity. Or crying at all for that matter,” I reply wryly.

His lip curls in amusement, and something hot curls in my stomach at the sight of it. My expression remains carefully composed, as it always is. “I have my moments,” is all he says.

I roll my eyes, shifting on the bed and sniffing. “Cryptic as always too.”

His laugh is quiet yet rumbling, and even though we don’t touch anymore, I feel the sound tumble deliciously through my muscles and bones, all over my body. “There she is,” he practically drawls, mirth lighting his hazel eyes. Cauldron bloody boil me.

Then he softens again. “But know that anytime you feel like this, you don’t need to wait for a private moment to yourself. Come talk to me,” he offers. Tingling warmth blooms in my chest. In my handful of years since turning fae and finding my place in Velaris, he’s been a kind but somewhat infrequent friend due to his busy nature. “What you feel isn’t anything to be ashamed of, and I’d rather you not bottle it all up.”

I eye the impenetrable Spymaster again, brow raised. “Bit of the pot calling the kettle black, aren’t you?”

He laughs in earnest now, and I watch in wonder as it lightens his features. And again that sound—

I’d been careful not to let my foolish mind not delve too deep in daydreaming about the silent, beautiful specter I had met in my house in the human lands those years ago. Everything about the fae then and even now had just seemed so elevated above my little life. And as hard as I worked, as skilled as I had become with my new body and abilities, I still felt like a complete novice, like a schoolgirl amongst grown men and women most days.

So no. I would not be the fool that fell for the male way above her very modest level, not when I knew he’d be too nice about it, and make me feel even more like the fool.

“What are you thinking about?” his voice breaks through my reverie. He’s eyeing me with amusement now, and a hint of fondness.

I force the heat creeping to my cheeks way down within the depths of myself, determined not to make more of a fool of myself than I already have. “Just wondering why you came in here. I wasn’t—“ A blush rises to my cheeks in earnest now. “You couldn’t hear me crying from the hall, could you?”

He shakes his head, hands creeping forward over my bedspread as though to placate me. “No, no. I just came to return the book you let me borrow,” he replies gently, and again my eyes fall to the book he had dropped on the table near my door as he came in to comfort me. Oh. Right. “You were right. I did like it.”

A small smile creeps up on my lips. “Of course I was right.” He chuckles again, and I relish that I can make him do so.

“Will it inflate your ego terribly if I tell you that you have surprisingly good taste?” he drawls. I let out a playfully indignant noise and gently shove his shoulder.

“Says you. You may be quiet, Shadowsinger, but don’t think I haven’t noticed you peacocking more than once,” I toss back. He draws closer with a little grin. Holy fuck.

“Well when I’m as talented as I am, why shouldn’t I?” he purrs, the most Rhys-like I’d ever seen him. I hold onto my composure for dear life.

“Yeah, well, you can take your peacocking and incredible talent off my bed and out of my room,” I retort with a scowl, shooing him as I fight blushing like a schoolgirl. He laughs, but slides smoothly off my bed and stands, hands raised in mock surrender.

I realize then that he had taken me from my depressive state, comforted me until I calmed, then goaded me until I smiled and bantered with him again.

His eyes go from mirthful to soft, and a beat passes where he’s looking down at me still sitting on my bed, and me at him. His lips quirk. “I’m glad you’re alright. Come to me with anything. I mean it,” he reiterates with gentle firmness. I nod my head.

He begins to leave, but I blurt his name and he halts. As soon as he looks at me again, I murmur, “Thank you.” He nods his head once, eyes kind.

I expect him to turn, to leave. But he steps toward me. I still as his hands gently hold the sides of my head, and he drops a single kiss to my hairline. I don’t move or breathe until he leaves the room with one last look at me over his shoulder.

My door snicks shut and a rush of breath leaves my mouth as my hands fly up to my face. My back finds the duvet.

I was fucked.

—

Azriel walks leisurely down the hall from her room back to his once more, musing on the hour that had just passed in her room.

He’d always found the second Archeron sister to be the most interesting female he’d ever met.

Clever, strong, funny. Beautiful, absolutely, in her own way. She was interesting to look at—that counted far more than conventionally beautiful.

The kind of person you don’t let get away.

He’d have to play this carefully. Had he had thoughts these past two-three years about the fact that they were both the remaining unmated ones of their respective sibling units? Yes. But he knew that even as it drew the two of them together in a careful dance around the line, it could also end very poorly if that was the only assumed reason that he wanted her.

Which it wasn’t.

Sometimes he curses that of his brothers, he hadn’t met her first. He could have, should have wooed her. Then, at least he could be enjoying the same felicity his damned brothers were currently enjoying with two of her sisters.

But she’s proving to be a tough one to crack.

It was no matter, he decides. He hadn’t failed to notice at least some attraction on her part. But she brushes off most things with a clever joke, much to his frustration.

Tonight had been a step forward. Even as it had killed him to see her in such a state, he thanked every bit of fate that led him to her room as she had been breaking.

So he could be the one to hold her, put her pieces back together.

He could have held her in his arms, in his lap until the day he died.

But he knew getting her to come back out, to grin and tease him again was more important than his selfish desires. And gods, what a sight she was when she did.

It was no matter, he thinks to himself again. He’d be patient. He’d be the person she’d lean on until he could make her want him. Maybe she’d allow him to touch her in the way he envisioned in his most needy moments in the dark of night. He enters his bedroom and sighs.

Fuck. It might be another one of those nights after all.

•••

NOTE: hey so uhhh if literally anyone cares i’ll make a part 2

[luvrrszn]

know no bounds

STANFORD!ART DONALDSON x STANDFORD! FEM READER x STANDFORD!PATRICK ZWEIG (18+)

summary your two best friends have zero boundaries—especially when it comes to you

warnings slight nsfw (smut), erm probably a shit ton of challengers inaccuracies, art and patrick r not in love !!!!!!!!!!@#!@#!@

a/n art and patrick are not in love !! there's nothing wrong with two hot people kissing and doing the hankypanky every now and then...right... also there is like little to no mention of tashi for my sanity while writing this also i'm trying out writing with proper capitalisation let's see how it goes lolsies ALSO plzzzz send requests loveya

masterlist

You spend most of your free time with your best friends.

Hanging out in their dorm, or doing your homework in the stands while they had tennis practice.

Wherever they were, you were never far. (more like wherever YOU were, they weren't far......)

There are traces of you everywhere and traces of them everywhere. In your dorm room, your corkboard frame has several pictures of the three of you, and half of your clothes drawers are comprised of Art and Patrick's t-shirts. For some reason, you even have some of Art's textbooks at your table. In their dorm room, your hair ties are everywhere. On the bathroom sink counter, on Art's nightstand, even on Patrick's wrist.

Because the three of you were so close, your bond knew no bounds. or no boundaries.

—

It wasn't unusual for you to hang out in Art and Patrick's dorm room even when they weren't there.

So, it was only natural that when the AC in your dorm room was busted, and the heat was unbearable, you used the spare key they had given you to let yourself into their room. You were sprawled on Art's bed, books open as you finished up your assignment due that week.

At some point, you got stuck on your work. You groaned in frustration, deciding to take a shower and hope that you'd be able to continue once you were done.

And that's exactly what you did. You rifled around Art's drawers of clothes, looking for the comfiest-looking shirt. You beelined towards the bathroom once you finally decided what shirt to wear. You strip, leaving your clothes in a messy, yet neat, pile on the floor.

Humming, you draw the shower curtain shut, and as soon as the hot water hits your back, your entire body relaxes. You reach for your shampoo on your shelf (yes!! you have a shelf!!), but clumsily drop the bottle on the floor with a loud smack. That's why you don't hear the jingle of keys as Art (or Patrick,...but probably Art) opens the door, or the two consecutive thuds as both Patrick and Art drop their tennis duffels on the floor.

So just imagine your surprise when the shower curtain gets pulled open and Patrick steps in behind you. You squeak and your hands immediately move to cover yourself as you exclaim "What the fuck!"

Patrick is smirking as he replies, "Aw c'mon, I need to shower. Plus, it's nothing I haven't seen before." (another story for another time)

You start to move aside so Patrick can get under the water, but he stops you by wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in the curve of your neck. You're used to something like this coming from Art, but Patrick?

"Hey, you okay? Bad day?" You ask, voice soft.

"Real bad," He whispered back, pressing soft kisses against your neck.

"Well, maybe I can help." You whisper as you turn to face him, and slowly drop to your knees.

With zero hesitation, Patrick's fingers tangle in your hair, his thumb pressed against the side of your cheek. He's already hard, beads of precum dripping out of his tip. No matter how many times you've seen little Patrick Jr., which is in fact anything but little, you always have to take a moment to even adjust to the sight of it.

Outside the bathroom, Art groans in annoyance, mumbling something under his breath about "noisy friends" and "not sharing the joy".

Oops.

—

"the fucking ac in my room is busted again !!! i'm coming over :')"

You sent Art a quick text before making your way over to their room. You curse under your breath, why on earth was your room always in shambles?

You made a mental note to feedback to maintenance as you let yourself into the boys' room. Art and Patrick are sitting on Art's bed, backs against the wall as they watch a movie on Patrick's laptop. Patrick's in nothing but his boxers, and Art is shirtless in shorts.

"Hey, I just saw your text. Our AC's busted too." Art says, offering a sympathetic smile. You notice two fans blowing in their direction and decide you just have to enjoy the breeze too.

Art scooches over to make room for you, and you rest your back against his chest, with one of his arms around your shoulder and the other splayed across your stomach.

After a while, the heat becomes almost unbearable, so you decide to just take off your shirt.

You don't miss the way both boys' eyes dart to your chest, but it's truly just too hot to care.

[notyetneedcoffee]

May I?

Kinktober - Consent NSFW - Adults Only

Summary: You are careful to get Bucky's permission.

Bucky Barnes normally did not allow people into his apartment. It’s not like there was anything to see. A chair. A TV. A bed he never slept in. The light above the stove in the little kitchen was the only thing to illuminate the emptiness of his space.

“So, you’re a hoarder.” You said, deadpanned, as you stepped into the living room.

Bucky huffed a laugh as he turned on the small side table lamp. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I, ah, I wasn’t really planning on bringing you back here tonight.”

“It’s okay.” You dropped your purse and jacket on the floor by the little counter separating the kitchen and living room. As you toed off your shoes, you made sure to gauge his reaction. Bucky’s shoulders lowered just a little.

“Do you want a drink or something? I think I have a few beers left.”

“Naw. I’m good.” You came closer to him, taking his gloved hand in yours. “I’d really like to kiss you again.”

His eyes brightened as he leaned forward. You rose on your toes to meet him halfway. For such a hard man, his lips were impossibly soft. His tongue touched your lips and you eagerly opened for him, matching his enthusiasm.

Pulling away a bit you tugged at his jacket. “Are you going to get comfortable?” He stilled. You smiled. “Bucky, you can be comfortable with me. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

His eyes closed and he tipped his head forward. “I want to.”

You slowly removed his gloves, tossing them beside your coat. You ran your fingers over his metallic palm, entwined your fingers with his. “I know you have complete control, but can you really feel my touch.”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s different, but yeah.”

You brought his hand to your mouth and kissed his palm. Bucky stared, transfixed. You kissed the tip of his fingers. His breath increased. You lightly sucked on his forefinger. Bucky’s eyes closed and nearly imperceptible whine escaped his throat.

Bucky cupped your face with both of his hands and kissed you again. You slid your hands under his jacket, along his t-shirt. He let go of you just long enough to shed his jacket. The gleaming metal of his arm didn’t bother you. Neither did the solid pressure of it as he wrapped his arms around your waist to kiss you more.

“Doll,” He sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. “It’s been a while.”

“I know.” You toyed with the bottom of his shirt where it was tucked into his jeans. “Bucky. May I take this off?” He nodded. You pulled it up, grazing your fingertips along his flat stomach, over his powerful chest, until he lifted his arms and pulled the shirt off the rest of the way himself. Your fingers lingered on his chest. “Damn, you’re gorgeous.”

You reached behind you and unclipped your bra before drawing it along with your shirt over your head. Bucky panted, mouth slightly open. You took a half a step closer. “Will you touch me?”

He nodded. His right hand slid up your side to cup your breast. You drew his left hand to your skin, showing him you wanted him to touch you every way he could. Bucky sighed and wrapped his arms around you. His kiss became more demanding.  His hands explored your back.

“Doll,” Bucky sighed. “Damn, you feel so good.”

“Can I feel more of you?” You nipped at his jaw. He breathed a quiet ‘yes’ as you unfasted his belt.

He stared as you slipped from your pants, standing before him in just tiny white cotton underwear.

When you lowered yourself to your knees, Bucky face expressed so many emotions at once. Excitement, fear, adoration, nervousness. It went decidedly soft when you took your time unlacing his boots and removing them one at a time.

He went still as you unzip his jeans. His erection twitched as you barely brushed against it as you pushed his jeans over his hips. Jeans tossed aside, looking up at him, your hands ran up his thighs. Bucky’s eyes were wide, he chewed on his lower lip.

“Bucky,” You moved closer, so close you could smell his skin. “May I touch you?”

“Yes.” He breathed.

You lowered his boxer briefs and wrapped your hand around his cock. He let go of a shuttered breath. Thick and long. You stroked the silky skin covering the steel of his cock.

“May I,” You ran your nose along the underside of him. “taste you?”

“Oh god,” He groaned. “Yes.”

As your wet mouth wrapped around him, your felt his body twitch. His fingers stroked through your hair. You could feel his tight control beginning to wane. His hips rocked. His thighs locked.

“Fuck, Doll.” He clutched at you. “Stop. Stop. I can’t. . . Stop or this is over too soon.” You stood. Bucky’s thumb slid along your wet, swollen lower lip. “Damn, you’re beautiful.”

“Can we go to bed?”

He nodded, leading you to the other room. It was as sparse as the living room. You kissed him again before crawling to the middle of the mattress. Bucky leaned over you, looping his fingers in your underwear and pulled them down. Your legs fell open. He inhaled deeply through his nose.

“Please, Bucky.”

He slid his hands along your thighs, stroking slowly, moving slowly closer to your core. Long fingers stroked through your folds, gathering your wetness, teasing your clit. Bucky leaned forward with his weight on his free hand to kiss your breasts. His mouth sucked on your hard nipples, making your back arch.

Warmth pooled in your core. Still, you wanted this to be about him.

“Bucky.” You pulled him up and kissed him deeply. Giving a light shove, you pushed him over onto his back. Straddling his hips, you kissed his jaw. Nibbled at his neck. You whispered in his ear. “I want to make you feel good.”

Strong emotion swirled in his eyes. You stroked his chest, sitting back more. His hands came up to cup your breasts. You took his right hand in yours and sucked upon his finger, kissed his palm. “May I do that, Bucky?”

He nodded, visibly shaking at your words.

You reached down, stroking him, rubbing him along your wetness. His hands moved up and down your thighs. As you lowered yourself onto him, impaling yourself, Bucky moaned loudly. You rocked, loving his reaction, lost in the intensity.

“Oh god, Bucky.” You panted. “You feel so good.”

His fingers dug into the cheeks of your ass, rocking you as his hip pushed up. You braced your weight on your hands. You kissed his chest, his neck, his full beautiful mouth. Tension grew, swirling in your belly. Your eyes locked.

“Doll, ah, I’m gonna…”

“Yes,” You breathed. “Me too.”

“God, you’re amazing. Make me feel…wanted.” His gaze held you captive. “Feel so good.”

You moved faster. The coil tightened. You wanted to say things, confess things. The emotion nearly bringing tears to your eyes. His breath grew harsher, hips snapped faster. You began to quiver.

“Please, oh, fuck.” Bucky’s clutched at you. “Come for me.”

You came undone. Eyes locking closed and body shaking. Bucky wrapped his arms around you tight, pushing up into you fast and hard until the moan of his release filled your ears.

You lay atop him, limp and sated. His fingers drew lazy circles along your back. “Doll,” He sighed. “You’re too good for me.”

“No,” You kissed his chest.

He smiled. “Then may I call you my girl?”   

Want more? Check out my Master List.

[sweetpascal]

omg looove this idea!! hmm, perhaps prompt 7 from list 3? with our boy frankie?? 🥵 only if such a pairing tickles your fancy, of course!

main prompts post

#7 from prompt list no. 3

⤷ finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc) 

oh absoLUTELY this tickles my fancy. call me a pescatarian cause i love me some Catfish (ew that was such a bad joke, i even made myself cringe. please ignore that dad joke.) 😭

pairing: frankie morales x fem!reader

— summary: when dancing on your husband accidentally makes him pop a boner, frankie takes it upon himself to drag the two of you away to relieve that stress.

— warnings: husband + wife trope. hatless frankie. frisky dancing. groping. heavy make out session. no foreplay. spit as lube. standing doggy. size kink. brief daddy kink. sprinkle of mirror sex too hehe.

— wc: 3.2k (i'm surprised i kept it below 5k tbh)

this boink part is inspired by this spicy twitter video ;)

follow @sweetpascal-notifs for future fic updates.

The idea to host a New Year's party was Benny's. Often referred to as the group's golden retriever, he has an innate charm that draws people to him, enabling him to make friends effortlessly. As the youngest among his three friends and blessed with boyish, attractive features, it's no wonder he has numerous friends beyond Santiago, Frankie, and his older brother, Will. He's made acquaintances at the gym, dive bars, and even grocery stores. Benny has a knack for talking his way into and out of situations, often avoiding parking fines and more serious troubles. However, that's not the focus. When Benny organizes a gathering, he spares no expense on food, beverages, music, and decor. New Year's, after all, is a celebration of new beginnings.

There you and your husband, Frankie, were, at the black-and-white masquerade party. You donned a sleek, black silk dress that hugged your figure, featuring a deep back and slender straps, complemented by a delicate pearl necklace resting on your collarbones. Frankie was dressed in his finest black trousers, a snug black t-shirt tucked into them with a belt, and a black blazer. His outfit struck the perfect balance for Benny's theme, being neither too ostentatious nor too simple. Fortunately, masks were provided at the party, so that was one less thing to consider.

The music was loud, and the atmosphere was lively. You had lost track of the others some time ago, but Frankie remained by your side, steadfast as glue to paper. Aware that parties weren't really his scene, especially considering his age and dislike for crowded spaces, you found a quiet corner. Gently pulling on his hand, you guided him to stand against the wall. The bass pulsed through you, a constant presence. Your mask concealed your forehead, eyes, and nose, leaving only your lips and chin visible. Frankie's mask was a different hue but similar to yours. Despite the strobe lights, it was clear his gaze hadn't strayed from you, not since you left home.

"Are you doing okay?" you asked, loud enough for him to hear, your hands gently gripping his shoulders for balance. Frankie leaned into you, his large hands settling on your hips as he nodded in response to your question and gave a thumbs up. You returned the nod and placed a soft kiss on the bald spot along his jaw.

The sensation of alcohol settling in your body is unmistakable. The buzzing in your veins, the warmth spreading through your chest, and the tingling sensation all over become increasingly pronounced. As the music shifts to a rhythm that's easy to dance to, you find yourself easily moving to the beat. Frankie's hands were still on your hips as you turned in his hold with your back now pressed into his chest. Your eyes closed as you felt yourself getting lost in the music. His crotch was pressed into your backside, and so you leaned forward to put your hands on your knees, arched your back, and began to grind your ass against him to the beat of the music.

You obviously can't hear his reaction, but you can definitely feel it. His hardness is thick against your ass, and you feel it slotting between your cheeks each time you bump and grind against him. It got to a point where a small crowd gathered around you both to cheer you on, even going as far as to record you twerking on your husband. People hooted and hollered. With a beaming, embarrassed smile, you stood up straight and wrapped your arms around Frankie's neck, giggling into his neck as he gave your ass a hearty swat.

"You're fucking killing me," he groans in your ear, the heat of his breath causing goosebumps to raise on your arms. "Let's go."

With a startled yelp, Frankie grabs your wrist and pulls you through the crowd. You focus on his tall figure and broad shoulders as he makes his way to an unknown destination, deliberately bumping into people blocking his path. Keeping up with his quick pace is a struggle. As he bounds up the stairs two at a time to reach the second floor, your heels come off in the haste.

"Frankie! Slow down, you big lug!" you shout, but it's no use. Whether he's ignoring you on purpose or the music drowns out your voice, he doesn't slow down.

The music had become distant and muffled. As Frankie reached the third floor, the Miller Residence felt almost like a mansion, enveloped in near silence. His large hand remained clamped around your wrist as he frantically opened every door he came across, yet none seemed suitable to enter. The question burning on your lips faded away when he swung open the fifth door, revealing a spotless bathroom. Casting a glance over your shoulder, he guided you inside with a hand at your waist.

"Frankie, what're we doing--"

You're immediately silenced when he yanks off his mask and takes yours off as well, followed by his plump lips frantically kissing your own. Moans are muffled as Frankie pushes you against the sink and starts tugging the straps of your dress down your shoulders until it pools at your feet. Confused and extremely aroused, you realize what exactly he wants and why he wants it. He lets out a husky moan and pulls away from your lips as though he was forced to. A thin string of saliva connecting your lips is wiped away with his thumb. As you glance down at his lips, you can see your lipstick smudged all over him.

"I'm going to fuck you right here, right now," he tells you, and his tone holds no room left for discussion. When Frankie is pleasure-drunk, all coherent thoughts leave his mind. When he's horny horny, the man will fuck you regardless of where you are or what you're doing. Even at his age, your husband's stamina is quite impressive.

He kisses you again as you struggle with his belt. His tongue, warm and so wet, invades your mouth and licks you all over. His teeth bite, nibble, and suck on your tongue and lips. Lewd smacking sounds fill the empty space of the bathroom. It's so wet and frantic and dirty. Spit slides down your chin and Frankie groans huskily as it smears on his own chin.

With fumbling hands, you successfully open his belt and pop open the button of his slacks, frantically sliding down the zipper and shoving your hand inside to stroke his hard cock through his boxers. Frankie moans deeply, hot air puffing across your kiss-swollen lips. Your thumb circles around the tip and you can feel a wet spot through the fabric. The throbbing in your core is nearly painful, so you squeeze your thighs together to try to provide some relief.

"You feel that? You feel what you did to me? Grinding that ass all over my dick and expecting me not to do something," he grits, his eyes black with lust and jaw clenching as your hand tightens around the base of his thickness, stroking up and down and twisting your wrist when you reach the tip.

You have no time to respond as he pulls your hand away from inside his slacks and spins you around with such force that you stumble and catch yourself on the bathroom counter. As you look in the mirror, you realize the extent of your disheveled appearance. Your lipstick is smeared all over your chin, your eyes are half-lidded and glazed over, saliva shining all over your lips. You're a hot mess, all thanks to your horndog of a husband.

One of Frankie's large hands settles into the middle of your back, right between the shoulder blades, and he pushes you down so that you're now bent over the counter. Your body slouches so your left shoulder and the side of your head rests along the wall. Frankie's other hand cups the back of your right thigh, and he grips the meat before lifting your leg up to prop your knee on the edge of the counter. With that same hand, he pulls down his undone slacks and boxers, allowing his cock to spring up. It bobs up and down for a second. Your eyes follow the movement, and you let out a needy little sound that you try to muffle by biting on your thumb. It's no lie that he's well endowed; a delicious eight inches, three fingers thick, veiny with a slight curve, and nicely cut. A dark dusting of hair lays across his pelvis and you crave to lick up the happy trail.

"You're gonna get it, baby, don't worry," Frankie breathes out. He strokes his cock for a few seconds, feeling the throbbing intensify when he glances down and sees your wetness shining in the dim lighting. Your cunt flutters so prettily at him, almost begging for him to stuff it full and make the emptiness go away.

You watch through the mirror as Frankie spits into his palm and uses that to coat his cock. You can see his arm moving up and down as he strokes from base to tip; the wet sounds cause your cheeks to warm. There are only just a few seconds before he slides himself home. He makes eye contact with you through the mirror and steps closer to your backside. He guides himself into your leaking pussy with one slow thrust, allowing you to feel each and every inch he has to offer. Your breath gets caught in your throat and your eyes threaten to roll back into your skull. The positioning of you bent over the counter with your knee hiked up to rest on the edge has him reaching a lot deeper than usual.

"Fuck," Frankie shakily whispers as he looks down between your bodies to watch as your pussy eagerly swallows him up. He positions his left hand at the back of your neck, gripping gently and keeping you pinned against the wall. His other hand grabs onto the crease of your hip, and then he starts to really fuck you.

The first couple of thrusts were slow and deep. The added tightness of no prep beforehand has heat pooling heavily in the pit of both of your stomachs. Desperately trying to hold in your moans, you bite down harder on your thumb. Your hair is no doubt mess from the motions of your body rocking in time with his hips. You look into the mirror and finally let out a wanton moan when you see Frankie completely transfixed on his cock going in and out of your messy pussy. His heavy balls slap against your clit--the position with your leg hiked up causes your pussy lips to spread further apart, which then exposes your swollen clit completely.

"I-I... ohmygod," your words are slurred as you try to speak coherently. Frankie lets out a pleasure hum in your direction, his hips now moving a tad bit faster. Your ass cheeks jiggle from his pelvis smacking against them. The hand on your hip smacks down onto the meat, his thick fingers gripping and grabbing eagerly. "Jus' like that!!"

"Yeah?" he grunts and leans over your slouched body, his lips pressed into the shell of your ear and his hot breath spewing across. "Daddy's hitting it good, isn't he? You take this dick so good, baby. Tell me you love it." He hikes your leg higher until your knee is practically inside the sink bowl. "Tell me how much you love this fuckin' dick." It's like a dam break as he growls the last sentence in your ear and nips your earlobe, being mindful of your dangly pearl earrings.

"Yesyesyes, I-I love it s-so much!!" You whined breathlessly, trying your hardest to tell him clearly just how much your love his cock and how good he's fucking you. As he repositions his stance and widens his legs, he starts to fuck you so hard and so deep that you lose your train of thought. Matter of fact, all thoughts are non-existent, and your brain is just a puddle of mush.

Frankie's breathing stutters when your pussy flutters around his cock. He hunches over and bites down on your shoulder before turning his head to bury his nose right below your ear. His hand around the back of your neck presses you further down as he plows faster into your body. The wet sounds of your dripping cunt, literally leaking all over him, are the only sounds filling the bathroom, aside from his heavy breathing and your squeaks.

"You take it so good, baby," he grunts like an animal, teeth bared, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. He stands up to his full height and yanks your hips a few inches away from the sink, only hiking your leg higher on the counter, your knee nearly pressed into your chest.

"Fuck!" You managed to choke out, no longer able to swallow down your moans as the pressure in your gut tightens more and more. Eyes crossing and toes curling, your free hand--the one not trapped between your head and the wall--reaches out to hold onto the sink faucet. Frankie's cock is hitting you so good, his tip repeatedly punching that one spot that makes you go fucking crazy. "Kee-p go-ing... aaahhh!!... fuuuuuuck!" Your moans have now turned into groaning wails as your husband fucks you faster, harder, deeper, no longer holding back his brute strength.

"I know, baby, I know," Frankie huffs out a laugh that blends into a drawn-out moan. Both hands are now gripping onto your shoulders to pull you back in time with his forceful thrusts. The sopping sounds of his balls slapping against your clit, splattering wetness all over your inner thighs and his, makes his head fall back and his eyes clench shut.

Then, the countdown starts.

From all the way down to the first floor, you can faintly hear the crowd of people yelling out the numbers 45, 44, 43, 42...

Your bleary eyes open and you let out a choked sob when Frankie looks back at you through the mirror. He grinds his cock slow and deep to make your eyes roll right back into your skull. With one hand, he fists a chunk of your hair and towers over your slouched body, resuming the brutal pace he previously set. He tips your head up and uses the hand gripping your hair to shake you back and forth.

"Look at me," he orders, finally using his other hand to reach down and slide beneath your stomach to rub his middle and ring fingers around your clit in tight circles. "You better cum when they get to 1."

Half-lidded eyes meet his own through the mirror. Frankie's neatly styled hair was now a curly mess and falling across his forehead. His kiss-swollen lips were parted and he looks like he's about to fall apart any second.

The crowd chants 33, 32, 31, 30...

"All right, baby, c'mon," he rasps in your ear, grinning in drunken pleasure when your eyebrows tilt upward and you start letting out stuttered gasps. The rhythmic flutter of your pussy starts increasing when he rubs your needy clit up and down rather than in a circular motion. "Almost there..."

25, 24, 23, 22...

Frankie stands up straight for the last time and finally plows in and out of your soaking cunt, completely ravishing you and taking what you have no other choice but to give him in your pleasure-drunk state. The coiling gets tighter, damn near unbearable. It starts in the pit of your stomach and travels in opposite directions, going all the way to your inner thighs and to the tips of your toes and traveling up to the hardened nubs of your nipples.

18, 17, 16, 15...

"Give it to me, honey," Frankie is starting to lose control, his pace sloppy and his cock throbbing relentlessly as his heavy balls start to tighten. "You can do it, baby. Oooohh shit!! C'mon now. Do it for--fuucckk--me."

The hand at the back of your neck travels down your sweaty spine and clamps down on your hip to fuck into you. He smacks your ass and grunts heavily at the jiggle. He smacks your ass again, forcing a breathy wail from your bitten lips. He looks into the mirror and sees the expression on your face that tells him you're right on the edge. Your face is prettily scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed and lips forming a perfect O. Your hand desperately clings onto his wrist at your hip as you get onto your tiptoes. Your thighs begin to shake on their own and your vision becomes blurry.

9, 8, 7, 6...

"Ohmygod... ohmygod... ri-ight there!! Frankieee!!" Tongue feeling so thick in your mouth, you bite down on your bottom lip and fall completely flat with your chest firmly pressed onto the counter. Your hand smacks onto the mirror, sweaty fingerprints smudging the clean glass. "Ahh!! Aaahhh!!"

3, 2, 1...

"FUUUUUCK!!" You and Frankie simultaneously shouted at the top of your lungs as you came at the same time. Your swollen, ribbed walls contracted around his cock, sucking his cum straight from the tip and having him shoot it so deep in your cervix. The power of your orgasm has you spasming uncontrollably, your hand sliding down the mirror and frantically grabbing onto the faucet again. Wetness leaks down your inner thighs, no doubt being a mixture of yours and Frankie's combined cum. You can still feel his cock throbbing as his cock weakly shoots out the last bit of his seed.

There are a few seconds of silence as the two of you try to catch your breath. Your hair is a disheveled mess and covers the side of your face as you rest your head on the counter, still trying to keep your tremors under control. Your body is sticky with sweat and other bodily fluids. Frankie's still clothed body is hunched over your back, his warmth burning through his clothes and layering onto your exposed skin. It was comforting, his natural heat and the weight of his body.

He stays inside of you, allowing himself to get soft as he finds comfort in the wetness and warmth of your pussy. There are still small flutters from the aftermath of your intense orgasm. Frankie lets out a deep chuckle and kisses your bare shoulder gently, trailing his kisses up your neck and finally laying one on your earlobe.

"Happy New Year," he murmurs, gently brushing your hair aside. A weary smile graces your lips, and a soft giggle escapes you. Below, the party picks up again, ringing in the new year with jubilation.

With a slight turn of your head, you plant a sweet kiss on his lips, followed by a light peck on the tip of his nose. "Happy New Year, Francisco," you whisper. Your gazes lock for a moment before he leans in for another gentle, lingering kiss.

A knock at the door breaks you two apart before Benny's voice echos through the wood, "When you two are done fucking in the guest bathroom, come downstairs and have some cake."

[jjmbbg]

"Such a good girl"

cw: russell shaw x fem!reader, domestic little intro, oral sex (m!receiving), hair pulling, slight degradation, pubic hair ?? (in case someone whines about it lol)

(pics from pinterest)

Russell always has rough days, going around doing his own thing, helping people, sometimes annoying his not-so-little brother and such. Deal with the bills and such is also a problem —or rather, a pain in the ass.

But at least you were there to ease all of his problems. A light touch on his hand, a kiss on the cheek or your pretty ass on his lap were enough to make all his tensions fade away, at least momentarily.

Today, more than ever, he needed what only you knew how to give him. He dropped the keys of his car on the hall table, hanging his jacket on the coat rack by the door. With a heavy sigh, he walked into the living room, seeing you sitting on the couch with a steaming cup of green tea in your hands.

"Is that my t-shirt?" he asked you, walking towards you and sitting next to you. Then, he gathered you carefully on his arms and made you sit on his lap, kissing your cheek briefly.

"Yeah" you replied, adjusting yourself on his lap, taking a sip of your tea, then you brought the cup to Russell's lips.

"Y'know I ain't a tea fan" he chuckled, caressing your thigh with his calloused hand, leaving a tingly feeling on your skin.

"I'm in your lap, the least you can do is drink some of my tea" you protested, smiling as he gave in and took a sip of it, making a face of disgust. "It has sugar"

"I see"

Russell turned his head towards the TV, wondering what the hell were you watching, but all he saw was just naked people, then a little bit of violence and stuff.

"What's this?" he decided to ask, but when you murmured you didn't know he chuckled. "That's what was on TV, huh?"

You two stayed like that for a while, you sipping your tea, comforting him from his rough day with a small talk and a few kisses. He kept a hand on your thigh, drawing lazy patterns on your bare skin. At some point, you turned your head and looked at him affectionately, your hand leaving the cup on the coffee table and you turned at him to look at his face better.

Silently, your finger traced gently the lines of his face, the outline of his features: forehead, nose, lips and his beard. He smiled at you, leaning to give you a small kiss, his beard tickling your lips and chin, making you smile. Then you gave him another small kiss, and he gave another one.

But what was just little pecks, turned into hungry kisses, his hands cupping your face roughly, lips and teeth crashing into the heated dance of the kiss. He broke apart the kiss, both of you gasping for air. With choked in pleasure, he whispered, his hot breath fanning your face

"On your knees, sweetheart"

A thrill ran down your spine, it wasn't a question but an order. You felt yourself throb in your panties as you got on your knees between his thighs, your hands reaching the button and zipper of his jeans, undoing them and sliding them along his boxers to his ankles. His thick, hard cock sprang free, standing at attention, making you lick your lips in anticipation.

"Go on, baby. I know you want it. Put it deep in that pretty mouth of yours" Russell instructed, seeing you eagerly lean on his crotch, lips hovering the hard-rock length. "Don't be shy, honey. We know you wanna be my little cocksleve, or am I wrong?"

You nodded, your hands reaching out, fingers wrapping around the base of Russell's shaft. It's hot and hard, pulsing against your palm. Eagerly, you parted your soft, pink lips opening your mouth. You extended your tongue, giving the tip a teasing lick, moaning at the salty-sweetness of his pre-cum. You looked up through your lashes, straight at his face, and smiled coyly.

"I'll make you feel good, Russ" you said to him, almost a soft purr from your throat.

Then, you leaned further and wrapped your lips around the head of Russell's pink cock, sealing your mouth on it, your lips forming a tight seal as you started to slid it deeper into your mouth. You can feel the hard length gliding over your tongue, filling your warm mouth in the way you loved like crazy. Your throat relaxed, taking Russell even deeper and feelinf the head hitting the back of your throat, and you swallowed around it, the muscles of your throat fluttering and massaging the sensitive flesh.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, humming in approval. He didn't pushed your head and didn't guide you, he just kept his hand there, enjoying the feel of your warm mouth bobbing up and down.

"That's my good little slut, huh? You're doing it so fucking well" he growled lowly, his hand twitching with the urge to push your head down and make you choke on him, but he held back.* "Don't stop. Mhm, just like that, babygirl"

You moaned against his cock, a mix of drool and his pre-cum sliding down your throat as you pumped his dick with your mouth. You took him deep, your nose brushing against the wiry hair at the base of his shaft. The musky scent of his arousal fills your nostrils, making your head spin with desire, making your cunt dampening your panties.

"Fuck, you're doing it amazing, honey. You were made to take my cock in that pretty mouth" he groaned, fingers tightening in your hair. "My good little girl, taking me so well like a slut, gagging on me"

Your tongue swirled around the head, tracing the thick vein on the underside, teasing the sensitive spot just below the crown. His moans and the slurpy sound of your mouth made his cock twitch with need of release, the sight of your cheeks hollowing... God, he was gonna bust right here and there if you kept using your mouth like that.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you don't let up. You want his hot seed flooding your mouth, swallow every last drop of his cum.

You glanced up at Russell, his cock deep in your abused throat. The heat of his green gaze sends shivers down your body, redoubling your efforts, determined to make him come undone. You want to be the reason for his pleasure, the cause of his ectasy.

"Yeah, keep sucking me like that. I'm so close, baby" his voice was thick with pleasure, his lips parted letting his precious moans and head on the backrest of the couch, enjoying the way your mouth engulfed him, the wet heat enveloping his dick like a vice. "Take it all, baby. Love to see you choking on my cock"

Then again, Russell listened to the slurping sounds filling the room, mingling with his harsh breaths and your muffled moans and his choked ones. It was filthy, it was good, so fucking good.

His balls drew up tight as your tongue worked over and over the sensitive spot under the head. The pressure building, the coil pleasure winding tighter and tighter in his gut.

"Gonna cum," he warned, voice strained. "Gonna fucking come down your tight throat, and you're gonna swallow it like the good little slut you are"

You nodded as you bobbed your head up and down, moaning on his length, wanting him to finish in your mouth, needing him to. You shut your eyes close tightly as Russell held your head against his throbbing cock, a hoarse cry from the deep of his throat as he flooded your mouth and throat. His orgasm ripping through him like a tidal wave.

Russell's body shuddered with the force of his release, his grip on your hair almost painful. He rode out the waves of pleasure, grinding against your face until he was spent, until he had nothing left to give.

You slipped his cock out from your mouth with a wet pop, a thread of saliva and cum still joining you two. He smiled at you as you swallowed his cum and hummed with need, rubbing your thighs each other, seeking some kind of relief.

"Looks like someone needs a little bit of touch, huh?" Russell teased you, pulling you into his lap. "Huh? What's this?" he teased, palming your clothed pussy, feeling the dampness of your panties. "Uh oh, looks like we have some problem here"

And with a guttural force, he teared off your panties.

"Russell!" you yelped amused and surprised, feeling his fingers sank into you.

"We ain't done yet"

[1nk-ling]

Sooooo, what if I told you that (having exhausted the pittifuly small amount of tmnt content in all our state libraries + Dailymotion) my sister and I made up a fan itteration together? Yay? Nay?

Okay, prepare for a full two day's worth incoherent concept sketches and ideas.

Firstly Leo:

I know, I know who he looks like. But don't worry, I stole from all itteraions equally. You'll see.

2012 shaped limbs, 2003 white void eyes, Rise shapes and patterns, 1987-esque knee socks on Leo, the lot.

He's a Spotted turtle. They like the cold more than most turtles, so I'm adding that to him, along with being quick with words and also a scrawny stick boy. Next to Mikey, Leon likes wearing clothes the best, and has this gigantic T-shirt that he belts up and feels like a Japanese warrior in.

Raph was a little harder than Leon.

He's a seaturtle, so he likes swimming even more than his brothers. He'll sneak out to the nearest sewer outlet at night and swim in the ocean whenever he can. But unlike Leon he hates being cold, so his swimming season is short and precious.

Mikey was...a nightmare.

I really wanted 'big Mikey', and I had a pretty clear vibe in my head, but putting it down was nearly impossible. He just never looked like a little brother who was actually huge. He looked like a big brother.

Then I got the vibe. Also, look up Western Painted Turtles. They are gorgeous.

Mikey is fascinated by humanity, collecting and wearing bits and pieces of "human Stuff" all the time.

Now Donnie:

Ooooh boy! This guy! The little alien! This is the immage that lept into my mind and started this whole thing. You may be thinking he doesn't look much like a teenager. And you'd be right. You see... >:}

Donnie wasn't mutated at the same time as Splinter and the others. They were the result of an early Kraang esperiment, but Splinter excaped with three little sons. A few years later, the Kraang mutated another turtle with a new mutigin recipy. Donnie was raised by the Kraang untill he was five, being trained and studied in Kraang-y things and ways.

We haven't worked out quite how the whole thing happens, but basically Splinter was out scrounging for food, and accidentally incountered some Kraang talking about moving the mutant turtle to a new lab. Absolutely panicked, he completely wrecked the entire convoy and broke into the truck, only to find that the child inside was NOT one of his sons at all. But of course, he wasn't about to just leave him there for the Kraang to find, so he brought him back and introduced him to his boys. Raph was skeptical at first, and Leon was cautious, but Mikey addopted him instantly and the others quickly followed suit.

Proportions chart. I love shapes.

Okay, turns out I can't draw rats. This Splinter is an artist, though. He makes it out of whatever he can find and sneaks out to sell it with more layers on than the average homeless New Englander. It makes him enough to buy food and some art supplies, but most of it he keeps in case of some emergency.

This ▲ This is the reason I wanted big Mikey. Big enough to purch on. Big enough to give Rise Raph cuddles. Big enough to be awesome big!

Little Donnie can speak fine, but he's generally silent. He has, however, trained himself to read in French and Japanese as well as English. Wouldn't understand a word of spoken French, but reads fluently. (You know the feeling of realizing you're a creator and can do whatever you want, so you make someone a fan of your childhood comics even though only 1 in every 12,000 people even know what they are, let alone liked them? It's great.)

Guy's hear me out. We all love the responsible/stressed/anxiety ridden Leos. But what about a chill Leo? Just a thought.

Congradulations! You just looked at all that. If you made it through the first five inches you're awesome!

We have so many more lore tidbits and so much more to work out and so much more to think about. I haven't even said half the things she and I were giggling about yesterday. But I will probably be thinking abut these guys for a while, so maybe I'll ramble again sometime.

[ebongawk]

gimme kiss #41 😎

41. A kiss out of spite

"Chrissy will you–– Hey, man move it–– Will you please just talk to me? Chrissy! Babe, wait up!"

Chrissy was resolute in her marching through the party, red solo cup held above her head to avoid knocking into the swaying bodies. Avoiding the possibility of covering either herself or someone else in wet.

Though she'd swapped her vodka soda out for a water as soon as she saw Jason walk through the doors of the house party they were apparently both attending. She'd have to be sober if she wanted to remain resolute in this breakup.

Her defenses never failed to fall when she got tipsy, and she absolutely refused to take Jason back again. No way, no how, no sir. He was an asshole, and yeah, it had unfortunately taken her most of high school and half of college to realize it, but she couldn't exactly un-realize it now.

Of course, he would just happen to be at the one party she decided to attend this semester since the breakup. After vetting his calls for the past three months and being conveniently out of her apartment whenever he came around (she sent a silent thank you to Heather and Robin for playing up how busy she was as she hid in her bedroom while he was at the door), of course he was doing his absolute best to grab her attention here, of all places.

In public.

It would be mortifying if it wasn't so sad.

Dipping into the basement, Chrissy made her way through yet another throng of bodies before shoving herself into a small clearing. A deep inhale and an exasperated exhale ignited a chuckle from across the way, and Chrissy glanced up.

Oh.

What a pretty boy.

Blinking some of the haze out of her eyes, Chrissy watched the way he tilted his head to one side in curiosity as his eyes darted from her feet to her face. Then, making the trek again but far, far more slowly, Chrissy felt something heated curling dangerously in her stomach.

"All good, toots?" he asked, his voice just loud enough to carry over the din of noise. "Seems like you just ran a marathon. Not all that to find little ol' me, I assume?"

Those dark eyes were alight with some unnamed mischief Chrissy suddenly found herself desperate to identify. He was alone, sitting in the corner of the basement with a cigarette between his lips and a half-beaten lunchbox at his feet. Like some nefarious prince on a deserted island, there was a strange berth of space around him. People milling about but never daring to get too close.

But his question was like a welcoming hand stretching the distance. He'd lowered a moat over crocodile-infested waters and was waiting for her to cross.

She didn't hesitate his extension of refuge.

Plopping wearily down on the small stool he had cleared for her next to his armchair, Chrissy groaned as she rubbed her temples. Setting the red cup at her feet and taking yet another deep, slow breath.

"So, uh," the guy began, sitting forward until he could catch her eye before she let her head droop between her knees. "You come here often?"

Snorting, Chrissy rolled her eyes.

"What, dingy basements at parties?"

"Dingy basements in general." He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and drawing Chrissy's attention to the stretch of his t-shirt beneath the leather jacket he wore. "Not to, y'know, toot my own horn, but they're kinda my domain, and I've never seen you around."

Once more looking her up and down and igniting that same detrimental heat in her gut, he winked at her. Chrissy almost swooned, cheeks growing warm under his obvious appreciation.

"I'd remember," he finished.

Clearing her throat, Chrissy crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt down.

"I'm not a frequent flyer, no," she admitted. "I don't often even come to these parties, to be honest, but–��"

"Ah," the boy said, grinning. "Knew it. You looked like more of an upstairs gal. Never deigned these poor basement dwellers worthy of your presence."

That wasn't necessarily a lie, and Chrissy pursed her lips to quell her indignation. Basements had reputations at parties like this. It was where dark corners lit up with the haze of marijuana and various other substances.

"I don't hold myself to that high of a standard," she muttered instead, making the boy laugh.

"Well, color me lucky, I guess," he chuckled. "That your first foray into the dark might've put you in my path, I mean." Waggling his eyebrows, he let his gaze dip down, then back up. "Maybe having a pretty thing like you on my arm will drum up some business."

"Business?" Chrissy questioned just as her eyes, for the first time, glanced away from the boy and toward the stairs. Pulled by peripheral motion, Chrissy watched from her perch as a familiar head of blond hair came flouncing down each step. Half-hidden by the crowd, he hadn't yet seen her, but she had the vantage point to see him searching for her.

"Oh, nuggets," Chrissy whispered, glancing frantically around for a better hiding spot before Jason found her. The boy at her side seemed to clock her sudden spike of anxiety, his eyes following hers to the new arrival and narrowing.

"Hey, princess, you alright?" he asked, leaning toward her. "You, uh, need me to, y'know, take care of anything?"

His insinuation went entirely over her head as the panic set in, but a different idea somehow managed to infiltrate the static mess of her thoughts.

"Would you kiss me?" she asked, her voice pitched with desperation. The guy's eyes widened impossibly, drawing attention to the thick, unfair ring of eyelashes that framed them. Eyes darting toward Jason, who was facing the other direction, then back again, Chrissy punctuated her question with a little, "Please?"

"Fuck," the boy muttered, ashing his mostly-ignored cigarette in a nearby tray and tangling his fingers in her hair. "Yeah, uh, yeah, sure, whatever the lady doth request."

He tried to pull her in, but the distance between his chair and her stool was too great. Chrissy scrabbled to her knees, hitching a leg over the arm of the chair and half-landing on his lap. The boy chuckled, the sound mingling with Chrissy's giggle as he rested his free hand on her waist and drew her in properly.

"This alright?" he asked, his lips centimeters from hers. Making her heart drum violently in her chest. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the exact moment Jason noticed her, picking his way through the room with demands that people move out of his way.

"This is perfect," she responded, letting her eyes linger just long enough to grab Jason's attention before she was turning back and closing the gap between her lips and the boy's.

And she forgot, all at once, that she was trying to get back at her ex-boyfriend.

He was a flavor she was unaccustomed to, but suddenly craved. Cigarette, yeah, but it was more than that. It was a deep earthiness melded with something minty, like he'd been chewing gum, maybe. Chrissy moaned, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling herself closer. Sliding from her awkward perch on the arm of the chair and completely into his lap, Chrissy lost herself entirely in his kiss.

He felt so incredibly solid. The hand in her hair pulsed slightly, fingertips gently scrubbing against her scalp with every breathy sound she made. His other hand on her waist squeezed slightly, his palm warm and pleasant on the slight amount of skin she had showing between her top and her skirt. His thighs were sturdy beneath hers, muscle hidden beneath all that black denim.

Someone said her name, she was pretty sure. Yelled it, actually, making the boy growl as he pulled away from her dazed, bee-stung lips.

"Hey, man, fuck off," the boy demanded. "I'm trying to have some quality time with my girl."

Without the hush of the boy's kiss calming her mind, she could hear Jason behind her positively seething.

"Your girl?" he asked, his voice pitched with anger. "She's my girl, dick!"

Still, he dared not intervene. The guilt of his own actions outweighing his apparent claim over their dead relationship. Trying to resuscitate one half of a heart that had happily flatlined months ago.

Looking at her, then over her shoulder with a little smirk, the boy shrugged. Every gesture he made was so incredibly close, and Chrissy cataloged them all in her mind. Filing them away for later dissection.

"Really doesn't seem to be the case, my guy. Why don't you run along home to your little jock itch teammates and try to circle jerk the infection away, huh?"

Jason said something else, but Chrissy didn't hear it. Because the boy was pulling her back in, the heavy rings on his fingers tangling in her hair as he angled her head in just the right way to slip his tongue past her teeth. Chrissy moaned, her body going fully molten in his hands as he drew her in and drank her down, sip by sip by sip.

Far, far too soon, he was gently easing himself from her embrace again. Eyes on her for a long moment before darting away ever so briefly to scan the room.

"Pretty sure he's gone," the boy murmured, his lips nearly close enough that she could feel every syllable. Or maybe it was just the vibration of him, the way he'd somehow, miraculously, already tuned her boy to feel it. "Christ, toots. That fucker an ex of yours, I'm assuming?"

"Unfortunately," she sighed, forcing her fingers to untangle where they'd come to rest on the nape of his neck and slide down his chest. She gently smoothed out the lapels of his jacket. "For, like, months now, but he doesn't seem to take the hint."

"Oh, I think the hint was definitely taken this time, sweetness," the boy smiled, his thumb tucking beneath her chin for a brief moment. "And if not, I mean. I'm always open for a round two, y'know?"

"Yeah?" she asked. "You gonna be in every dingy basement of the party I happen to attend every four-to-six months?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, his eyes glinting with that same unnamed mischief. "Wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. These assholes are paying for my college education, after all."

"And if, um," she began, her hands curling around his shoulders. "If I said I wanted round two... despite an audience." Dropping her head, Chrissy looked at him from under her lashes. Attempting to appear as coquettish as possible. "Or, maybe, regardless of an audience?"

The curl of his grin was echoed in her stomach, her insides twisting and morphing until they were the exact same shape as his teeth.

He was going to eat her alive, and the only thing she'd be able to say at the end was thank you.

"Yeah?" he asked. "You, uh, thinking now, or you thinking four-to-six months from now?"

"We can start with now," she shrugged, "and see where we're at in four-to-six months."

The boy threw his head back, letting out a long, loud cackle that had Chrissy clinging to him through her own laughter.

"Eddie, by the way," he said, sticking his hand in the scant space between their torsos. Sporting a wide, feral grin that made Chrissy forget all about her discomfort of the night.

Curling her fingers around his, Chrissy shook his hand.

"Chrissy," she introduced herself.

"Chrissy," he repeated, and she was fascinated by the way his tongue curled around her name. The way his lips parted on the second syllable, accentuating the second 's' in a way no one ever had. "Gorgeous."

"I bet you say that to all the girls that fall into your lap and beg you to kiss them to chase away their exes."

"Only the especially gorgeous ones," he shot back easily. "Hey, uh, not to be, like, too forward, but can I kiss you again?"

Her smile tasted sweet on her own lips. She wondered if Eddie would say it tasted the same.

"Not too forward," she soothed. "You can, um. You can kiss me anytime you want, Eddie."

"Shit, baby, don't threaten me with a good time."

kiss roulette!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Crossroads

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 9

Prompt: Icy Roads

Rated: T

Tags: Fantasy AU; Demons; Deal with a devil; Slight blood and gore; Blood drinking

The full moon is almost at its zenith by the time Eddie reaches the crossroads outside the village. It's a few days until the solstice, and even though there's no wind, the air has that unforgiving bite to it that comes with clear, starry winter nights. His toes are aching in his threadbare boots - that dull, throbbing pain that means they're going to go numb soon. He grits his teeth and ignores them, stiff fingers fumbling in his bag for the supplies. 

He didn't account for how difficult it would be, etching the runes into the ground. The earth and mud are frozen solid, covered in a thin sheen of glittering ice. He casts his stick aside after the first futile attempt, opting to use his dagger instead, and even so, it's agonizingly slow work. Eddie swears under his breath, casting nervous glances at the moon overhead. The witching hour will be over soon. When his circle is finally complete, his neck is drenched in sweat and his breath fogs around him in puffy clouds. He doesn’t waste any time, scrambling up and standing by the side of the circle. His hands are so numb he hardly feels the pain of the blade slicing through his palm. He waits impatiently for the blood to well up, then holds his hand out. 

“What are you doing?” 

Eddie yelps and whirls. The precious red droplets burst outside the circle. 

There's a boy standing behind him, watching him curiously. He must've come from the village, even though Eddie is sure he's never seen him around. He'd remember if he had. 

He's striking. More beautiful than anyone else Eddie has seen in his sixteen winters. Smooth, soft skin with dark moles scattered all over it, like the stars in the sky above. His clothes are unlike anything Eddie has ever seen, rippling around him like water turned fabric. Shiny and precious and way too thin for a night like this. Some merchant's or nobleman's son, probably, passing through on his way to wherever it is that rich people go. 

“Fuck off,” he snaps, clenching and unclenching his hand in an attempt to draw more blood. “Can't you see I'm busy?” 

The boy doesn't fuck off. His footsteps crunch in the frozen mud as he walks closer. Eddie tries to ignore him, even though he can feel his breath on his neck. 

“Are you trying to summon a demon?” 

Eddie groans. 

“No,” he grits out. A thin red rivulet is trickling down his shaking fingers. Not enough. Not nearly enough. “I'm not trying, I am summoning a demon, so get outta here before-” 

“No, you're not.” 

Eddie whips around. The boy doesn't flinch, even though the burst of movement almost knocks their noses together. 

“What the hell would you know about that?” 

The boy shrugs, meeting his glare with an infuriatingly bright smile. “I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that rune is upside down.” 

“It’s not-” Eddie starts to say, but then he follows the boy's gaze and his stomach lurches. “Shit!” 

He drops to his knees, frantically trying to smooth out the earth and redo his work, but the ground is rock hard and his bloodied fingers keep slipping on the hilt of the dagger and his nose is stinging and the rune is starting to blur in front of his eyes. 

“It's no use,” says the boy, not unkindly. “You'll never fix it on time. You can always come back next month, or in spring even, when the ground is-” 

“No, I can't!” Eddie yells. His voice cracks. In the shrubbery by the roadside, a tiny animal takes off in flight. “I can't wait because he'll be dead by next month, so shut the fuck up and leave me alone!” 

Silence drops. Somewhere in the night, an owl hoots, long and mournful. 

“Dead?” asks the boy. He had crouched down so that his face is level with Eddie’s, peering at him with the same calm curiosity as before. “Who'll be dead?” 

Eddie wipes his eyes, smearing tears and blood all over his face. 

“My uncle. He's sick, and it's been getting worse, he doesn't have time-”

The boy snorts, disbelieving and bewildered. “What, you don't have healers in your village?”

And Eddie doesn’t know why, but he almost tells him. About how they're too poor to afford one. About how, even if they could, nobody would come and help them. How it's all his fault. He, who killed his own mother in childbirth, who seems to be followed by bad luck wherever he goes. No way any of the superstitious townspeople would mess with that. 

“This is pretty serious business, what you're attempting here. It's no joke, entering a contract with a demon.”  

“Yeah, no shit,” Eddie snivels, watching his hand in his lap. Now it's bleeding, of course. Now that it's too late. “You think I don't know that?” 

“You're willing to accept the consequences, then? Sign over your body and soul? Obey their every order? Serve them in this life and beyond, and swear allegiance to no other master?” 

“Fuck, yeah, whatever,” Eddie growls. “All of that, if that's what it takes. What's it to-” 

And then he looks up and his voice fails. 

The boy is smiling, wide and satisfied. His eyes are gold, glowing with an inner light that puts the moon to shame. His pupils are thin slits. 

“I've stated my terms and you’ve accepted,” the boy says. In spite of the frost, his hand is warm as it closes around Eddie’s wrist. His nails are sharp. “Just as I accept your offering.” 

His tongue tickles Eddie’s skin as he drags it over the cut in his palm, lapping up the blood. 

“The contract is valid, and your wish shall be granted. From this night, you're mine.” 

More holiday drabbles

It's not how Eddie expected to sell his soul, but he'll take all he can get. 

[chimimon]

Sun Roof

Touya x f!Reader

Word Count 2.3k

Disclaimer! What you are about to read contains the following: flirting, fluff, and mildly annoyed Tenko.

& what I have to say is… I’m gonna be so honest as to why I wound up kinda pausing this little blurb fic, and it was because I was playing Baldurs Gate. I KNOW. I know, but I also started a new run as a paladin and I already broke my oath, to which again… I KNOW, I KNOW, MY BAD… Anywho, Touya and you work an motel/hotel desk job eheheh

“They’re gonna fire us.”

“I know.” Your pace quickened as the cold morning air numbed your cheeks and nose. “Well, no actually. I think they need us.”

Touya rolled his eyes, leading the way down a steep concrete path to the entrance of a dead-end desk job. “Sure, they need us,” past his visible voice in the cold he began to jog. “As if we don’t do meaningless part time work.”

The air cut inside your lungs as you pushed yourself to catch up to him, patting the back of his arm as he opened the door for you despite the rush. “But nobody does meaningless work like we do.”

Touya shook his head as the wind closed the door behind you both. The running seemed to do you two some good as you had two minutes to spare. It was just enough time for the computer to wake up, and if nothing lagged, you’d clock-in uncomfortably close to your starting times. It was more often than not that you had to race to clock-in and open the doors. So much so that you had Touya’s log-ins etched in your brain and were curious to see if you could enter both your log ins simultaneously.

No one had immediately followed behind him which felt like a good start to your shifts, and as he sat beside you feint smell of smoke and a warm woody cologne bled into the air. That was the nice thing about Touya, he always smelled the same, looked the same, and sounded the same as long as you ignored his attitude to the people checking-in or out of their rooms. You usually knew what to expect from him, but as shifts turned into days, into weeks, into months, the little things began to stick out between all the blurred time spent. The little things appeared in the form of morning coffee, a warm ride home, an out of place pet name, and a text asking if you needed a ride to or from work. Today he was playing music out loud, something with an acoustic guitar and blurred drumming as he leaned back and faced you.

“When are you off?” A pen twirled between his fingers.

One leg crossed over the other as you thought about it. “It’s Tuesday, right?”

Touya hummed as he dropped his unclicked-pen to draw circles on the knee of his slacks, occasionally bunching the fabric as he sighed. “It is.”

“I’ll be out around three or four.”

“Ah, I’m out at two-thirty. Unless you needed to be somewhere, then I can consider covering for you.”

Consider. “No, I’m good. Why do you ask?”

The drawing stopped as he brought the pen to his chin. “Why do I ever ask?” He dropped his head and watched you through his lashes.

“I’ve never said no to a free ride, Touya. You know that.” The keyboard slid under your computer stand as you lay in your folded arms for a pillow. “But you don’t have to wait for me if you don’t want to.”

Touya pushed out an amused one syllable laugh, grinning before turning to his computer.

Mornings on the weekend were when things picked up. Someone else would come in to help get calls while you and Touya dealt with the people coming in and out, and unless you were missing something, Touya seemed to only chat with you, or bring you coffee.

But it was Tuesday, and nobody cared to check in on Tuesdays. At least not anyone on vacation. The weekday shifts were mainly for dealing with missing keycards, sending the cleanup crew to vacant rooms, or answering phone calls. There was an unspoken process between you two where you would answer phone calls in a syrupy sweet voice, and if someone difficult was on the other side of that call, Touya would take over. The phones were cheap, so you two could always hear who the other was talking to, what the person on the line was saying and how quickly they lightened up to the bored attitude of Touya Todoroki. Anytime he had to take over a call it often ended with his rolling his eyes which would’ve been taken personally if he didn’t murmur insults at the phone once it clicked.

Noon rolled around and not a soul had physically entered check-in. Calls were quiet besides people mainly confirmed office hours, their reserved rooms and dates. Touya had been tapping on your desk in vain until he used his knuckle to knock on the cool marble surface beside your mouse. The thud caught your attention as a man over the phone raised his voice about his check-out time. Without looking, Touya began to reach for your phone, scooting over to you so you wouldn’t have to transfer.

With your hand over the microphone, you pouted in a whisper. “Wait but he’s not done yelling at me.”

“Hand it over.” He whispered back.

“Don’t be rude. Besides, I think that’d piss him off more if you just cut him off and-”

The phone was out of your hands as soon as Touya stood up. Looming over your chair he reached for your keyboard to look at the caller's check-in date. He waited until the man was done speaking to read off their reservation. It was clear the change in tone wasn’t welcome as the man demanded to have both of your names, a demand that Touya ignored as he began to speak.

“We can’t adjust the check-out time, even if you’re booking for someone else.” He leaned in and groaned, the smell of cigarettes and mint felt alluring. “The times to check in and out pop up before you confirm your room... They are also in the FAQ tab of the website- No... When you confirm you agree to that policy-... no, you don’t get to talk to her again.”

Touya completely surrounded you with a hand on your keyboard, the other on the back of your chair as he pinched the phone between his cheek and shoulder. When he finally let go of your seat to hold the phone, Touya was hovering still. You thought that he might as well have rested his chin atop your head. The creeping question reared its head from the fog of an angry call, and you couldn’t help but wonder just when he decided to be so close.

“No, no sir. You get to talk to me now.” Your gaze met Touya’s as he looked down right as you looked up. With a deep breath in, he blinked hard and slow. The person on the other side of the phone demanded to speak to a manager and without a second thought Touya lied. “Lucky you, you're speaking to ‘em.” He gave a quick smile before sucking on his teeth “Well, if you want someone higher than me you can try thoroughly reading through our website next time. A number should be listed in the FAQ tab and-" There was a feint click in the call as Touya’s forehead gently butted yours, and for just a moment you could feel his shoulders bounce in unamused laughter.

“Guess he didn’t like that one.” Touya set the phone face down beside your keyboard, then set the tips on his fingers on the back of your chair as he reached back in a big stretch, groaning a little as he relaxed.

“Listen,” his bored tone carried more mint and tobacco, “don’t let old shits speak to you like that. Just hand them over to me.” With his back to the entrance, he leaned on your desk, practically sitting on it to cross one leg over the other as he watched your hands.

The warm sun through the glass made everything hazy along with Touya stretching the collar of his mock-neck long sleeve. “Got it, boss.”

He raised a brow and grinned.

“What?” You leaned on your elbow beside his hand and hip.

“If we’re lucky, you think ‘old shit’ will make an appearance?”

“If you’re lucky,” you tested the waters with your free hand and lazily traced over his knuckles, “he’ll come in after you leave and I have those solid thirty minutes to an hour all to myself.” you quickly withdrew your hand as another call came in.

Touya made a face, where his eyes looked up to nothing in particular and his grin smoothed into a thoughtful frown. He gently placed his hand on the desk, motioning you to put whoever you were talking to on hold.

“Yeah?”

“Actually, never mind.” He lifted away back to his chair only to pull out his phone and text away.

An hour or so of phone calls and idle chatter passed. In-between that and sending off automated reminder emails, you couldn’t help but watch his hands and wrists as he worked. You watched the veins protrude as he grew bored and heavy handed until a soft vibration caught your collective attention as he unlocked his phone.

“Sweet.” He cooly hummed to himself. Touya was facing the clock in front of you both before he eyed you. “Good news, we're both off at two-thirty.”

“What?” You turned to him with wide-eyes and a tilted grin. “You’re kidding, right?”

Touya gave a lazily, and warm smile to the clock before handing it to you. “One half of the afternoon duo wanted to come in early.”

“I feel like they didn’t really want to, so much as you, oh I don’t know, asked them to...” Pushing yourself back, you folded your arms and smiled back. “Is this about that one guy earlier?”

“Well, I can always let them know that you wanna stay-” He swiftly deflected.

“Woah, hey,” with your hands in the air you took a deep breath in. “Now I never said I didn’t want to leave early.”

“Thought so.” Touya moved his attention to his computer, eyeing the clock every so often before picking up another call.

When the small bell attached to the door chimed, Tenko dead eyed Touya and leaned into his desk. “Dinners on you,” Tomura hissed before heading to the back, curtly waving your way as he turned a corner.

Touya ignored your all-knowing smirk as he pulled out his car keys from a drawer, “I’ll bring the car around.”

Before you could say anything, Touya was headed out the back door as Tenko took his place. Tenko wasn’t very talkative, but he was cordial when he needed to be. Out of the front doors you waved to Tenko who nodded in acknowledgment and hopped into the passenger side of Touya’s kempt car.

You were swimming in his cologne and newly lit cigarette as he drove off, blowing smoke out of his open window. From the sounds of it the same bit of acoustic and soft drumming was playing on the stereo as he approached your exit and the hum of the engine disappeared as he rolled up his window and hit the gas.

Touya’s hands spoke when he didn’t. Sometimes he’d drum his thumbs on the steering wheel behind slow goers, pet the gear stick at a red light, or turn down the music when you’d talk, even if he had nothing to say. In fact, his whole body spoke when he didn’t, and you were sure he wasn’t completely aware of this fact, and hoped that he never would be.

“Hey, Touya.”

The music died. “Yeah?”

That empty feeling swept you up inside as you glanced over his relaxed figure. “Are you hungry at all?”

Touya hummed like he was finally paying attention to his stomach. “I could eat.”

“Well, what exactly could you eat?” That moment of hunger was fleeting when anticipation filled your stomach.

“Me?” Touya turned into a small parking lot between a couple of small stores, given it was barely three in the afternoon, it wasn’t busy but it was certainly lively. “It kinda sounded like you were the one who wanted to eat.”

The car turned into a small spot under a tree. The sun cast patterns on the hood and crept onto the middle console as he opened the screen to the sunroof. Decidedly you turned to face him with a leg to your chest.

“You don’t know, do you?” Touya also turned to you in his seat and gave you this easy but annoyed look. With a bent elbow Touya leaned against his hand before he reached out to hold the back of your headrest, as if he were cradling your head while he unknowingly watched all the hunger leave your body.

“You know, I think I just want something to drink.”

Touya closed his eyes and grinned. The leaves shook in the wind as the sun felt over his open arm and the tips of his black box dyed hair. The sun just missed the grown in white of his natural hair, and the bright saturated blue in his eyes, despite him leaning closer. You could hear his thumb brush against the fabric of your headrest. Subconsciously you leaned into the sound and he raised his brows, still grinning.

“You have to know.” He carefully watched you, nearly whispering as if he’d scare you away.

“Know?” You shifted, stiffened with anticipation swirling in your gut. “What do I know, Touya?”

Touya scoffed. The back of his hand from the headrest to his face, hiding a warm blush. “God, quit looking at me doll.”

“Oh, doll...” you teased, inching closer as he lied back against the glass. “I haven’t heard that one in a while. Is something wrong?” You grinned back.

Touya rolled his eyes and gazed at his back seats. “Not a thing.” Gentle but nervous laughter trickled from in your ears down your spine.

“You’re not calling me doll to get me to cover you or something, are you?”

“No cause that’s fucking lame.”

“Yeah, especially because you’ve done it before.”

“What?” Touya sang out, “No way. I just said that’s fucking lame, so I would never do that because I’m-”

“Not fucking lame?”

“Exactly.”

The three pm on his dash came to both of your attentions as he went to turn up the music. “You would’ve just gotten off.” Touya watched you from the corner of his eye.

“And you would’ve been waiting.”

“Just for you, darlin’.”

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: I'm actually thinking I might be doing one chapter every other night, but I would also like to draw on my comically large art tablet at some point this week, so I might skip a day or two.

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 2: Color Matching

You partially regret just agreeing to "tomorrow", seeing as this man decided that he wanted to show up at 4am.

It was the original time set for yesterday's session, and you guess he felt bad for being late, but god damn he texted you an hour earlier telling you he'd be there by 4am. Dragging yourself out of the comfort of your bed was difficult, but in the end it was worth it to draw such a stunner.

You had to get there before Leon did, so there you were; half awake, dressed in a pair of fuzzy pants and a loose t-shirt, and a small cup of tea in your right hand while the other fumbled with the keys to your little work room.

That was the greatest part about your job as a professional painter. You didn't have a dress code.

Though most days you did try to look your best, some days it was just easier to be comfortable. Besides, it's not like tons of people come and see you everyday, it was usually just one person at a time.

It was 3:47am by the time you'd gotten to your workspace and settled, sitting on one of the many floor pillows in the living area you put together away from the actual painting setup. The tea was warm, it was keeping you sleepy, but you couldn't stop taking small sips. It was in your hands, there wasn't much you could do to stop yourself.

You told Leon to just come on in when he arrived, not wanting to walk all the way back down just to lead him back up. The stiffness from sleep was still in parts of your body, so you knew it would be difficult to get up, even when he did finally stride through that door. He dressed nicely today, just what you needed him to do.

Wanting to relish in the dim yet warm lighting of your various lamps for as long as possible, you beckoned the man to come over and sit with you, which confused him slightly. He thought you would be ready to get started once he showed up, but he wasn't one to argue so early in the morning. Instead, he shrugged and slowly sauntered over to you, taking a seat on a floor pillow across from yours.

"Good morning." Leon grumbled quietly, his voice barely hiding the fact that he wasn't quite awake either. That rumble in his chest made your stomach flutter. "Good morning to you, too." You responded, closing your eyes for a moment to take another sip of your tea.

"When uh-" He cleared his throat, putting a fist up to his mouth as he did so. "When are we gonna get started?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, moving the cup away from your lips to stare at him. "I wasn't expecting to be up so early, so just give me a few more minutes to wake up and then we can turn my main lights on."

Leon sucked on his teeth as he thought, turning his head to look over out one of the windows as he rested his wrists on his knees. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to make up for being late yesterday."

You laughed softly before letting out a quiet sigh, setting your tea down on the low coffee table sitting behind you.

"Don't worry about it, but also don't make me get up so early again, old man." You attempted to joke, immediately noticing the wince on his face at the nickname. To divert, you stood up and stretched, patting his shoulder as you walked by him. "Alright, let me pull my stuff out and then we can get started."

Leon followed you with his head, taking a few seconds before standing up himself, pressing his hands onto his knees to help get up from the floor pillow.

"I'm just going to be color matching your tones today. I won't do all of it since obviously lighting changes throughout the day, buuuut..." You trailed off, beginning to rummage through a drawer in one of your desks before pulling out handfuls of paint tubes. "I just need to pull out the basic colors I'll be using."

It was still pretty dim in the room which caused you to have to squint to see the names of the colors on the tubes. Leon found that partially amusing, his chuckle causing you to glare playfully over at him. "Something funny?"

"As funny as it is to watch you go cross-eyed looking at those," he smiled, gesturing with his thumb to the light switches near the door. "I feel like it'd be easier to just turn the lights on."

"My retinas will be fried if those get turned on-" You were cut off by your own shout when Leon took the liberty of turning the lights on himself, laughing as you quickly moved to cover your eyes.

He only had to squint for a second before his eyes adjusted. You, however, were not expecting the sudden change, so you got an eyeful of bright white light. Complete and utter agony that lasted for a full five seconds.

By the time you moved your hands away from your eyes, they were watering and you had to squint for awhile longer. "Give me a warning next time you decide you want to try and murder me like that." You said, wiping away the few stray tears you'd produced from the light sensitivity. "You might live in the light, but I don't!"

The man shook his head and crossed his arms, smile still plastered to his face as he slowly made his way over to the chair in front of your easel. "That's payback for calling me an old man."

You twisted your head around to the chair so you could give him an indignant look, catching a glance as he was putting his hands up in defense with a small "what?" before you turned to look down at the tubes of paint sitting next to your hands on top of the desk.

"Nothing, just wasn't expecting to work with a toddler, that's all.." You mumbled, smile creeping onto your face as you heard him click his tongue from behind you. "I was an old man not five minutes ago and now I'm a toddler?" Leon asked, voice peaking dramatically.

"Yes, you have quite the range, Mr. Kennedy." You began sifting through the various paints you'd pulled out, humming softly as you contemplated what route you wanted to take with them. Stick to primaries? Add secondaries? Should I just use every color I need? Hmmm..

Leon watched as you stared at the paint tubes you'd picked up, tilting his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look. He snapped his head back upright when you started to speak again. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to use a lot of different colors, or just stick to a minimum.."

It was almost as if you knew what he was wondering. "Uhh... what's the difference...?" The man questioned, raising an eyebrow as you turned around, seemingly having made your decision already.

"Using just the main 6 colors-" You turned around and were faced with his very confused stare, causing you to explain a little better. "The main colors you see in a rainbow."

He breathed out a quiet "ahh" at that. Okay, good. He knows his basics. Cute...

"I can mix just red, blue, and yellow at varying degrees to get any color I need. Adding green, purple, and orange will help even more." You pursed your lips, lightly tossing the paint tubes in your hands before setting them down away from the other tubes. "I need white also. Damn.."

"What's wrong with white?" Leon asked, leaning forward a bit to watch you dig in the drawer for a tube of white oil paint.

"Nothin'. Just forgot, is all. Trying to keep this as authentic as possible..." You mumble, quickly closing the drawer with a slam after pulling out the paint you were looking for.

Silently nodding his head in acknowledgment, Leon turned his focus to his surroundings again, admiring your choice in decor once more. He bought a nice decorative pillow for his couch yesterday after being here the first time.

You grabbed a few strips of thick white paper, running your thumb along its textured surface before setting them down. You told him to stay where he was as you set up a small art palette, little dollops of the paints sitting neatly in the circular grooves.

"I'm gonna make color swatches of your skin for myself." You spoke up as you suddenly turned and walked towards him, holding the palette in your left hand while holding the strips of paper and a small yet flat paintbrush in the right. "Also, I'll need to get a picture of you in the position you want, but I'll do that after all of-" you waved everything you're currently holding in a small circle. "-this."

Leon simply responded with an "oh, okay", his knee beginning to bounce as you quickly began to mix little bits of your paint together to get a simple pale skin tone down before you even attempted to match his.

As you worked, you were starting to grow nervous with the silence, and clearly the man in front of you was as well, given he had started to sweat slightly on his forehead. He wasn't nearly as conversational as the last two agents you painted.

"So.. you've earned yourself a portrait..." You smiled slightly, holding up the strip of paper you'd brushed your mixed paint on to see what colors to mix in next. "What'd you do to earn one?"

Leon hummed. It was hard to think about every mission he's gone on, all the horrors he bore witness to, the people he saved, the people he couldn't save, how it all started, and now the fact that he's done-

"Hey, woah, I'm sorry." The sound of your voice drew him away from his thoughts. "I didn't know that would be a.. sore subject for you." He blinked at you a few times, furrowing his eyebrows soon after. "What?"

You pulled the strip of paper away from his face, pulling your lips tight with a shrug of your shoulders at his response. "You suddenly looked mad. Like... really really mad. I thought you were gonna snap at me or-"

"No. It's just bittersweet, is all." Leon cut you off, waving his hand dismissively at you before nodding once down to the paint palette in your hand. "You can keep going."

You stayed frozen in your crouched position for a few seconds longer before continuing to swatch your paint. You kept silent, not wanting to seem like you were antagonizing him.

"I used to be just a cop." The man suddenly said, causing you to look up from where you were mixing your paints together. "Only for a single day, but I was a cop. Simple as can be."

You nodded, beckoning him to continue with a small smile, which he did. "I'm sure you've heard about some of that already though, since you worked with Claire not too long ago."

His comment caused you to let out a small "ohh" in sudden recognition, nodding your head again. "Yeah, that's right! She mentioned you on that, okay.."

Leon continued to talk about all of his missions vaguely, still having to keep confidentiality in mind. You let him drone on, having gotten his skin tone matched in a few different areas now. You stopped to scribble on the papers with the paint swatches, making sure to label where each tone came from on his face and hands.

You took note of how he circled back to his single day as a cop and to certain missions. His mention of saving the president's daughter had you immediately smiling. That was a straight ticket to earning his own portrait in that hall of the White House, he could've done just that his entire life and he still would've been seeing you at some point.

You focused on mixing your paint for a little while before noticing he had grown quiet, looking up to see him staring out the window, a faint orange glow from the sun rising highlighting his features. And his tears.

Growing concerned once again, you set down the paintbrush on the palette so you could place a gentle hand on his shoulder. It seemed he didn't notice that, too lost in his head to notice anything at this point.

"Hey..." You asked with a soft voice, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. "We don't have to talk about it anymore, you know..."

Finally, Leon looked back at you, eyes widening once he realized how watery his eyes were. He turned his head away so you didn't watch him wipe the tears that had fallen down his cheeks and use his sleeve to dry his eyes. It wasn't like him to be so easily bothered by this stuff.

"I just need one more color swatch and then you can go, okay? We can save the photo for another day." You gave the man a weak smile, one he didn't reciprocate. You understood.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but you filled in for him. "Seriously, it's no trouble at all. If you need more time then you need more time." Standing up from your crouched position, you left your half-finished color match swatch with the finished ones before walking over to set everything down on the desk.

You didn't want to crowd the poor man. That was probably the last thing he needed. Despite having only painted for a select few, you've learned to just step away from these retired agents when things would go awry. It was akin to a war veteran suffering from PTSD; they did almost have the same experiences as far as you could tell.

"I'm sorry."

Leon finally managed to say to you, his hands anxiously rubbing up and down on the tops of his thighs. Must be a nervous tick.

You angled yourself so you could see him while your body still faced the desk, smiling at him while your hands worked to neatly stack the strips of paper before clipping them together with a paper clip.

"There's absolutely no reason for you to apologize." You kept your smile as you responded to Leon, looking back down at your hands to make sure everything was put together properly. "You forget I strictly work with agents like yourself. From all the vague tellings, I know that the job is tough on you guys; body and mind."

It was weird having someone outside of the agency talk to him about this kind of stuff. It was weird for him to be bringing it up in the first place. Or, at least he felt like it was.

"Still, I should know better than to do that." Leon sighed, rubbing his hand along the side of his face before stroking his chin, scratching at the stubble growing.

"Know better than to do what? Let yourself process everything you've been through?" You spoke in almost a whisper. If your tone was any louder, you fear you'd come off as accusatory.

"I get it. Really, I do." Leon groaned quietly at your words, causing you to click your tongue. You grabbed your swivel chair and scooted it over so you could sit in front of him, and when you did, you brought your legs up to sit criss-cross just like yesterday, only there wasn't a table separating the two of you. You looked solemn. He didn't like where this was going.

"The whole point of painting you a portrait is to honor you and your work as an agent, but it's not just about getting yourself painted." You leaned forward in your chair, elbows resting on your knees, all the while keeping your voice hushed and gentle. "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

Your words were really starting to strike a chord for Leon. He hadn't given it much thought. He didn't want to give it any thought at all. All he thought was "I'm just going to get myself a nice fancy portrait and be done with it". He didn't even consider what the portrait of him would actually symbolize.

"Oh." Was all Leon could muster, letting his gaze fall into his lap where his hands now sat clasped together. If it weren't for the comfortable environment you had set up here, he probably would've bolted ages ago.

You let him think everything over for awhile, wanting to give him all the time in the world. Clearly he needed something, but he wasn't allowing himself any sort of leeway.

It took some courage building internally, but you decided to stand up, taking the one step closer to him before placing your hand on his shoulder once more. You squeezed it a bit, bringing his attention back to you as he lifted his head up.

You attempted to smile at him, moving your hand off his shoulder so you could hold your arms out slightly. This man needed a hug and you were more than willing to offer the leeway he wasn't granting himself.

Leon stood up rather quickly which surprised you, and startled you just a bit, before feeling his large arms tightly wrap around you. It was a little awkward since he had to bend a bit to hug you properly, but it worked out in his favor, and yours too, since he got a better opportunity to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

He sighed happily when he felt your arms slowly wrap around his chest, doing your best to squeeze him for that extra bit of comfort, even rubbing up and down on his back. It had been so long since he had a real hug. It felt good.

You let him hug you for as long as he needed, which was longer than expected, but definitely not unwelcome by any means. Though, his warm breath against your neck and the smell of his cologne was causing you to blush. That's really the last thing you needed him to see after being so vulnerable and open with you.

You felt him start to pull his head away, prompting you to pat his back gently as an end to the hug. Despite the fact that it was faint, it was clear to you that he was blushing when you were finally able to look up at him.

You wanted to remain calm for Leon, letting out your nervousness through a quiet cough. "I know we've only met up twice, but if you ever need a change in scenery, just know that my workspace here is always open to you. I'm always open to you, okay?"

Your words were making him feel weird. Something he hasn't felt in a long time was creeping up his chest. Your smell lingering on his coat wasn't helping, either.

"Yeah-.. yeah, okay." Leon huffed through his nose, reaching up to scratch at the stubble underneath his jawline as he averted his gaze to the floor.

The sun was fully up now, so you walked over to where the light switches were next to the door, flipping them off. All your other ambient lights could be turned off later. For now, you needed to focus on the man still standing in front of that maroon chair.

"You can stay if you feel you need to, but I just want you to relax." You said, looking over at him as you heard his footsteps slowly walk past you to the living space.

"I'll head out." Leon bent over and grabbed his motorcycle helmet from where he'd set it down on the rug near the floor pillows. He placed his on his head as he walked over to where you stood next to the door, not really wanting anyone to look at his tear-stricken and red face any longer.

Once he finished fiddling with his helmet, you reached out and took his hand in both of yours, patting the top of it softly. "Text me when you're ready to come back over."

You couldn't see Leon's face anymore since he'd put the visor down, but you could definitely see him nod his head. He opened the door and let himself out, touching the side of the doorframe as he rounded the sharp corner and walked down the stairs.

After closing the door behind him, you started walking around your workspace to turn off all the lamps and other ambient lighting, pausing to listen to the sound of his motorcycle start up and drive off.

[xomakara]

Fevered Gaze

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | You end up dancing with San and Wooyoung at the club where you can’t help but want them.

PAIRING | San/Reader/Wooyoung

GENRE | smut with no (maybe a little) plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up everyone!), fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex, praising, dirty talk

RATING | Mature

LENGTH | 3957 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Hi.

The moment you step into the club, the pulsating beats of the music envelop you, drawing you deeper into the vibrant atmosphere. As you weave through the crowd, your eyes suddenly lock onto two figures across the room - Wooyoung and San. Their presence is magnetic, effortlessly commanding the attention of everyone around them. Wooyoung’s infectious energy is palpable, his laughter resonating above the music, while San’s cool, confident demeanor adds an intriguing contrast. You find yourself mesmerized, unable to tear your gaze away from the dynamic duo.

You watch as they move to the rhythm, their bodies in perfect sync with the beat. Wooyoung’s fluid, almost effortless dance moves are captivating, each one executed with a charisma that seems to light up the entire room. San, on the other hand, exudes a more subtle allure, his movements precise and deliberate, exuding a quiet intensity that draws you in even further. The synergy between them is undeniable, and you can't help but be fascinated by the way they complement each other so seamlessly.

"Are you thinking about getting some later?" a low voice purrs in your ear, breaking your trance. You glance over your shoulder, startled to see your friend, Yunho, sitting beside you.

You laughed and continued to look at the people on the dance floor. "Not with you."

"Oof, my heart." Yunho placed a hand over his heart in exaggeration. "So...Wooyoung and San?" he asked curiously.

You nodded in response, still staring at the two men dancing, taking everything in with unblinking intensity. "They're...they're amazing together."

Yunho tilted his head, confused. "What makes them amazing? The way they moved?"

"It's like they know exactly what the other wants without saying a word." You shook your head. "There was something so sensual and sexy about it."

"Uh huh, keep it in your pants girl." He nudged your side playfully, making you snort out loud before shrugging him off. "Whatever floats your boat I guess."

"Oh come on, it doesn't hurt to dream." You batted your eyelashes innocently.

"Dreams don't float unless you're wearing a life vest. Now go, have fun, we'll leave when I'm done drinking this bottle."

"Yes, sir." You saluted Yunho with a wink, before striding towards the two men. As you drew closer, the bass notes of the song suddenly rose, the throbbing vibrations penetrating your skin until your whole body felt as though it was buzzing. Your mouth went dry and your heartbeat increased as you approached them. Without even realizing it, your eyes were now fixed firmly on San, studying every line of his body. He shifted slightly, his back muscles flexing underneath his tight white t-shirt, making your lips part involuntarily. Wooyoung noticed your hesitation and grinned, flashing those dimples of his that made your knees weak. He gestured for you to join them on the dance floor, the seductive way he held his body swaying provocatively in time to the beat pulling you towards him.

"Yo, Y/N! Let's go!" he shouted enthusiastically, beckoning you closer with one finger. "Come dance with us."

"Wooyoung, you know I'm not the best dancer." You laughed, grabbing onto his hand to pull yourself close.

"I don't care, come dance with me anyway." He turned to face San, lifting his arm for you to join them. His voice rumbled through your body, sending chills down your spine. You gulped loudly, taking in the intoxicating scent of his cologne as he leaned closer to you. His warm breath caressed your cheek and neck, igniting the flame inside of you that you had long since forgotten existed.

San didn't say anything as he took your hands, wrapping his arms around you possessively. His gentle touch sent tingles through your entire body, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. You instinctively curled your fingers into his hair, holding on tightly as he pulled you against him. Wooyoung wrapped his free arm around your waist, gently resting his hand on the small of your back. You gazed up at him, drinking in his handsome features, wondering how it was possible for someone so perfect to exist in real life.

You forgot all about Yunho as the three of you began moving to the beat, losing yourself in the music. As the night wore on, the alcohol started to hit you hard, loosening your inhibitions and leaving you feeling relaxed and comfortable. Before you knew it, you found yourself sandwhiched between the two men, swaying to the music in a sea of strangers, losing yourself in their embrace. Your thoughts wandered, wondering what would happen if things continued the way they were.

There was no denying the tension between you, a sexual energy simmering beneath the surface that seemed impossible to ignore. As you glanced up from your train of thought, your eyes caught sight of Yunho with wide eyes before giving you a nod to continue with whatever you were doing. A smile spread across your face as you returned your focus to the men pressed against you. This was the kind of intimacy you craved, the feeling of being totally connected to another person, just like Wooyoung had said.

Your heart sped up as San nuzzled into your neck, inhaling deeply as his warm lips lingered briefly before pressing into your skin again. His hips rocked slowly against yours, gradually increasing the pressure as the music played on. Your breathing became labored, the sound of your heavy exhales filling the air. A sense of desperation fills your mind, driving you to find release. It was only then that you realized that neither man had taken their hands off you since you'd joined them on the dance floor. Suddenly, you found yourself needing their touch more than ever, wanting desperately to feel them hold you, to experience their bodies rocking against yours once more. You ran your tongue along the edge of your bottom lip, trying to control your racing pulse. You wondered idly what the two of them must think of you right now. Did they feel the same way you did? Did they desire you the way you desired them?

You closed your eyes and breathed in the musky scent of their bodies, enjoying the feeling of their hot breath warming your neck. In an instant, a thought came rushing back to you: If you were to act upon your desires, would it ruin the friendship between you? Would they lose respect for you or reject you in favor of the other? You opened your eyes quickly, pushing aside those intrusive thoughts. They could do whatever they wanted after this night. Right now, you were determined to enjoy the ride and stop caring about the consequences. Besides, there wasn't any turning back now. With their heads buried in your neck, the two men were oblivious to your internal conflict. Wooyoung tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you closer to him as he groaned softly, pressing his pelvis into yours. San wrapped his arms around you, leaning forward to kiss your temple as he lightly bit your earlobe. A familiar warmth grew in your lower stomach, spreading outward until you could barely contain your lustful desire.

Every fiber of your being ached for them, calling out to them, begging them to claim you. Every cell in your body yearned for them, longing for them to fill your soul with complete satisfaction. You couldn't deny it anymore. You wanted them. And you weren't going to let either of them get away.

When San broke away from your neck, you felt his lips press against the crook of your jaw, his body now flush against yours as he pushed you backward. You shivered under his heated stare, remembering how beautifully intimate his lips had been against your own.

"I want you," he whispered hoarsely.

The words sent a rush of heat coursing through your body, causing your nipples to harden painfully. You looked up at him through hooded lids, biting your lip anxiously as he gently lifted your chin.

"I want you too." Wooyoung echoed his confession in a husky voice, nipping at your bottom lip as he captured your gaze.

You responded immediately, slipping your hands into their pockets, closing your eyes and reaching out for them. You gripped their clothes, silently pleading with them to take you home, to give you what you wanted. You weren't sure how much longer you could wait. 

"Take me home. Please." You pleaded quietly.

As if reading your mind, Wooyoung released you, taking one of your hands. San took your other hand, and you felt their fingers interlock as you followed them toward the exit of the club. As soon as they reached their car, they pulled you against them, kissing you deeply as they led you to the passenger seat. Unable to resist, you fisted both of their shirts, burying your face into their chests, soaking in the soft, masculine scent of their colognes.

"Baby, let's wait until we get home," Wooyoung suggested, drawing away to give you a wicked grin.

"I don't know if I can wait that long..." You mumbled in reply, your voice muffled by his shirt.

"Yes, you can." San teased, rubbing your thigh suggestively as he slid into the driver's seat.

"Maybe we should stay here and fuck in the backseat instead?" You moaned seductively.

"Oh, baby...you're so bad." Wooyoung replied playfully. "But there's not enough room in the car."

"I'd rather have you writhing beneath us in bed, moaning my name while I fuck you senseless," San said, placing a hand on your leg. "That's what I really want."

It took but minutes to get to your apartment, closing the door behind them with a resounding thud. You led both men towards your bedroom, feeling each one's eyes on your body as you unbuttoned your black mini dress. Taking their hands, you guided them to sit on the edge of your bed, letting your dress fall to the ground, revealing your black lace bra and matching panties.

"Like what you see?" You asked huskily, licking your lips.

"Fuck, yes." San breathed.

Wooyoung nodded eagerly. "I think I died and went to heaven."

"I can't be the only one with no clothes." You pouted as you stood in front of them, looking sexier than you had ever felt before. You unclasped your bra, tossing it aside as the two men admired your naked chest. You hooked your fingers in the sides of your panties, dropping them to the floor without removing your gaze from theirs. "What are you waiting for?"

"Shit, Baby...you're killin' me here," Wooyoung moaned, getting undressed as fast as he possibly could. "San, you don't mind if I go first, right?"

"Of course not," San answered easily, tugging his shirt off. "I'll take my time with her later."

"Thank you." Wooyoung breathed.

San moved from the bed to sit in the chair next to your dresser. He watched as Wooyoung pulled you against him, running his hands over your exposed body, marveling at the feel of your silken skin. Slowly, he inched his mouth upward, tracing light kisses over your breasts before moving downward, stopping to nibble on your nipple. His tongue circled your hardened bud, eliciting a loud moan from you as he toyed with it gently, flicking his tongue over its tip every so often. You gasped and bucked against him as he continued, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as he swirled his tongue around the underside of your breast, teasing you mercilessly.

"Jesus, Wooyoung, I'm gonna die if you keep this up." You whimpered.

"Just trying to give San a good show, baby." Wooyoung explained, laughing.

You let out a moan as he shifted his lips to your other breast, sucking hungrily on it. Each time he bit down on it, you could feel a jolt of pleasure shoot straight to your core. You clutched his head tightly in your hands, not wanting to let him go. "Please, Wooyoung..." You begged.

His answer was slow and firm, biting down harder on your nipple as his hand kneaded the other breast.

"Tell us how you're feeling, kitten." You heard San asked from his seat.

"Good. Very good." You sighed, your body beginning to tremble with anticipation.

Wooyoung gave you a quick peck on the lips before his attention returned to your throbbing nipples. Moving his lips slowly downwards, he grazed his teeth lightly against your skin, making you squirm. One hand left your breast to stroke your stomach, lingering momentarily on your navel before returning to tease your nipples some more. His thumb found your clit and began circling it delicately, coaxing a small moan from you as he leaned back slightly. "Do you like it when I bite down?" He murmured.

"Yes, please, oh god...yes." You moaned. Wooyoung lifted you up and positioned you on the bed to lie down, your head near the foot of your mattress. When he bent over to kiss you again, you arched your back and moaned loudly as he thrust his tongue inside your mouth. He grinned impishly as he ran his fingers down your torso, tracing gentle circles over your stomach, gently stroking the insides of your thighs. He stopped when he reached your sensitive spot, giving you a few gentle taps before moving up your body again. Once more, he found your clit, slipping a finger inside you as he sucked your nipple into his mouth. "Does that feel good?" He whispered in your ear.

"Y-yes!" You stuttered. The sensations he was creating within you were becoming almost unbearable. You gripped the sheets and turned your head to look at San who was currently cupping his hard on. "You want me to suck on it?" You asked breathlessly.

"Not yet, kitten." San moaned when he heard you speak. "Let Wooyoung make you feel good first."

A low chuckle escaped Wooyoung's lips as your nipple slipped free from his mouth. His lips trailed down your body, kissing every inch of your skin along the way. You writhed underneath him, desperate to feel him touch you. As he reached your center, you whimpered, unable to form coherent words. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and smoldering. "Say something, baby."

"Please, Wooyoung..." You managed to choke out. "Eat me. Fuck me with your mouth."

"Anything you say, baby." Wooyoung replied sweetly. He smiled slyly, his hand caressing your inner thigh as he looked up at you again. "How does our little Y/N taste? Like strawberries or raspberries? Or do you taste a little different from those fruits?"

"Why don't you find out? Use your tongue and discover." You purred, pushing yourself against his hand.

With that, he leaned in and placed the tip of his tongue on your clit, slowly trailing it upwards to swirl around your opening. Your body jerked and trembled uncontrollably as he flicked his tongue back and forth across your pussy, sending shockwaves of pleasure all throughout your body. Your breathing became rapid and shallow as he kept doing it, gradually increasing the speed and pressure of his movements. With each passing second, your hips started thrusting involuntarily. You moaned loudly, your head falling backwards as you surrendered to the sensation that was coursing through your body. Finally, he let his tongue slip inside you, swirling quickly around your inner walls, twirling around your sensitive clit.

"Wooyoung...god, it feels so good." You panted breathlessly, gripping the sheets.

"Fuck, you taste amazing," he moans, before sucking your clit into his mouth. His tongue flicks and circles, driving you wild. You thread your fingers through his dark hair, holding him to you as you buck your hips.

San kneels beside you, his hands roaming over your body as he kisses a path along your collarbone. "You like that, kitten? Want more?" he teases, his breath warm against your ear.

You can only nod, overcome with pleasure as Wooyoung continues to devour you. You feel San's hand slide between your bodies, his fingers joining his tongue. He thrusts them inside you, curling them to find that sweet spot that has you crying out.

"That's it, beautiful," Wooyoung encourages, looking up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. "Come all over my face. I want to taste you."

His words send you over the edge, your back arching as you cry out in ecstasy. Wooyoung laps at your juices, groaning in appreciation as you came. You're sensitive and breathless, but the feeling of satisfaction is immense.

San then moves to position you on the bed. "Now it's my turn to taste you," he says, his voice husky. "Get on your knees, Y/N."

You do as he says, feeling deliciously naughty as you present yourself to him. He runs his hands over your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh before giving each cheek a sharp smack that makes you moan.

"Such a beautiful sight," he groans, his fingers tracing the outlines of your pussy lips. "So fucking wet for me already."

He dives in, his tongue teasing your entrance before sliding inside, mimicking the thrust of a cock. You moan, resting your forehead on Wooyoung's legs as you ride his face, grinding against him until you come once more. Wooyoung bites his lips as he watches San eating you out, his cock getting hard.

You whimper at the sight of Wooyoung's thick cock, your mouth watering. You lean forward, capturing the head with your lips, swirling your tongue around the smooth, purple tip. Wooyoung groans, threading his fingers through your hair as you suck him deeper into your mouth, bobbing your head in a steady rhythm.

"You look so fucking hot like this, taking Wooyoung's cock so deep," San muttered against your pussy. "Is this what you want, Y/N? To have Wooyoung fuck your pretty mouth while I eat you out?"

"Yes! Please...more," you cried out.

San paused for a moment before answering, "Good girl." Then, without warning, he plunged his tongue inside you, grazing your g-spot.

"Oh god...please...fuck...don't stop." You beg, clawing at Wooyoung's leg as you're rocked by the force of his assault on your sensitive areas.

"Come on, don't forget me." Wooyoung slapped his cock against your cheek. "Show me how much you love my cock."

You opened your mouth wide, taking him inside, sucking and stroking him expertly. Wooyoung watched as you pleased him, letting his hands wander down to your breasts where he squeezed and fondled them roughly. You're happy to oblige, pulling him deeper inside you as you suck harder. You reach between your legs, stroking your clit, San still eating you out as Wooyoung moans in response. Your orgasm is fast approaching, building up behind your closed eyelids.

"I'm cumming, I'm cumming..." Wooyoung grunted, closing his eyes. "Ah, baby, swallow my load. Take it all down."

As soon as he said those words, you came at the same time as Wooyoung let out his load in your mouth, your juices coating San's lips. You gasped, catching your breath as your body came down from its high. "Holy shit," you managed to mutter, pushing away from San but he held tight to your hips.

"I want to feel your pussy around my cock now." San muttered. You feel the head of his dick at your entrance, and you push back eagerly. San grabs your hips, pulling you onto him as he sinks deep with a single thrust. You cry out, loving the feeling of finally being filled by him.

He starts to move, his hips snapping as he pounds into you. Wooyoung reaches around, squeezing your breast as he rolls your hard nipple between his fingers. You're overwhelmed with sensation, pleasure coiling tight in your core again.

"Fuck, you're so tight," San grunts, his hands bruising your hips as he holds you in place. "Take it, baby. Take my cock."

You cry out with each thrust, begging for more. Wooyoung moves one of your hands down to your clit, guiding you as you circle your bud. The combination of their touch and your fingers sends you spiraling towards the edge once more. "More, San...more..." You plead, barely able to form a sentence.

San answers with another deep thrust, pushing you closer to climax. Your mind explodes with pleasure, colors mixing together until you see nothing but white light. A blissful wave hits you, sending your whole body into spasms.

"I'm gonna cum!" you cry, your walls clenching around San's shaft.

"Cum for me, baby," he encourages, his voice strained. "Milk my cock, take what you need."

You explode around him, your juices flowing as your body shakes with the force of your orgasm. San groans, still thrusting as he chases his own release. "Fuck, I'm close. Gonna fill that tight pussy, flood it with my cum."

His words send you over again, your sensitive walls milking him for all he's worth. San slams into you a few more times before he stiffens, roaring out his release. You feel his hot seed spilling inside you, his cock twitching with each pulse.

He pulls out slowly, and you turn to face him, kissing him deeply as you taste yourself on his lips. Wooyoung joins the kiss, both trying to claim your mouth.

"That was incredible, but I want more," Wooyoung whispers, his eyes dark with desire. "I want to feel that tight grip around my cock now."

San helps you straddle Wooyoun'g lap, guiding his friend's erect length to your entrance. You sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch until you're fully seated.

Wooyoung groans, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to move. "So fucking tight. It's unbelievable," he pants, his eyes rolling back as he enjoys the sensation.

You rise and fall, bouncing on his lap as San kneels before you, sucking your sensitive nipples into his mouth and swirling his tongue over the bud. You moan, grinding your hips as you chase another climax.

"That's it, beautiful," San encourages. "Ride his cock, take your pleasure."

You lean back, bracing your hands on Wooyoung's thighs as you change the angle and find that sweet spot deep within. His eyes widen, and he bucks his hips wildly. "Fuck, I'm close! Keep going, baby!"

You ride him harder, your walls contracting around him as another orgasm builds. "Cum with me," you pant, feeling yourself spiraling upwards.

Wooyoung grips your hips tightly, his body tensing as he follows you over the edge. "Fuck, I'm cumming!" he yells, his cock throbbing as he spills his release inside you.

You collapse forward, Wooyoung's arms wrapping around your shoulders as he kisses your neck tenderly. You feel blissed out and sated, but the night is far from over. These two gorgeous men are yours to enjoy, and you plan on savoring every moment.

The evening unfolds in a blur of passionate sex, dirty talk, and shared pleasure. You lose count of how many times you climax, each orgasm more intense than the last. San and Wooyoung are generous lovers, ensuring you're satisfied before taking their own pleasure.

As the night stretches on, you find yourself sandwiched between their muscular bodies, their cocks nestled against your skin. You feel protected and adored, surrounded by their heat and the scent of sex.

Wooyoung's fingers trace lazy patterns on your bare skin, his breath evening out as he dozes. San presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his arms tight around you.

You smile, content and fulfilled in a way you've never experienced before. This is what you've wanted, what you've fantasized about, and it's exceeded all your expectations.

As you drift off to sleep, you know tonight is just the beginning.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

No One Here Is Alone

Elks Chapter 2 Version 2.0

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: The man you've had a crush on since he showed up to Jackson just so happens to be your favorite student's caretaker.. and he just saw you do a brutal face plant in front of his home. Chapter Warnings: soft jackson joel, rumors still spread in the apocalypse, 2000's indie rock, interrupted sweet moment, cats in windows, there was only one umbrella, romance, Joel Miller making dinner, thigh paint, knee pillow Words: 4,500 Header courtesy of @saradika-graphics

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist Playlist

*** “Radio Cure” by Wilco. 

It's Monday evening, and you're standing nervously in front of Joel’s house, clutching your messenger bag brimming with art supplies. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, before giving the door three quick knocks.

Joel opens the door with a warm smile. “Hi, come on in.”

“Hey,” you reply, trying to keep your smile under control.

"Let me show you the room."

Joel leads you into his home to a makeshift studio just off the living room filled with various wood workings, half carved animals, shelves of tools, and a long work table. You'd never expect it, but Joel is an artist.

You love the space, it's so open and warm. Lived in and utilized, you're happy places like this can still exist in other people's homes. 

Your eyes fall on a couple of old guitars leaning against a wall.

“You play?” You ask, nodding towards them.

“Been playing almost my whole life. You?”

“Same, my guitar broke a few weeks ago,” you say with a hint of sadness. “There’s a big hole in the side now.”

“That’s rough. Your stereo and your guitar?”

“Afraid so. It’s very quiet in my home.”

“Those guitars are broken over there, but I just haven’t gotten around to fixing ‘em, I’m sure I could easily repair one for you.” 

“Joel, you— that’s very nice,” you say, touched but hesitant. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“No, s’okay, I like fixing things,” he insists with a reassuring smile. 

“Wish I could fix things,” you say with a nervous chuckle. “By the time I would be done, it’d be a pile of sawdust.”

A huff of air releases out of Joel’s mouth, his smile makes a dimple you’ve never noticed before appear. God, he’s gorgeous. “You’re funny. I can see why Ellie likes you.”

Heat creeps up your chest and settles into your cheeks. “So, Where would you like me to draw the mural?” you ask, using your question as a way to cut through the nervousness inside you. 

“Was thinking over on this wall with the window. I can see it from my chair in the living room.” 

You turn to examine the large, empty wall. You’re not sure if the cream hue is the original paint color or colored that way from age. It’s a perfect canvas.

“Good choice.” you say. “Do you want the whole wall?”

“The whole wall.”

“Just bluebells?” you clarify.

“Just bluebells.”

“Perfect.”

You pull the pencil from the chest pocket of your overalls, gently pressing it against the wall to sketch out the first bluebell. You can feel his eyes on you, his large body crowding the space behind you. You try to focus on your drawing, blocking out the sound of his breathing and the heat of his closeness.

Joel clears his throat. “I’ll just be in the kitchen making dinner. Did ya’ eat?”

“No,” you reply, glancing back at him. “But I can eat after I’m done here.”

“Have more than enough here for another person and Ellie’s at Dina’s tonight. You like pasta?”

“Of course I do,” you say with a smile. “I’d starve if I didn’t. Shelf stable.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ll be in the kitchen cooking. Just holler if you need anything. Help yourself to any of the supplies I have here.” You nod as Joel turns and strides down the hall.

“What a beautiful face, I have found in this place, That is circling all ‘round the sun, What a beautiful dream...”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle as the music starts, breaking the hush that had settled in the room while you quietly sketched. For the past hour, the only sounds were Joel’s movements in the kitchen and the soft scratch of your pencil against the wall. Now, Joel is playing the mixed CD you had left there. Despite being all alone in his studio, you can’t help but grin. You tuck your pencil behind your ear and head to the kitchen to find Joel draining a pot of cooked pasta. 

You try not to stare at the way his biceps stretch the sleeves of his shirt or the way the steam floats into the air swirling around him, creating an almost dreamlike scene of domestic bliss.

“Neutral Milk Hotel,” you say from the doorway, rubbing your daisy pendant hanging against your neck.

“S’a pretty good song.” Joel replies, his gaze shifting from the pot to your pendant. 

“Thanks for putting it on, I missed hearing music.”

“When’d your player break?” Joel’s asks, his eyes still focused on your daisy pendant. 

“A little over a week ago. I lived without a stereo for close to fifteen years, all through my twenties in the QZ. My CD’s sat in a crate next to my bed all those years. I got used to them existing almost like photographs, circular snapshots of memories… silent and incapable of their original use,” you say, your voice trailing off as you remember.  “When I got here and walked into my house the first thing I saw was the small boombox on the shelf, I almost passed out when Maria told me it worked. It had to be repaired a few times and Gordon kept warning me that it wasn’t built to last. Took it to him the day after it broke for good and he let me know nothing could be done. I felt like I lost a limb.” 

“M’sorry,” Joel says as he begins to dish the pasta and sauce into two bowls.

“Thanks, I still have other things to fill up my time so it’s not as bad as I’m making it seem. I know it’s a luxury and I know I can live without it. It’s just… the noise kept me company, you know?” 

“I do,” Joel says, setting the bowls on the table, his eyes still locked on you. 

He watches you intently, as if he’s captivated by your presence. You’d be doing the same if you weren’t so nervous about him noticing. You sense Joel doesn’t care if you notice him watching.

You sit at his table, the orange glow of the sunset filters through the window, casting a soft light over everything. Coffee rings cover Joel’s wooden table top, a sign he probably never cleans up his mug until after he’s home in the evening. The smell of tomatoes, garlic, and onion from the bowl of pasta in front of you tantalizes you.

“This looks delicious,” you say, picking up your fork.

“Sauce was made by Maria, she takes pity on my kitchen skills and makes sure Ellie and I are well fed.” 

“She’s great,” you say through a bite. “So is Tommy.”

He nods in agreement. 

You both settle into a shared silence as you eat. 

A slow and haunting song begins to play, Joel looks up from his meal. “This is my favorite song on your CD.

“Cheer up, honey I hope you can,

There is something wrong with me,

My mind is filled with silvery stars”

“‘Radio Cure’ by Wilco.” you say, recognizing the song. “One of my favorite bands. My only CD of theirs is so scratched it no longer works… this is the only song I have now.” 

You lean back, closing your eyes, getting lost in the music, mouthing the lyrics silently. 

“S’beautiful,” Joel says softly as you open your eyes and find him watching you again. “...The song’s beautiful.”

Your heart skips a beat at the tenderness in his voice. So soft and deep, you wonder if he talks to anybody else this gently. 

“If you like it, keep my CD,” you offer. “You’ll get more use out of it than I will now.” 

“I’ll borrow it until you get a new CD player,” Joel says as he stands. “You’re welcome to come over and listen anytime. You can bring your other CD’s over if you want.”

“Really? I appreciate that,” your voice lifts with excitement.

“Glad to help.”

“I”m going to get back to drawing before it gets any darker,” you say, handing him your empty bowl. “I really enjoyed dinner, thank you.”

“Course,” he nods, taking the bowl from your hand and depositing it into the soapy water.

You return to the woodworking room, pick up your pencil, and continue delicately sketching flowers on his wall.

“It really, really, really could happen, Yes, it really, really, really could happen If the days they seem to fall through you Well, just let them go”

You hum along to your favorite Blur song, the eighth track on your CD.

“Did you want another light in here?” Joel’s deep voice startles you. You jump and turn to see him leaning against the doorway; you don’t know how long he’s been there. “S’getting dark in here.”

“Y-yeah, that would be great. I just want to finish up the first outline tonight.” 

Joel nods and heads over to the large cabinet in the corner, retrieving a work light as you turn back to your work. 

“This’ll help,” he says, grunting slightly as he bends over and plugs it in. “It’s lookin’ really nice so far.”

“Thanks,” you reply, still sketching. I love the process of beginning a large piece like this. It makes me so excited to think what it’ll look like when it’s all finished. Breaking it down into small steps, then seeing it all come together.”

“No wonder Ellie’s always so excited about art, when you put it all that way.” 

You nod without looking back at him, choosing to focus on your sketch.

“Just going to be in the living room reading my book. Lemme know if I can help,” he offers.

“Thanks.”

You hear him settle into his chair with a sigh. The chair he can sit in and look at your mural, the chair he can sit in and watch you work. Your insides twist as you feel like you’re being watched by him–you like it. 

You round each small petal making every flower perfect for Joel’s eyes.

Sometimes you hear a page turn in between tracks, sometimes you hear a sniff or a throat clear, you actually wish there wasn’t any music so you could only hear Joel.

“Okay,” you step back from the wall shaking out and stretching your overused hand and stretching your tired fingers. 

“Finished for the night?” Joel asks as he stands and walks into the room, eyes landing on the wall. “It’s really beautiful,” he says as he stares at your preliminary sketch.

“Thanks, there’s still a lot that has to be done, but I’m really happy with how it’s looking so far.” You back up to stand next to him. “When do you want me to come back?”

“I’ll be out on Patrol with Tommy until Wednesday night, Thursday work?”

“Thursday’s good. Same time?”

“Same time,” he confirms with a nod. “I’ll make dinner again.”

“You really don’t have to,” you reply, bending down to grab your bag.

“S’okay, I want to.” 

“Okay,” you say, stifling a yawn and blinking your tired eyes. 

Joel notices and grins slightly watching you. “Getting late for you, huh?” 

“Yeah, close to my bedtime,” you admit. 

He follows you to his door. “G’night,” he says, holding the door open. “See you Thursday.”

“Good luck on patrol,” you walk out the door and glance back at him, offering a small smile. “Good night.”

You feel Joel’s quiet, watchful gaze follow you as you leave his yard.  

Once you get home, you don’t bother changing out of your shirt when you crawl into bed. It smells like Joel’s home.

“Hey lady,” your friend Helen greets as she leans against the doorway of your classroom, interrupting your paper grading. 

You look up and give her a smile. “What’s up?”

“Thirsty Thursday at the Bison tomorrow, you in?” 

“Oh,” you pause, putting your pen down. “I can’t, I’m painting something for Joel Miller at his house.” 

Her eyebrows rise. “Joel Miller, Joel Miller?” 

“Yeah…” you nod.

She steps into your room, crossing her arms and smirks. “So, the rumors are true?”

“Rumors?” you ask.

“Grace said she saw you leaving his place late Monday night. Apparently, Joel stood and watched you walk home the whole way.”

You roll your eyes. “God this place is small, isn’t it?”

Helen laughs, her expression softening as she moves closer. “He nice to you?” Her protective side always shows when it comes to you. 

“I wouldn’t be doing this for him if he wasn’t.”

She nods. “Atta girl, I’ll leave you to it,” she knocks on your desk before leaving.

You’ve heard all of the rumors about Tommy Miller’s scary older brother. You’ve listened intently as people regaled tales of his violent past and whispered stories of his brutality. You heard the hush amongst the crowd whenever he’d walk into a room when he and Ellie first showed up. He’s supposedly a monster, and yet all you see are deep, soft brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles at you.

Thursday, you find yourself at Joel’s wearing your overalls again. Today, though, you’ve layered an oversized flannel for warmth, shielding yourself and your box of paints beneath an umbrella from the pouring rain. Before you can knock, Joel opens the door.

“Come in,” he says, grabbing your umbrella. “Was lookin’ for you so you didn’t get stuck in the rain.”

“Thanks, it’s awful out,” you reply, stepping inside and shrugging off your flannel. “How was patrol?” 

“Same as usual,” he says, taking your jacket and hanging it up on the hook over his coat.

“Well, that’s a good thing,” you say heading into his woodworking room and place your paints on the floor.

“That your book?” Joel nods to the faded black leather portfolio with tattered corners covered in faded stickers. 

“Yeah, I brought it over.”

“Haven’t seen something like that in years. Can I look at ‘em?”

“Go ahead,” you say smiling and handing it over to him. “Find something to play. It’s your stereo. Don’t tell me what you pick–I want to be surprised.” 

You love hearing the soft, familiar thud of the pages as Joel flips through it.

“Don’t recognize most of these names,” he murmurs.

“What kind of music do you like?” you ask as you unroll your brush holder, picking out what you’ll need.

“Rock, country… a little bit of blues.”

“Country? Really? How typical Texas of you.”

He chuckles. “Good country. Real country. Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, ’n the like.”

“I stand corrected, Texas.”

He grunts in amusement while you begin laying out your paints on the countertop, carefully choosing your colors. 

“Found something,” Joel says.

“Can’t wait to hear what you pick,” you respond, pulling your palette out of your bag as he leaves the room. 

A bluesy rock guitar intro with a steady drumbeat begins to play as you mix emerald and olive tones together.

“Haven’t heard this one in over 20 years,” Joel says, re-entering the room. “Liked The Rolling Stones.” 

You kneel down on the floor to begin painting green stems. You move your brush and body slowly and smoothly, rising up to finish each stem tip. You feel Joel’s steady and attentive gaze follow you. 

“Never thought I’d see somebody paint like this again,” he says from the doorway.

“It’s my favorite thing to do,” your focus unwavering from the wall. 

“Can tell,” the gentleness of his voice causes your skin to prickle. “M’excited to see how it’ll look when it’s done.”

“Me too.”

You hear Joel take a deep breath and his footsteps shift. “I’m gonna go finish cleanin’ my guns,” he says with an exhale. “I’ll be in the dining room if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” you say, twisting your torso to look back at him with a smile. A large dollop of green paint falls from the paintbrush in your hand, plopping onto your exposed thigh. 

Joel’s eyes immediately drop to the spot, widening as you grab your paint stained rag and wipe the paint off. He clears his throat, his cheeks blush a subtle shade of red. “Uh, right. I’ll be in the dining room,” he repeats, turning quickly to stride away.

His hurried footsteps fade as they move into the next room. A small smile tugs at your lips and a rush of excitement blooms within you. 

You dip your brush back into the paint again, steadying your breath, and begin painting a new stem.

"S'pretty nasty out there, d’ya want that work light again? Sky’s turnin’ real dark,” Joel asks, interrupting your focus. 

“Yes, thank you,” you answer as your focus is still on the delicate petal you’re painting.

You hear Joel shuffle behind you to pull the light out, the same small grunt as earlier this week leaves his mouth when he bends over to plug it in. The light buzzes on, flooding the room and your painting with a bright white hue.

“You been kneeling on the floor like that for long?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. 

“Yep, it’s not so bad while down here,” you reply, still focused on your brushstrokes.

“Ya’ still have the hurt knees and you’re kneeling on the damn hardwood floor,” he mumbles under his breath as he leaves the room. 

You’ve gotten used to people not being concerned about such simple things like your personal comfort, Joel’s worry for you makes you feel a foreign feeling. 

He returns and holds a pillow out for you. “Here, grabbed ya’ this.”

“Oh, I’m okay, really,” you protest, “I don’t want to accidentally get paint on it.” 

“Don’t care, take it,” he insists.

You hesitate for a second before taking the pillow and slipping it underneath your already aching knees.

“Feels much better, thank you,” you say as you wiggle back and forth on the softness. 

“Welcome.” 

A long sigh escapes his lips, grabbing your attention. You glance up and meet his eyes– his hazel flecks glow in the light supplied by the work lamp. He sticks his tongue out to wet his supple lips, your eyes move to watch. He reaches a hand out, his thumb rests against your cheek, his fingers cradle your chin. 

Your breath hitches, lips parting as you inhale deeply, a chill takes over your whole body. The music from the stereo muffles. All that exists now in this moment is Joel’s touch. 

“Thank you again, for doin’ this for me,” he says, his voice low and tender. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout how nice it’s gonna be to look over and see this once it’s finished… reminding me of home.”

“O-of course Texas,” you stammer, your eyes still lingering on his mouth. 

“Mm,” he grunts, his head dipping with a slight nod. 

“L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L–” The music stutters.

“Shit, I forgot this song always does that,” you say as Joel’s hand retreats from your cheek. 

“I got it,” he says, quickly striding out of the room. 

“You just have to skip to the next track and it should work!” you call after him as your skin still tingles from where his hand had been moments ago silently cursing your scratched CD.  

The track changes, the interruption long gone, just like Joel’s touch. You return to painting, calming your body and emotions in the aftermath. You exhale slowly, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in your chest, grounding yourself back into the rhythm of painting. You don’t hear from him until well after the CD finishes and the house falls silent.

“Dinner’s ready,” he says, rapping his knuckles gently on the doorway, snapping you out of your trance. “You got a lot done—s’lookin’ real good.”

You glance over your shoulder at him, surprised by how much time has passed. The shared moment between you now feels long gone and distant.

“Thanks,” you say standing up and stretching, placing your paintbrush in the jar of water.

“Just come to the kitchen when you’re all done in here.” 

“Hope you like turkey and barley soup,” Joel says as you enter the kitchen. 

“Any soup makes me happy,” you reply with a smile.

“Good,” he places a bowl in front of you. “This one I actually made, Maria didn’t hafta take pity on me for this meal.”

It looks delicious and smells incredible. Joel’s taken the time to set the table tonight, a tattered cloth napkin folded neatly beneath a soup spoon, a glass of water to the side, you notice the coffee stains have been wiped up. 

You take a bite, the warm soup slides down your throat, perfect for a chilly rainy evening, it’s good. “Joel, this is… really, really delicious.”

His eyes soften. “I’m glad you like it, haven’t cooked for anybody ‘cept Ellie in years.” 

“You did boil me spaghetti earlier this week, remember?” you tease.

“Hmph,” he chuckles, “right.” 

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, your spoons against the bowls are the only sound. You should be nervous in this situation but the way Joel handles himself in front of you, as if he’s perfectly comfortable with you in his home makes your nerves settle.

You place your spoon down and sit back in your chair. “What was your favorite food before …everything?”

He thinks for a moment. “Don’t really know, maybe tamales? My mom used to make them every year for the holidays. I could eat six of them in one sitting.” 

“I loved tamales, too. God, I miss Mexican restaurants. You know, I just remembered margaritas. I used to always see people drink them when we’d get Mexican and I always thought that looked so cool. I never got to try one.” 

He watches you with that familiar expression, as if he could listen to you talk for hours, nodding along with a small smile. “What was your favorite food?” he asks.

“Fettuccine Alfredo, one hundred percent. My mom used to make it for me every year for my birthday. If we went to an Italian restaurant, it’s what I’d always order, definitely Fettuccine Alfredo.”

“Never had it, always just stuck to pouring a jar of Ragu over spaghetti or a frozen lasagna,” he says, a small grin on his face. 

“I miss those too. Anc cheese. I miss being able to have cheese whenever I wanted so much. The stuff we have now just isn’t the same.”

“Mm,” Joel nods, “kinda like the ice cream we have. Not the same, but good enough.”

“Isn’t that the motto of these times?” you say with a smirk. “‘Not the same but good enough.’”

“S’a good one,” Joel pauses, “you’re funny.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear feeling Joel’s eyes follow your movements as he gets up. 

You rise as well, grabbing your bowl to follow Joel over to the sink. He reaches for it, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes it from your hand. “I’ve got it,” he says, placing the dishes into the sink. “You seem to be almost finished in there.”

“Yeah, I think I only have a couple more hours of work left,” you say stretching your back. 

“Don’t want to keep you any longer tonight, know you got work tomorrow and know it’s a lot bein’ down on the floor like that for as long you were.” 

“Yeah, they’re aching,” you admit with a shy smile. “When do you want me to come and finish it?”

“Tomorrow at the same time, if you want.” 

“That works, might be a little late though–Fridays are always busy with the end of the school week.” 

“Course, take your time. I’ll be here.”

“Is it okay if I leave my things in the room? If not, that’s okay too I can take them ho–” 

“S’fine,” he interrupts gently, he places his hand against your back. “Don’t mind at all. I’ll walk you home, s’getting late and it’s still rainin’ pretty bad.” 

You protest. “No, I’ll be okay, I’ve walked through much worse.” 

“Don’t care.” he cuts you off as he grabs your flannel from the hook. “I’m walking you home, it’s pourin’.”

He holds your flannel open for you and offers a small nod. You step forward and slip your arms through the sleeves, the closeness sends goosebumps across your skin.

“Course,” Joel breathes out as you step away and grab your backpack.

“You really don’t have to—“

“Now, stop telling me I don’t have to,” he says, mild frustration tinging his voice as he shrugs on his jacket. “I want to.”

He opens the door and motions you to go ahead of him before grabbing your umbrella. 

“Don’t you have one as well?” you ask.

“Never got one. S’a nasty storm today, I think it’s going to be just as bad tomorrow.” 

You step out, the rain falls in a steady stream. “It’s good for the crops and the water reserves at least,” you shrug as Joel holds the umbrella above you. 

As you walk down the road, you notice the rain pelting Joel, his head and shoulders already damp as he holds the umbrella over you.

“There’s enough room for both of us under here, there’s no sense in you getting soaked,” you say, stepping closer to him.

He murmurs something under his breath–it sounds like “Y’sweet,” but the rain drowns out the sound. You almost think you imagined it. He adjusts the umbrella, moving it so that both of you are shielded from the rain.

The two of you walk towards your home, your bodies occasionally tapping against each other as Joel huddles over you. You wish you could slow down, elongate your time next to him, stay under the shelter of the umbrella and his body.

“That’s me, right there,” you say nodding towards your front door. 

“Y’got a cat?” Joel asks when he sees your cat Penny sitting on your windowsill backlit by your lamp.

“Yeah, two of them. You like cats?”

“Even if I did, couldn’t have ‘em. Allergic.”

“That’s a shame,” you reply with a shrug.

“Hm,” he grunts with a subtle smile.

Escaping the rain underneath the safety of the awning of your front porch, Joel closes your umbrella and hands it back to you as you tap your wet boots against your frayed welcome mat.

“Well, thanks for walking me home, I’ll see you tomorrow?” You say as you rest your back against your front door.

“Yeah,” Joel says, his eyes holding your attention for a moment longer than expected. “See you tomorrow.”

He turns and leaves your little yard, turning back around at your fencepost to give you a nod before continuing down the road in the dark rain. Joel Miller just walked you home.

No One Here Is Alone- Joel's Version

[1tsstargaze59]

College AU Chapter 4 DROP 🧡💜

Sorry I didn't write for this AU in a while ^^" I got writers block TvT Then it was exam period in college and then the holidays- *oof* BUT IM BACK NOW, AND 2 CHAPTERS AWAY FROM THE END!!!

Actually, this chapter was inspired by @eechytooru 's artwork, same as the rest of the AU lol, but I mean specifically the doodle where they're playing chess in this post

(Do you guys have any idea how far I had to scroll to get this link??? XD) Anyway, you'll see why JSUT READ QISBWKSO-

Chapter 4 : Checkmates

Anne and Saddie, arms linked, walked up to the chess club doorstep one peaceful Monday afternoon. Anna had figured fewer people stay past class hours on Mondays, so there would be a lot less pressure. Having prepared herself for this, she felt a surge of energy throughout her body, and she had a smile from ear to ear.

"Thank you again, Saddie. You know, you really didn't need to accompany me, though."

"I'll be honest and say it was more for my nerves than your own," she admitted.

Anna-lee chuckled, "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow morning!" She waved goodbye to her senior and opened the door. The bright light of the room pouring into the hall.

Sitting at the front desk of the club was a smiling woman. She wore a knee-length blue dress with a subtle star pattern over a white t-shirt and a pair of blue ballerinas. The outfit was accessorized with a cute beaded necklace. Her blonde roots stood in harsh contrast to her bright blue pixie cut. Her style was so distinctive that Anne had no problem recognizing her. Her smile spread across her face just a little bit more.

Once the woman laid eyes on her, she sprang out of her seat and grabbed her hand to shake it excitedly, "Hello!!! Oh my gosh, I've heard so many good things about you! It's so nice to finally meet you!"

"You have?," she asked, her voice shaking, "That's great, but hm- what was your name again?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I can get ahead of myself sometimes; I'm Jocelyn, Jocelyn Meyer, but you can just call me Joy."

"It's nice to meet you too, Joy! Great name, by the way," Anna-lee pointed out.

"Thanks," she humbly accepted the compliment, "I'm assuming you came to check out the club! Would you like a tour, or are you good exploring on your own?" She offered.

"Well– " Anna leaned to her right side, checking out the room behind Joy.

On the left, there were students having coffee and playing card games, comfortably sitting on an assortment of sofas. To her right, a row of tables had more serious students playing a variety of board games, including chess. The entrance's bright yellow light dimmed into a redish hue that gave the rest of the room the air of a casino night. At the very back, Frederick sat at a desk, cabinets, full of board games and other knick-knacks standing tall behind him. He was bent over a ton of paperwork, his eyes darting between two copies, marking notes from time to time in red ink.

"I wouldn't mind an explanation as to why the chess club has much more games than I would have anticipated?" questioned Anna.

"Great question!" The two walked into the club, on their way to the back of the room, "A few years back, we really were just 'the chess club' up until the previous director took her maternity leave. You must know her since she's in your department : Saddie?"

"Yes! She guided me here, actually. I mean, aside from Fred, who's mentioned it in passing," she chuckled nervously.

Jocelyn’s eyebrows frowned and her lips perked.

"What?" Anne asked, her voice shaky, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm just still surprised he didn't mention it more considering taking Saddie's place was no small feat. The humble bastard," she elaborated.

Before she could explain further, they had reached Fred’s director’s desk. Anne had a perplexed look on her face. She lifted a finger up to her lip. 

“Fred, could you shed some light on that for me?” asked Joy, but the question flew right past him as he continued his correction work. The girls shared a confused look before Joy hit the desk lightly with both her hands, “Fred?” she repeated, raising her voice ever so slightly.

The man jolted back before looking up. In an instant, his face flushed, his shoulders tensed, and he jumped out of his office chair, hitting his knees on the desk. The yell he stuffed down came out as a squeal. He fell back into his chair, holding his knees as it rolled back, breathing in through his teeth. Anna-lee hid her agape mouth behind her hands, and Joy scrunched her teeth.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she apologized, “Are you ok?”

“Yup! Give me a moment,” he took a deep breath before standing up straight and waving 'hello' with an embarrassed look on his face, “Hi Anna-lee.”

Anna smiled nervously, returning his little wave. Joy side-eyed her and smirked, “Fred, why haven't you explained to Miss Tyson how you got this position?”

“I... I don't really like to brag,” he responded honestly, returning swiftly to his work.

"Aw, it's not a brag! It's like, like... history! Of the chess club! Come on, tell her!" Joy poked his arm.

Anna-Lee's face lit up, "I like history!"

Fred sighed before explaining without looking away from his paperwork, "When a director leaves their post, the members of the chess club play a chess tournament in which the winner gets to become the new director-"

"He won the last tournament and hasn't lost a single match since!" Joy cheerfully finished his tale, clapping her hands together, proud of him.

Frederick's face flushed red, his eyes rolled in annoyance, and he smiled. Anna-lee looked at him in awe. Then, her brow frowned nefariously, "How offended would you be if I said I didn't believe you?"

He looked up at her again, this time with a serious look on his face, “... Is that a challenge?”

The next thing they knew, they were sitting face to face at a table in the center of the room, the chess board printed onto its surface, patiently awaiting the war of pawns. Jocelyn and a few club members as their audience. The tension in the room was slightly off. Everyone could foresee the outcome of the match, yet Anna-Lee's pure excitement and general brash attitude still had the small audience shaking with anticipation. Joy was referee; she flipped a coin to determine who goes first. Fred guessed his head, Anna guessed tails. The coin landed on tails, so she moved her pawn first. He did the same on his turn. The back and forth went on for five very silent, very focused turns, at least for Anne, who knew who she was up against and tried to do her best. Fred calmly swirled the coffee in his mug after every move, taking a sip from time to time, a smile plastered on his face.

“Checkmate,” he whispered after his fifth turn, having moved the black rook diagonally to the white king.

“Huh? But- Huh,” she scratched her forehead and threw her hands in the air, “I lost.”

Everyone sighed knowingly and casually went back to their own games, “Well, Joy did try to warn you. Hopefully, this didn’t upset you... and you still want to hang out in the club?” asked Fred, nervously hiding his face behind his mug. 

Anne reached over the table and grabbed his left hand, holding it with both of hers, “Let’s play again,” she said dryly, a fire burning in her eyes. 

He looked over at Joy, hoping she’d have something comforting to say or do, but she simply shrugged and went back to the front desk, leaving the two alone, more or less. He smiled at Anna, his eyebrows shaking nervously. 

They played for so long; they had lost track of time. At first, he counted the games he’d won, but he stopped counting after 12; determining that she wouldn’t stop playing until she’d defeated him... He tried giving her tips, but she wouldn’t listen to any of them, saying she preferred to figure it out on her own. Fred couldn’t help but feel bad, not only because playing against a novice this many times made him feel pity, but also because he was genuinely enjoying seeing her plan her moves and get excited over even the slightest bit of progress only to fail anyway and get frustrated. Every time Anna failed, however, it just fueled her passion more. She was frowning almost the entire time, but he thought she looked adorable regardless. Fred silently smiled to himself. Her king piece fell over and over until the club room was left completely empty.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, um, whatever is going on here-” Joy walked up to them, waving her hands at the situation.

“It’s war,” clarified Anna-lee, a straight look on her face.

Joy giggled, “Sure! But um, it’s getting late, and I’d like to head home now.”

“Oh my gosh!" Anna yelled, looking down at her watch, "6PM?? I’m so sorry! I’ll leave now!” She jumped out of her chair and grabbed Jocelyn’s arms, hugging her as thanks, then swiftly running straight out the door. Before she left, however, she peeked her head through the door to say one last thing : "BUT! Don’t think this is over, Frederick! I will defeat you! MARK MY WORDS!” And she slammed the door shut.

The math teachers were left speechless. Fred swirled his mug one last time.

“Hey~ looks like someone's made a rival,” Jocelyn teased him, hitting his left arm with her elbow.

Fred tried to take a sip of his cup, but his tongue was left dry, “I think I’m gonna need more coffee.”

—————

For the next few days, Anna-lee showed up at the chess club after class, asking Fred for at least one match, to which he’d concede. She became an official member after her third day. Their games got progressively longer. She’d smile at him every time he realized she'd made unexpected progress, but no matter what technique she tried, Anne would always lose. Despite this, Anna-lee loved playing against him. Something about the competition, the goal she’d set for herself, made her feel alive. She had researched the history of chess and various chess strategies on her own time; spending hours sitting in her bed, curled up over her computer screen, reading. If she was to play against anyone else, she would most likely win, or at least she likes to believe that she could, but ultimately, she didn’t want to beat anyone else. She wanted to defeat Fred. Anna hasn’t had this much fun in a while. Now, when she enters the club, she feels right at home. Where she belongs. The red velvet walls give her a warm, comforting embrace. 

She sat at the chess table in front of Fred once more, holding out a coin.

“I’m ready when you are,” he said.

Anna flipped the coin, guessing heads. It landed on tails.

“Darn!” she cursed under her breath, which made Fred laugh.

The black and white checkered pattern of the board matched his sweater vest. Oftentimes, as silly as it sounded, Anna wondered if it gave him some sort of advantage. It almost seemed like every piece on the board was on his side, like she was playing against the game itself. Perhaps it was just an impression she got from not looking at him- enough? Her eyes darted up at him, and she was reminded why she so rarely does so. His dark eyes seemed to have no end. It was as if looking straight up at a clear night sky, the endless sea of stars glistening with hope. She swallowed and looked back down at the game; shaken by how much she had to live up to. In a sharp move, she shoved her bishop across the board; seeking some kind of struggle from him. Instead, he smiled and moved his rook, taking her bishop. Anne scoffed, face flushed.

“Sorry Madam. I will say, you’ve gotten much more confident with your moves,” he shrugged his shoulders ironically.

“That’s not fair. You distracted me!” she playfully pointed at him, her yelling grabbing the club members’ attention.

“How?” he chuckled.

“Huh-" shit-, "with your wits! I guess-”

"...True, I am a scientific calculator; you’re more like a novel,” he boldly stated.

“Huh?” Anna-lee muttered.

The room fell silent.

“I, wait, I mean-”

He scrambled with his words, trying his best to piece together an apology, but it was too late. As seconds passed, the silence in the room rang louder and louder in Anna's ears until she was deaf with anger, “No, you’re right! And you know what? You can have your win! We both know how this ends anyway, right?! Screw the rules, screw your stupid club rules : I FORFEIT!” 

Anna-lee grabbed her things and stormed out the door faster than anyone could process what had just happened. Fred cowarded in his seat, frozen by fear and shame. A dark, misty cloud closed in around him, causing him to shiver.

“Hey,” Joy said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

He looked up at her, speechless.

“I know you didn’t mean what you said, but then... why?”

All he could do was shake his head.

—————

It's been a few days since the two have spoken, and Fred still feels awful about it. Anna-lee had been avoiding him, missing their usual meet-up times on tuesdays and ignoring him in the halls. The only moments she even acknowledged his presence were at the chess club. She came in every other day to challenge him to a match, but only under the condition they did not speak during the game. He had no idea why he kept accepting this. He needed to talk to her about this, but if he did, it would break her trust, and she'd probably stop going to the club at all. He'd never see her again... over a game of chess? No. This was his fault. He had to fix this. He had a plan, but he had a strong suspicion that she was not going to like it.

Tuesday, after his class, he stayed in the classroom for as long as necessary. Just as he thought, Anna-lee showed up 15 minutes before her class began, way past their usual meeting time. When she entered the room, her eyes widened at the sight of him, and as she spun around to leave, her face frowned.

"Wait! Anna-lee, can we talk?" Fred rushed to meet up with her in the hall.

"What is there to talk about, Fred?!" She turned around to face him, "I thought I was finally getting closer to you, being curious about an interest of yours, but clearly, I was wrong to think we could even be- compatible, since you've shown you don't actually respect my discipline!"

"I didn't mean any of that!"

"I don't care! All I want is an apology!"

"But you yelled at me and ran out without letting me apologize! And you're doing it again! How am I supposed to make it up to you if you won't even TALK to me!?"

Anna was taken aback. She was speechless.

"... Will you please listen to me?"

"OK- go on."

"I didn't mean to insult your discipline. If you know me at ALL, you know how much I respect youand I'd never insult you intentionally. I was trying to come up with a... a 'roast'? You know, playful banter, like we usually have, but I said the first thing that came to mind, and I didn't think about what I was saying until... well until I had said it," his voice got weaker and shaky as he explained, his body folding in on itself.

Anna's face softened, and she stepped closer to him.

"I'm sorry. It was never my intention to insult you or your intelligence..." With his next thought, he gained some of his spirit back, "Actually, you're one of the smartest people I know."

She looked a little surprised at first, but then she smiled.

"You're smart and funny," he complimented her, slowly holding out his hands to grab hers and gently guiding her closer to him, "And if we ever were to get lost in a crowd of people, I know I'd always be able to pick you out amongst them, because you are radiant."

Anna-lee giggled, her laugh causing her to lean onto him, "Oh Fred, never change," she gave him a hug and sighed before pulling away to look at him, "You're right, I'm sorry I didn't speak to you sooner. I let my feelings get in the way of problem solving, and it just left both of us in an uncomfortable situation. I was acting childish - c-could you forgive me?" Her voice cracked, and her eyes shined. She clung into his sleeves nervously.

"Of course! So long as you forgive me," he raised his left eyebrow, tilted his head, and smirked.

Anna-lee chuckled, "Don't waste my time! I have a class to give!" She pulled away from him and walked up to the door.

"But you do forgive me, right?"

"Yes, Fred, I do."

"Great! I'll see you... after class? At the chess club?"

"Yes sir! And you better be prepared for the match of a lifetime!" She threatened him playfully.

Fred smiled, a sappy, enamored smile, as he walked away, wishing 3 hours could pass by as quickly as 3 seconds would.

—————

"Prepare yourself, Fred, 'cause I'm about to rock. Your. World!" warned Anna-lee, sitting across her opponent at the chess table.

"Should I be scared or intrigued?" asked Frederick with a shaky voice, making sure he was in the right mindset before the game.

"Preferably : both."

"OK, good. Then consider me prepared!"

(Author's note: GET A ROOM!!!!!)

Every member of the chess club was present for the match, impatiently leaning in to watch the show. Joy was very excited for this particular match, as her friends had finally gotten back to their usual banter. She refereed once more, flipped a coin and determined Anna would go first.

With each turn, the tension in the air strung itself just a little tighter. Fred was smiling like a dork at first, happy to be playing with her like normal again, until he realized that she was taking quite a few more of his pieces then he'd like. Did his feelings get in the way of his strategizing? They haven't gotten in the way before; what gives? Everytime he made a move, Anne swiftly countered it. Eventually, he understood : Anna-lee was using his own technique against him. His face melted into a frightened shock, his mouth agape. When she saw this, she smiled devilishly. He looked up at her, his hands starting to shake nervously, then back down at the board. He swallowed. The tables had turned. A drop of sweat trailed down his jawline. The back and forth went on for five more very silent, very focused turns, at least for Fred, who knew what he was up against and had no idea how he could win. Anna-lee calmly moved her pieces, a smile plastered on her face.

"Checkmate!" She shouted and jumped out of her seat once her queen had finally, finally cornered his king. The whole room burst into cheers and hugs; she had accomplished what they'd all thought to be impossible!

"YA!!! I have been waiting to use these for so long!" Jocelyn jumped at Anna, throwing a cape around her shoulders and placing a handmade paper crown on her head, which filled her heart with joy. With all the club members surrounding her and congratulating her, Anna's cheeks started to hurt from how hard she was smiling, a tear almost forming in her eye.

Fred was still sitting down; leaning over the board in disbelief. He lay his head in his left hand and picked up his king piece; sliding it over next to her queen piece, "Congrats," he said, in awe of her. Soft. Humble.

Anna-lee blinked twice and froze; her breath was cut short. For just a moment, everything else ceased to be. For just a moment, she looked into his eyes and got lost in them again.

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

—————

The chapters only get longer from here, sorry gang XD

Redraw reward of my doodle from the last chapter as a thx for reading uvu🧡💜

[inaconstantstateofchange]

I come to you on my hands and knees (relevant to the topic right lol) begging for any and all info on Bane, Banites and how it all ties in with Gortash. I love you in advance. <3

Bane and His Cult

Alright, so after twelve and a half hours of research I still don’t fully feel like I have enough, but at a certain point I just need to get this out there, and if there is anything you – or anyone else – would like to see explored in more detail, please feel free to ask! 

Note: I love getting asks like this! There is such a vast quantity of Realmslore that having some sort of specific focus for my deep-dives is a huge help, and knowing the topic is of interest to others is a huge motivator. I also greatly enjoy getting to put my training as a historian to work, as there is so much to interpret and archive alike. 

As ever, these writeups will align with current 5e lore, and draw from 3.5e for additional supporting information. On rarer occasions – and always noted – I will reference 1e and 2e, but with the caveats that there is much more in those editions that is tonally dissonant with the modern conception of the Forgotten Realms, and thus generally less applicable.

We’ll begin with one of the most recent conclusive descriptions of Bane, from the 5e Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide, an overview of the current world-state of, well, the Sword Coast: 

Bane has a simple ethos: the strong have not just the right but the duty to to rule over the weak. A tyrant who is able to seize power must do so, for not only does the tyrant benefit, but so do those under the tyrant’s rule. When a ruler succumbs to decadence, corruption, or decrepitude, a stronger and more suitable ruler will rise.  Bane is vilified in many legends. Throughout history, those who favor him have committed dark deeds in his name, but most people don’t worship Bane out of malice. Bane represents ambition and control, and those who have the former but lack the latter pray to him to give them strength. It is said that Bane favors those who exhibit drive and courage, and that he aids those who seek to become conquerors, carving kingdoms from the wilderness, and bringing order to the lawless.¹

This gives us the briefest summation of what draws people to the Cult of Bane: the desire for power and control, often deriving from a sense that they lack exactly those two things. Bane is the quintessential deity of lawful evil, which – if you’ve read any of my previous posts on the sociology of the Nine Hells – bears a striking similarity to Baator itself, the realm of lawful evil, and the place where Enver Gortash spent at least a portion of his formative years. 

The majority of the following excerpts derive from 3e, which went into far more detail on the specificities of the Faerûnian gods, including their dogmas, holy days, et cetera. One important point to note, however: any discussions of Bane’s scope of power are no longer accurate, as the time period in reference is about one hundred and twenty years before Baldur’s Gate 3 is set, at a time when Bane had just returned to life – and godhood – as nothing less than a greater god. By comparison, during Baldur’s Gate 3, he is a quasi-deity, having abandoned most of his previous godly power in exchange for the ability to directly meddle with Faerûn – forbidden to the gods by the overgod Ao – and gambling that he would be able to regain his lost power and prestige in so doing.²

The dogma of Bane – that is, the core tenets and philosophies that his followers seek to emulate – is as follows: 

Serve no one but Bane. Fear him always and make others fear him even more than you do. The Black Hand always strikes down those that stand against it in the end. Defy Bane and die — or in death find loyalty to him, for he shall compel it. Submit to the word of Bane as uttered by his ranking clergy, since true power can only be gained through service to him. Spread the dark fear of Bane. It is the doom of those who do not follow him to let power slip through their hands. Those who cross the Black Hand meet their dooms earlier and more harshly than those who worship other deities.³

Even were there nothing else to go off of, this would tell us a great deal about the group dynamics of any followers of Bane, whether established church or fragmented cult. Just as in the Hells, hierarchy is everything to proponents of lawful evil. Any cult of Bane would have a strict order to its power structure, and there would be limited – practically nonexistent – tolerance for any questioning or insubordination of that order. To the minds of Banites, such is simply the natural and superior ordering of the world. These interactions are detailed below: 

Within the church, the church hierarchy resolves internal disputes through cold and decisive thoughts, not rash and uncontrolled behavior. Bane’s clerics and worshipers try to assume positions of power in every realm so that they can turn the world over to Bane. They work subtly and patiently to divide the forces of their enemies and elevate themselves and the church’s allies over all others, although they do not fear swift and decisive violent action to help achieve their aims.³ 

The manner of tyranny that Bane holds to is similarly calculated – he is not interested in mere shows of force, but rather in insidious plots that twist and make use of existing rule of law to legitimize tyranny wherever possible. A social tide operated ostensibly within the laws of the land is far more troublesome to fight back against than a simple army.⁴ 

As far as specific ritual and day-to-day workings of the cult, some can be evidenced here, in broad strokes: 

Bane’s clerics pray for spells at midnight. They have no calendar-based holidays, and rituals are held whenever a senior cleric declares it time. Rites of Bane consist of drumming, chanting, doomful singing, and the sacrifice of intelligent beings, who are humiliated, tortured, and made to show fear before their death by flogging, slashing, or crushing.³ 

In this sense, rituals seem most likely to be used as a display of power and a test of subservience, leaving lower-ranked members of the cult at the whims of their superiors, expected – as noted previously – to attend to their commands with the same alacrity they would use were Bane himself to speak. The rites themselves are designed to reinforce and glorify the primary aspects of their god’s domain: the tyranny of forcing submission and pain from the weak. 

Faiths & Pantheons, published a year after the Campaign Setting supplement, provides a similar description of the rituals of the cult of Bane, along with some intriguing and flavorful additions (noted in bold for ease of comparison): 

Their religion recognizes no official holidays, though servants give thanks to the Black Hand before and after major battles or before a particularly important act of subterfuge. Senior clerics often declare holy days at a moment's notice, usually claiming to act upon divine inspiration granted to them in dreams. Rites include drumming, chanting, and the sacrifice of intelligent beings, usually upon an altar of black basalt or obsidian.”⁴

As, in the “present day” of Baldur’s Gate 3, Bane has lost much of his foothold on power and his Faith’s old domains, the specifics of architecture of Banite keeps are no longer quite so relevant. However, in times past, when his Faith worked far more openly and held much greater power, the philosophy of Bane was expressed through the architecture of his churches and strongholds: 

Tall, sharp-cornered stone structures featuring towers adorned with large spikes and thin windows, most Banite churches suggest the architecture of fortified keeps or small castles. Thin interior passageways lead from an austere foyer to barrackslike common chambers for the lay clergy, each sparsely decorated with tapestries depicting the symbols of Bane or inscribed with embroidered passages from important religious texts.⁴

The social capital of a Faith – a broad term used to encapsulate all followers of a single deity – is often heavily intertwined with the power of its god, a mutualistic relationship that runs in both directions. More social weight behind the Faith means its god’s name and will is conveyed to more people, some or many of whom might apportion some worship or act in alignment with that god and empower them by so doing. More power for the god means more divine actions that can bolster their own image and the reach of their clergy. At its height in the late 1300s, the Faith of Bane was one of the most prominent and powerful, with comparable might to that of a small kingdom.⁵

Something that is important to bear in mind in a setting such as the Forgotten Realms, not only polytheistic, but an environment where the gods being worshiped are demonstrably existent, is that the followers of evil gods are not likely to be obtrusive with the less savory aspects of their dogma. Not only would that, in the majority of cases, do more harm than good to their deity’s long term goals, in the words of Elminster: 

A dead foe is just that: dead, and soon to be replaced by another. An influenced foe, on the other hand, is well on the way to becoming an ally, increasing the sway of the deity.⁶

All of this aligns with what we see of the Cult of Bane and its operation in Baldur’s Gate 3. While it does not have the same sway and might behind it as it did a hundred years before, through manipulation of law and carefully applied pressure – of whatever form most likely to yield the desired results, be it threats, bribery, blackmail, or use of hostages – Gortash has enacted a steel web of delicate, ensnaring tyranny across the entire city. 

We can even find present-day expressions of the interactions of the cult members, and find that they hold true to what their forebears experienced, further proof of the consistency of lawful evil. A personal note found on the body of a dead Banite guard at the Steel Watch Foundry calls the Black Gauntlet in charge of the Foundry Lab, Hahns Rives, a “disgrace to the Tyrant Lord”, and notes the writer’s intent to “compile a list of Rives’ shortcomings for the Overseers.”⁷ These shortcomings include: 

1. Rives failed to reprimand Polandulus for making jokes about Lord Gortash! 2. Rives missed the morning mass to Bane - twice! 3. Rives didn't punish Gondian Ofran when she missed her gyronetics quota merely because she'd lost a finger that day in the punch press.⁷

We can see evidenced here the constant scheming for position and recognition consistent with this manner of lawful evil hierarchy. Both devils and Banites orient their day-to-day lives around how to prove themselves to their superiors, while also undercutting them at any chance they have to prove their own superiority, with hopes of being raised above them. 

This is only reinforced further by another text found within the Steel Watch Foundry, Bane’s Book of Admonitions. Its text is not written out for us, but described as such:

A book of adages and precepts for Banites, providing the basic tenets of worship of the Lord of Tyranny, with suggested prayers for common situations. The heart of the book is Bane's Twelve Admonitions, a dozen rules for proper Banite conduct, with punishments specified for failure to comply. The book opens easily to a page with two of Bane's most popular admonitions, number six, the Reprimand for Leniency, and number seven, the Rebuke for False Compassion.⁸

The most likely scenario is that this book was used by the “Overseers” referenced by the anonymous Banite writing of Rives above. The exact position of the Overseers is not made clear, but from context and knowledge of Banite hierarchy, we can infer that they inhabit a place in the hierarchy above both the guard and Rives himself, and that their role is to ensure all those below them uphold the tenets of Bane at all times, never losing sight of his will. 

In that context, it makes sense that they would both have a book of specific punishments for specific infractions – rule of law, after all – and that, given the attempted report on Rives, punishments (“admonitions”) for the crimes of leniency and false compassion – and all compassion is false when your conception of the world does not allow for its existence – would be those most referenced. It would be incredibly important to the unity of the cult, as well as to Gortash’s plans, to harshly punish any observed leniency or break from Bane’s law among members of the cult.

Not only would failure to control the situation at the Foundry potentially spell failure for the schemes of Bane’s Chosen, any unpunished step out of line by members of the cult would be seen as tempting others to do the same, a trickle of dissent quickly becoming a flood. Better to ensure that all adherents live in merited fear of the consequence of failure. 

After all, it is said of Bane himself: “He has no tolerance of failure and seldom thinks twice about submitting even a loyal servant to rigorous tortures to ensure complete obedience to his demanding, regimented doctrine.”⁴

And, in an appropriately lawful hierarchy, the same rule must apply from the bottom, to the top.

¹ Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide. 2014. p. 26.

² Descent into Avernus. 2019. p. 231

³ Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting 3E. 2001. pp. 237-8

⁴ Faiths & Pantheons. 2002. pp. 15-16.

⁵ Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting 3E. 2001. p. 93

⁶ Ed Greenwood Presents: Elminster’s Guide to the Forgotten Realms. 2012. pp. 135-6.

⁷ Rives’ Failures as a Banite. Baldur’s Gate 3. In-Game Text.

⁸ Bane’s Book of Admonitions. Baldur’s Gate 3. In-Game Text.

[riverlikethelake]

May the dead walk again

Summary: Your foster fathers, Max and Norm present you with an avatar, an early birthday gift and it feels like the weight of the world has been simultaneously lifted and placed on your shoulders. After running into a Na'vi boy, you're taken to the Omaticaya and given the chance to become one of the people, your friend's older brother being the one to teach you.

Pairing: Neteyam x Avatar!reader

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings/notes: mentions of death, depression, angst, fluff, development of platonic/familial relationships, Spider tries, Protective!Norm, foster family in the lab, the beginning was written when i was sleep deprived, slowburn, slight enemies to lovers, Neteyam and reader are in denial

series master list | Would stardust fix us? Part one.

The Na’vi say that everyone is born twice, it’s a metaphor for young Na’vi going through their iknimaya and earning their place in the clan, but sometimes you wish it was more than that. You pray to Eywa, a god, a mother you’ve never known, and doubt will ever feel, that when you die you will get reborn. Maybe you’re manifesting an early demise, but you cannot bring yourself to care.  

You will die, everyone does, your death has just always been by your side, its weight enveloping you in a suffocating embrace, plaguing your life with its entire being.  

So, you pray to be reborn, into a body with legs that will carry you across the planet you were born on yet never get to see, with a heart that will beat steady as you run, with lungs that will breathe in the deadly air that you crave to feel blowing on your skin.  

You sit in one of the chairs, knees to your chest hunched over as you read one of Grace’s logs. You keep your eyes glued to the screen even as you hear the decompression chamber going off. You hear the chatter of your brother and friends as they enter the lab, you don’t have to turn around to know that the quick footsteps are Kiri running over to see her mother in the Amnio tank. 

Large hands rest on your shoulders from behind as Lo’ak leans over to look at the computer you’re reading on. “Watcha reading about this time?” he asks, amusement in his voice. You rest your head against his forearm.  

“Razor palm” you answer, you see him tilt his head in confusion out of the corner of your eye. “pxiut” you add.  He thinks for a moment before shaking his head “px-iu-t" he drawls, showing you the correct pronunciation.  

“pxiut” you state, correctly this time. He grins and pats your shoulder before pulling back and turning to lean on the desk. Spider walks up and glances at your screen, he leans in inspecting the image and shrugs. “My drawing was better” He grins. 

You roll your eyes and smile “Oh definitely, the detail you had?” you tease, dramatically doing a ‘chef’s kiss’ motion. Spider playfully smacks the side of your head and backs away, turning to walk to Kiri. You turn your attention back to the screen, reading about the plant.  

The world of Pandora always fascinated you, the plants and animals that resided on the planet captured your eye from a young age. You grew up staring out the windows of the biolab into the world beyond, once you learned to read, your birthday gifts were always wider access to all the files they had about pandora, from the process of its discovery to the day-to-day experiments Max runs.  

You never stepped foot outside the lab doors though, you barely even stepped outside your room. When you were younger, you’d pester Spider about what he saw, making him describe each plant and animal in detail. He’d oblige you, staying up late telling you stories of his adventures, he even started drawing plants he found. It was the closest you got to the world beyond, your obsession with anything and everything Pandora growing with each moment you could feel the presence of what laid beyond the walls. 

Lo’ak watches as you pay full attention to the screen in front of you, completely absorbed in your own world. He taps on the desk to get your attention. “So, the little hideaway is finally out of her room huh?” he teases, your eyes flutter to him before going back to the screen. “Don’t get used to it” you mumble. 

He chuckles, “I haven’t seen you in a few weeks, what's new?” he leans forward, keeping his eyes on you. You shrug “Not much, I looked over the test samples Norm collected, nothing you’d be interested in though” you explain, leaning back into the chair as you looked at him.  

Lo’ak scrunches his nose “It seems like that’s all you do now” you nod, he huffs “But you don’t even go outside, you’re so obsessed with the world, but you don’t even know what it looks like up close.” You give him a look before turning back to your computer. 

You’ve heard him complain about your lack of interest in seeing Pandora many times before, it confused him how your brother couldn’t stay in the forest long enough while you were rarely seen outside of your room. Truthfully, all you wanted was to see the forest, touch the grass and soil like your brother does, climb through trees and hear the sounds of nature. It was something you desperately wanted but never let yourself indulge in, knowing that once you got a taste, nothing would ever be enough, limited by your very being. 

But all you tell Lo’ak is you’d much rather research it than see it. He rolls his eyes and pushes off from the desk, you sigh in relief, assuming the barrage is over, but you yelp when Lo’ak grabs the back of the rolly chair and pulls you out and to the middle of the lab, spinning you so that you face Kiri and Spider. 

“Sister! You cannot possibly be ok with Y/n living her life like a-… what does dad call it?” He leans over the chair, braids falling in front of you as he faces you upside down “A hermit.” he states. You frown swatting at his braids, beads clicking together as they collide.  

“Lo’ak leave her alone” Kiri pushes at his head so he is no longer engulfing you, she places a hand on your shoulder for comfort. Lo’ak frowns “What? You have always been on my side about this”  

Kiri rolls her eyes “Yes, and I still am, but this is no longer about Y/n going outside, this is about your pride and ego.” She states, pulling your chair forward, out of his grasp “seeing who can get the other to falter” Kiri was always a firm believer that you needed to see Pandora, but she took a much more careful approach than Lo’ak, telling you about it’s beauty and encouraging you much like a mother coaxing her child into taking their first steps. 

You look up to Kiri who’s raising her eyebrows at Lo’ak, you hear Lo’ak grumble before she pulls back, satisfied with her victory. You look past her, making eye contact with Spider, you raise your brows, and he nods. He climbs off the tank Grace stays in and shoos Kiri and Lo’ak away, taking a hold of your chair and rolling you back to your desk. 

Your friends weren’t unaware of your condition, but you didn’t like the faces they made when they saw it affect you firsthand, how they’d walk on eggshells around you. So, Spider would always cover you, finding some way to get the attention off you or get you out of the room. 

“Just let Y/n do her thing, you’re gonna make her retreat back to her little hideout” he teases lamely, ruffling your hair. You stick your tongue out at him, but smile, placing your hand on his in a way to say thank you.  

The past few weeks, whenever you stood up or walked, you’d feel like you were going to faint and would need several minutes to recover and stabilize, hence your lack of presence whenever the Sully kids visited. Of course Spider would brush off their worry and tell this it you were just being moody, wanting to be alone, or getting in a fight. But you could only be gone so long without raising suspicion. 

You tune out your friends as they bicker, trying to read the rest of the report but your mind was flooded with thoughts. You glance to the corner of your screen, looking at the time. Norm and Max would be back at any moment, and they will throw a fit if they find you out of your bed. 

You think for a minute, weighing your options. Norm wasn’t subtle about his worry for you, nor was he good at hiding your condition from others. If he came back now, there’s no guarantee he’d get the memo to keep Lo’ak and Kiri out of the loop. If you got up now, you’d no doubt cause worry, they’re already suspicious about your disappearance the past few weeks. But, Lo’ak and Kiri don’t actually know much about humans, you could always blame your adverse reaction on dehydration or not eating anything. 

You thought for a moment before pushing away from the desk and standing up, you groan as you feel your head swirl, limbs suddenly feeling like jello. Within a second, Spider’s at your side, placing himself under your arm to support you. 

You throw your head back groaning, Kiri and Lo’ak are at your side asking questions, running their hands across your arm and forehead. “M’fine, just dehydrated” you mumble as Spider starts to lead you away.  

Kiri starts to fuss at you about taking care of yourself when you hear the decompression door opening. Before you can react, you hear Norm calling out your name. You groan at the loud noise, a lump forming in your throat. There goes your plan. 

Norm and Max rush over, Spider transfers you to them, Norm fully picking you up in his arms. “What are you doing outside of your room? You know how unstable you are right now” He fusses. You groan “M’fine Norm” Your head is throbbing, your eyes screw shut and your tongue feels heavy and numb in your mouth. 

“What do you mean unstable?” Lo’ak presses, stepping forward to inspect you. You open your eyes, frowning. “I’m fine Lo’ak, they’re just being dramatic” you swat at him, shaking your head. 

“Y/n you look like you’re going to pass out, I don’t think you’re fine” he retorts, raising his brows. You look to Max hoping he’d help your case, but he just shrugs “You need rest Y/n” he explains. You roll your eyes and shake your head, pushing at Norm’s chest to be let down. 

“I can take care of myself” you state, embarrassed at the commotion your foster fathers were making. Norm grunts and starts walking out of the room, ignoring the questions your friends keep asking. He makes it to the back of the building before you notice everyone following you, Spider catching up and telling Max something you can’t make out. 

Before you know it, you’re being laid down on your bed and Max is making quick work of the medication and equipment kept by your bed. You sit up as Max wraps a blood pressure monitor around your arm, huffing as Norm places a hand on your forehead. He points Spider to the pack of water bottles they keep by your nightstand; he grabs one and hands it to Norm who quickly opens it and presses it to your lips. 

“Ok ok that’s enough” you announce, leaning back away from the bottle. “I know you think I'm helpless but I'm not, I'm almost 18, not a baby” you state, glaring at the scientist. “Well Y/n when you can’t even stay in bed long enough to recover, what else are we supposed to do?” He retorts. 

Your furrow your brows, rolling your eyes “I’ve been cooped up back here my entire life, I think one day outside of the room I haven’t left in three weeks is fine” you mumble, looking to Kiri and Lo’ak who are peeking in through your door. Norm follows your gaze, his expression softening when he lands on the Sully kids. He looks back to you as you avert your gaze, pursing your lips. 

Sighing, he turns and walks towards the Na’vi kids. “Y/n is fine, she got sick a few weeks ago and we didn’t know what it was so it was a hard recovery” he explains “But we have a better handle on it now, she just needs some water and rest and she’ll be ok” he watches as they glance to each other, worry spread across their face. 

They look to you before retreating, murmuring to each other. You bring your knees to your chest, burying your face into your arms. Spider crawls over you, sitting on your side, wrapping an arm around you.  

You take deep breaths, pinching your eyes shut. After a moment Max takes the monitor off you and his hand takes its place. “Get some rest Bug, it’s the fastest way to recover” he squeezes your arm before standing up, he places a quick kiss on the top of your head and walks out. 

Norm watches you for a second and sighs, ruffling your hair and walking out, closing the door behind him. You don’t lift your head even after they leave, so Spider rests his head on your shoulder.  

Even as a kid you felt uneasy about others knowing your condition, there was no way to completely hide it so you settled with avoiding the topic all together. You were sick, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna die if they breathe on you too hard or say something too loud. Hell, not even Spider knows the full extent to your condition. It already controlled every aspect of your life, the least you wanted was to have some sense of a normal social life. 

After a moment you turn your head just enough to peak your eyes out to see Spider, he notices and makes eye contact, a soft expression passing over his face. “What did you see?” you mumble, barely audible. He chuckles, leaning back against your headrest.  

“Well Lo’ak decided to ride a Pa’li, it was the first time i saw their resting place and there were so many pitcher plants, Pa’liwll Kiri says” he explains, quietly you repeat the name, running through the catalogs in your head for a visual. “Oh and we saw an ‘angtsik from above…” he continues, describing what seemed to be a once in a lifetime adventure for you when for him, it was every other day. 

You listen as he laughs and gets sidetracked, making jabs at Lo’ak’s ability to ride a direhorse or shoot an arrow. You finally lifted your head to laugh when he told you about Tuk cursing in front of Neytiri, courtesy of Lo’ak not being able to keep his mouth shut. Spider took the chance to pinch your cheek, earning a slap on the hand.  

“Oh and Neteyam was pissed at Lo’ak when he saw a scar on Tuk’s cheek” Your ears perk at the name, curious about the boy you rarely heard about. You had never met Neteyam, he had never come to the lab. 

He was older than you but younger than Spider, and you had only ever heard offhand comments about him. Neteyam, the next Olo’eyktan and the golden child that outshined Lo’ak, the perfect soldier and a mighty warrior. He’s everything the first son of Toruk Makto should be, born with his life laid out before him. 

You saw Lo’ak’s envy of him, how he slowly lost his desire to be like his brother, evident in the change from admiration to resentment when he spoke of him throughout the years.  

You were once desperate to meet the brother your friends often spoke of, but as years passed and his presence stayed a ghost, you resigned yourself to only knowing him through word of mouth. When you were young, Lo’ak and Spider would talk about how cool he was, how fun and great he was with a bow.  

Now, all you hear is how busy he is, how he just does his father's bidding and has abandoned spending time with his siblings for training. You take their word for it, how could you not? You’ve never met the boy and you can see the toll their strained relationship with their brother has taken on Kiri and Lo’ak.  

But there's two sides to every story, you know that all too well. 

“What does he look like?” the words slip out before you can have a second thought. Your voice is barely above a whisper, you hope that your foster brother didn’t hear you, but it’s crushed when you hear him hum.  

“He looks like Lo’ak, but more like his mom. Ummm yknow yellow eyes and his hair is braided back, so it doesn’t hang down in his face like Lo’ak and Kiri.” He looks up to the ceiling, trying to recall the boy’s appearance as best he could considering it’s not something he actively takes note of. “he’s pretty tall, but then again all Na’vi are compared to us” he chuckles, nudging your side. 

“Oh, and Lo’ak looks a little more human than him, his nose is flatter, and he has three fingers” he states, leaning against you. “uuuum yeah, he’s really stoic though, he doesn’t talk much and when he does, he’s so serious” 

It makes sense, you think, being the Olo’eyktans first son and having a brother like Lo’ak, it wouldn’t be easy to be laid back. You tilt your head at the weak description your brother provides, he was never a great storyteller, even with years of experience, recounting every detail of his day by your bedside at night. 

His words are interrupted by a yawn that escapes from his mouth, he continues on with his sentence, but you pat his shoulder, his words trail off. “It’s late Spider, you should get to bed” you whisper, a reassuring smile gracing your lips. 

He searches your eyes for a moment, you haven’t had much time together lately and he always feels guilty about leaving you alone in the lab for too long. After a moment he nods, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead before leaping up and out of the room. 

- 

It’s been hours since the lab went quiet, the Sully kids long gone and your foster family asleep. Your eyes twitch, the lack of sleep weighing them down. You stare out the window, moonlight shining on your face. 

For all your life you stared out this window, the shining stars burning into your skin.  

You’ve memorized the stars, the patterns and the order, years of searing each star into your mind. You read about constellations when you were young, the ones visible from earth, it amazed you, the stories behind just a star. Every night you’d search the sky in hopes of finding a constellation, you found ones that were close but just not right. It upset you, you knew the story of Orion and Delphius like the back of your hand, you had drawn, and memorized Hercules and Perseus a thousand times so why could you not find them? 

It all came a head one night when you tried to leave the lab, convinced that the glass of your window and the limited view were the source of your inability to draw the lines in the stars above you. Max caught you as you were trying to reach for the handle to the decompression chamber, oxygen mask thrown on flimsily and still in your pjs.  

You whined about wanting to see the stars, insisting that the window was distorting them somehow, it took some prying, but he made the connection that you wanted to see constellations. You were upset to find out that those constellations aren’t visible from Pandora, but you were content, curious about what the skies of Pandora did hold. 

You started to make your own, disfigured shapes and hours mapping out the stars. Each one was a story, a life you created, a life you wanted. Norm and Max knew of your hobby, even wanting to hear the stories you came up with, but you refused. 

It was too personal.  

It was something for you and just you. 

You rest your head against the cold glass, eyes straining to the sky, avoiding the jungle that lay beyond the clearing. 

You hear the footsteps, the way he hesitates to intrude before opening the door. 

“Y/n...” His voice is modulated, quiet and clear. You don’t turn to look at him, keeping your eyes on the dots littering the sky. 

Carefully, he walks over, sitting on the edge of your bed, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I was going to wait till morning to tell you but since you’re still up...” You move your eyes, looking at your foster father without making an effort to move your body, as if you’d crumble and break at any movement. 

He holds your gaze, unsure of where you are. 

“I’d like to show you something” He states, coaxing you out of your trance. Max stands in your doorway, making his presence known when Norm’s advances seemed to make no progress. You look down, fiddling with your fingers before leaning to Norm.  

He takes your hand and helps you up. “It’s a surprise” Max quips in a sing song way as Norm places his hand over your eyes. Internally, you roll your eyes, your lips curling into a smile as you chuckle. You let the two lead you out of your room, you try to make sense of where you’re going but you get lost at just a few turns in. 

You want to scold the two men, accuse them of purposely going slow when they come to a sudden stop. 

you keep your eyes closed for a second, even after Norm takes his hands away from your face. “It’s a little early” Max breaks the silence “but we thought you’d like to put it to use sooner rather than later” Your confusion from his words quickly disappears as you open your eyes, your sight landing on an amnio tank. 

You gasp as you take in the sight. An avatar floats in the tank, jerking and fidgeting. The face on the avatar was you. Your body, your face, molded into that of a Na’vi. You try to speak but your tongue falls short, mind racing and tripping over words. 

“Happy early 18th birthday” they say in unison, amused by your shock. 

“How” is all you manage to get out. A soft chuckle leaves the two men's lips. “Well, it took a long time, our tech isn’t as good as it was before the RDA left” Norm explained, patting you on the back. 

“But we managed, your indifference to anything but your computer helped keep it a secret” Max added, chuckling. 

Slowly you creep towards the tank, eyebrows furrowing as you take in the figure. It was surreal to see yourself like… that. 

It’s you but it’s not, it’s a mindless avatar that you can take over, it will be you. You tilt your head as you circle the tank, taking in every last detail of the avatar. Max and Norm watch you patiently, expectant of the shock you’re feeling. 

“Why?” You look up to them, you hand resting on the cool tank. They both walk over, Max standing on the other side of the tank, looking down at the avatar. “Well, you’ve been obsessed with Pandora practically your whole life” he says. 

Norm stands next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We also know how late you and Spider would stay up so he could tell you about the jungle and the Omaticaya” Max continues, Norm squeezing your shoulder. 

“We’ll get it ready tonight and tomorrow you can take it for a test drive huh?” Norms voice barely cuts through the tension in your head. You didn’t know what to say, yes or no? 

You’ve stared out your window your entire life, craving Pandora, reading and watching old logs over and over again to get a glimpse of what it might feel like. Now you’re presented with the opportunity, and you can’t bring yourself to say yes. 

You don’t trust yourself to not give up everything for the world that lies beyond the walls of your home. 

“I’m not 18 yet” you blurt out, coming up with any reason to refuse the gift. “Close enough” Norm shrugs. Max sends you a short smile “We’re sorry about freaking out earlier, you’ve been doing everything we said to recover, and it wasn’t fair to blow up on you like that” 

You stare at him silently, hands itching. God, you have everything you’ve ever wanted right here at your fingertips, you’ve been obedient your entire life, content with what you have. 

But now you have the chance to live. 

- 

Before Max can even finish his sentence, you’re throwing on the old avatar clothes they dug out and bounding out the door. The examination was grueling, the excitement and anxiety about to burst out your veins. 

You feel the sun on your skin, and you close your eyes, basking in the light. Your breath hitches as you feel a cool breeze graze your skin. Fresh air fills your lungs, crisp and energizing.  

“Now Y/n be care-“ Norm starts to warn you, but without a second thought you’re running through the field, jumping over railing and fallen logs. You can’t help the exhilaration that pumps through your blood, purging your mind of any previous anxiety or hesitation.  

As you land you stumble, tripping over yourself. your heals dig into the ground and you throw your arms out to balance yourself, a second tics by and a laugh escapes your lips. You throw your head up and stare into the sky. Your lips hurt from how hard you’re smiling. 

You look down at your feet digging into the ground, wiggling your toes into the soil. You whip your head around, smiling widely at Norm watching you from the door. You’re outside. Actually outside. Within seconds you're laughing, spinning around in an attempt to take in everything at once.  

It was the same field and forest you had watched everyday, but it’s so different up close, so real. It doesn't take long for you to grow dizzy and fall flat on your butt, tripping over your own feet and loosing balance. It’s without a doubt embarrassing, later you’ll thank Eywa that only Norm and Max were watching you, but you can’t bring yourself to care as your sink your fingers into the ground below you, threading your fingers through thin patches of grass. 

You bite your lip, giggling like a child with a lollipop as your swipe your hand across the ground, committing the course feeling of the dried up dirt to memory, how it sticks to your palms and how the path your hand took bears a faint mark. 

You cant imagine how stupid you look to Norm as he walks up to you, you’re literally playing in dirt, but the look on both your faces show no proof that either of you care. He ruffles your hair, reminding you of how messy and unkept it is, before he hands you a choker-mic and earpiece. “It’s just the first day so I don’t want you going far, you know how badly that could have gone for Jake” his comment draws a giggle from you, knowing the story of the great Toruk Makto from the perspective of the science guys by heart.  

“Check in every hour and keep an eye on your surroundings” He drones on with the safety speech he drilled into Spider as a kid, you listened but your attention is taken by the forest that lies just meters ahead of you, the edge just a glimpse of the world beyond.  

It’s captivating, every movement and sound draws your attention. It’s so much bigger than you ever could have imagined, the towering trees pushing a subtle sense of dread in your stomach. You could get lost, lose track of time, fall in love, so easily.  

You’re hypnotized by the sway of the leaves, the quiet movements and way the air shifts.  

Can you do this? 

You’re pulled out of your trance when he nudges your shoulder, you blink hard and look to him. “Were you even-? Whatever” he sighs “Just please don’t-” he hands you a knife “Don’t die, you’ll come back to your real body and it wont hurt you but it’s not a fun experience…” you take the knife, observing it. 

It’s a common hunting knife, the netting wrapped around the handle is worn, basic weaving patterns. You look up to him, tilting your head. He smiles and nods to the forest “Be safe kid, I want you home before eclipse.”  

You push yourself up and you take a moment to take in your sudden height difference. A smirk slips onto your lips and he rolls his eyes, biting your lip you turn to the forest. anxiously, you step forward, one foot in front of the other. 

Before you can think, your feet are speeding up, pushing you forward into the jungle you stared at for 17 years. You break through the edge and you’re surrounded by trees and green, the forest envelopes you, the earthy smell sinking into your skin.  

You slow down once you’re several meters past the edge, taking in everything around you. The leaves far above you sway in the wind, tiny critters crawl around on the trees and fallen over logs. The sound hypnotizes you, each noise and bustle piercing your ears. The forest envelopes you, every part of your being melting into the air, begging to become one.  

You’re smiling so hard, your lips feel like they’re going to split, the ache in your cheeks forgotten before you can even bring yourself to notice. 

You’re in the forest. 

You take a moment to breathe in the air, the damp smell of wood and moss, soil and plants sprawling across the floor and trees. Vines wrap around branches, hanging down, some of the flowers move as if they were breathing, the sway of the grass in sync. Chirps and clicks echo, your head swiveling trying to find the source.  

Your legs are moving unconsciously, your body in a trance. The feel of the ground beneath you is entrancing, the tickle of the grass on the bottoms of your feet, its disorienting how soft the soil is compared to the hard floors of your home. Except it didn’t feel like home anymore, it never did, this is what feels right. 

The smoothness of the giant leaves you run your hand over, the flowers sprouting from vines and plants, leaves of plants grazing your legs, it all leaves you breathless. Names run through your head as you observe the plants, their names popping into your head, the properties and uses. Its surreal to see them up close, in real life.  

I should take samples... You think to yourself but pack the idea to the back of your mind, another day perhaps.  

The forest is enchanting, taking all of your attention, you forget Norm’s advice and just wander through the green aimlessly. You don’t even realize how far you’ve gone, how long it’s been, the pair of eyes that's been trailing you for at least a mile.  

Neteyam doesn't understand you… you’re na’vi but wearing human clothes? Obviously, you must be an Avatar, but he’s met all the Avatar’s left on Pandora during the meeting with his father, and you’re careless, like a toddler who just learned to walk. Uncaring of where you are, where you’re going, clueless of your surroundings.  

He considered you could be a Skyperson, the ones who returned, but his father and the scientists doubted that the RDA would fund an Avatar program after their last mission. You’re also defenseless, wearing old clothes and no gun, no soldier, no sign that you’re here maliciously. You’re not a threat. He still keeps his bow ready despite his certainty that you’re harmless, in case you make an unsavory move or a different threat makes an appearance. 

He tilts his head as he watches you, you’re smiling and immersing yourself in the forest. The way you take it all in reminds him of his sister, but this is different. His sister has a natural connection, the forest being her home, you’re engulfed by it, if he hadn’t been keeping such an intent eye on you then you would have disappeared right before him.  

Something about the way you walked, the delicate placing of your feet, the careful posture you kept to be able to turn and see all of the forest at any moment, he couldn’t just let you wander off. It’s his job as future Olo’eyktan to be vigilant and mindful, your presence, even innocuous, wasn’t something that could be acquitted.  

So he followed you, tilting his ears to make sense of your whispers to yourself. He knows English, his entire family is fluent in it, but he still frowns when he recognizes you’re speaking it. He and his siblings will use it occasionally, but he often avoids it due to the distaste he feels about it, the association it has with skypeople leaving a bad taste in his mouth. 

He doesn’t contemn skypeople as much as his mother or other members of the clan, but he never goes out of his way to speak or associate with them.  

With a soft giggle, his entire attention locks onto your face. Your hand comes up to rest your fingers In front of your mouth as you smile at the bugs fluttering around a twirling plant after you tapped it.  

Yeah… like a toddler… 

He purses his lips to hold back the sigh that tries to escape his lips, how much longer must he watch you? The decision it up to him but he doesn’t know how to approach the situation. 

He tilts his head, shifting his weight on his feet. He’s about to leave, deciding you’re not going to cause a problem, when an atokirina’ floats in front of his. It bobs through the air, seemingly aimlessly, before slowly descending towards you. His eyes follow it intently heeding Eywa’s mind. 

The spirit drifts around you, catching your attention once it bobs around your head. You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips when you notice the spirit, you take your hand off the tree it was resting on and cup it with your other, biting your lip as the atokirina’ floats down into the cusp of your hands. 

It tickles at your palm and fingertips, your smile grows wider, such a being coming to you and making contact brings you endless joy, even if you don’t know the full significance of it. Slowly you bend down to rest on your knees, keeping a slow pace to avoid disturbing the being. Once you're sat, you shift to rest on the side of your thigh, humming as you bring the spirit closer and observe it.  

He watches you for a moment, considering you before shifting to get down from his hiding spot. You gasp when he drops down from a branch from a tree opposite of you, you had the sense that you weren’t alone, but you attributed that to the bustling forest.  

Your eyes are locked onto the Na’vi boy several feet infront of you, mouth agape and body frozen. There’s a heavy silence between you, observing eachother, unsure of what to say. You decide to say something, he hasn’t killed you yet so thats a good sign, but he beats you too it. 

“Who are you.” He states, hs voice gruff and thick. You open your mouth, words jumbled in your throat before you blurt out “Y/n” his eyes are biting, pinning you to your spot. 

He doesn’t say anything, observing every part of you. “I’m from the labs, um with the science guys” you offer, he tilts his head, furrowing his brows. You panic, realizing that you could very well be taken as a RDA sky person “The ones who fought with you, loyal to the Na’vi” you add abruptly, hoping to withdraw any possible suspicions or misgivings.  

His expression remains unchanging, it makes you nervous, unsure of what to do or say. Before you can try and add anything, “Come” is all he says, nodding his head in the direction he turns to walk in. Realizing the woodsprite is long gone, having floated away during the interaction, you scramble up to follow him.  

He’s quick, knowing of where to go, experienced in the trek of the forest. You clamber after him, trying to keep up with his pace while avoiding any obstacles. Your efforts are unsuccessful, your foot tripping over a vine like branch that caught on your foot.  

You hiss at the sting of your palms that caught you, pushing yourself up on your elbows. You start to get up when the boy is in front of you, grabbing your hands and inspecting them. His expression is unreadable, but the way his eyes soften when he sees the minimal damage done to you makes a smile pull at your lips.  

He looks up to you, repositioning his hands to be holding onto your wrists, he stands up, pulling you up with him. “Must i carry you?” He asks lamely, annoyed at your unwieldy coordination. Quickly you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks from embarrassment. He nods and turns to continue his path, his hand loosely holding onto your wrist as you both continue foreward.  

You don’t know how long you walk for, letting the boys hold on you guide you as you study the forest you pass by. Before you know it, his pace is slowing and you peak over his figure to see the village. A pit grows in your stomach, you fiddle with your hands, wringing your fingers as you walk through the village, eyes following your every movement.  

You really don’t want to be here, no doubt much farther than what Norm and Max would have approved, but there wasn’t much you could do. You didn’t want to protest or run, overly aware of how easily the boy could overpower and kill you, but there was also the curiousity of the forest guiding you. 

The Na’vi know the forest better than you ever could, you’d no doubt be safer with a stranger than on your own, it’s a chance to see and explore the forest without worry of getting lost or running into danger. And now being in the village? It’s unexpected, but you can’t deny the ecitment that swirls with the anxiety in your chest. 

He walks up to a particular tent, you notice its larger than the others, not by much though. Na’vi start to surround you, curious about you and the boy, the whispers and eyes on you causing you to bite your lip nervously. The boy calls out to the tent, after a moment the flaps open and out walks a tall man adorned in intricate jewelry spreading across his shoulders and chest, a tall woman and an older woman stalking out after him.  

Their eyes fall on the boy, then you, the woman’s eyes narrow, tilting her chin up. The man just seems confused, looking to the boy for an explanation. They start speaking in the language, you understand some of it, but you’re not fluent. You pick up “Eywa’s sign” “Harmless” “daughter of the sky men” ect. You can interpret what they’re talking about, but you can’t understand specifically what is being said. 

The woman narrows her eyes, studying you. You resist squirming under her gaze until the man turns to you and speaks “So, you’re Y/n, Spider’s sister, right?” his English is clean, almost as if you were talking to one of the guys in the biolab and you mind makes the connection. 

This is Jake Sully 

Your eyes widen at the realization, but you keep yourself composed. Carefully you nod “Yes sir, they gave me this Avatar as an early birthday gift and I decided to look around the forest” you explain, you bite the inside of your cheek “I’ve never seen it before” you whisper weakly, averting your gaze to the floor.  

The woman, who you assume is Neytiri circles you, surveying your appearance and self. She stops next to you, brushing her fingertips against your loose hair. “You have never been outside of that tawtute vessel?” she muses, curiously watching your facial response.  

Your eyes dart to her, biting your lip you start to nod but the attention is drawn away when a familiar voice calls out. “Y/n?!” to your side, Spider, Lo’ak, and Kiri stand startled. Spider’s mouth twists into a grin before stepping foreward, he looks you up and down “So it was viable huh?” he asks amused, you tilt your head in confusion, you're about to say something before he continues “and they gave it to you early? And they didn’t even tell me” He feigns hurt, his amusement growing by the second. 

“Wait Spider you knew about this?” Lo’ak asks, stepping foreword and grabbing him by the shoulder, pointing at you. Your brother shrugs, explaining that it was an idea they told him about a few years ago but never confirmed. Kiri steps foreword, a smile growing on her lips. 

Her hands graze your cheeks as she observes every part of your face and body “This is amazing Y/n!” her eyes lock with yours “this is amazing” her smile bleeds into yours, a shy grin forming as she takes your hands in hers and laughs.  

“Yeah now you can actually hang out with us” Lo’ak roughly places his hand on your head, the height difference not as drastic as before but still there. You shyly tilt your head, biting your lip at the excitement of your friends and brother. 

The buzz seems to die when their eyes are drawn to the figure that steps closer behind you, out of your peripheral you see the older woman, the Tsahik, stare at them, communicating through their eyes before they take their hands off you and back up a few steps. A lump forms in your throat as you turn to fully face the towering woman. Her gaze is unwavering, strong, it makes you want to say something, anything. 

“What is your purpose, girl?” She questions, the weight of her words pulling down on your every limb. What does she mean? It’s such an intense yet vague question, her firm expression not giving any help to your attempts to decipher what’s the right thing to say.  

To live. 

You’re out of the lab, face to face with someone other than a person you’ve known literally your entire life. You’re not confined to those walls anymore, you can breathe the air, walk and run without concern, see and live among what you’ve been learning about your entire life, yearning for it. 

It wasn’t your intention when you stepped into the forest, and you’re sure it was Max and Norms either, but the opportunity is right in front of you. This is your choice, completely and entirely your choice. 

“To learn the ways of the forest” you say carefully “the ways of the people” you bite your lip as she slowly looks you up and down. She finally meets your eyes and you straighten your back, keeping her gaze locked with yours. You can’t explain the relief that washes over your chest when her eyes twitch, the slightest softness creeping into her expression. 

She glances to the boy then to Jake and Neytiri, again silently communicating with their eyes. After a moment she turns back to you. “I trust my grandson’s judgement” She states, your mind goes blank for a moment before she continues “both my grandchildren and the Great Mother see something in you, it would be foolish to reject you.” She turns to Jake and Neytiri again, looking to the people surrounding you all now. 

“She will be taught the ways of the people” She announces firmly, she locks eyes with Jake, then glances down to the boy who brought you here. Jake breathes in before stepping forward, placing a hand on the boys shoulder. “My son is to be Olo’eyktan, he must be able to lead and help the people” He looks to the boy, his son “It will be his job to guide her, a great way to gain experience and prove himself”  

Whispers move through the crowd, the way the boys lips purse makes your tail flick against your ankles unconsciously. You lock eyes with him, you want to curl into yourself at the way he looks at you. The intensity of his gaze hitches at your breath, reviving the weight pulling the strings of anxiety in your chest. You feel a pair of hands on your shoulders and a voice speaks right next to your ears. 

“You and Neteyam stuck together huh?” Lo’aks voice is riddled with amusement “This ought to be good” he cackles, your brother nudging your arm as he makes similar comments.  

The boy stands in front of you, eyes fixed on you, you swear you see the hardness of his gaze waver. 

Neteyam… he’s more than you ever thought he would be