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anto-pops · 1 year ago

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A Torrid Arrangement - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: You and Sebastian have had a 'friends-with-benefits' dynamic going on for close to a year now, and the more time passes, the harder it is for him to hide his true feelings for you. It's an unbearable kind of torment, but he forces himself to grin and bear it anyway to preserve the integrity of his... situation-ship with you. That is, until the metaphorical floodgates finally open up.

Alternatively summarized as gratuitous FWB smut with lots of playful banter sprinkled in

This came from the depths of my fever-induced brain so if its all over the place, I apologize. But YAY MORE SMUT !!

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, lots of hickies

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 with more informative tags, as per usual :))

Sebastian knew it was going to be one of those days before he was even fully conscious.

He jolted awake from an extremely graphic wet dream at the ass crack of dawn, hard and sweaty and tangled in the sheets, already reaching beside himself for the body that had just been pressed against his own. The dream had been so real– so incredibly vivid– that he swore he could still taste the familiar, salty skin on the tip of his tongue. He’d been so fucking close too; buried deep between soft thighs, clinging tight with every fiber of his being when reality had come and butt its ugly, unwelcome head in.

With a ragged, disappointed groan, Sebastian let his head fall back against his pillow and dragged his hands down his flushed face, graciously allowing himself a few minutes to sort himself out.

This was far from the first wet dream he’d had about you, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. Hell– you gave Sebastian’s thirsty subconscious plenty of material to work with every time you came around to ‘relieve stress’. Being long-standing fuck buddies with you granted him that lucious priviledge. Sebastian knew damn well how good you felt holding onto him, what you sounded like when you were about to come, what your heated, sweat-slick skin tasted like.

He also knew how fucking cute you could be— especially when you were sprawled across his bed in his dorm with a textbook open beneath you to sneakily segue from studying together to fooling around. He knew how badly he wanted to spread you out across his sheets and make you moan for hours– to worship your perfect body slowly and sweetly with his hands and his mouth.

It was barely past dawn and Sebastian already knew he was going to be tracking you down at some point today to act on his urges. As always, he would be hiding his monstrous crush under a thick layer of casual booty call.

—

Whenever Sebastian woke up like this– nerves stretched paper thin over a desperate craving for intimacy– dueling was one of the few things that helped him clear his head and get his shit together. He wasn’t exactly a morning person, and he was even less of a people person at such a ripe, early hour, but he’d still left the confines of his dorm to make the trek to the Crossed Wands courtyard.

There were no students in this area of the castle at this time, which just meant he would be making do with the practice dummies for a few hours until his blood cooled within his veins. Spell after spell fired from his wand and struck hard and true against the wooden figurines that lined the walls, the sound echoing off the Clock Tower walls and drowning out his incessant, horny thoughts.

Thoughts that revolved too much around how nice your thighs would look with dark imprints of his teeth all over them.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Sebastian unleashed a particularly aggressive Confringo charm in a bid to expel his sinful train of thought. The dummy erupted in an explosion of wooden bits and flaming embers, and as it collapsed to the stone floor in a mangled heap, the brunet realized that there was in fact one other person on school grounds awake– and they just so happened to be walking right towards him.

He could practically hear fate howling with laughter at his expense when he dimly registered that not only did he know this lone survivor, it was against all probability none other than you, because why the fuck not.

You were stomping through the outer courtyard with a few textbooks clutched tight in your white-knuckled grip, looking equal parts distracted and deliciously disheveled from a distance. Your mind had to be as scattered as his was, because you clearly didn’t notice Sebastian or the on fire training dummy as you strode through the open clock tower gate. He did his best to play it cool when you finally made eye contact with him, trying exceptionally hard to not look like he’d just jacked off to the way dream-you squirmed under him not twenty minutes prior.

“Hey, you,” Sebastian called out smoothly when your hurried pace slowed down at the sight of him. You shook your head as though to clear it, squinting at him harder as you evenly stalked up to him, and your frown became more and more apparent the closer you got. Everything about your demeanor screamed ‘wild Graphorn, do not approach’, but Sebastian had never been great at following directions.

You raked one of your hands through your wild hair as you finally came to stop a few feet away, panting slightly as you stared up at him as though you weren’t entirely sure he was real. “Sebastian?”

The man in question cocked a brow at you, giving you a quick once over. Your hair was definitely mussed more than usual, a few stray strands falling over your forehead while others stuck up on one side– as if you’d been combing your fingers through it all night. There was no missing the mildly insane glint in your bloodshot eyes, and you were slightly paler than normal. Sebastian was also pretty sure you’d been wearing the same blouse yesterday, if the tiny stain on the collar was any indication.

If you didn’t look so damned grumpy, Sebastian would swear he’d just caught you in the middle of a walk of shame. The mere idea sent a sharp pang of jealousy straight through his core, and he had to bite his tongue to stifle the snide comment that threatened to fall from his lips. He failed, opting to instead poke the metaphorical bruise and deal with the throbbing ache doing so would bring him.

“Someone didn’t go to her dorm last night,” he snickered, aiming a crooked grin down at you. “Congrats on getting lucky.”

Normally he would expect you to just roll your eyes and punch him in the shoulder before ribbing him back. But as Sebastian watched your eyes widen at the same time your face flushed several different shades of red, he couldn’t help but wonder if poking the metaphorical Graphorn before the sun was even fully up was a good idea.

“I was not getting lucky,” you hissed at him, one eye twitching. Sebastian raised his hands in mock surrender before sticking his wand back in his pocket, awkwardly shifting on his feet for a moment as you huffed out an agitated sigh. “I’ve been getting fucked for the last twelve hours by Professor Sharp’s assignment– fifteen pages on the origin and uses of Wiggenweld. I’m not even sure if most of what I’ve written comes off as real English, so don’t fucking chuckle at me about getting lucky, you ass.”

Sebastian just stared at you silently, watching you fume. He’d pulled plenty of all-nighters with you before, so he knew full well that after a certain amount of sleep deprivation and stress, you had a tendency to lose your shit in addition to your filter. “Ah,” he mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, only hesitating for a second.

After all, he just so happened to know exactly how you liked to relieve your stress.

He licked his lips quickly before he said, “You, uh… kinda look like you could stand to get lucky, huh?”

Your nostrils flared slightly as you squinted up at him for a long minute instead of responding. It might have looked like a murderous face to anyone else, but Sebastian knew better, and he could practically hear the gears in your head clanking together as you weighed the offer.

“…I mean, if you’re not doing anything else,” you finally muttered, your tense shoulders dropping a smidge.

He gestured loosely to the demolished pile of wood on the ground. “I’m not anymore,” came his fluid reply, and before you could take note of the smoking remnants of the training dummy, Sebastian’s hand was grasping yours tight as he tugged you along behind him. You blearily blinked the fatigue from your eyes as you fell into step beside him, and the brunet tried his very best not to let on how extremely pleased he was.

—

Halfway to Sebastian’s dorm, you’d interrupted his hurried pace and directed him to the Room of Requirement in an attempt to avoid any awkward run-ins with his roommates. The absolute last thing you wanted to deal with on top of your Potion’s related irritation was prying eyes, and you already knew the Slytherin dorms would be chock full of those.

Upon entering the more private space atop the Astronomy Tower, you threw aside your textbooks on the lone side table next to the double doors and spun around to yank Sebastian into a frantic, needy kiss. Your nails dug into his firm shoulders as you swiftly pulled him down to your level, and he allowed you to grind your hips against his steadily growing erection as his own fingers dug into the small of your back.

“H-Hey, hold on,” Sebastian wheezed out when you pulled away to tug at his belt, and his hands dropped to your waist to hold you at arms length so he could look you over again. As the two of you had trekked up to the Room, you’d begun to look more and more exhausted— too out of it to even gripe about the endless staircase that never failed to draw complaints from you. “Are you sure you’re up for this right now? You look like death.”

You snorted and rolled your tired eyes, pursing your lips in blatant disapproval. “Nagging, Sebastian? Really? I thought we were past this.”

“I’m not nagging,” he grumbled. “I’m just saying, you kinda look like you need a nap more than you need a quick fuck.”

Tutting disdainfully, your hands fell away from his belt as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I was just starting to loosen up. See if I ever relax around your ass again,” you retorted drily, tilting your head back to blink up at the ceiling. “The assignment is due before lunch today. If I sleep now, I’m not waking up until tomorrow. I can’t sleep yet.”

Sebastian tilted his head with a thoughtful frown, mirroring your stance by crossing his arms over his own chest. “What if I wake you up?”

You shook your head dutifully, although you were sorely tempted by the idea. “Trust me, I can feel the impending coma. I can’t risk it.”

“Want me to turn your paper in for you?”

Another mournful shake of your head. “You know Sharp, he’s as stern as they come. I’m positive he wouldn’t take it from you– and I’m sure he’d give you detention for trying. It’s fine, I just need to tough it out for a few more hours. Think you can help with that?”

“Shit, yeah,” he relented, fighting the urge to bury his face in your messy head of hair. Instead he opted for uncrossing his arms to run his hands up your shoulders to gently squeeze at the tense muscles there, and you sighed at the delightful shiver that danced up your spine from the action. “I’m really not trying to kill you, though. Are you sure you’re good for this?”

You snorted again, shaking your head slightly, and the tension in your upper body began seeping away under Sebastian’s warm palms. “Are you always this sweet to your fuck buddies?” The brunet could feel himself flushing at the statement, but before he could respond, you were muttering, “It’s really weird coming from you.”

“Hey–”

“Just shut up and fuck me already,” you barked over Sebastian’s protest, pulling away from him to head further into the massive space towards the modest bedroom in the corner. The adjacent room had never disappeared after your first hook-up here with your longtime companion, and its constant existence since then had served as an odd reminder of your arrangement with the man.

If you weren’t so stiff and weird from exhaustion, Sebastian could honestly convince himself that you were embarrassed or something. For now, though, he simply chalked your jaded nature up to your lack of a filter and stalked after you– totally not obsessing over the fact that you’d just called him sweet.

You’d been undoing the buttons on your shirt as you walked, and as soon as you made it inside the bedroom, you stripped the material off completely and discarded it in the corner of the room. Your skirt quickly followed, and all the while Sebastian was forcing himself not to think about how nice dream-you’s skin had looked tangled in his dream-sheets.

Sebastian stood in the doorway as he began unbuttoning his own shirt, shucking the attire off of his shoulders before moving down to his belt. The metal clink of the buckle was enough to draw your attention, and you fell back onto the mattress and scooted up towards the pillows without taking your eyes off him. The eager look in your fatigued eyes was enough to spur Sebastian onward quicker, and before long he was dressed in only his briefs as he prowled towards the bed with a predatory glint in his eyes.

The way you were sprawled atop the sheets with your arms resting above your head was a sight Sebastian vowed to commit to memory for as long as he lived. You were clearly giving him free reign over your body, and his mouth ran dry at the realization that you were wholly handing control over to him. He swallowed thickly and moved to straddle your hips, leaning over you on his forearms so he could better slot your lips together, and after a few tentative pecks, his boldness started to grow. You sighed and tilted your chin into Sebastian’s kisses, parting your lips invitingly as you melted into the cool, satin sheets beneath you.

With as tired and as boneless as you were, it seemed like you might actually be patient for once, and the thought had Sebastian’s heart fluttering excitedly. More often than not, he was so susceptible to your impatience and intensity that he always found himself getting swept up in your urgency when the two of you did this. Not that he didn’t love it; the dire, rough pace he’d always settle into with you, all gasping moans and tightly-gripped hands and frantic, needy thrusts– he absolutely loved it. It kept him hooked and craving more, even when you were both panting and sated. This, though…

Having you give up the lead and just relax for him was like a literal wet dream come to life.

Tangling your tongues with a low moan, Sebastian leaned into you slightly, his hands shifting to rub slowly up your sides until his deft fingers slipped under your arched back to unhook your bra. It fell away like nothing, and you moaned against his lips when the pads of his thumbs came to graze over your pert nipples. Your sleep-deprived loopiness had to be contagious, because Sebastian pulled away from your lips to mouth hotly against your ear, “I dreamt about you last night.”

He didn’t get the chance to feel weird about admitting it. You chuckled warmly, your kiss-swollen lips curving into a crooked, amused smile. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, pausing to suck gently at your earlobe while his thumbs idly traced the outline of your ribs. He brushed his lips down the angle of your jaw, exhaling shakily when you leaned your head aside to freely offer him the wonderfully sensitive expanse of your neck. Sebastian lightly dragged his teeth down the soft, heated skin, then flicked his tongue over the faded imprint of the last hickey he’d left there. It was barely noticeable now.

You shivered at the feeling, your fingers twisting in the sheets above your head before you sighed contentedly. “Was I pulling my hair out about Potions?”

“Fuck no.” He nipped at the faint bruise before pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your pulse, sucking just enough to briefly tease you. “I had you under me like this,” he continued softly, pitching his voice low and nuzzling into your ear again, purposely aiming to press your buttons and work you into a needy frenzy. He felt your breath hitch more than he heard it, and as a sly grin broke out across his face, Sebastian slipped his fingers up your chest to pinch at your nipples once again. “I was fucking you nice and slow, making you feel so good…”

Moaning softly, you arched up into Sebastian’s hands, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as he teased and flicked the sensitive nubs into stiff peaks. Your hips inadvertently rocked up against his as you desperately sought friction in the area you wanted it most. “Sounds like you’ve already got a game plan, huh?”

He sat back on his heels to look down at you as he shrugged. “If you’re up to it,”

“Just don’t let me fall asleep,” you mused, your hooded eyes trailing down Sebastian’s tanned, freckled chest to his dark briefs, halting when you caught sight of his cock straining against the cotton material. The sight had you licking your lips and fidgeting slightly before you blinked back up at him. “This paper is worth a quarter of my grade.”

“I won’t. Merlin– you worry too much.” Sitting upright with an amused shake of his head, Sebastian rolled off of you to sidle down the mattress so he was kneeled comfortably between your outstretched legs. Your hands fell to your thin underwear, ready to peel them away to get a move on with things, but Sebastian swatted away your appendages quickly. With a half-hearted scowl, you relinquished control, allowing your arms to rest above your head again as you once more bared yourself to the larger man.

Sebastian groaned softly at the sight, continuing where you��d left off by slipping his fingers under the waistband of your undergarments before tugging the damp fabric away from your aching center. You lifted your knees to assist him, and in one swift motion he had discarded the soiled attire over his shoulder, taking care to drag his eyes down the supple curve of your waist before settling on your glistening folds.

“Damn, darling,” he moaned earnestly. “You look so fucking perfect like this.” You huffed softly as you hooked your legs around Sebastian’s hips to tug him closer, and he hummed at the same time he looped one of his hands under your thigh to hold you to him as he rocked against your slick core. The friction was tantamount to perfection, but you craved more, and Sebastian knew it too.

Before you could open your mouth to complain, the freckled man ducked to press hot, wet kisses down the line of your throat, sucking and biting as he made his way down your shoulder past your collarbone. As he mouthed down your chest, he paused to tease one of your perked nipples gently between his teeth, and a pang of arousal shot through him when you arched and moaned under him. It was pure bliss– and your eyes rolled shut as your hips pressed up insistently. Sebastian ground his hips into yours for as long as he could manage before he had to scoot back to continue further, but he made up for it by dragging his nails deliciously down your thighs before he’d settled between your outstretched legs.

You made such a pretty picture spread out in the lush, satin sheets this way; with your hands fisted in the covers above your head, your legs spread on either side of him, and the lustful gaze you pinned him with, Sebastian was half convinced he’d fallen back asleep this morning and was still dreaming. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch your body react to his touch, so he smiled as he dipped his head to drag the flat of his tongue up your wet folds, and the way your breath stuttered in your throat was far more enticing than it had any right to be. You attempted to push yourself up onto your elbows to watch– entirely enthralled with how Sebastian looked between your thighs– but then he took your clit between his lips and sucked, and you were pulling the sheets into your clenched fists and falling back against the pillows with a ragged moan.

Sebastian continued to toy with you that way for far too long for comfort– holding you hostage in some combined purgatory of bliss and torment as he sucked and lapped at your center. It was far too easy to reduce you to a pile of brainless mush given your fatigued, overly-sensitive state, and he was all too curious to discover how many new things you would let him get away with before you got impatient and started begging.

With gentle, attentive hands, Sebastian coaxed you into raising one of your knees up so he could throw your leg over his shoulder, instantly coiling his strong arms under your waist to hold you firmly to his unrelenting mouth. His stomach flipped at how easily you relaxed for him, and you proceeded to fight your boneless nature so you could sit up and watch him with lust-dark, hazy eyes. Sebastian loved the attention– thrived on it, really– and he broke away from your overwhelmingly wet heat to pepper chaste kisses along the smooth hollow of your leg. You were already breathing heavier– your fingers twitching around handfuls of fabric– and when Sebastian moaned and slipped his tongue out in-between kisses to lightly run the tip along soft, sensitive skin, your breath caught audibly in your chest before you shuddered out a shaky sigh.

When he first sank his teeth into the heated flesh midway up your inner thigh, he did so gently, but your hips still jerked at the sensation, and you couldn’t stop the wanton moan that slipped through your parted lips. “Fuck, Sebastian–” you groaned, your voice laced with obvious desire. You dug the heel of your foot into the middle of his back, silently imploring him to give you more, because the feeling of him marking you somewhere so sensitive was too fucking good.

Sebastian flashed you a smug grin as he pulled away, but not before planting a lingering kiss along the faint imprints of his teeth. The gesture was warm and promising– as was the way his hand squeezed your waist before letting the leg over his shoulder fall back against the mattress. He moved to splay his hands over your hips, your thighs resting comfortably over his arms, but he let them stay spread open rather than using his grip to pull you around like he usually would.

As his thumbs trailed gently along the curves of your hip bones, Sebastian leaned back down to brush another warm kiss along your inner thigh, humming at the way your muscles tensed slightly. He nuzzled up higher, then parted his lips against the soft skin to bite again, and this time he sucked steadily with the intent of leaving a dark, lasting mark there too. You moaned softly, your hips rocking up at the sensation, and as Sebastian worked yet another brand into your skin, your breath shifted into quiet panting as your hands twisted in the sheets.

Satisfied with the deep purple of the bruise and the light imprint of his teeth around it, Sebastian pulled away and dragged the flat of his tongue over his brand soothingly, breathing a low groan as he did so. He admired it for a moment longer before he mouthed wetly up your leg further, his dark, messy curls brushing against the join of your thigh.

He nuzzled closer to begin working another mark there, and the sharp sting of his lips and his teeth had you gasping– bending your free thigh up to let it fall to the side in a bid to give Sebastian all the room he wanted to keep going. He moaned encouragingly, squeezing your hips once again as you lifted them up for more, and he dragged his tongue up along the soft hollow of your thigh as his brow furrowed in concentration.

“S-Sebastian,” you gasped, trembling under the brunet’s affection. The shaky insistence to your voice caught his attention, so he leaned up enough to look at you as he licked his lips and pet your hips soothingly. Swallowing heavily, you opened your eyes and shivered, meeting his gaze almost shyly before you murmured, “I-I don’t– I don’t usually like slow stuff.”

Sebastian shifted up onto his elbows, idly drawing his palms back and forth over your flushed skin. His expression showed nothing but concern as he asked, “Do you want to stop?”

You shook your head quickly, scooting your hips minutely towards him. “N-No, no– this is fine. Good, even, I… I like this.”

Tilting his head to the side, Sebastian tried unsuccessfully to figure out what was happening, then cautiously asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you answered firmly, leaving no room for doubt. You fidgeted for a few seconds, squirming under the obvious care Sebastian was showing for you until you eventually took a breath and relented. “I like this. A lot.” The freckled man only cocked a brow at you in confusion, but before he could move to crawl over you again, you huffed and flopped back against the mattress. “I like you leaving marks on me, too.”

He mulled that over in his brain for a long moment, squinting slightly. “Okay…?”

“You fucking ass,” you wheezed out, your breath akin to an overwhelmed laugh. “It’s because it’s you, Sebastian, Merlin’s beard– I like you.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Sebastian stared up at you again and carefully replied, “Thanks?”

“Nevermind, I hate you,” you grumbled, slinging an arm over your face. “Forget I said anything.”

“No– hold on–” he sputtered before sitting up straight, his arms sliding out from under your thighs. You appeared to be disgruntled by the change, but you didn’t come out from hiding to complain. “I mean– we’ve been fucking for like a year. I’d hope to the Gods you can stand me by now.”

You groaned from beneath the safety of your arm shield, “I cannot believe I have to spell this out for you. I’ve been fucking you for like a year because I like you, you moonmind. Like, romantically. Very much into you, whether we’re fucking or not.”

With an uncomfortably loud click, Sebastian understood.

“Oh!” His eyes damn near popped out of his skull, his heart doing some insane acrobatics in his chest, but all of that took a backseat to the blissful realization that he wasn’t the only one with a big, gross crush. “Oh, shit, okay,” he sputtered, raking his hands through his hair. “Wow, okay. Fuck, sorry– I was totally involved in the hickey thing, my brain wasn’t on. Wow.”

“Merlin’s balls,” you groused, already trying to roll away from Sebastian’s wildly embarrassing presence. “I should not have said anything.”

“No!” Sebastian scrambled up the bed to brace himself on his hands above you, caging you between his arms while his heart hammered away against his sternum. “No, no no, you definitely should have said something, darling– shit.” He paused to try and coax you into coming out of hiding, but when you resisted him firmly, he didn’t push it. Instead, he chewed the inside of his cheek and tried to get his racing thoughts in order so he wouldn’t blurt out something completely idiotic.

“I am like, ridiculously in love with you.”

Completely idiotic.

You froze under him momentarily before peering up at him over your elbow, your wide-eyed stare bordering on horrified. Cursing under his breath, Sebastian buried his hands in his hair and stared right back, almost entirely sure he could feel his life force draining from his body.

“I-I mean– fuck, wait–”

“Are you kidding me!?” You bolted upright– narrowly avoiding cracking your skull against Sebastian’s on the way up. Your fingers clamped down on his shoulders so you could rattle him slightly as you blurted, “What the hell, Sebastian! How long?”

“I don’t know!” He threw his hands up and pointedly stared at the wall before grumbling, “I don’t fucking know, it’s not like it happened all at once. It started towards the end of our fifth-year and it just kinda… grew from there. Like a Horklump.”

Sebastian realized how shitty that euphemism was when your mouth fell open in utter disbelief. “Did you seriously just compare your feelings for me to a fungus?”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He sat back on his heels, crossing his arms stiffly over his bare chest as he returned to staring at anything but you.

“For what, exactly?” You ran a trembling hand through your unruly hair, then dropped your gaze to the sheets. “For returning my feelings? Or for not saying anything before right now?” Sebastian just shrugged unhelpfully with his lips pursed. Groaning loudly, you flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for a minute, your irritated, murder face back in full swing.

Just as Sebastian was starting to get worried by the awkward silence— doing his best not to fidget— you nodded to yourself and announced, “We should date each other.”

“…Come again?”

“We should date each other,” you repeated firmly, leaning up on your elbows again and exuding a confidence that had seemingly come out of nowhere. “I like you, you love me–” Sebastian did his best to not choke on his own tongue, “–we spend so much time together that we’re basically dating anyways. At least, Imelda seems to think so… it seems like a good enough idea to me, if you’re interested.”

It took Sebastian a few seconds to untangle his tongue enough to reply, but when he did, all he could do was croak, “You want to date me?”

“Yes. I’d like that.”

“…Are you high? Did you smoke Mallowsweet on your way here?”

You groaned and tipped your head back between your shoulders, very clearly searching for some semblance of patience. “I’m high on sleep deprivation, yes, but that doesn’t make my feelings any less real. They’re there whether I’ve slept or not. It’s actually hell.”

Sebastian was still flabbergasted, staring down at you helplessly. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t mean to full-on confess or anything, it just kind of came out that way. You were leaving hickeys on me, and I realized that whenever I wake up tomorrow, I’m gonna feel them and see them and remember how you fucking appeared out of nowhere right when I was wondering if you’d be pissed if I snuck into your dorm at the ass crack of dawn– and then I’ll remember how good you looked leaving them on me and how I totally wanted you to do slow mushy lovey sex stuff to me, and then I’ll probably sleep like shit for weeks fantasizing about that, and–”

“Okay, alright, damn,” Sebastian interjected, his face flushed an impressively dark shade of red.

“You asked,” you mumbled as you half-heartedly picked at the sheets.

“I did, yeah.” Licking his lips quickly, Sebastian reached forward to rest his hand over yours, dragging his thumb along your knuckles soothingly. “I’d really, really like that. A lot, if I’m being honest. I’ve kind of dreamt about it for a while now.”

Your sheepish smile transformed rapidly into something purely elated, and you flipped your hand over to intertwine your fingers with his own as you playfully mused, “Not the only thing you’ve been dreaming about, apparently.”

Sebastian laughed again, and this time it was less nervous and more breathless with relief. He leaned forward to brush his lips against yours, resting his free hand on your warm cheek, and you instantly relaxed for him as you tilted your chin up into the kiss as you gave his fingers a tentative squeeze.

You fell back onto the bed again as you tugged Sebastian over you, loosely hooking your legs around his hips to keep him close. The brunet groaned and leaned into you, and when you threaded your fingers into his hair and pulled him into another kiss, he slipped his tongue between your lips with a shaky sigh– all too eager to put his hands all over you. Luckily you seemed to be of like mind, moaning against his mouth before pulling back just enough to whisper, “Touch me, please.”

Sebastian nodded ardently and nipped at your flushed lips, shifting his weight to free up his hands so he could better run his palms along your sides. He squeezed gently before dragging one hand down to your still-slick heat, expertly seeking out your tiny bundle of nerves in a bid to reduce you to a mewling, gasping mess. Your spine rounded towards him as soon as he found it– an airy moan ripping from your throat as he pressed tight circles around the nub– and Sebastian swallowed your keening noises greedily.

“Why are you still wearing these?” You murmured against his plush lips as your finger slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs, tugging softly to convey your request.

There was no muffling his smug bark of laughter, and a feline smile split his face as he pulled back just enough to plant a featherlight kiss on the tip of your nose. “So impatient,” he teased, intentionally ignoring your hand on his undergarments in favor of sliding one of his skilled fingers through your folds. He replaced the missing finger against your clit with his thumb at the same time he inserted a digit inside of your pulsing walls, and the feeling had your head falling back as your lips parted around a stuttered gasp, your thighs tightening impossibly further around his waist.

Undeterred, you blindly wiggled your hand under the hem of Sebastian’s underwear and tugged his arousal out with a practiced flick of your wrist. You wrapped your fingers around his girth and gave him a long, tight stroke– squeezing the head in the way you knew he liked– which in turn earned you a rough, wavering moan. Matching Sebastian’s pace was easy, and you stroked him steadily as you leaned up to seal your lips over his pulse to begin working a dark hickey of your own into his sweaty, freckled skin.

Resting his weight on his free arm, Sebastian leaned closer as he sighed heavily while his brown eyes fluttered shut from the way your mouth felt on his neck. He rocked his hips into your hand and pumped his fingers a few more times inside of you before he was withdrawing the digits to push his briefs down all the way. You merely chuckled against his throat, pulling off of the fresh, blossoming mark with a satisfied hum before you laved your tongue over it.

Once Sebastian had finally wrestled off his briefs and settled over you again, you tugged him by the neck back into a hungry kiss, and he groaned deeply at the way you moved perfectly against him. As you curled your tongue between his lips, your hands traversed down the broad expanse of his toned back to feel as much of him as you could, pawing encouragingly at his lower back to guide him into a languid, grinding rhythm against you.

Sebastian let himself follow your lead for a few slow thrusts, but the way your skin felt against his– coupled with the way your quiet moans sounded muffled against his lips– was too tempting to overlook for long. Following a brief, bitey kiss, Sebastian dropped his hand between your legs once again to press at your wet, warm entrance. You shivered at the way his fingers felt against you as he coaxed you into relaxing, and your nails dug into his sculpted shoulders when he mercifully worked two of his thick digits inside of you. A string of moans and praises alike fell from your lips as your head lolled back against the pillows, and the remnants of Sebastian’s restraint began to slip away as a result.

“Fuck, darling,” he keened breathlessly, unable to take his eyes off of your face as your expression shifted into one of pure pleasure. His buried his fingers to the knuckles, utterly overwhelmed at how tight you were, and he nudged his nose against your cheek as he murmured, “You look so fucking good right now…”

“Y-You may have mentioned that, yeah,” you laughed against his sweat-slick skin, blinking affectionately up at your now-boyfriend as he took in your pliant body beneath him, and the thought imbued you with a fresh sense of desire that you were desperate to act on. “Come on, I want you inside me already.”

With a wheezy laugh, Sebastian nodded and ducked his head to catch your lips again as he started thrusting his fingers into your pulsing heat. He nibbled gently at your bottom lip when he buried his fingers deep to curl them towards your stomach, which in turn earned him a squeaky little moan that was immediately followed by an impatient wriggle of your hips. Your legs were trembling with barely contained want as you spread them further, and Sebastian took full advantage of the newly acquired space to readjust himself into a more comfortable position.

By the time you were panting against him and rocking back onto his fingers, Sebastian was more than ready to move things along. He slid his fingers out and pulled away with another quick kiss before sitting up to steady his cock at your entrance. You helpfully wrapped your legs around his waist again, angling your hips towards him with a coy smile on your face until you felt the head of his achingly hard member bump against you. Sebastian flashed you a doting smile in return, and with an unhurried roll of his hips, he was sinking into you with a throaty groan that made your hair stand on end.

“F-Fuck, you feel so warm– you’re perfect, darling,” he grit through his clenched teeth, plunging himself deeper inch by inch until he had bottomed out completely inside of you. The way your walls fluttered around him made him dizzy with need, but he noted the tension in your shoulders and forced himself to maintain his slow pace so you could get acclimated to the feeling. Sebastian was practically fluent in your stubborn body language by now, and he was nothing if not determined to get you to relax completely.

Rather than thrusting deeper, Sebastian sighed and licked his lips as he glanced up at your face. You were an incredibly tense person on the best of days, but when you were running on fumes like this, he found it to be even harder to get you to release the mountain of stress you seemingly carried with you at all times. While he was all too used to the frown lines that so frequently cropped up between your brows, seeing them now just made Sebastian want to be even gentler with you– even more careful.

He lightly nudged your head aside and set to dragging hot, wet kisses down the column of your throat, moaning wantonly at the bare salt of your sweat on his tongue. You shivered and gasped, tilting your head to the side with a low sigh to grant the brunet more access, and before long the combined feeling of Sebastian’s tongue and lips on your neck had you melting under him completely with your eyes blissfully closed.

“That feels… really good,” you murmured with a low voice. It was pure rapture to feel Sebastian this way; moving slowly inside of you, his lips dancing down your throat and nipping softly at the skin there. His hands eventually crept up the pillows to tangle in your hair, and the enticing feeling of his nails scraping against your scalp was enough to have you tightening around his cock a fraction.

The praise sent a bolt of confidence through Sebastian, and he moved from your neck back to your lips to slot your mouths together again. He gingerly pulled his hips back before rolling them forward, and when you moved down against him with a shaky breath, it was all the go-ahead he needed to keep going.

The rhythm he fell into was slow and steady, moving inside you with long, easy thrusts while he ground against your ass every time he buried himself deep. His eyes remained trained on your face, your expression clearly showing how pleased you were to be taken care of. You weren’t squirming in blatant pleasure yet, but Sebastian figured this was a good enough first step.

“C’mon, Sebastian– you’re putting me to sleep here,” you mumbled playfully, letting your arms rest above your head in the way Sebastian loved to see. His tempo faltered slightly, but your mischievous grin betrayed the legitimacy of the claim; he should’ve known you were simply teasing him, especially when he knew you always got a kick out of taunting him.

“Oh yeah?” He practically purred, sitting back on his heels to wrap his hands around your hips as he hauled you aggressively into his lap.

You adjusted to him easily, wiggling your hips in Sebastian’s grasp in a bid to spur him onward. “Yeah… jeez, Sallow, you had one job. Tsk tsk.”

“Well, shit.” He grinned wickedly down at you as he rolled his hips back, pulling almost all the way out and relishing in the way your face fell briefly. He hovered there for a long, torturous second before he snapped his hips back into you, using his grip to hold you down on his cock as he ground deeper and harder than before. You were left gasping at the feeling, your head falling back as your fingers twisted in the sheets, and before you could recover, Sebastian rasped, “Guess I should fuck you better then, huh?”

Without giving you room to breathe, Sebastian kept up his agonizingly slow pace, easily pulling you back onto his cock with every firm thrust. He fucked into you evenly– his strong hands controlling the rhythm in the way he knew drove you crazy– and it earned him a cacophony of shaky moans that fell from your flushed, bitten lips.

“Yeah,” you replied finally, your voice tight and shaky. “You have to keep me up all morning, remember?”

It was a simple enough statement, but the way it rolled off of your tongue made it sound absolutely filthy. Your raspy voice was dripping with lust, your hot breath panting out between your parted lips, and that was more than enough to light a fire in Sebastian’s blood.

Groaning roughly, Sebastian paused long enough to hook his arms under your knees to haul them easily over his shoulders. You gasped as the movement lifted you off of your hips– then again when he nipped sharply at the inside of your knee before sucking hard enough to leave another flushed bruise there. The sensation had you squirming in Sebastian’s lap to the best of your ability, moaning breathlessly as he ground into you with a low rumble.

Once he was satisfied with his mark, the freckled man rubbed his hands slowly down your tense thighs, leaning over you on his hands again so you were effectively bent back and pressed against the sheets. Sebastian leaned more of his weight into you– sinking deeper– and just as you were opening your mouth to urge him on, he started moving again.

He picked up his pace from before easily, but now, every slow, hard thrust stuffed you full of him, and it didn’t take him long to find the angle that had you gasping sweet little moans with every shaky breath.

Writhing under him, you arched your back and gasped Sebastian’s name as your hands tightened in the covers above your head and pulled ardently. He was fucking you slowly– but at this angle everything felt so intense– enough so that any teasing pretense you’d previously had was quickly washed away beneath constant, steady waves of pleasure. Your toes curled in the air behind him as your thighs quivered and flexed against his chest, but beyond that, you were entirely at his mercy.

An animalistic sound reverberated from deep within Sebastian’s chest, and his own fingers gripped the sheets on either side of your head. The view he had of you was fucking insane; between the incredible face you were making, the way every thrust sent electric little sparks all throughout the both of you, and the way your cunt tightened around his cock with every deep thrust– he couldn’t help but moan your name, brainless praises falling from his lips whenever he could string the words together.

“S-Sebastian,” you gasped, shakily riding your hips up against the brunet’s to meet his every thrust with keening moans. “Sebastian, fuck– more, more, please–”

He made a soft, broken sound at that, then shrugged your knees off his shoulders to let them fall into the bends of his elbows instead. Surging forward, he captured your lips with his and slipped his tongue between them, and you took full advantage of the closer proximity by burying your fingers in his messy, brown curls and pulling him impossibly closer.

With you bent nearly in half this way, your knees almost touched the sheets and in turn gave Sebastian the room to pull back farther and thrust deeper– managing to maintain his steady rhythm and simultaneously drag his cock hard all along your sweet spot. You were positively shaking under him, gasping pretty, noisy little sounds into your shared kiss as you wound your fingers restlessly through his hair and pulled just to have something to hold onto. Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut and pumped his hips harder, his self-control stretched thin by how perfect you were.

How you looked, how you sounded, how you felt… he wanted more of you– more of the loud, pleading moans that tumbled from your kiss-swollen lips.

“Gods, darling–” Sebastian leaned down and sank his teeth into the crook of your neck, pressing his body against yours as much as he could. You bucked up against him and cried out at the sharp, sweet sting of your lover’s teeth, your head writhing against the pillows frantically as your hands fisted in his hair so you could press his face encouragingly against your flushed throat. It pulled a brutal groan from Sebastian as he bit harder, sucking yet another dark bruise into your skin, and the sound you made in response was enough to send his mind spinning.

Your voice echoed off the walls of the bedroom, your loud moans and cries of his name falling freely from your lips as Sebastian marked you mercilessly. The ragged sounds coming out of him almost sounded like growls muffled against your throat, and the feeling of being so full had you arching your back clean off the mattress. Your nails raked viciously down his neck and shoulders before digging into his strong biceps, but the sting from the welting lines only served to rile him up further.

When you threw your head to the side and began shaking, your voice cracking as you wailed for Sebastian in the way that told him you were close, he pulled his arm out from under your trembling thigh to plant his thumb firmly against your clit and began rubbing tight circles against the overly-sensitive bundle of nerves. As he brought you closer to your climax, gasping filthy praises between stuttered moans, Sebastian sped up his pace until he was pounding his cock into you, doing his best to keep you bent at that perfect angle as he did so. Your entire body seemingly snapped off the bed– arched tight and clinging hard to his larger frame as you clawed your nails down his arms– and your airy voice rose higher and transformed into a desperate, overwhelmed scream that cracked and made Sebastian’s brain go completely blank.

You shook apart entirely in Sebastian’s arms, tight and blindingly hot around his cock, squirming beautifully under him as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your slick coated his shaft as he relentlessly pumped into you, until the thunderous rush of his own climax crashed down around him. Warm, thick ropes of his cum filled you as he emptied himself inside, and Sebastian swore nothing on this Earth could ever hold a candle to how marvelous the feeling was.

He was vaguely aware of himself moaning your name over and over again– stammering out mumbled praises of good, so good darling, fuck. His hands gripped your hips tight as he curled over you and clung to you for dear life while he mouthed brainlessly against your heated skin. It took both of you a few long minutes to come down from your peaks; you with your arm slung over your eyes, and Sebastian slowly wrapping himself tighter and tighter around you to gather you closer. Even once the trembling had subsided, he couldn’t find a good enough reason to move. He twitched his hips back to pull out– mostly for your sake– but that was about all he could manage.

“Holy shit,” you rasped out after a while, catching Sebastian’s bleary attention. He blinked up at you and watched as you dropped your arm above your head to stare up at the ceiling, and he hungrily took in the steady rise and fall of your bare chest as you caught your breath.

He snorted softly and dragged his palms along your still shaking thighs– still loosely draped around his waist. “You alright?” There was something to be said about how pleased he was by the low, smokey sound of his own voice, and evidently you were too, considering how it sent more shivers up your spine. You nodded though, tugging at his shoulder to silently urge him closer.

Sebastian slithered up until he was close enough to catch your lips, allowing you to pull him into a lazy, sated kiss while your fingers combed through his tangled curls. All too graciously, he melted against you– for once not fighting the desire to affectionately trail his knuckles down the line of your jaw. After a few minutes of languid kissing and mindless touching, Sebastian rolled to the side and let you readjust so you were laying on your side with your back to his chest, giving him the chance to wind his arms around your waist and hold you against him.

He knew he was meant to be keeping you awake leading up to Potions class, but a few minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt. Beyond a herd of Thestrals stampeding through the room, Sebastian sorely doubted that anything could drag him away from this moment with you. He’d waited long enough for it as it was.

—

After turning your assignment in and sitting through a particularly dreadful lesson for an hour, you’d finally been free’d from the shackles of the education system for the weekend, and you’d quickly found yourself sprawled across Sebastian’s bed with the curtains drawn. You were currently dead asleep and likely to stay that way for a while, but the brunet didn’t mind in the slightest. He wasn’t particularly tired, but he was especially interested in lengthy cuddling with his girlfriend, so he had no problem with the current arrangement.

With his fingers tangled idly in your sleep-mussed hair, Sebastian watched as the bright streaks of daylight moved across the ceiling while you used his chest as a pillow, far too content to be bothered by how damn long it took to get to this point.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x female! reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow oneshot #my writing #this was written entirely so that I could get back into the swing of things because I feel so out of practice #if it's a makes no sense in some places I don't care I'm being cooked inside and out with dual temperatures of 100 degrees #now to look at the fucking wip list and actually do something about it KJHFSKJFHSKGH

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sincerelyjxyy · 7 months ago

Text

Gold Rush - Seventeen

Invisible String - Gold Rush

Chapter Seventeen - I'd Bleed For Anything

Song Of The Chapter - Walk in the Park by Kelsea Ballerini

✧ to love me is to love a haunted house. — brenna twohy, anxiety: a ghost story ✧

Summary: Josie's reeling from the past few days, and the pogues are finally getting somewhere in the search for Tanny's gold.

Word Count: 15.5k (long ass chapter)

Gold Rush Masterlist

THE MORNING RAYS OF THE SUN BEAMED DOWN THROUGH JOSIE'S RELAXED EYELIDS. The calls of the seabirds and cicadas around her did almost nothing to dig her out of her deep slumber. And, usually, Josie would have stayed within the gentle constraints of sleep until something came along to drag her away from it.

But, as she slowly regained consciousness, the sudden feeling of struggling to breathe caught her lungs. The pressure that weighed her down was heavy enough that she instinctively went to push away the object that constricted her ability to take in air.

When the discomfort didn't dissipate, her eyes finally opened.

She laid flat on her back in the hammock—the same position she'd fallen asleep in. The pillow comfortably rested behind her head. The blanket she'd dragged outside still covered her, but it was no longer the only thing enveloping her form.

Because laying down atop her and under her blanket was a six-foot, peacefully sleeping, seventeen-year-old boy.

As Josie wiped the night away from her eyes, she could discern the feeling of the short breaths that brushed her neck. Her vision cleared the more she blinked, and she glanced down to take in the sight of him.

The side of his face was pressed into her collar, arms coddling her like a stuffed animal he longed to hold. Their legs were a tangled mess at the end of the hammock. His grip on her was vice-like, and the weight of her best friend's body quickly became unbearable.

She was incredibly disoriented. For a moment, she wondered if the previous night had been a nightmare that she just couldn't snap out of. That possibility was more than desirable—that everything had just been her subconscious playing out her inner worries and turmoil.

But the sight of her journal in the dirt beside her inferred differently, and her face twisted in disappointment. She vividly remembered the entirely dreadful day she'd encountered, which ended with his desire to leave.

Embarrassingly enough, she also clearly remembered the breakdown that was the most probable cause for the headache slowly throbbing in her temples. She cringed at the image of her crying, naked, on the cold wooden floor.

Without moving, her eyes drifted back down to the boy drooling into her shirt. Only the right side of his face was visible; the faint bruise on his jaw purpled with time. Most of the battered parts of his features, however, were obstructed from the world's eye.

It left a slightly painful tinge in her chest, accompanied by the growing ache that came from supporting his mass.

Then, like an ugly devil rearing its horns, she once more recalled his words from the evening prior—from the entire day prior. There hadn't really been a concluding peace to their argument, and she wasn't certain where they stood. Before the Hawk's Nest, Josie would've thought that they'd made up and were fine. But the way JJ had acted left her with unbridled doubt as to whether or not they were on okay terms.

A part of her vehemently refused to push their entire fight under the rug, after he'd been so willing to put that wall back up. It was like every time they took a step forward, they were then pulled five steps back.

Begrudgingly, Josie raised her left hand to push his face off of her. She tugged at his arm, but to no extent did the blond's grip even slightly loosen. Josie huffed, impatient, as she tried to reach under her and pull on his grasp. His hands had to have fallen asleep, cradling her spine under both of their bodies.

"JJ," she groaned, voice hoarse and layered with drowse. She pushed at his face once more, using her other hand under him to shove his shoulder. But his heaviness, mixed with his stubbornness to stay asleep, hindered her attempts. "JJ, get up."

"Can't, my legs are broke." His mumble was repressed by the fabric of her shirt, and he shuffled to press his face further into it and readjust his hold.

Josie huffed out her nose, annoyed at his nonchalance. "They will be if you don't get off me, dude. You're like a freakin' bolder." She shimmied down the hammock to gain leverage and pushed at the front of his shoulders. She was met with resistance as he groaned.

"Stop moving." He grunted, his face newly even with her chin from her wiggles downward. His palms slid from under her to grip her waist, effectively pinning her down.

Her glare narrowed at him. The audacity of him to have said the things he did and then try to command her to cuddle with him was confounding. Was even remotely remorseful, or did he just expect her to be effortlessly forgiving after he was rude to her.

It was a new development—the argumentative back-and-forth between them.

She inhaled deeply, regaining her strength and nodding to herself. With every ounce of might and determination she had, she gripped the front of his chest and lifted her hands to shove his body off of hers.

Because the action came completely unexpected, Josie's sudden push sent JJ tumbling to her right and off the swing.

An abruptly startled noise left him as he fell, grunting in pain when he made contact with the ground. He clutched his abdomen, groans continuing. Josie relished the immediate comfort that came when she no longer shared her space with anger and heat. It was overwhelming to burn from both her emotions and the sun.

"What the hell?" JJ sat up through his pained noises.

Josie turned on her side to peer at him over the side, her eyes still pointedly narrow. "What the hell, yourself. After the shit you pulled last night, did you think I'd be fine and dandy with you taking up my space?"

JJ did what he did best and dodged the loaded question. "If you wanted to manhandle me, you could've just said so."

Despite his cheeky quip, Josie rolled her eyes. She was filled with disappointment, recognizing that he wasn't going to give any acknowledgement to the uncomfortable state they'd separated in.

If there was one thing JJ Maybank was good at, it was running from his problems. Josie would have to be the one to bring those things up.

Ultimately, she knew that she wasn't going to get much more sleep with him here. No matter if it was physical or mental, Josie wasn't going to be able to stop the reminders of last night. So, she threw her legs over the other side of the swing, standing and stretching as she groaned the sleep out of her body.

She rounded the hammock to where JJ dramatically laid on the ground, holding his stomach. "I told you to get off of me. You had it coming. Besides-" She reached out both hands, tugging him to his feet when he grasped them. "What if you'd been some creep taking advantage of a helplessly sleeping girl?"

His expression hardened as he shook his head. "Dude, don't joke about that shit." He went to embrace her in a hello, but she quickly pushed his attempt away.

"Nuh-uh, no way. You said so yourself; you'd rather stay at home than be here." She knew that the statement was petty, especially when her eyes caught his backpack lying beside her makeshift bed. Nonetheless, she grabbed it from the ground and shoved it into his hands. "So go do exactly that. Go home."

Despite her annoyance, the command hurt her as much as it, probably, did him. She hated pushing him away—she didn't want to push him away.

A major part of her begged and pleaded for her to wrap him in her arms and tell him that it was okay. She longed to say that loved him, and everything was water under the bridge. But she just couldn't, not when she wasn't even sure if he wassorry.

"Jo-" He started, but her palm raised and instantly halted the words escaping his lips.

"Y'know what? I can't listen to anymore attempts to push down whatever happened yesterday, alright? It was one of the worst days I've ever had, and that was largely due to what you said to me." Her eyes shut tightly, and she tried not to say anything she may regret. "I love you, but I really thought I was never going to see you again. And after last night, I just...I realized that I have a lot to think about."

Her eyes drifted down as she picked at the skin around her nails, avoiding his blue gaze as it widened. "Think? Think about what?"

She wondered if he was worried that she'd be the one to try and end their friendship, and a bitterly toxic part of her was pleased. It'd been the way she'd felt the entire day, when she'd assumed the closest person in her life had left her to forever drown in sadness.

But then she scolded herself, her heart breaking at the mere idea of JJ going through the feelings she went through. She could never forgive herself for making him fall even an ounce of the ghostly depth in her chest.

"I don't know. Everything." She sighed, running a hand through her bedridden hair, and grimaced. "One minute you're happy that we're good, and the next you're pissed at me. It's giving me whiplash, and I-"

"I'm not pissed at you," he quickly corrected. His hand brushed through his own golden locks, tussled from slumber. "I'm just-I'm confused. I mean, gimme a break, okay? We've almost freakin' died, like, nine times, and I'm on edge."

He tried to reach out a comforting hand, but Josie's arms crossed and she leaned away. "Right, and I'm just the easiest target to take all that frustration out on, huh?"

"No," he adamantly shook his head, frustration building on his glowing features. Although she was annoyed at him, Josie's eyes traced the parts of his face that dazzled in the morning sun. "No, I-I...I just-" He struggled to find the words he wanted to use, which wasn't unusual by any means.

Josie was sympathetic about his inability to face and understand his own emotions, truly. But she was equally exhausted by taking the brunt of his aggravation. Still, she knew it was what felt natural to him, and she couldn't fault him terribly while knowing it wasn't easy for him, either.

Sighing, she uncrossed her arms to finally reach a sincere hand toward him, which he hastily clasped in his own. The swirling catastrophe of his emotions consumed the blue of his eyes, unaware of how to healthily express themselves.

It was in his nature to ignore the bad things he'd done—to shove them aside and expect everyone to do the same. He wasn't good at confronting the major things in life that made him uncomfortable, so instead, he often decided to pretend they didn't exist. It was self-destruction. His innermost desire to prove himself right pushed people away, reaffirming that he wasn't worth anyone's time or love.

Still, it was unhealthy and hurt her all the same.

She tugged on his hand, pulling him toward her as her arms rose to circle his neck. Pulling him into her, she noted her way his hands instantly returned to their spot around her. Her hands lingered on the nape of his neck. "JayJ, I know the past few days have been hard on all of us. It's been super scary—not knowing how to handle it, and we've both said things we regret."

She pushed at his arms to separate them again. "But there needs to be a serious understanding here. I forgave you last night, but I'm gonna lay it all out right now, okay? And I need to know that if I confide these things to you, you're not gonna get angry with me and run out of my life. I don't wanna be afraid to be honest with you."

He nodded, eyes darting around her face, as his tongue pressed against his cheek. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

"You, Kie, Pope, and John B are my best friends, and I love all of you so dearly. I would give my life and soul for each and every one of you, with no questions or doubts about it. But I love my boyfriend, too. I love Max, JJ. But do you get how hard it is to love someone that all of you can't stand? Do you know how painful it is that I can't share the journey of finding my first love with you because I can't be sure you won't blow up at me? And that was proven true last night." Her brow quirked accusingly, and JJ's jaw set as he cast his eyes down.

"Not that it's any easier the other way around. It's difficult to talk to my boyfriend about the things I love because most of them include you. I have to walk on eggshells around the people I've always felt so comfortable with. Do you see how gut-wrenching it is to be torn apart by a stupid rivalry?"

"As of right now, I have no home. I had a fucking scarring panic attack last night because the pain and fear from the past week became so consuming that I couldn't function. I just...I don't know how to fix what's been going on between us. The squabbles, and the not talking, and the leaving..." She poked her index finger into his chest, tears building in the corners of her eyes.

Josie sighed, taking a much-needed breath, and her shoulders slumped. "All I know is that us—the pogues—we're all each other's got. But I need you to respect the fact that I can make my own decisions, however bad they may be. I'm not asking you to like them—you're your own person, too. But you can't get so angry when they misalign with yours, that you just bottle up all of your negative emotions and then unfairly take it out on me. We said we would talk about these things; that's what we should be trying to do. So quit being a dick and give me my best friend back."

A few tears began their descent down her cheeks, decorating the skin with sadness as they escaped her attempts to keep them at bay. JJ slowly reached up to cradle her jaw in his hands, anticipating a movement of resistance, and gently wiped the steaks away with his thumbs.

She sniffled, her green, starry eyes gazing up into the cloudy blue of his own. Wordlessly, he tugged her back into his embrace, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pressing his lips to the crown of her head.

The position was incredibly reminiscent of the one they'd shared in the sheriff's station, and Josie instinctively clutched him closer in the off chance he disappeared from her again.

"'M sorry, about everything," he softly mumbled into her hair.

"Me too," Josie murmured into the fabric of his shirt, hands roaming his spine. "We're both guilty of getting lost in our own heads—I don't think that's gonna change anytime soon. I just want us to be able to disagree without you running off."

"Can't promise that." His voice was low, almost embarrassed by the habitual reality of his defense mechanism.

"I know," Josie sighed. She pulled away to gaze up at him sincerely. "But you can promise me you'll try."

He nodded down at her, hands moving to grip her shoulders. "Promise I'll try." His lips met her hairline, mumbling as his words carved themselves into her. "But y'know, even when I leave, I still always want you there. You're my best friend too." His eyes closed tenderly. "Love ya, Jose."

Josie had to hide the smile that grew across her face. It was rare that JJ verbally reciprocated the sentiment, and the happiness of hearing it outweighed her simmering irritation. "Love you too, Sunny." She pulled away with a teasing grin. "But, as much as I love you, you smell atrocious."

"Well, no running water on The Cut," JJ stated obviously, raising a pointed brow as he gave a half shrug.

She nodded and pressed her lips together mischievously, eyes jotting away from him. "True, true...but what if a certain friend of yours just so happened to have a way into a place with running water?"

He matched her grin and cocked his head down at her. "You're telling me, that you wanna break into your place?"

She scrunched her face and shrugged. "I'm gonna get kicked out anyway. Might as well utilize what we can. Besides, I need to grab some necessities before everything I own ends up on the curb. Not to mention-" She moved to circle the hammock, picking up her journal from the ground. "We have to rescue Indy."

"You don't think your mom's gonna see a big Jeep missing from the drive?" JJ chuckled, following the auburn-haired girl as she led them back into the shack.

Josie shook her head, quickly making her way back into the guest bedroom to grab her bag from the bed. She lifted her dress from its crumpled state on the floor, leaving it flat on the bed. Turning, she quickly began to rummage through the drawers and, with JJ's help, found a clean pair of socks.

She also took some time to find clean clothes for JJ—just some random things he'd left from how much he'd slept over at the Chateau.

Once they were done, Josie grabbed her heels and slung her bag over her shoulder.

"All good?" JJ asked, throwing her a questioning thumbs up.

Josie gave him a nod of finality, gaze wandering over the dress that laid on the bed and around the room for a second look. "Think so. We're just gonna bring the stuff back here anyway, so that's fine." She waved uncaringly at the dress. "Let's get going."

With everything seemingly covered, the duo exited the home and wandered back to the Twinkie.

"So, what's the plan for when we get there?" JJ questioned, opening the passenger door for Josie and bowing deeply. She giggled and theatrically curtsied in return, before she took his outstretched hand and climbed into the van. She chuckled at the silly jog he did as he rounded the front, waiting to answer after he climbed into his own seat.

"Simple, we park a few houses down, obviously. I'll sneak in through the guest room, you climb up to mine, and we'll meet at the window. Then I'll shower first, and then you can shower while I get changed and pack. That way, I can also keep lookout."

JJ nodded as he threw his arm over her seat and backed the Twinkie out of the driveway. The fingers on the back of her seat lightly brushed the shoulder of her shirt, but the warmth of the digits easily seeped through to her skin. Without thinking, she leaned further back to gain further momentary contact, as she'd suddenly grown very cold.

It was a momentary action, but the brush of his hand offered her the sufficient heat of the sun.

As JJ's hand retracted from her seat, they pulled onto the road and began their journey toward town. The lasting effects of his touch still lingered across her arm, ghosting over her skin and causing goosebumps to litter her skin. Involuntarily, a shiver ran up her spine, and she tried to discreetly rub the chill from her arms.

"You cold?" JJ's brows furrowed, quickly reaching to turn down the blasting air conditioner. He reached over to point one of the vents facing toward her at him, and then patted her thigh with the same hand. "That better?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Just a little chilly." It was a ridiculous thing to say—it was late June. Still, if it made no sense to JJ, he didn't say anything. In fact, he went with it.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you're barely wearing anythin'." He nodded down to the boxers and T-shirt she sported, the corner of his mouth quacking in a smile. "Probably freezing your little booty off."

"My booty is not little," Josie retracted childishly, crossing her arms and playfully huffing. She turned to lean back against her door, lifting her foot to poke her big toe into his side.

He swatted at it affectionately, snickering at her previous statement. "Don't I know it."

"JJ Maybank!" She gaped at him, sitting back up and reaching forward to slap his arm. "I am a taken woman! That's unbelievably disrespectful. Have you reallystared at my ass?"

His laughter increased, amused by the startled look on his best friend's face. "I've looked at time or two, sure." The way her eyes doubled in size only aided his fit of humor. "What? What? Jose, it's natural. You're a good-lookin' gal, so the eyes are gonna wander." His brow quirked as he glanced over at her. "You're telling me you've never snuck a peak at any of us?"

"Such a horndog." Josie rolled her eyes and groaned, avoiding the question as she smacked his arm again.

Of course, she'd peaked at a butt or two, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. There was a difference between looking and talking about looking. Within the confines of their own minds, it was seemingly fine to have those sorts of thoughts. But it was when they were released that they became detrimental—dangerous to their friendships.

Look at what had happened with John B and Kiara. There was a chance their relationship was forever bruised by John B's stupid kiss. There was a clear line there—a boundary that Josie firmly held. And it wasn't helpful to know that, somewhere in the back of their minds, they were tempted.

She chalked it up to proximity. They all spent an insurmountable amount of time together, especially with being in high school. Come next fall, any of those thoughts would wash away with the time they were all apart. She was certain of it.

It also felt a bit...uncomfortable? She wasn't sure why her skin tingled at the thought of being looked at in that way. She was aware of the fact that Max looked at her that way—they were dating after all. But something about being perceived in that manner made her a smidge self-conscious. Her mother's voice in the back of her head snapped at her that she wasn't worth being looked at, much less admired in the most surface level sense.

As they fell into silence, Josie plugged her phone up to the old, tattered aux-cord, retrying a few times until the sound successfully traveled through the speakers. They spent the rest of the drive jamming and singing aloud as they traveled through Kildare and toward Figure Eight.

Once they finally arrived on the north side of the island, JJ navigated to a stop a couple of houses past Josie's childhood home. As he switched the van off, Josie bit her lips and shared a nervous look with JJ. The severity of her situation slapped her across the face as she returned to her neighborhood. The idea of facing her mother after the stunt she'd pulled at Midsummer's terrified her.

Josie wrung her hands out nervously, her left leg bouncing as they sat in anticipation. She focused on regulating her breathing, to try and calm herself, when the feeling of a gentle hand on her arm had her head snapping back up to her left.

JJ's brows furrowed with care. "You sure 'bout this?"

Her stomach ached, abdomen clenching as she ran her hands over the seat building on her neck. JJ's hand followed up to swat her hands away, offering his own to gently massage the nape of her neck. She let the comforting motion sink in, inhaling deeply and nodding.

"Yeah. Yeah, let's do this."

They climbed out of the van, shuffling to regroup on the sidewalk. Josie JJ slid the backdoor open to grab her backpack, handing it to her as he closed it. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, they began the short walk toward the house.

The curb remained clear of her belongings, which Josie took as a positive.

They peeked over the hedged fence that surrounded the house, eyeing the front door to observe any movement entering or exiting the house. She noticed her mother's car in the driveway, head quirking when she questioned why her mother would still be at home. Digging her phone out of her pocket, her question was proven valid when she realized it was almost nine in the morning.

Why hadn't her mother left for the office?

"Well, this just got a lot harder." JJ practically read her thoughts as he nodded toward the black BMW.

Josie hummed in agreement, eyes scanning the windows for any movement. The two of them stayed silent, and Josie tried to find a good bracket of time to move forward. Once she was confident, she grabbed JJ's arm and tugged him past the gate.

Pushing him, she motioned for him to hurry and go around the house. She didn't doubt he could make his way there—he'd done it before. And without glancing back at him, she hurriedly made her way up onto the porch.

Her heart raced rapidly, palms sweaty, as she grew fearful of her mother exiting the front door at any moment. Josie had to be extra careful moving through the house, and if she was unlucky, her mother would be out of her office.

She moved to the window that sat on the left side of the patio, but kept a keen corner gaze on the window at the far-right end. Even though the blinds were drawn shut, her mother's office had a full view of the front of the house, and she could spot Josie in a millisecond.

Josie wiggled the glass for a split second, curing when her sweaty palms slipped from the grasp. "Shit," she hissed through a whisper.

Quickly, she wiped her hands on her shirt and reached to try again. She was able to get her fingers under the frame enough to slowly lift the glass—a trick Daisy had shown her years ago. And because Petunia had never found out, there was no reason for her to check the window's lock.

Being as silent as she could, Josie raised the window to slot with the top pane. She pushed the blinds up, eyes instantly scanning the room. Bending her head down, she carefully stuck her left leg in, her sock-clad foot meeting the cushion of the couch below her. She then pushed herself through, ungracefully, and clambered in.

When her bag got stuck on a random nail, she tugged at it and silently pleaded for it to release the pleather. Eventually, with her hushed cries to let go, she was able to break it free.

Once she was fully in the room, she knelt down on the couch to face the window and gently guided the glass back to its spot against the frame. Making sure the glass was snug, she pulled the blinds back down.

After that was finished, she tiptoed her way toward the door, cracking it open to peek out.

She could discern the faint sounds of someone pattering around the kitchen, but her view of the room was obscured. With only a small window of opportunity, Josie discreetly slid out the door and beelined up the stairs to her immediate right. Being as soft as possible, she climbed the two flights that led to the landing and booked it toward her bedroom.

She closed the door behind her, clicking the golden lock of the doorknob, before she dropped her bag on the ground. She then hastened across the room to the window above her desk, sliding it open for the boy waiting on the other side. JJ climbed through with his clothes tucked under his arm.

She pressed a finger to her lips, cringing as he stumbled down off her desk and onto two legs. They both froze to listen for any suspicious movement that their noises might've caused. When the coast seemed clear, the two of them moved to pull the glass shut.

Josie grabbed JJ's elbow, pulling him toward the bathroom. She shut the door that led to her room behind them, as a precaution. She moved to Naomi's door and stuck her ear against it to carefully listen for noise on the opposite end. "Naomi was supposed to go to a friend's house after the party, so I think we're in the clear."

She sighed in relief, shoulders slumping once it was confirmed that they were alone. "I'm literally only gonna be a couple of minutes in there. Just stay in here to avoid being seen, 'kay?"

JJ nodded, curious fingers scurrying around the bathroom cabinets. "Yeah, got it."

She rolled her eyes but left him to his own devices, opening the door to the shower room. She closed it behind her and stripped off her borrowed clothes, letting them land on the tiled floor. The chill of the air against her bare skin washed over her, and she rubbed her arms to gather some type of friction.

Quickly, she hopped in. They were in too much of a hurry for her to wait for the water to warm up. And, reaching for her shampoo, she got to work.

It wasn't until she began to lather conditioner into her ends that the door of the shower room opened, shutting only a brief moment later.

Josie froze, waiting as a hissed voice rang through the steamy room. "Jose."

The teen girl shook her head in bewilderment, hands dropping from her head. "JJ, what in the absolute fuck are you doing?"

"I swear to God. I just heard footsteps in the hall," he tried to reason.

Josie scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest despite the fact that he definitely could not see her. It was all kinds of weird. "Then you could've hid in the water closet."

"The who?"

Josie exhaled through her nose. He was unbelievable. "The room with the toilet. Jesus, JJ, I'm naked."

He coughed, the sound of his clothes shuffling as he adjusted himself, cheeks red with embarrassment. "My bad, you're right. I just don't wanna get caught and de-balled."

"The word's castrate, doofus." Josie sighed, clipping her conditioned hair to the back of her head. She grabbed her washcloth to scrub her body, soap bubbling along her skin. "And what do you think she'd do if she found you practically in the shower with me?"

"Good point..." JJ lightly drawled.

Her eyes rolled in regale, and she continued her routine as silence fell over them. The only hint of noise that echoed in the room was the rushing water and the faint sound of JJ's lighter clicking as he fidgeted with it. It was a comforting sound, every time the cap of the lighter would flick close and then open back up.

Once Josie finished, she peeked out from the curtain to spot JJ, whose eyes were trained on the white tile floor. Her grip on their separator was tight as she coughed to gain his attention, squinting through the steam to meet his gaze. "Think you can handle grabbing me a towel from the cabinet?"

He rolled his eyes and released a sardonic laugh. "Hah hah, very funny, Jo." He exited the door into the main bathroom, and Josie stepped out of the bath to crack the door shut. Water dripped from her hair and skin onto the cold floor, puddling at her feet as she waited for his return.

She jogged in her spot, arms crossed over her chest, as she tried to generate some warmth in her cold, nude body. His knuckles rapped against the door, and Josie reached her hand through the opening for the towel. Once it was in her grasp, she wrapped the purple fabric around her body.

"JJ, you better not look or I swear I'll shave half you head." She slowly exited the smoky abyss, and turned to JJ, who'd respectfully covered his eyes with his palm. "Alright, you're good to go in. Just don't use my conditioner."

She pushed his shoulder toward the damp air, snorting as he let out an "aye, aye."

Carefully, she made her way out of the bathroom and toward her dresser. She dug around for clean underwear and a bra, before she moved to rummage through her shorts drawer. Pulling out a pair of red-ish, high-waisted corduroy shorts, she set the clothes on the dresser to run the towel over her body.

Impatient, and a little worried about JJ walking in, she dressed in freshly washed clothes without paying much attention to whether she was fully dry.

She then moved toward her closet, picking out a random, baggy gray shirt, and haphazardly threw it over her torso. The fabric almost covered the shorts entirely, but she didn't find it in herself to care. She also grabbed a comb from one of the storage shelves, running it through her damp strands.

With their time limited, she returned the comb to its basket and grabbed a couple of duffel bags from the top of her closet. She sped back out to her bed, slapping the bags down on the mattress, and moved to also grab the boat tote shoved under her bed.

Once again, she began to rummage through her dresser, grabbing different clothes that she may need for an extended period of time and stuffing them into one of the duffel bags. Moving back to the closet, she did the same with a few shirts.

In the second duffel bag, she carefully packed important keepsakes she couldn't bear to part with. Pictures, expensive items that held too much sentimental value, and her jewelry were all prioritized items.

Large tears gathered in her waterline as reality sank in and the realization dawned on her that she was leaving the room she'd spent so much of her life in. Her childhood bedroom, where she'd discovered so many things about herself, was no longer going to be a part of her.

As Josie tried to cover her sniffles and pushed her childhood teddy into the duffel, the bathroom door creaked open. JJ, clad in a gray de-sleeved shirt and grey shorts, padded into the room with their dirty clothes in hand. He tossed the clothes onto the bed, moving back into the bathroom to grab his boots.

He reentered the room to sit on the bed and lace up his shoes, as Josie tried to stifle her saddened sounds. He peeked over his shoulder at her, and as soon as he recognized the upset look in her eyes, he stood to round the bed and pulled her into his arms.

The wet droplets of his hair fell onto her cheeks, entwining with the water that fell from her eyes. He kissed the side of her head, right hand cradling the back of it and running though her own wet hair. "'S gonna be alright."

"Yeah, I know. It's just scary to not know what's gonna happen now. I mean, what the hell happens to a runaway teen whose only parent doesn't want them?" Josie's choked cry fell into the collar of JJ's shirt, and he moved her head back to meet his gaze.

"Nothin's gonna happen. You got me and everyone else to make sure of that."

They stayed entangled for a few more moments, until Josie pulled away and wiped her eyes. "Right, we gotta finish this. Can you empty everything out of my purse and into my backpack?" She motioned toward the bathroom, scooping up the boat tote. "I'm gonna get my stuff."

He nodded assuredly, and Josie made her way back into the bathroom. She snagged two towels, her essential toiletries, and her soap from the shower. Double-checking the cabinets, she then returned to the bedroom, where JJ was indeed emptying out her previous things into her backpack.

She moved in next to him, grabbing the necklace she'd taken off the night before from the bag. As she moved over to her desk, she struggled with the clasp until the golden pendant sat nicely on her chest.

Josie dug out the important documents, journals, and papers. As she laid them atop the towels in her bag, JJ came to linger beside her. He grabbed the ornate picture frame from the wooden desk, fingers tracing the design as she continued her search. "Think we could pawn this for some cash?"

Josie pshed through pursed lips, not bothering to spare him a look, as she moved away from the desk and back to the duffels. "Seriously doubt it. I thrifted that."

With that information, he sat the frame back down and followed her to the bed. As Josie zipped the bags up, she was finally made aware of her trembling hands. She was subconsciously doing her best to repress the catastrophic emotions raging in her chest, distressed toward the unknown encroaching on her thoughts.

But her brain and actions were also clouded with adrenaline, solely focused on escaping the possibility of being caught by her mother.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

As if her thoughts were not her own, the supposedly locked door to the room turned. Neither of the duo had time to register it, when the door swung open to reveal the expectant gaze of Petunia Shoupe.

JJ went into autopilot, like an animal acting on survival instinct. He grabbed Josie's duffel bags and shot for the window. She was quick to follow him, disregarding her bare feet as she grabbed her smaller bags and hastened behind him. But her mother was quick to approach, and Josie's priority became separating the two of them.

She nudged her way in between JJ and her angered mother, causing the blond to pause as he tugged on Josie's arm. But she ignored him, stopping her bags and holding her hands up. "Stop-stop-stop! He didn't do anything!"

Petunia paused in front of the duo, looking at her daughter rageful and sardonic. "Really? You're going to sit here and lie to my face to try and justify him stealing right here in my house?"

JJ scowled, stepping down from the desk he'd barely climbed upon, and dropped the bags. His chest brushed the back of Josie's shoulder. "Not stealing if it's her shit in the first place."

"Watch your tone, boy. That shit costs more than you'll ever make. I suggest you be cautious with who you speak to with that mouth." Petunia's glare was firm, unwavering from the pogue that her daughter dared to let step foot in her home. "I have every right to have you handcuffed and forcibly removed from my property."

"What d'you think we were tryna fucking do?" JJ sarcastically asked, motioning toward the window he was about to escape out of. "I don't wanna be here as much as you don't want me here." He nodded at Josie. "But like hell I'd let you throw her out empty-handed."

Petunia's gaze expectantly moved to her daughter. "Who said anything about throwing you out?"

Josie's eyes narrowed, arms crossed. "Mom, you and I both know what's gonna happen if I come back home. You're either gonna throw me to the curb without question, or you're gonna make me choose between home and them. I made that decision last night."

Petunia's brow cocked challengingly. "Well, that doesn't sound like me kicking you out. That sounds like you are making a selfishly stupid choice that I, as your mother, have to discipline you for. You do understand that if you run away, I can call your uncle to have you returned. Until you're eighteen, you belong to me, Josephine."

JJ stiffed at the blatant degradation, and Josie stood frozen as she gaped at her mother, incredibly confused with the logistics of her mother's statement. "But...but you kicked Daisy out when she got pregnant. That was a stupid choice that she made."

"Yes, but your sister's choice didn't only affect her—it affected everyone else in this family." There was a hidden message behind her words. It'd always been clear to Josie that Daisy's punishment had been dealt because it would've reflected badly on Petunia's parenting had she not been dealt with, and the lawyer could not have that.

But Josie's display had been public for the entire kook community to witness. She would've assumed that was of equal ignominy. "But what about-"

Her rebuttal was cut off. "Josephine, if you wish to discuss the mess you made last night, we can do so. However, I will not tolerate a word from your mouth while that boy stands behind you." Petunia addressed JJ as if he were the gum on the bottom of her shoe.

Josie turned to glance at JJ, who rolled his eyes and huffed out an ironic laugh. He looked down at her expectantly, but his features fell when he saw the remorse on her face. His head tilted in disbelief, looking at her scornfully.

"JayJ," she muttered. "I'll be down in a minute, I swear. Just go wait with the Twinkie."

"You can't be serious." Despite his refusal, his eyes were already showing relent. He backed away from her, stone glare fixed on Petunia, and went to grab the bags from the ground.

Petunia's gaze snapped to the hand that he reached down. "If you so much as take any item from this home, I will have you charged with trespassing and theft."

JJ huffed impatiently, turning to Josie in irritation. Her head tilted helplessly, and she offered a squeeze to his shoulder. "It's okay. I'll handle it. Just go, please. I'll be fine."

He peered down at her, unsure, as she silently pleaded with him. Eventually, he sighed. "Be down in ten, or I'm running that van through this fucking house." He placed another kiss to her head, smirking at the scowl that grew on Petunia's face as he did so.

He then turned to climb back up on the desk, waving up at the window as he turned to the adult. "Wouldn't want to dirty the rest of your home."

Petunia nodded in agreement. "Yes, of course, I would expect nothing less from someone who was raised like a wild animal with no home training." She paused, deciding to add. "Besides, who knows what your sticky fingers may gravitate toward unmonitored? We know how much your kind likes to collect things."

Josie's eyes widened, her head whipping toward her mother and missing JJ exit the window. As he made his way down, Josie stared at her mother in shock and bewilderment.

But her mother was unphased by the stare, returning the look pointedly. "For goodness sake, Josephine, he is a pogue. They are all criminals, just waiting for the time they get caught. Him especially—the whole lot of those insufferable Maybanks. How dare you bring him into this house?"

"He's my friend," Josie argued. "He's the person who was ready to drop everything to help me. What was I supposed to do? Lay in waiting for you to drop the hammer on me by myself?"

Petunia scoffed at her daughter's dramatic vocabulary. "Do not lie to me, young lady. I raised you to have some sense. That boy is not your friend. Do you consider me blind or just plain stupid?" Petunia gestured toward her daughter's hair, while Josie stared, confused. "Unless a miracle happened and it only rained on half of the island, it's clear that the two of you took advantage of the amenities that I pay for."

Josie stayed silent, picking at the skin around her nails as her mother pointed out the seemingly obvious. "I cannot believe you would do that to Max, after everything that he has offered you. I acknowledge that you are going through a rebellious phase, but I will not tolerate raising a cheater."

Josie refrained from pointing out the blatant irony; flashes of her mother's affair crossed her mind. She instead found herself fueled by anger due to Petunia's claim. "Cheating? I have never cheated on Max, ever. The Cut doesn't have running water, so I took a shower, and then JJ did—there was no cross-over. We're friends—best friends. There has not been, and never will be, any romantic feelings there."

Not that you would know anything about that.

"Besides, Max probably never wants to see my face again after what I did last night." Josie's arms crossed as she thought about going through another breakup.

Petunia huffed. "And I wouldn't blame him if he didn't, Josephine. But the fact is that, he was over here last night worried sick and waiting for you to come home with the rest of us." She approached her daughter. "Do you know the distress your friends' display put your sisters under? Put me and your father under? Mike and Anna were so concerned about you and Kiara."

Josie stayed silent, offering nothing to her mother's rant. When Petunia realized that her daughter wasn't going to take the bait, her arms crossed again. "So, what? You were just going to take this stuff and leave? Where would you even go?"

Josie shrugged, finally meeting the strict eyes that resembled her own. She refrained from saying anything about the Chateau, not wanting to draw attention to any possible avenue her mother may take against John B. "I knew that the public stunt at Midsummer's would've made you mad—so mad, that I figured you weren't going to put up with it. I assumed that, like Daisy, you were gonna kick me out as soon as you saw me. So, I thought, might as well grab my stuff first."

"But you don't have anywhere else to go." It was quick, but Josie caught it—the way the statement slightly tilted into a question.

It sounded as if her mother was fishing for a response she was anticipating—like she was waiting for a bombshell to be dropped. If Josie hadn't been scrutinizing her mother's words, she was certain she would've missed it. Petunia knew that there was something specific she wanted to hear.

But Josie wasn't ratting John B out. "No, I was just gonna sit around and find someone's couch."

Petunia's face screwed in disgust, and she shook her head. "Absolutely not. I will not have you acting like a beggar looking for handouts."

Josie's brows furrowed skeptically, and she walked over to sit on the edge of her bed. "So...you're just letting me stay here?"

"Well, it is your room. Josephine, you, as smart as you are, could not have really believed that I would kick you out."

"Yes, I did," Josie responded instantly, seriously gazing up at her mother and nodding. "So, what's the catch?"

Petunia sighed and shook her head. "No catch."

Josie puffed through her pursed lips, both in disbelief and hesitance. "Mom, it's you. There has to be a catch. There's no way I'm getting away with what I did scot-free."

"Oh, absolutely not," Petunia agreed. "Your appropriate punishment will be discussed, and you will be grounded until you leave this house for college. But, you still have a place to live."

"What about the pogues?" Josie pressed, suspicious of her mother's oddly forgiving behavior. "I'm not going to hide anymore, but if you try and stop me from hanging out with them, I'll leave anyway." It was an empty threat. But Josie could see that, for some reason, the idea of her no longer living under the Grey roof concerned Petunia—enough that she'd let JJ leave the house unharmed.

There was something more to her mother's calmly rational demeanor, but all Josie cared about was using that to her advantage.

Petunia tensed, choking back whatever insults wanted to habitually spill. She moved to sit beside her daughter on the bed, folding a leg over her knee in propriety. "Listen, I understand that the last few years have been hard for you. I get it."

Holy shit. Was that an acknowledgement of Peter leaving?

"You act out because you're the middle child—I was similar in my adolescence. But I have given you a good life, and I have provided you with everything you could possibly need. I continue to provide for you. So, I expect respect for giving you these things—the things you are gifted. I didn't have to fund your hobbies. I didn't have to buy you expensive jewelry. I didn't have to let you intern at the company I built. But I did those things because I love you and want your future to be bright."

Josie remained silent, taking in her mother's points. There was a validity to them that Josie hadn't considered before.

"So, here's how this is going to go moving forward. I will allow you the rest of the summer to dilly-dally with your friends, so long as you do nothing illegal. But come August, that ends. Your focus will be solely on your schoolwork and making sure you get that acceptance letter. The location on your phone will be turned back on today, and your curfew is moved. Are we clear?"

Josie nodded in agreement, but she was too shocked to say anything. It was too easy—too simple to get away with. She was overcome with perplexity, completely unaware of how her mother could've pushed something like public scrutiny to the back of her egotistical mind. The person in front of her had to be an imposter, because there was no way that it was the same mother she'd been raised by.

Petunia Shoupe would've screamed at her. She would've cursed the ground Josie stood on until steam shot from her ears, avouching that her daughter was an ungrateful brat who'd humiliated her in front of their peers. She would've barred Josie from ever stepping foot in the house again, the same way she had when Daisy's pregnancy came to light. She would've spat at Josie that if she wanted to be a pogue, she'd be treated as such.

So, where the hell was that version of her mother? Where had the face of forgiveness come from? Allowing her to spend the rest of her summer with the pogues? Hell hath frozen over.

She had half-a-mind to demand an explanation as Petunia exited the room. Was her mother chronically ill? Had she been diagnosed with some horrendous, life-threatening disease that Josie was unaware of? That was the only viable reason she could find as to her mother's behavior.

It was all fucked up, Josie realized. She'd really believed that she was never going to return home. And, while she was relieved, she was also incredibly sad. Because, as messed up and complicated as her relationship with Petunia was, she still loved her. She still longingly yearned for the approval and acceptance of the woman who bore her.

She was like a dog begging for a treat, or a disciple praying to the all-mighty. She held onto her mother's ankles by the jaw, crying like a child as she begged the woman to hold onto her fragile soul with gentle hands. It'd been the same thing she'd done her entire life.

And maybe it was stupid of her. Maybe it was unhealthy for Josie to affectionately care for the woman who caused so much of her innermost turmoil and pain. Maybe it was harmful for Josie to seek the impossibly high appraisal her mother expected. But she did.

She loved her mother, and that was tragic.

She wiped the tears that fell with the back of her hand, laying back on the bed to inhale deeply. Her eyes danced around the patterns on her ceiling, vaguely remembering the familiar indents. She'd done it a lot as a kid—staring at the ceiling as she wished for a different life. For a less complicated life. Nothing had really changed.

She turned her head to glance at the bags she'd packed so hurriedly, still processing the fact that she had a home to return to.

Her eyes scanned the wall, until they landed on a picture she must've missed in her packing. The photo was an old Polaroid—years old—of John B and JJ fishing off the Chateau's dock. They both peered over their shoulders at her, squinting in the afternoon sun. Josie could've sworn that the sun favored JJ because of their likeness to each other; his form dazzled in the radiant light.

It then dawned on her that the same boy was, in fact, waiting for her downstairs.

Jumping up from the bed, she grabbed a pair of socks and rushed to slip them over her feet. She then pulled on a pair of sneakers, before grabbing her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder.

Then, because she was nothing if not cautious, she grabbed the two duffel bags and her tote. Hesitantly, and with a hint of suspicion, she exited her bedroom and struggled her way downstairs.

Just in case her mother changed her mind at any given moment.

She walked through the front door, immediately greeted by JJ's hands taking the duffel bags from her hands. He scowled toward the interior of the house as Josie shut the door behind her. They moved to descend the steps, JJ's hand extended behind her to guide them.

"So, I assume she gave you the boot, then?" He raised the bags in emphasis, but Josie shook her head.

"No, actually." She walked toward the Jeep, digging her key from her pocket to unlock it and place the bags in the back. Shutting the door, she turned back to her best friend. "But the conversation was...strange to say the least. I'm just taking precautions."

"That's my girl. Never trust some kook shit." He extended his hand for a pogue-shake, and she obliged amusedly. She fiddled with her keyring, nodding toward where they'd left the Twinkie. "So, what now?"

"You checked your phone?" J asked as he made his way around to the passenger side, opening the door and beckoning her to follow him.

Her brows snapped together, curious, and she heeded his request. "No...why?"

"Because apparently, there's a dear friend of ours that is a mere few houses away." JJ smirked, the corner of his mouth lifting as he wiggled his brows.

Josie's forehead scrunched, still as unaware as she was a moment prior. "I'm not following."

"You will." He nodded for her to jump in, and she did so without arguing.

She was lost as JJ hopped into the driver's seat, stuck his hand out for the keys, and cranked the car. But, as they left the driveway, Josie spotted the empty space where the Twinkie had been parked.

"What the fuck?" She turned to JJ, who shrugged unconvincingly and feigned ignorance as he drove them toward town.

Josie racked her brain for an explanation of what could've possibly been going on. Obviously, one of the pogues had to have come and gotten the keys from him. But who the hell would've been at a house on Figure Eight? Was he talking about Kiara?

What'd happened to Kiara?

She'd be willing to read the text JJ mentioned, if it weren't for her backpack being in the backseat. It wasn't worth it, considering she was probably about to figure it out anyway.

After a few minutes of driving, JJ pulled the rusty vehicle into the Wreck parking lot. Josie flinched, grimacing as she debated whether her employment status was up in the air. It would be super awkward if that was the time the Carreras used to break the news that she was fired.

They clambered out of the Jeep together, with Josie opening the back door to fish out her backpack. JJ waited for her to fall into step with him, and they made their way up the stairs and into the building.

The smell of fried fish, eggs, and steak instantly filled her senses, and she was made acutely aware that she hadn't had breakfast. But she couldn't even fathom the thought of anyone waking up at eight a.m. to go and eat fish, no matter how good it was.

Still, her stomach churned in hunger, and her mouth watered at the premise of being fed.

"About time you showed up," Pope humored as they entered, leaning back in his chair.

Josie's face scrunched in disagreement as she made her way to his table. She dropped her bag off into one of the chairs. "Why the hell would I be here at-" She turned his wrist to face her, decorated with friendship bracelets and his watch. "Nine thirty in the morning, if I'm not clocked in?"

"Because apparently John B has made further progress in Operation Gold Rush," Kie cut in from the table she wiped down.

Josie turned, face lifting to beam at her friend as she moved toward her. "Aha! I knew you'd come around to the name." She pulled the brunette into an embrace, which Kiara briefly reciprocated. Helpfully, Josie snagged a stack of plates from Kie's hands, and the girls moved to the back of the restaurant to sink them.

After a short few minutes, John B also strolled his way in to join the group. The image of his seemingly okay state had Josie jumping from her seat, pulling him into a relieved squeeze. "Thank God you're fine." She broke away to smack his shoulder. "But don't ever pull shit like that, dude. That was freakin' scary."

"Well, I'm not called Johnny-Nine-Lives for nothin', now am I, RJ?" He teased, and she rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

Everyone else then offered their greetings, and, quickly, John B pulled out the map he'd received from Sarah Cameron.

Josie immediately gasped, placing a theatric hand to her chest as he spread the map out on the table. She shook John B's shoulder excitedly and bounced on her feet. "For me? It's not even my birthday!"

John B swatted at her hands, chuckling as she moved to peer down at the map in amazement. "Best friend in the whole world, right there." She pointed at his retreating figure, gaze unwavering from the map. "Gosh! Look at this thing!"

She leaned down over her bag to dig out two pencils for herself and Pope. She also pulled out her camera—the older model of her late Sony Alpha. May it rest in peace.

She wrapped the strap around her neck, smile large as she switched it on to check the battery. Pope squinted up at her curiously. "What's that for?"

She messed with a few settings she still had on from the surfing shoot. "I had an idea the other day. And, if John B's okay with it, I thought it might be cool to publish the journey of the gold hunt—if we find it, of course. I have some Polaroids and stuff of the boat trip, but I thought it might be smart to get some of the evidence in good quality." She shrugged, looking over her shoulder at John B hopefully. "Whad'ya say?"

He ofer a thumbs up with a smile, leaning on the front bar. "Do your nerd thing, JoJo. But I get a fifty percent cut of the royalties when it's published."

Josie comically scoffed, moving to capture some shots of Pope and the map. "Try twenty, and that's me being generous."

"Forty," he tried again, grinning as she lifted the camera to snap a picture of him.

She turned the lens to JJ, who stuck his tongue out at the camera and crossed his eyes, and rolled her eyes. "Twenty-five—quarter of all proceeds."

The brunette lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. "Deal."

After a few more pictures, she let the camera rest around her neck and leaned down to join Pope. They began trying to decipher where the most convenient place to look for parcel nine would be.

Concurrently, the discussion also veered into the explanation of how John B hadn't been intercepted by DCS at the hospital.

Ward Cameron.

And, apparently, he was also living at Tannyhill.

"I'm sorry, you're staying where?" Kie questioned for clarification, moving to grab the tray of drinks she'd offered the pogues.

"Tannyhill," John B answered as he messed with a stray pepper shaker. Josie rolled her eyes, scoffing in disbelief. That was what JJ meant.

"So you're living with Sarah Cameron," Kie accusatorily snarked. Josie pointedly nodded and gratefully accepted the lemonade Kiara handed her.

"Okay, look, the only reason I'm living there is because her dad bailed me out, alright?" He turned to gather with the rest of the group around the table. "And it's way better than foster care, which, by the way, is where I was about to go if Ward didn't-"

"Hey, so like, do you have a membership to the clubs now?" Pope interrupted, hands behind his head as he leaned back. Josie's hand ghosted behind his chair as a precaution.

"I don't know, Pope." John B shrugged and carefully placed himself down in a spare chair, sore from his fall.

"What about those little golf carts they get to drive around? D'you get one of them?" JJ inquired, drinking the soda from his Styrofoam cup.

Pope quickly added. "Does it come with a sweater-vest, or do you have to buy one of those on your own?"

Josie turned to peer up at JJ. "You rent one. It comes out of your membership balance." Her eyes moved to Pope. "You buy them when you renew your membership, so you still technically have to pay for them."

Pope's brows rose as he pursed his lips, nodding in satisfaction with her answer.

"Look, you promised," Kie reminded John B. "You said you weren't with her."

JJ shrugged and glance at John B. "Bro, just own it. She gotchu."

John B's hand lifted to annoyedly massage his temples.

"Look, if you wanna hang out with her, that's fine. I mean, Jose hangs out with Max when she's not with us." Kie nodded, leaning a hand on the top of said girl's chair. "But I'm letting you know right now that I'm not doing anything with Sarah."

Josie sipped her sugary drink, humming in support. "And if she's ixnayed by Kie, then you can count me out too."

"Do you guys see her here? No...right. Okay, a little focus would be fantastic," he chastised. "We've got the map, right?"

"Well, it's all outta whack 'cause the guy was ganga'd when he drew it." JJ motioned down to the map, which Josie and Pope had noticed was quite the contrast to the one they were quite familiar with.

The auburn-haired girl shook her head, ghosting over an invisible line where there were stark differences she could memorize. "No, it's just because the coast has changed over time. Land sinks into the water; water lowers on some parts; plus, this was made before the big land extension in the eighties."

JJ nodded, mouth parting in an oh as he stood corrected and stared down at his best friend. Kie smirked at him smugly, and his gaze lifted to roll at her.

"So we just have to look for landmarks that haven't changed," Pope deduced, to which Josie acquiescently nodded.

"What about the old forts?" John B asked, gaze flicking between the two experts of the group.

"Battery Jasper," Kie concluded, pointing to the old military encampment on the map.

Josie grinned, giddiness running through her bones, and wrung her hands together. Excitedly, she leaned forward. "Visiting one of the best historical landmarks on the island? Sign me up. But first..." She turned to Kaira, adopting a sickeningly sweet smile. "How hard do I have to beg to get some breakfast out of you?"

☼

The pogues made their way to the old military fort, Battery Jasper, along the northern coast of Figure Eight. They neared the edge of the island—the marsh laid out in front of them. The stretch of mainland sat only miles out past them.

Josie led the way in her Jeep, while John B followed in the Twinkie as she familiarly navigated toward the old, miniscule ruins. Josie has spent much of her free time, from when she was eleven and upward, learning every tidbit of historical information about her home. It was only natural for her to have visited the historical landmarks of the island more than a dozen times.

She's built her entire life around her love of all things old—there was no way she was chill about visiting the old fort.

They drove toward some of the only remaining ruins of Battery Jasper, cutting them off and climbing out of their respective vehicles. As they approached the rocks, John B handed Josie back the map, which she and Pope laid out atop the ruins.

"We're in Battery, somewhere right around here." Josie pointed to their general vicinity on the map, matching the coast and landmarks. "So, if this area is parcel nine..." Her finger circled the words that determined the ninth section, before she looked up to gaze out at the landmass. "Then it's somewhere northeast of here."

Pope gestured in the general direction of northeast, and Josie lifted her camera to snap a few shots of Pope and the view. She stepped back to photograph the group as Kie offered a more specific deduction. "Somewhere over there."

"Right," Pope confirmed.

JJ pointed from his spot atop the rocks. "Over there? Guys, that's not Tannyhill, that's a subdivision."

"Tannyhill Plantation used to be the entire island," John B corrected. "Got sold into smaller pieces over time."

Josie and Pope shared a thoughtful look as she returned to his side, bending back down to take another look at the map. "Alright, so we're just looking for an old stone wall." Pope pointed out the illustration along the side of parcel nine.

Josie nodded, unsuccessful in finding any substantial markings that hinted at where they were supposed to go. "Okay, so why don't we head down that way and figure it out from there?" She offered, and the group all let out noises of agreement.

Once again, the five of them split up and packed into the cars. Josie called Pope and kept him on speaker, while JJ held the phone as they tailed the Twinkie.

Pope directed John B based on the squiggles of roads on the map. "Okay, so the road should split up here." His voice came through the phone, and Josie straightened to try and see past the van.

"Alright, you're gonna take a left." John B veered the car around the turn that was way sooner and sharper than Josie expected, unexpectedly freaking her out.

She franticly turned the wheel to follow him, leaning to the side as her car forcefully turned. "Shit, shit, shit! Pope, give me more than a two-second heads-up next time!" She stressfully exhaled, trailing the van further down the sandy road.

JJ snickered, shaking his head as Pope protested on the other line. "And you question why I always drive."

Josie smacked his arm, brows knitting in objection. "Shut up. That was not my fault." Her eyes turned back to the road, and he hummed, unconvinced.

Taking a few more turns, Josie pulled in behind the Twinkie as John B came to a stop on the side of the road. "That looks like a stone wall to me," JJ acknowledged into the phone.

"This is definitely it," Josie agreed, nodding at him. She jumped out of the driver's side and rounded the front to meet him on the passenger side, where he handed off her backpack and phone.

Once the rest of the group exited the van, they regrouped on the dirt path.

Their gazes traveled past the wall, toward the old house that sat a bit away behind it. The side paneling of the house was a faded green-gray, unchanged for as long as, Josie assumed, before she was born. The faded red roof reflected the day's sun, and the cat themed weathervane somehow made the house all the more eerie.

"Not the Crain house," John B mumbled as they eyed the building.

"Are you kidding me?" Kie stared up at the house in disbelief as the girls approached the stone barrier. Josie's shoulders sagged, and she stared up at the house with a bit of uncertainty. She'd seen Monster House before, and the situation was pretty reminiscent of that.

"Worst-case scenario," JJ pointed out as he returned to Josie's side.

"Why'd it have to be here..." Pope admonished, staring at the house with a displeased crease to his forehead. "Of all places?"

"Think it's been abandoned yet?" Josie wondered, gaze surveying the exterior. Maybe they could sneak in and snag a peek at some cool memorabilia. If no one knew that it'd been abandoned, then she would have ripe pickings for antique goodies.

"I heard that Mrs. Crain buried her husband's head on the property," JJ informed his friends as he pointedly turned to Pope.

"Well, Emma Potts also said that you cry when you finish, so let's not believe everything that's passed through probable hearsay, JJ," Pope flatly advised, discomfort from JJ's story evident in his tone.

The statement immediately garnered a snort of laughter from Josie. JJ turned to glare at her, and her smirk fell as she shook her head. "Sorry, sorry. Totally don't believe that." When he turned away, she pressed her tongue against her cheek to hide her humored expression she shared with John B.

Her blond best friend clasped his hands together, nodding toward the wall. "C'mon, Jose."

Before obliging, she stepped back to snap some photos of the wall and the house. John B posed for one of the photos with a silly peace sign, but they were cut short when Kie coughed for them to get a move on.

Josie begrudgingly let him assist her in climbing over the stone. After they had all found their way over it, they began to slink through the large, wild garden of the property.

"Look, you guys know whose house this is, right?" Kie questioned. As they navigated through the tall plants, Josie's eyes wandered over the old statues. Her fingers faintly ran across the stone figures as they passed, admiring the different forms they took.

"Oh yeah, no, I do," JJ confirmed from his spot behind Josie, hand pressed to her back as he rushed her along. After a particularly long moment when she'd observed a statuette, he'd taken it upon himself to hasten her forward.

"Honestly, I don't really believe the stories of this place," John B announced honestly, and the boys quickly turned at his loud tone.

"Shh."

John B's brow quirked. "What?"

"How have I never heard about these so-called stories?" Josie playfully admonished, tapping Kie's arm. "What stories?"

"The one where she killed her husband with an axe," Kie explained, while JJ rushed to lean in and follow alongside Josie. "And that she's been holed up ever since." She pursed her lips and shrugged nonchalantly, and Josie's eyes narrowed, unconvinced by the slightly playful tone of her best friend.

But the blond beside her was buying the entire thing as Kiara continued. "On certain nights, when the moon is full...you can see her in the window." Kie spookily whispered and wiggled her fingers teasingly, and Josie giggled at her friend's obvious teasing.

JJ shook his head, adamant. "No, Kie, it's not funny though, 'cause it's all true." He turned to glance at the redhead, who passed him with a smile, and the rest of their friends. "I swear to God, guys, this is all real. I knew Hollis. Jeez, gah." His fists flew up as he was suddenly spooked by a large statue.

Josie laughed once again and patted his arm in faux sympathy, amusement continuing to escape her due to his unnerved expression.

"Wait, you knew Hollis Crain?" Pope questioned, equally bought into the creepy rumors.

"Yeah, dude."

Admittedly, it was a little weird that JJ happened to know the daughter of the surmised murderer. Pope pushed on his shoulder in disbelief. "Dude, how do you know Hollis Crain?"

JJ glanced around at his friends as they came to a halt. "She was my babysitter, man. She told me all about it. Told me the truth...'bout her mother...and what happened in this house."

A tug on the side of Josie's shirt caused her to look up and find Kie's gaze directed up at the house. Her green eyes followed Kiara's brown ones, just able to catch a brief glimpse of the curtain moving in one of the windows.

That did it.

Josie shuddered, an eerily cold feeling filling her senses. She couldn't help but consider the possibility of the stories and claims being true. She'd watched enough Dateline to know that she shouldn't completely dismiss of the notion that she could've decapitated her husband.

Sometimes a man was just too much to deal with.

"So, as a kid, she heard all the stories that her mother killed her father, and she was a murderer and all. Hollis did believe it." His gaze trailed to the ground. "'Til that night."

"What night?" Josie and John B questioned in unison.

JJ's eyes quickly met Josie's. "It all came back to her." He turned to glance back at the house, while Josie and Pope shared a crooked brow. "When Hollis was six years old, she heard her parents arguing downstairs. So she goes downstairs to see her mom washing her hands in a sink..." He turned to give the pogues a serious look. "Full of blood."

John B turned to the rest of them, unsure, and Josie gave a half shrug. She was torn between knowing how dramatic her best friend could be and giving in to her own gullibility. "Her mother just says that she cut her finger. The next morning, she says her father and her split up-"

"Been there, lived that," Josie mumbled jokingly, but Pope nudged her side sternly and shook his head.

JJ continued. "But then, Hollis noticed something. Her mother going into the parlor, constantly, in and out, in and out with plastic bags. Weeks pass, and Hollis decides to use the outhouse. And as she's using it, she looks down, and there, in the outhouse..." He paused for a moment of dramatic effect, then looked up at John B. "Is her father's head, looking straight back at her."

"Pants down and all?" Josie inquired, squirming at the thought of seeing something like that in what was arguably a person's most vulnerable state. Even if she was hesitant to believe it, it was an awful hypothetical situation.

John B groaned, head thrown back. "God, you are so full of shit."

JJ shook his head firmly, looking at them insistently. "Dude, I swear to God, man."

"Did she call the police?" Pope asked, invested in JJ's story.

Josie snickered, as John B pushed past the rest of them to head toward the house, while JJ continued. "She didn't have time to-wait, hold on!" JJ ran to catch John B by the shoulder, stopping him from going any further. "Bro, hold up, dude!"

"What? What?" John B asked, pissed at JJ's childish attempts to slow down their mission. The rest of them regrouped around the duo.

"You sure you wanna do this? She's an axe murderer, man. You got a cast on." JJ gestured down to the black cast that wrapped John B's left forearm.

"I don't give a shit if she's an axe murderer, okay?" John B's claim earned wide eyes from Pope, bewildered by his friend's dismissal. "We got nothin' to lose, right? You comin' or what?" He made his way away from the group, continuing through the large grass.

"Come on," Kie looked to Josie, motioning her head toward John B before trailing behind him. JJ scratched his arm in doubt as Pope moved to follow them.

Josie looked up at JJ, who watched their retreating figures uncertainly, and grabbed his arm. "C'mon, JayJ. Operation Gold Rush can't succeed if there's no gold, and you're gonna have serious fomo if we find it without you." She walked backward with a sing-song voice, clicking her tongue and tugging his wrist.

They walked a bit further through the garden, before coming to a stop and crouching down in the tall grass. "Hey, c'mon. C'mere." John B whispered, waving them forward with his finger. Josie tripped on a small weed as she moved past JJ and Pope to squeeze in beside Kie, who stifled her laugh as John B continued. "So here's the plan. We need to look for the wheat near the water, like it said in Denmark's letter."

Pope's brow rose in question. "Okay, like, what kinda water? Like pond water?"

JJ chuckled. "Bong water?"

Everyone sported similarly scrunched foreheads as they turned to JJ, puzzled at how he could come to that conclusion. "No. It-it just said look for water, okay?"

"That's the shittiest secret message ever," Kie commented, wrapping her hand around Josie's wrist.

The older girl moved to follow her friend's careful footsteps further into the grass. "Honestly, yeah. I mean, the guy was cool and all, but his hinting skills are sub-par at best."

"You wanna complain a little more, guys? Nobody said it was gonna be easy," John B chastised.

Josie turned to peek over her shoulder. "No one expected it to be easy, JB. But it's four hundred mill. The least we could ask for is a better prepared treasure hunt." She was completely joking, but she enjoyed the flat look John B gave her. She waved her hand, moving to wander about the garden and search for any sign of water.

It only took a couple of minutes of stomping around in the wild plants of the garden, before Josie fumbled and tripped on the stone of one of the small statues. "Oh, shit!" Falling face first into the grass and prioritizing protecting her camera, Josie's knee scraped against the figure as she caught herself on her hands.

She could make out the immediate rustling of leaves, and Kie's form popped out from the tall plants. "Jose?" Kie's eyes landed on her female friend, who groaned on the ground as she sat up to inspect her knee. The younger girl snorted in laughter and moved to help the girl up, assisting her as they wiped the grass from her clothes.

"Sorry, little guy." Josie patted the small fountain she'd tripped over. It was one of the tiny ones that someone would probably use to give squirrels water, but it was left completely dry. She tsked in disappointment.

"Well, I would say this could be our water, but I think we'd have more luck looking in the Sahara."

"C'mon," Kie huffed humoredly, grabbing Josie's hand and guiding her closer to the house. The redhead gave her camera a once-over, making sure no damage had been done to it, and relaxed when she was satisfied with its state.

They rounded the building a few times, bumping into one another at certain spots as their eyes stayed peeled on their surroundings. Eventually, the girls found their way back to the front of the house, where John B was inspecting something in the siding.

"Hey, psst!" He called for the rest of them, as they all slowly communed back to the brunette's side. "Hey, c'mon. It's the only place we haven't looked."

Josie snorted as JJ came stumbling out of the brush, the sounds of a bird's squawking and wings flapping accompanying him. He fumbled to regain his balance from his spook and reunited with the group, falling into position beside the redhead. Josie then offered his arm a pat in fake consolation, and he stuck his tongue out at her in retaliation.

"Here we go," John B sighed, leading the group through the small door left unlatched. Kie trailed behind him as she bent down, and Pope looked at Josie to go next.

She shook her head, raising a hand toward the darkness. "No way, buddy. If there's any chance of bugs attacking us, I want a clear line of defense." She nodded into the crawlspace once again.

Pope rolled his head back in annoyance. Reluctantly, he bent down to enter ahead of her, and Josie went in after him. The eldest boy then turned, watching JJ enter after her. "If you wanted a defense between you and the bugs, why does he get to be last?"

Josie's face scrunched, as if the answer were obvious. "Because everyone knows you never go last, unless you want to die first. Duh."

"What?" JJ hissed from behind her, to which Josie offered a half shrug, and Pope sighed.

The ground continued on, as Josie dug the flashlight out from the side pocket of her bag and clicked it on. Every few seconds, she'd look over her shoulder to check if JJ was still in one piece behind her. But most of her focus was on looking for water andspider webs.

"Down came Mrs. Crain and cut off all our heads. Up came the sun and dried up all the blood," JJ sang as they moved forward.

"Can you stop?" Pope demanded, shining his flashlight at the blond. JJ halted at the direct addressal, and Josie snorted as their older friend turned back to the path ahead.

She took note of the items laid out under the house, recognizing the space to be some sort of storage basement, which was quite uncommon for where they lived. Still, Josie's keen eye for antiques scanned every nook and cranny of the items as they passed, as she almost completely forgot about why they were there.

Old bed frames and lamps, some furniture that looked to be in fair condition, old toys, books—some weathered with time and some still legible—and vintage paintings. It was Josie's version of a gold mine."

Her palm gently traced over one of the old, framed pictures, which looked to be from around the fifties or so. From what Josie could ascertain, the black-and-white photo captured some of the first few buildings in town that had been built when it was incorporated. The frame was a beautiful bronze color, faded with time, but still in good enough condition that it held the entire piece together.

She wiped across the dusty glass with her finger, crouching down further to get a closer look at the frame. "Oh, this is so cool," she mumbled, oblivious to the light that was shined in her direction.

"Jose, not the time," John B's voice rang out.

She turned to glance over her shoulder, lips pouting in a frown. "But...look at it." She scooted over a bit to lean the frame toward the group, waving at it sternly. When she caught the unimpressed look on her male friend's face, she huffed and gently placed it back where she'd found it.

As he turned away, she leaned back toward it to whisper. "I'll be back for you." She then rejoined her friends, coming to a stand as the area opened up.

"See any water?" Kie asked, moving her light to take in their surroundings. They all moved further into the space, scanning the walls and floor for any signs of dampness. "Another dead end?"

JJ raised his hand to run along the piping above them. "There's not even water on the pipes."

"There's no water here," Pope cynically concluded.

JJ shook his head as he continued to search the plumbing. "Not a dropamino."

"Know why we did find it?" Kie scrutinized, glancing at Josie as she pressed her lips in a thin line. "Bad karma."

"Oh, God. Here we go," John B mumbled.

"Y'know, we had a good thing going." Kie and John B tensely closed in on one another. "And then you decide to rope in Barbie, and now the trail's gone dry. Coincidence? Probably not."

"Facts," Josie added, gaze drifting along the ceiling. "Face it, B—you're like if one of the twelve disciples asked Judas for help after he betrayed Jesus. Total self-sabotage."

His finger rose, pointing between both girls. "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell either of you about Sarah."

Josie's face scrunched in enmity as Kie nodded. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. What the hell's the deal? What's goin' on with you three?"

"Nothing," Kie quickly interjected, shooting a sharp glare at Josie to keep her from spilling. The girl had, predictably, opened her mouth to offer an explanation. Exhaling through her nose, Josie's shoulders slumped, and she looked down at her fingers.

"Nothing? Is it because I kissed you? Is that the problem?" John B snarkily questioned, and Josie's mouth fell agape.

"John Booker!" Just as Josie's scold fell from her lips, Kie swiftly brought her hand up to slap John B across the face. To which Josie whooped in support. "That's my girl!"

"Oh," Pope groaned, as JJ let out an oh, shit!

"Your shit just got rocked, dude. That echoed," Josie humoredly chided.

"Stop treating me like I'm some girl that's obsessed with you, instead of your best friend who's actually trying to look out for you," she demanded. Josie nodded proudly, clapping her hands a few times in support.

"Did you, uh...hit me?" John B hostilely asked.

"Skeeter." Plainly, Kiara lifted her hand to show the dead bug on her palm.

"Skeeter?"

"Yeah, you see it?" Kiara teased with a straight face.

"Yeah." He abruptly returned the slap.

Josie and Pope let out an ooh at the same time. "No-" JJ started, but their friends continued on with their petty disagreement.

"Where's your proof?" Kie accused.

He held up his hand, also showing the squashed mosquito. "Skeeter."

"Yeah?" She smacked his chest. "There's probably one right there." Thus, a smacking competition commenced between the two of them, while the other three began to notice the bugs that surrounded them as well.

Josie swung at the air, trying to rid herself of the pests as she swatted around. She smacked herself on the arms and legs, reaching out to slap Pope's back when she caught one resting on his shirt. She swiftly turned around when a hand swatted the back of her knee, watching JJ as he lifted from where he'd leaned down to kill the bug.

"These things are a freakin' swarm," Pope complained, stumbling as he continued to swat around his head.

"Hey, shh, shh, keep it down," JJ admonished as Josie and Pope tripped over some wood as they swatted the bugs.

"Pope, why-why the hell..." Josie paused, swinging her hands at the bugs around her face. "Why the hell would there be so many mosquitoes in a basement?"

"Heck, dude. I know, seriously. Tiny vampire bats, just leave me alone." JJ complained, freaking as he hit the bugs. He clenched his hands into fists, pretending to punch the bugs as they buzzed around him.

Josie snickered as he spun around frantically, trying to catch sight of any bugs along his back. It wasn't dissimilar to that of a dog trying to chase his tail, which was a hilarious sight to behold. She took the opportunity to playfully smack the butt of his gray shorts, stifling her laughter as he turned to gawk at her.

"What? I swore I saw a bug." She breathed through her laughs, holding the back of her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

"You just wanted to cop a feel." He glared at her in fake malice, reaching out to return the favor, when his eyes caught the bug on his arm. They both slapped the skin, groaning as it moved to his shirt. "Oh, my gosh. Okay, can we leave? 'Cause I'm already itchin' to leave." He swatted his palm on the back of Josie's shirt, rubbing the dead bug off on his shorts, as he slightly laughed at his own joke. "Haha. Punny."

"That was so dumb." Josie scoffed through a smile, smacking his stomach.

Pope tapped the back of Josie's arm, and she turned at the sudden contact. She watched him flash his light down to the loose boards of the floor, lightly stepping on them with the toe of his shoe.

She cocked her head and listened carefully, noting the fact that the sound traveled not only above the floor but below it too. Unlike the rest of the floor, the loose echo and wobble of the wood suggested that there was sufficient space in the ground under that spot. It was questionable—that was for sure.

Josie leaned forward, flashing her light down to see if she could peek between the cracks. To no avail, she instead repeated Pope's movements with her own shoe. When the board croaked, her gaze shot up at him.

"Y'know, I just found Mrs. Crain's voodoo doll, guys." JJ held up the creepy doll for everyone to see. Josie and Pope ignored him, eyes trained on the peculiar flooring. The gears turning in their heads were practically audible, and Josie looked up to Pope to mimic something falling and splashing into water, to which he nodded.

"Oh shit," Kie giggled as JJ waved the doll around, looking to see if he could gain Josie's attention. He frowned when she, instead of looking at him, crouched down and grabbed a small rock to hand to Pope.

"Alright, can we leave this? 'Cause this is getting..." JJ's words trailed off in the same moment Josie and Pope registered the echoing sound of the rock hitting the water.

Instantly, their widened gazes shot up to meet each other at the confirmation of their hypothesis. They both quickly stood from their crouches to begin moving the junk from the floor. They were met with the sounds of refutation from their friends, who all shot forward to shush them and stop them from making noise.

JJ tugged Josie's arm questioningly as John B grabbed Pope's shoulder. "Hey. Help us move this." When John B shushed Pope, he quietly repeated himself. "Help me move this."

"Okay, just...quiet," John B scolded, and everyone quickened to get the junk up from the floor. They continued to "sh!" each other when someone was a little too loud, scuffling along the wood.

"She's probably right upstairs," Kie explained as they lifted the wooden board from their flat positions.

It was instantaneous—the bubbling of Josie's stomach. As soon as she saw the drop of the chasm below the house, she shuffled away from the group to bend over and silently gag.

She ignored the concerned hiss of her name, trying to calm the terrified tremble that overcame her. Her palms pressed down on her knees, as she tried to catch the breaths she'd unknowingly lost.

The group all moved to shine their flashlights down the hole, as Kie looked over her shoulder to wordlessly wave Josie over to them. But the girl adamantly shook her head, cowering back as her chest closed from the mere thought of accidentally tripping and tumbling down the dark abyss.

JJ reached his hand out behind him, while the rest of them continued to comfortingly beckon her closer. "C'mon, I'll hold your hand the entire time. Won't let you fall, promise."

Hesitantly, and so reluctantly, Josie took his hand and promptly tangled their fingers together to ensure a firm grip. The whispered sounds of her friends' supportive affirmations guided her a bit closer to the well, clutching her best friend's hand like a lifeline. As everyone sank down to their knees, Josie did the same. Except, she remained an appropriate distance away from the side.

"Well, well, well," Pope joked, much to Josie's chagrin. She would've moved to smack him if she wasn't terrified of him falling.

"That was a good dad joke," John B muttered in appraisal, looking down at the hole in awe. He crouched down to match their positions, and Josie had to hold back the vomit that threatened to escape as he leaned forward.

"I'm gonna be sick." She quietly groaned, looking away from the drop to shake her head. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to settle the disgusted feeling.

"They built this part of the house right over it." Kie shook her head in disbelief.

"This is where she hid the bodies," JJ added, making Josie shove his shoulder in disapproval and revulsion.

"Shut up, don't say that. I will throw up on you."

"Stop." Kie shook her head condemnatorily at him, also unwilling to think about that possibility.

"No, I'm dead serious." JJ turned to Josie, who leaned away from the hole again to hide her face in her own shoulder.

"Stop it," Kie demanded again, to which Pope shushed her as her volume carried above them.

"It was never an outhouse-" JJ continued blankly, but Kiara once again admonished him.

"She probably doesn't even know it's here."

"So..." Pope started, grinning up at John B. "We found water."

"We're gonna need a really big rope." John B smirked, looking down at the hole in elation. They couldn't all jump for joy like they wanted to, too aware of the fact that they had to remain silent. But that was it—that was the water they'd been looking for.

They'd actually done it.

⋄ ⋟⋆ june 25, 2020

does humanity greet you like an old friend, or do you have to pry it free from the confines of naivety? when will I learn to be a real person? someone who respects themself enough to acknowledge and break apart from the bloody claws that choke the life out of my ever-loving soul. will it even happen in this lifetime? I love so completely that I wonder what I would do in the singed clutches of the devil himself. I'm too soft, and it is my greatest weakness. I choose to forgive, but why? why do we forgive the lifeless barrel of a gun when it's still pressed against our skin? why do we forgive the searing fire when it permanently scalds and morphs our skin until it's unrecognizable? in the same breath, I question, why didn't god forgive satan? why didn't he offer love and guidance to the most lost of them all? is it even worth giving those people love and forgiveness? is that my biggest fault? that I can't find the answer to that question. love and forgiveness are built in my bones. I believe in the goodness of humanity—of others. Even when it hurts me. I bear my wounds openly, begging for someone to kiss the mortally wounded tissue the same way I happily would. I would dig into the gashes of my own soul if it meant making my loved ones happy. I'd bleed for anything that held me the right way.

- josephine grey ⋄ ⋟⋆

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mannequinreligi0n · 2 years ago

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Stefano Valentini Drabble

A little blurb about stefano pre-stem but post-accident. Y’know him dealing with the angst of recovery after his accident. I have it posted here on my AO3, if you’d rather read there. Also if you’d like, you can check out on my main blog, where I’m actually active lol. Enjoy!

It’s strange waking up to only seeing half the world. Such an adjustment. Stefano awoke every morning with his subconscious still expecting to see a full view of his bedroom, til he finally rubbed away the sleep and could register that this was his new normal. ‘A new way of seeing’ is what his doctor had told him, but how could a doctor fully grasp what sight meant to an artist? His eyes were an extension of the camera he held, they were a tool, a necessity. What is a painter without hands? A singer with no tongue? Useless. And that’s how he felt - useless. It was a cruel joke that he couldn’t find the humor in, yet he could see everyone else point and laugh in harmony in the back of his mind.

Still, he slowly made his way out of bed and mentally gathered himself for the day. Making his way to the bathroom, he flickered on the lights to expose his distorted image to the mirror. Almost with guilt, he furrowed his brow at the reflection. It’s one thing to look tired from a night’s sleep, but it’s a completely different anomaly to look tired due to life. It ages the soul and deepens the wrinkles that litter a face. Stefano leaned forward to study his face further, removing the bandages around his head. The asymmetry of his eyes hurt his still waking brain. It’s like looking at a puzzle that has lost a few pieces; you know what the image is supposed to be but it’s not what it should be.

A deep breath takes him out of the staring contest with himself, forcing his aching body into the shower. It’s been a month since he left the hospital and yet every time he blinks, he expects to be right back on the field, staring at an open sky while men scream and scurry around him. No one prepares you for life-changing accidents, but no one really prepares you for the aftermath. To wake up every day after and know that you can never be who you were before - there are now two versions of yourself, past and present. Stefano can’t help but feel that the past version of himself lingers like a shadow, mocking him for how pathetic he is now.

The warm water hits his skin lightly, ghosting around the scars on his right shoulder that creep up his neck. Shaking hands carefully kneed at the flesh, aiming to soothe his growing frustration and discomfort. The doctor said it would take several weeks, maybe months, til he felt like himself again.

He couldn’t wait that long.

Patience is a virtue and Stefano had none left to give. Anger and restlessness ate at him, awaiting for the moment he had control of his life once more. He hated not being able to put full effort into his work, and he especially hated that it was his own fault. There was nothing to blame but his own reckless ambitions. ‘Guilt is an ugly thing’ , he thought. Sighing, he continued his shower, nursing the wounds on his face. Cleaning them gently, he familiarized himself to his still new features. This was his life now. Disfigured and damaged. But he supposed that the most beautiful things in the world were almost always imperfect. However, he always found it quite hard to apply his own ideologies to himself.

Turning off the water, Stefano stepped out carefully and dried himself off. He re-bandaged his right eye as precisely as he could in the early morning hours and made his way to get dressed for the day. He had a decently full schedule of work ahead of him, and though his doctor pleaded that he’d take it easy, Stefano knew that fully diving into back into his work routine would bring him closer to closing the gap between the past and present versions of himself. No medicine or therapy appointments would heal him quite like holding a camera in his hand. So he packed his bag and gathered his equipment, muttering small encouraging words to himself. It would be a long day, but perhaps it was a step in the right direction.

#the evil within #the evil within 2 #tew #stefano valentini #writing #fanfic #tw ptsd

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netegf · 2 years ago

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pls i couldn't resist using this pic im SO HYPE FOR THIS CHAPTER!!! 🥰🥰🩷🩷🙏🏼

The surrounding Na'vi watched in horror as he drew his final breath, and then he was gone. It shattered Y/N. Her frozen composure suddenly moved, then a loud cry, as if she was in physical pain. A cry that had been suppressed for countless years, ingrained deep within her throat since the tragic day her parents were taken from her. Like an overwhelmingly big wave, desperation, remorse and guilt threatened her with loneliness she could no longer bear.

the moment of truth!!!!😭😭😭😭😭 i know how much kaye hurt reader, but i can also appreciate him for the good moments they shared together, and ultimately i do mourn him 😔🙏🏼💖 i also feel!!!! so distressed for reader bc... will she even be allowed to mourn the way she deserves bc kaye is mated to someone else and she is neteyam's intended 🥺🥺🥺🥺 this is how u know you've created an incredible world, because the emotions and heart-break and dilemmas are so REAL!!!

“Neteyam,” she whispered weakly, unsure of what exactly she was asking of him, but he understood anyway. His arms opened instinctively, inviting her into an embrace, and the force with which her body collided with his threatened to knock him off balance. Her face pressed tightly against his chest, arms wrapped around his back, pressing on all of the wounds she was treating just a few moments ago, hurting him but he paid it no mind. She sobbed against him, and with every breath she took, he cradled her head gently, drawing her closer. Y/N’s words came in a blur, and he couldn’t understand what she was trying to tell him, but before he could even ask, Kiri appeared next to them, her hands resting on Y/N's back.

stop this actually made my heart clench!!!!!!!😫😫😫😫😫😫 the desperation and need for comfort!!!!! the way he doesn't even hesitate to provide it for her with open arms!!!! i relate so hard sometimes u just need to be squeezed until the pain starts to subside :'(((( so so so so beautiful and emotional im in absolute love 🥹🥹🥹💗💗💗💗💗

"I must have caused a scene…" Y/N's voice hitched, her gaze shifting downward as she fidgeted in her seat, "I didn't mean to... to... I'm not his mate... I mean, I just... and right next to Yäyä... I had no right to..." "The right to grieve?" Neteyam completed her thought, his frown deepening. "Y/N, you have every right to feel pain. You were in love with him."

i am literally going to fling myself into the sun he's the best man in the entire world i CANNOT BREATHE!!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷 i just love the way he says it with his full chest and he isn't angry or jealous (at least in a way that reveals itself as ugly or vindictive) - he's so comforting, so validating..... sweet sweet boy <3

that last line is literally killer it's murderous i'm having heart palpitations

Days seemed to stretch on endlessly, each one feeling like a month, and it was only at nights when Y/N felt just a little like herself.

i just need to emphasize how much i resonate with this <33333🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

To make the matters worse, the vision from his Dream Hunt relentlessly invaded his dreams every night. There she was, the graceful and strong woman standing beside him, holding his hand, haunting his subconscious that was already stirred with the events in his life. The unusually long necklace, adorned with blue feathers and layered twice, hung from her neck, cascading down to her hips. But as his eyes tried tracing her face, it felt like the image of her slipped through his grasp like sand. No matter how hard he tried, her face remained a mystery. He would wake up in the middle of the night, the vision of this woman lingering in his mind, and he would desperately try to recapture the moments, hiding his face in between his knees and squeezing his eyes shut to go back. But his thoughts would invariably drift to his soon-to-be mate

first of all omg i love love love this idea that the finalization of the date kind of has them both in shambles because i think that is so authentic!! something about a date makes everything feel so real so i completely understand how that might wake them up a little bit from this kind of serene period of bonding they've had since kaye's death

and i also adore this description about the vision 😭😭😭💖💖💖 nete trying to figure out who this woman is - god, you ever have a good dream and then u actively recognize how good it is in that moment, and then ur suddenly awake because of that feeling of consciousness... i literally can't tell u how many times i've tried to get back in a specific sleeping position to see if a dream would continue so i feel this so so hard and it's so beautifully written <3

“Well, can I see your gift?” Y/N challenged him back. “No, but -” “Then I’m not showing you this. It’s not finished yet.” He smirked, finding the whole banter just amusing and relaxing for the first time in days, but decided not to push it. Deciding to give her a little more space, he leaned back on his palms and watched with a glint in his eyes, as Y/N quickly gathered her supplies away, hiding the necklace as promptly as she could under her working table.

me reading this banter 🤭🤭🤭🩷🩷🩷🩷

He caught her palm in his hand, gently placing it against his chest just above his ribcage, and both of their heartbeats picked up. Y/N looked up at him with tenderness, surprised by the intimate gesture, but it felt more profound than any moment she had ever shared with Kaye. The intensity in Neteyam's eyes mirrored her own emotions, as if he was pleading for something, anything from her. When his eyes fell to her lips, a blush warmed her cheeks, and Y/N cleared her throat. Quickly, Neteyam withdrew his hand, rising to his feet. The air in the room suddenly filled with a hint of awkwardness

*whispering softly to myself* the tenderness the tenderness the tenderness the tenderness!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭💗💗💗💗💗🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

“I can’t lose you too,” a tear streamed down her cheek. As the first rays of sunrise painted the sky, Neteyam's heart swelled with a love as vast as the forests of Pandora. The sight of her, standing there with tear-filled eyes, pleading for him to stay, stirred something deep within him. He could feel the roots of their connection grow stronger, intertwining with his every fiber. With a tender touch, he wiped her cheek with his palm, then tucked the hair behind her ear. “I will be safe, I promise.” “I can’t let you go.”

this whole sequence has me in such a chokehold 😭😭😭😭 seeing her be so up front and honest about her distress and wanting him to stay is so heartbreaking but also so freeing in a sense because her whole relationship with kaye had to be hidden :'((( so her strength to be so outwardly desperate in this conversation is so admirable and sweet 🥹🥹🥹💖💖💖💖

Once the tent was empty, Y/N took a moment before finally turning around to face Neteyam. He still had that soft look on his face that made it dawn upon her how much she missed him. And that maybe she loved him?

omg there's literally so much to talk about - firstly the casual delivery of this line is EVERYTHING! 🤭🤭💖💖💖 i can literally feel their love growing for each other it's so cute :'))) + the moment that reader said she believes tsahik literally made me SQUEAL!!

i love love love seeing more of the sully's!!!! the family vibes and the comforting feelings!!! the subtle teasing and neteyam's return after the mission <333 PDA???????

TUK'S NECKLACE BEING THE NECKLACE!!!! fr the girl of his dreams omg

this chapter was literally a dream come true and i am so so so excited for the finale <3333🥹🥹🥹🥹💗💗💗💗💗 such amazing and heartfelt work as always i am so so so happy rn!!!!!

Chosen by Eywa - New Beginnings - Chapter 5

← chapter 4 | chapter 6 →

contains: arranged marriage, mentions of war and grief, angst, one-sided enemies to lovers, slow burn

wc: 5.8k

chosen by eywa masterlist | general avatar masterlist

a/n: see? i promised two chapters within a week and i'm delivering!!! also the next chapter is going to be the finale and i'm so bummed out about it. i feel very connected to this story and planning it from the beginning had brought me lots of peace

For a while, Y/N remained frozen, watching from a distance as the Na’vi surrounded the motionless body of her former love. Neteyam, who felt sick to his stomach just from the mere sight of Kaye, anxiously observed Y/N, waiting for something to happen, though he wasn’t sure what exactly to expect. Any kind of reaction instilled a sense of dread within him; would she ever be able to move on from that?

Jake had no time to recount the entire situation over the wired comms device. As the Olo’eyktan, he had to explain everything in a hurry to Neteyam, while also soaring through the territory in case anyone else defied the curfew and needed to be protected. But Jake’s voice gave it away - the worry, the guilt he had carried as the chief for such a pointless death. Kaye, who had lost his tracking device earlier, during the surveillance, and had been instructed to just abandon it, opted for sneaking after the curfew and searching for it. Joined by a friend, they landed within the area and continued their search on foot, when a single bullet suddenly found its mark beneath Kaye’s ribcage, tearing right through his left lung. The devilish human, a vile being who had no business lurking the land this late, and who had possessed neither the size nor the strength to bring down a Na’vi, somehow managed a victory. One that he’d boast about to his comrades later. By the time Kaye was hoisted onto the back of his friend's ikran and flown back to camp, it was already too late.

The Na'vi pressed closer to Kaye, shielding him from her view, but she surged forward to close that distance. It was as if she believed she could somehow resurrect him, breathe life back into his still form. It was strange and peculiar — how could a woman, bound to another man, suddenly mourn so passionately for a stranger?

Sobbing, she drew nearer, but hands, one after another, pushed her away from Kaye. Encountered with resistance and hushed pleas to calm down, Y/N only grew more desperate to reach him. Neteyam trailed closely behind her, but refrained from restraining her. Y/N was giving a piece of herself that she had kept closed off for years, as she crumbled before the entire clan. But he could only wait for her to reach for him when she was ready.

Yäyä’s cry was what pierced through the atmosphere then, bringing the crowd to a stillness. Having performed the sacred bond with Kaye and falling for him, his death felt like a nightmare. A nightmare she’d likely have after Kaye’s small but reckless rebellions, fueled by the desire to resist his parents' authority sometimes. As people stepped away, some not quick enough and pushed aside by her determined shoves, Yäyä pressed forward to make her way to her mate.

Through the haze, Y/N watched the unraveling scene and then it suddenly hit her like a thunderbolt. It should have been her, not Yäyä. To be bearing the weight of the loss, to forge a connection with Kaye, then ultimately release him back into the embrace of the Great Mother. Tears blurred Y/N's vision as she watched the poor girl kneel beside her beloved's lifeless body, hunching over him as if she was shielding him from the prying gazes of others.

Neteyam gulped down nervously, his hand reaching out to gently grasp Y/N's upper arm. His touch was delicate, so light that she barely registered it. Y/N turned her gaze towards him, her brows furrowing in a pitiful expression, and in that moment he thought he could hear his heart drop at the sight.

“Neteyam,” she whispered weakly, unsure of what exactly she was asking of him, but he understood anyway.

His arms opened instinctively, inviting her into an embrace, and the force with which her body collided with his threatened to knock him off balance. Her face pressed tightly against his chest, arms wrapped around his back, pressing on all of the wounds she was treating just a few moments ago, hurting him but he paid it no mind. She sobbed against him, and with every breath she took, he cradled her head gently, drawing her closer. Y/N’s words came in a blur, and he couldn’t understand what she was trying to tell him, but before he could even ask, Kiri appeared next to them, her hands resting on Y/N's back.

“Y/N, let’s get away from here, yeah?”

Kiri and Neteyam shared a knowing look, and he nodded in agreement. Slowly, he began to step back, gently guiding Y/N with him, never releasing his hold on her. Almost instinctively, Y/N's feet followed the movements of his body, as if they were entrained to his every step.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The remainder of the night passed by in a blur. Y/N had barely come to terms with the fact that the man she had once loved was now gone. No matter how much she regretted being with him, being his, no matter how much she hated him, nothing could have outweighed the immense pain she felt at his loss. Even though he had never truly been hers to begin with. The haunting image of Yäyä, broken and fragile, crumbling under the weight of grief, sent shivers down her spine.

Neteyam, who had brought Y/N back home with Kiri, now found himself alone with her. Kiri had promised to check on them later, as her assistance was required with the preparations for the upcoming funeral. Sitting on the ground, Y/N’s back leaned into his chest, the position that would have been awkward in any other circumstance, but now provided a sense of comfort. Y/N was no longer crying, and though Neteyam couldn’t see her face, he could guess that she had calmed down.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, turning her face to meet his gaze. He furrowed his brows in response, his eyes tracing the trails of dried tears on her cheeks.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"The right to grieve?" Neteyam completed her thought, his frown deepening. "Y/N, you have every right to feel pain. You were in love with him."

"I know," she sniffled, "But I wasn't -" another sniffle interrupted her words, "I'm sorry if it causes you any trouble."

"Y/N, I don't care about any of that," he assured her, his voice gentle, soothing like cool water against weary muscles.

Y/N shook her head, still refusing to meet his gaze. Now that the situation had settled in and she reflected on her actions, she had realized that she took away from the secrecy of their relationship with Kaye. And along with it, she made a cut in Neteyam’s carefully crafted image. Made space for the clan to speculate.

"Look at me," he insisted, gently lifting her chin with a finger, "You have every right to grieve for someone you loved. Nothing else matters."

She nodded weakly, her hand wrapping around his wrist in silent gratitude. Neteyam's eyes roamed across her face, searching for something he couldn't quite articulate. He gulped.

“We are a team, remember? Whether we like it or not, you can rely on me.”

And so, Neteyam stayed by her side throughout the night. He dozed off from time to time, only to awaken and check if she was still peaceful in his embrace. Neteyam wondered if she was truly comfortable in that position. He tried shifting his weight every now and then, attempting to create more space for her, but she’d only grumble in dissatisfaction and cling tighter to his chest.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The loss of Kaye, this time both literal and physical, was more dull rather than acute. Days seemed to stretch on endlessly, each one feeling like a month, and it was only at nights when Y/N felt just a little like herself. Neteyam became her guardian, shielding her fragile bubble from any disruptions, not tolerating even his grandmother, who sought to push Y/N back into her duties. He understood that she needed her time, and he was ready to give her as much as she required, becoming the only consonant in her routine. His heart swelled with a clinging torturous protectiveness towards her that he embraced without hesitation.

Eventually, though it still seemed too soon, Y/N returned back to her duties. The lessons she had missed were especially hard, but she only encouraged the challenge because it helped her take her mind off things. But what distracted her even more, an undeniable part of her recovery, was the man she was promised to. As if Neteyam had effortlessly woven himself into her thoughts, his scent lingered in her home, his gaze on her was so warm, it surpassed the brilliance of a thousand suns. Slowly, but surely, somethin started to bloom inside of her that felt beyond gratitude and loyalty towards him.

Now more often than out of obligation, their paths continued to intersect, with Neteyam seeking her out in between his breaks under the reasoning of checking on her. Small activities they shared nestled the dearest place in her heart, easing the scars left behind by Kaye's tragic passing. Like a balm for her wounds, Neteyam became everything that she craved.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

All that time, Neteyam feared that Kaye’s death would affect the fragile relationship he had with Y/N, thinking that she would drift further away under the weight of grief. But when she leaned on Neteyam instead, seeking comfort and finding strength in his support, he realized that maybe the roots of their bond had taken deeper than they ever saw coming. And if they survived this, then maybe they could face anything together.

But the newfound confidence quickly wavered with a single announcement. The fear of tying their lives together was mutual, seeped into both of their thoughts. They couldn’t deny the pull they felt for another but the weight of the ceremony, looming over them as an unknown abyss, was too heavy to sustain.

“You two look like ghosts, what did grandmother say?” Kiri was eager to tease her brother and Y/N, once they walked out of Mo’at’s tent.

Y/N felt a knot form in her stomach at the question, glancing up at Neteyam next to her, who seemed equally anxious, chewing on his bottom lip. Was their bond strong enough to survive such timing? Kiri, tired of waiting, raised her eyebrows to urge them to speak.

“Tsahik has set the day for the ceremony,” Neteyam took a deep sigh before passing the news to his sister, "It will take place in ten days' time, during the next full moon."

“So soon?” Kiri questioned, glancing between her brother and Y/N.

“The bond between two mates is supposed to be sacred, and Eywa has deemed it the right time for our union,” Y/N repeated Mo’at’s words.

Neither of them protested.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“I can’t today,” Y/N forced an apologetic smile, “There's so much to prepare for the ceremony. I’m sure you’d -”

“I understand,” Neteyam nodded eagerly to convince her he really did, “I have preparations to make as well.”

Y/N let out a sigh of relief, the interaction had been repeated a few times already over the course of the past few days, ever since Mo’at had declared the date for the blessing of their union as mates. Neteyam backed out of the healing tent with a sheepish smile, but his mind was a mess. He couldn’t understand why she suddenly made him so nervous? The weight of the approaching ceremony fueled his unease every time he saw her now.

What was Y/N feeling? There was a whirlwind of emotions, bundled up from the loss, from the gain, from the upcoming unknown. But she wasn’t quite ready to face their depths. So she occupied herself with preparations for the ceremony earnestly, not out of her wish to become Neteyam’s, rather out of desperation to avoid him as much as she could. Seeing him made it all too real, too rushed, so instead she had declared herself to be busy for walks, for talks, for any kind of interaction that’d be long enough to give away her anxiousness.

To choose and make the ceremonial special mixes, to weave her garments, to prepare a gift for her future mate - everything seemed to be more important, than spending time with Neteyam. But deep down, she was just scared. Of facing the guilt she carried for letting go of Kaye and having her heart beat for Neteyam now.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The night was draped in a blanket of darkness when Neteyam found himself standing outside Y/N’s home, the faint flicker of light from the inside drawing him closer. He hesitated for a moment before nearing the entrance. He wanted to respect this distance between them that she eagerly seeked out but it’s been too difficult.

The sight of Y/N immediately took his breath away. Under the soft glow of the handmade fluorescent lamps, Y/N was hunching over a piece of unfinished jewelry, her fingers working swiftly, with far more ease than when she worked on mats. The piece resembled a traditional Omatikaya necklace but its intricacy suggested a higher rank than any of their clan members would typically wear. It was as if she had envisioned him wearing it one day, in his rightful place as the Olo'eyktan. Neteyam gulped nervously at the thought.

Y/N, sensing his presence, suddenly looked up from her work, eyes widening in surprise to find him standing there. It had been a while since they had been truly alone together, ever since the announcement of the ceremony.

“Neteyam?” her voice was quiet, “What are you doing here?”

Neteyam cleared his throat, his gaze lingering on the unfinished necklace for a moment.

"I... I couldn't stay away," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I saw the light and... I wanted to see what you were doing."

Y/N clutched the half-finished necklace, hiding it from his view with a hurry. A small pout settled on her face from his sudden curiosity.

“It’s not done, stop looking,” she ordered protectively.

“Is it for me?” Neteyam couldn’t resist the prying.

He stepped further, sitting down in front of her and craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the piece she was masterfully hiding from him. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head in amusement at the childish behavior.

“Seriously, aren’t you going to show it to me?”

“No, it has to be a surprise,” she was a little irritated with his sternness.

“Really?” he quirked an eyebrow with irony.

“Well, can I see your gift?” Y/N challenged him back.

“No, but -”

“Then I’m not showing you this. It’s not finished yet.”

He smirked, finding the whole banter just amusing and relaxing for the first time in days, but decided not to push it. Deciding to give her a little more space, he leaned back on his palms and watched with a glint in his eyes, as Y/N quickly gathered her supplies away, hiding the necklace as promptly as she could under her working table.

“Why are you even awake at this hour?”

Her question caused him to falter. It really has slipped his mind to come up with an excuse to invade her space this late at night.

“I guess… I wanted to check on you. We haven’t spoken in a while.”

“We spoke this morning.”

“No, not like that,” Neteyam shook his head, “I mean a real conversation.”

“Yeah, well… we have been busy, it’s not like…” Y/N trailed off guiltily.

“Not like you were avoiding me?”

“What? No!” she quickly withdrew from the accusation, though it was a truthful one.

“Come on, Y/N. I can see that you’re dreading to spend time with me. I know this timing for the ceremony is not ideal, but if we just push through this together, instead of doing it alone -” his words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush, but Y/N interrupted him, pressing a finger to his lips. His eyes widened, waiting for an explanation.

"I'm just nervous," she confessed softly, her hand falling back into her lap.

“You are?”

“Of course, aren’t you?”

“Are you kidding me? I haven’t slept in a week!” Neteyam chuckled with relief.

A soft smile stretched Y/N’s lips, and under the soft light, it almost seemed like Neteyam was glowing too, a bright orange warmth radiated from within his chest and spread out all the way to his cheeks.

“I didn’t know that you had the ability to get nervous,” Y/N couldn't help but tease.

He gave her a lopsided smirk, almost as if he was annoyed but at the same time excited that the feeling of being wrapped up in her comfort had finally returned.

"Even I can have flaws sometimes," he playfully retorted, earning a playful smack on his chest in response.

"Well, I better go. I have to wake up early tomorrow," he hurriedly explained, "It's... um, a really important mission."

Y/N nodded with slight disappointment, not sure if it was aimed more at him or at herself.

“Good luck, Neteyam.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Neteyam!” Y/N shouted, her eyes fluttering open.

With a ragged breath and cheeks wet from tears, she jumped off of her mat immediately, having just woken up from a vivid nightmare. Her heart pounded at the images of Neteyam going off the mission and never returning. This rotten feeling of something bad happening gripped her stomach, urging her to rush out of her home as soon as her feet could carry her.

It was already an early morning, sun just barely rising from behind the horizon, and Y/N feared she might have been too late. Her steps were fueled by desperation, as she finally made it to Sully's home, ignoring the cold morning air sending shivers down her skin. Before she could proceed further into the pod, Jake, who went unnoticed by the young woman, caught her attention.

“Are you okay, kid?” he raised his eyebrows in response to her flinch, clearly not expecting to be seeing him.

The Olo’eyktan was sitting on the ground, his back leaning against the wall, the strange sky people's weapons were laid out in front of him, as he was in the middle of checking every single one before the day ahead. Y/N only nodded, the reality of her actions just settling in, turning her cheeks dark blue from all the embarrassment crashing in.

“Oel ngati kameie,” she quickly signed to him, bowing her head slightly, “Is Neteyam still home?”

Jake hummed with a slight confusion, still unsure of what the girl had been doing so early in the morning there, clearly distraught. But before he could voice out his response, Neteyam already walked out of the pod, with his mother right behind him. Y/N’s eyes quickly traced the similar weapons adorning both Na’vi, their war paint already on. She caught them just a moment before they were ready to leave, and drew in a small breath of relief.

“Oel ngati kameie,” she gestured quickly to Neytiri, her eyes darting between the woman and her son.

Both were surprised to see her there but the anxiousness plastered over Y/N’s face worried Neteyam. He greeted her back, silently asking for an explanation with his gaze. Just like Jake, Neytiri observed the exchange with a small frown.

“Y/N, is something wrong?” Neteyam urged her gently, his own voice haltering at the sudden fear of rejection.

He went home last night content with their mutual confessions, thinking that they had reached an understanding. But right then, as she stood before him like that, doubts started reappearing in his mind. What if she was there to tell him she wasn’t ready? That she regretted agreeing to the union?

“I have to speak with you right now,” Y/N requested with a stern voice.

“We don’t have time for that, kid,” Jake intervened, as he stood up from his seat, “Once Lo’ak is ready, we’re leaving for the mission.”

Y/N’s eyes darted pleadingly between the three Sully’s. Her hand reached out for Neteyam’s, clinging to him, as she glanced back at Jake, her voice breaking.

“It is very important, please.”

“Jake,” Neytiri finally chimed in, her tone empathetic, “Let them speak.”

The chief shook his head with slight irritation but complied with his mate’s wish anyway. His gaze softened once it landed on their intertwined hands.

“Alright, but only for a minute. I’m serious, Neteyam.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quickly, Y/N nodded in gratitude to the Olo’eyktan, as she led Neteyam slightly away from them, enough to feel safe in her confession. Her eyes were already tearing up, and she wasn’t really sure why, but Neteyam tensed up immediately, preparing himself to take whatever she was going to throw at him.

"Neteyam, you can't go on this mission. I had a dream, and... you never came back from it. You can't go now," she began to babble, her words rushed and jumbled together.

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” he frowned, barely managing to get anything out of what she said.

"I saw you in my dream! You got shot and fell from your ikran during the mission. I lost you," she choked, her eyes welling up with tears once again. "Please, you have to listen to me."

“Y/N, I can’t miss out on this mission. It is too important,” Neteyam stepped closer, his voice reassuring her with his gentle tone, “You just had a nightmare. It wasn’t real.”

“I can’t lose you too,” a tear streamed down her cheek.

As the first rays of sunrise painted the sky, Neteyam's heart swelled with a love as vast as the forests of Pandora. The sight of her, standing there with tear-filled eyes, pleading for him to stay, stirred something deep within him. He could feel the roots of their connection grow stronger, intertwining with his every fiber. With a tender touch, he wiped her cheek with his palm, then tucked the hair behind her ear.

“I will be safe, I promise.”

“I can’t let you go.”

“My child,” Neytiri's voice broke the moment, drawing their attention.

Y/N hastily wiped away her eyes, aware that Neytiri had likely overheard their conversation. In the past days, most of Y/N’s time was spent on the preparations, occupying herself with endless options for things that were not as important as just her being ready mentally. But the pressure of perfection weighed even heavier on Y/N under Neytiri's watchful presence. As a Na'vi deeply rooted in tradition and loyalty to their home, Neytiri's opinion held great significance. Y/N couldn't help but feel a nervousness, fearing that her choices would be met with disapproval. Though she didn’t know that Neytiri’s attentiveness was only fueled by the intention of seeking out signs that Y/N and her eldest son were finally growing closer. Now seeing the way Y/N teared up at the mere thought of Neteyam getting hurt had finally satisfied that curiosity.

“Do not worry about Neteyam, he is a skilled warrior, and he will be safe,” she stepped closer to Y/N, hand reaching out to softly pat her back.

“But the dream -”

“It is only a bad dream,” Neytiri interrupted the small protest, “Kiri has told me about how busy and restless you have been recently. Perhaps even nervous about the nearing of the ceremony? That must have affected your mood.”

Y/N nodded hesitantly at the inquiry. Neytiri offered her an understanding smile.

“You worry too much,” she concluded, “Stay with the girls today. They’ll help you with distractions.”

“Especially Tuk,” Neteyam chimed in with a reassuring smile, “She has been dying to spend time with you anyway.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“I made you a necklace!” Tuk's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she jumped up from the ground, eager to present her masterpiece she had been crafting for the past days under the guidance of her mother.

“Oh, Tuk, you didn’t have to!” Y/N leaned back, a gentle smile gracing her lips, as she observed the young girl.

"She's been eager to welcome you into the family, so," Kiri replied with a smirk, taking a seat next to Y/N, "She even convinced Lo'ak to find these blue feathers for her."

“Hey, don’t spoil it!”

Y/N chuckled at the distraction, but as she waited for Tuk to retreat the necklace, her thoughts drifted back to Neteyam. The Sully’s tent was already filled with darkness, it was way past the sunset and the war party still hasn’t returned from their mission. Y/N sat up straight, her posture tensing up at the thoughts, trying to steady her nervous breaths. The chaos that unfolded from Tuk’s search for the gift somehow brought that panic back into her. Kiri observed her friend with curiosity.

To Kiri, Y/N changed drastically in the past months. The way she carried herself, how she slowly grew more accustomed to the idea of being in an arranged union with Neteyam, her active involvement in the preparations. She seemed like a changed person, better, stronger. And though at first Kiri had written it off as being an aftermath of distracting herself from Kaye’s death, now seeing how anxious Y/N was turning with every minute as she glanced towards the door, it was evident that it was rather the effect of her older brother.

“They’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

“Hm?” Y/N turned to face her, “It is so late though…”

“But the mission was kind of big and dangerous and they had to be extra careful?” Kiri quirked her eyebrow, a slight irony registering in her voice, “Trust me, they have done this a thousand times. Dad and mom won’t let anything bad happen.”

“Of course, I do not question your parents’ bravery and skill, it is just,” Y/N took a deep sigh, “This dream really messed me up.”

“You refused to believe Tsahik’s vision from Eywa about you and Neteyam but you think a silly nightmare you had is a warning?”

“No,” Y/N blushed deeply at the mention of the vision, then casted her gaze downwards, “I do believe Tsahik now.”

The very idea that Y/N had strongly opposed was now tinged with an unexpected delight. The thought of the Great Mother orchestrating the entire situation to bring her and Neteyam closer together sent such a pleasant shiver down her spine. Thankfully, before Kiri could tease her about the open admittance, Tuk interrupted, kneeling in front of them and placing a string of beads and blue feathers in Y/N's lap.

“Here! Lo’ak said it will be too long but you’re tall, right?” Tuk’s eyes twinkled with excitement.

Y/N couldn't suppress a snort of amusement, grateful for the momentary distraction. She let Tuk place the necklace around her neck in two layers, even though it was still overly long and disproportionate for an adult Na'vi. As Y/N stood up, the feathery necklace cascaded down to her hip bone. But it was surprisingly complimenting her tall frame.

"Well, Tuk, what do you think?" Y/N attempted a half-hearted twirl, earning a genuine laughter from the little girl.

“That looks nice!” a male voice chimed in, and all eyes turned towards the entrance.

It was Jake, walking in with a knowing smile, already recognizing the handiwork of his youngest. Y/N's own smile faded instantly, her heart pounding in her chest as she anxiously scanned the room for a familiar face. One after the other, Neytiri and Lo'ak entered, carrying items, retreated from the mission, but the commotion of Tuk running to her parents and their concerned inquiries to Kiri began to fade into the background. Y/N's eyes locked onto the man she had been worrying about the entire day, and her knees were ready to give out at the mere sight of him.

Neteyam, visibly exhausted and weary, entered the room carrying the remaining weapons they had retrieved. When his eyes met Y/N's, they lit up with a sudden glow. Without hesitation, she leaped towards him, and though his arms were still occupied with unfamiliar items, she wrapped her own around his neck with a sigh of relief.

“Thank Eywa, you’re okay!” Y/N tightened her grasp, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

Neteyam, taken aback by the sudden affection, took a brief moment to set aside the items he was carrying and hugged her back. A toothy joyful grin quickly made its way to his face.

"I'm more than okay," he chuckled, his heart melting from the warmth. He almost didn’t even notice the way his family watched the whole interaction with teasing smiles.

He rolled his eyes at his father, who gave him an approving nod, but couldn’t ignore the way his heart raced in sync with Y/N’s. The lines of worry and exhaustion that had been etched onto his face throughout the heavy mission began to fade away within the comfort of her arms.

“So grandmother was right,” Lo’ak mumbled with sarcasm, though the nature of Y/N’s and Neteyam’s relationship had been predicted by the whole family since a few weeks ago.

“They like each other, right, mom?” Tuk's voice echoed loudly through the room, pulling Neteyam and Y/N back to the present moment. Neytiri, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection, nodded in response to her daughter's question.

Y/N quickly unwrapped herself from Neteyam, an awkwardness finding a way into the air. She gave him a sheepish apologetic smile but his gentle smile in return sent a pleasant warmth to her cheeks. Hastily, she averted her eyes, settling them on the family.

“Come on, let’s give them some privacy guys,” Jake pretended to be serious about it, but not even he could hide the excitement in his own tone, “We’ll go to Tsahik for a check-up and will be back soon.”

Like toddlers, one after the other, Neytiri rushed her kids out. But all of them still kept those teasing, mischievous expressions on their faces. Even Lo’ak, who had barely shown any interest in the arrangement since its beginning, dealing with his own difficulties with his parents, couldn’t help but snicker at his brother, knowing exactly what he was going to joke about later, when they were alone. On his way out, Jake gave them a final nod.

“Y/N, you’re staying with us tonight, right?”

Awkwardly, she could only nod back.

Simultaneously, Neteyam’s eyes traced her face, then the blue caught his attention and as he took in the obnoxiously long necklace around her neck adorned with big blue feathers, his breath got stuck in his throat.

“Is that yours?” he asked suddenly.

“Oh, yeah, Tuk gave it to me,” she answered a little confused.

The vision from his Dream Hunt suddenly felt complete - the tall beautiful woman standing next to him, a long necklace hanging low from her neck. It was supposed to be Y/N! The woman he had been obsessed with the idea of, that Eywa herself had chosen for him, wasn't just a mere concept of a destined mate; it was Y/N, standing right beside him.

a/n: pls ignore if this is poorly written, i didn't spend enough time on proofreading this, so?? anyway, prepare for more fluff for the finale :)

♡ taglist ♡ : @kiri-tuk @samiiistarss @afro-hispwriter @iwantjaketosullyme @thexplosivegirl @peachinsomniac @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @koala-wonderland @sakura-onesan @dimplesxx @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @theycallmesia @crazy4books1 @empiricsad @summertimedepression @vihelm @cleverzonkwombatsludge @ducks118 @couragemydearheart @xstarsmvxz @jkeluv @qtkat @marsbars09 @buckysleftarm420 @soleilmoon @blueslxt-primary @kavyaas-world @books-for-summer @tojis-discord-kitten @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @jackiehollanderr @totesnothere04

#me being feral for this series as per usual!!!!!!!!#rec

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miytsuya · 3 years ago

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good morning, baby

@sanophiliac special tag for inui’s beloved, as per request <3

inui seishu x f!reader — [wc: ~0.8k]

cw: somnophilia, dubcon, needy inui, fingering, cunnilingus, he cums in his boxers :((, nothin too fancy tbh

you hate the way inui watches you sleep, calling him a creep and saying you’re an ugly sleeper, but he couldn’t disagree more. his favorite part of the day is opening his eyes to see your beautiful face resting peacefully inches away from his. he loves the way your eyelashes fan over the apples of your cheeks, the light puffs of air escaping from your slightly parted lips, the little squish of your cheek against your pillow. literally every single thing about you is perfect to him.

waking up before you every day can be annoying sometimes. on mornings like this one for example, he’s just woken up from a dream about you. a dream he’d lived out many times before. one where he had you bent over the kitchen counter, driving his cock deep into that perfect pussy of yours.

the image is still fresh in his mind, only making his boxers tighter and tighter by the second. he can’t help but palm himself through the fabric in a small effort to ease the ache. running his hand along his long shaft, his breathing hitches when he feels the little soaked spot right where the head of his cock rests.

his movements freeze when he feels you stir beside him, turning yourself onto your back with a sigh.

he waits a moment before moving again, making sure you’re still sound asleep before he sits up carefully, deciding it’s probably best for him to take care of his problem in the bathroom so he doesn’t run the risk of waking you up.

just as he’s about to stand up, you move again, removing the blanket as if you’d gotten too warm. inui lets his eyes roam your body, taking in every curve and dip visible. your baggy sleep shirt slightly riding up to expose your cotton panties.

inui can’t help the absolutely filthy thoughts running through his head at the sight. he thinks about how sweet you would taste against his tongue, your subconscious moans, your squirming as he blissfully brought you out of your slumber. he soon lets his thoughts get the best of him as he finds himself crawling between your bare thighs, gently pushing them apart to make room for his body.

he holds his breath as he carefully pulls your panties to the side, exposing your cunt to him. a quiet moan escapes him when he finally lets himself lick a gentle line up your cunt, looking up at you before he continues, kitten licking at your clit. his eyes never leave your face, carefully analyzing your expressions while he starts to devour you.

it’s when he fully wraps his lips around your clit that you start letting out faint little moans, grinding subconsciously against him ever so slightly. inui’s eyes flutter shut as your sweet sounds fill his ears, unable to help the way his hips rut into the bed beneath him. the tips of his fingers tease your dripping hole before he pushes two of them in slowly, curling them upwards into your spongy walls.

one of your hands finds it way into his hair, tangling your fingers into the long blond strands. his eyes open to see you sleepily peering down at him, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly ajar.

“sei-” you whimper quietly before letting your head fall back against your pillow. he responds with a hum, squeezing your thigh with his free hand.

“‘m sorry,” inui mumbles against your clit, “needed you so bad, baby.” his movements never faltering as he continues to repeatedly curl his fingers into your sweet spot, determined to feel you cum on against his tongue. “needed to taste your pretty pussy.”

you whine, the coil in your stomach already so tight from the way he’s been devouring you. his needy words only add to the pressure, making you feel like you’re about to burst at any second.

“s-sei, please- ‘m gonna cum-“ you warn, giving his hair an extra tug. that action makes him let out a grunt, the vibration on your clit sending you over the edge.

your vision goes white, pleasure coursing through your body. your back arches from the bed as you grind your cunt shamelessly into inui's face, riding out your bliss.

he fully moans against your cunt, the feeling of your clit twitching against his tongue and your velvety walls squeezing his fingers is enough to pull him over the edge as well, cum coating the inside of his boxers as he continues rutting his hips against the mattress.

he keeps lazily flicking his tongue against your clit as you come down, kissing your pussy one final time before licking his fingers clean and crawling back up beside you. kissing your temple sweetly only to bury his face into your neck seconds later.

“good morning, baby.” he mumbles against your skin.

you smile, simply wrapping your arms around him and replying, “good morning, my love.”

taglist: @mitsuyaa @baji-asff @geektastic84 @sunshinedragonofthewest @zclvnsnk @neofaut @xxpba @ironavenueflower @erensslutt @yunho-leeknow @ibby-miyoshi-nerd @kimbunny6 @misslovingpearl @honeyspalette @dilflover15 @jayv-331 @erisamorette

#inui seishu smut #inui smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokrev smut #tokyo rev smut #tkrv smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokrev x reader #tokrev x you #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #seishu inui smut #uuuhhhhh #tw.somnophilia #tw.somno #tw.dubcon

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago

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(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Monday

Tuesday Wednesday Thursday (Part 1) Thursday (Part 2) Friday Saturday Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Pairing: SBI x sister!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: swearing, toxic friends, panic spirals/attacks, injury, taking pills for pain

Summary: you have a very bad week, how will you manage? (Characters are fully human, but based on their DSMP characters. High school AU)

Word count: 4,818

(A/N): I’ve never played volleyball or watched Haikyuu before, so I’m not 100% certain how games work. Also, I probs should’ve split this into two parts, but eh.

“(Y/n) love, you look homeless in that sweater, it’s literally so fucking ugly.”

“Haha, yeah it is. I guess I just wasn’t really trying today.”

Adrian snorted, scanning your body with his cold eyes. “Today? You don’t try at all. You always look like trash.”

“More than trash, you always look like you just rolled in dog shit.” Sammy threw her head back and cackled at her own joke.

Your friends around you erupted in laughter as you four walked down the hallways of the hell that was your public high school. You awkwardly chuckled alongside them, you didn’t really find it funny, but you didn’t want to draw more attention towards yourself.

“Seriously, (y/n), I really don’t know why we still hang out around you anymore. You really let yourself go.”

“Yeah, now that I think about it, you did gain like five pounds in the past week.”

“Really not a good look on you, love. Then again, nothing you do can make you look good anymore.”

You tried to not let their comments get to you, you really did, but sometimes their comments just rooted themselves deep into your subconscious. You didn’t try looking good anymore, you couldn’t wear anything without them criticising it. You could never win.

“Awe,” Adrien poked your cheeks, “stop looking so sad. We’re just trying to give you advice. You really need it.”

“Yeah, (y/n). You’re so sensitive, get a grip.”

“Guys look, I think she’s gonna cry!”

You wiped at your welling eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. “I’m not. I just got allergies.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Anyways, what are our plans for Halloween? We should totally dress up like sexy angels! I think that’d be so cool. Like, Clint’s party won’t be ready for us.”

“Oh, about that Annie…”

“God, what now (y/n)?”

“I was actually planning on spending Halloween night taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating with my brothers and dad. I won’t be able to go with you guys, I’m sorry.”

The group groaned loudly. “C’mon (y/n), you never hang out with us anymore.”

“Oh my god (y/n) you still go trick-or-treating? We’re juniors.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with my AP classes and studying for the SAT. My team captain’s really been pushing the team hard with volleyball practice. State finals are soon and we want first this year.”

“No matter how much studying you do, you’re gonna fail. You’re stupid, so why try? Just give up and hang out with uuussss.”

“Yeah (y/n),” Adrien looked at you suspiciously, “you’ve been ignoring us lately. I thought we were friends. Do you even wanna be friends anymore?”

You felt a flare of panic flare up in your gut. “I do! I-I just have so much going on right now. It’s starting to get hard to juggle everything.”

“We’re starting to think that you don’t like us anymore, we want our (y/n) back!” Sammy whined. The others agreed with her, making you feel guilty. You were ignoring them, it was selfish in your opinion. You supposed that you could skip out on taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating, there’ll be other years you could take them.

“I guess I can take Tommy and Tubbo another year. They’d just have to go without me this year.”

They cheered, giving you praise. You beamed at that, they seemed down lately and you loved it when they’d give you compliments. They didn’t do that much, so that made their praise more special to you. You strived to get compliments.

You four went off to your separate first classes for the day. Yours was statistics, a class you’ve been struggling in lately. You didn’t know anybody in there except for your oldest brother Techno, so you tried to stick with him. Unfortunately, the teacher’s seating chart placed you both on opposite ends of the room, probably because of your last names indicating that you’re siblings. You placed your stuff down on the table and plopped down into your seat, already drained. You had a long day ahead of you; you had a major AP world history test in your next class, you had to give a presentation in your AP english class that was worth a quarter of your final grade, and you had a semifinals volleyball match that would last until late in the night. If your team won, you would be going to state finals, so it was a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You were the main setter, so you had to really focus tonight if you were going to score your team points.

“Alright class, pull out your homework!”

Fuck, you had homework? You looked in your folder, only to see the unfinished sheet full of equations you didn’t understand staring back at you tauntingly. Mr. Mullins walked over to your desk, took one look at your blank homework, and just walked right past you. Another big fat zero in the gradebook for you, just what you needed. At least he wasn’t in the mood to berate you today. You didn’t need any more stress piled onto your shoulders.

The lesson felt like it dragged on forever with you frantically trying to copy down the notes on the board and trying to understand the content at the same time. Overtime, he would call students up to the board. Hopefully, he would skip over you today. “Ms. Minecraft.” Goddamn it, you spoke too soon.

Your head perked up and you looked at him. “Yes sir?”

“Come up to the board and solve this.”

Gulping, you felt panic rise up in you and stood up with shaky knees. On the board was part of the newer content he was just teaching. Something that you understood only a little bit better than the rest, and that’s not saying much. You still didn’t understand the content completely. Your writing was shaky as you wrote what you thought was right on the board. Finding the answer, you circled it and looked at Mr. Mullins. He looked disappointed.

“That’s wrong, Ms. Minecraft. Please sit down.”

You felt like your face was on fire as you saw the entire class burning holes into you with their eyes. Though they looked dead inside, as per usual with any morning class full of tired teenagers, their effects still took hold on you. You wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. You sat back down and stared at your note packet, you couldn’t focus on the lecture anymore. Your attention was fully on your surroundings, you were hyper aware of every little whisper and bouncing leg in your peripheral vision. You could feel yourself spiraling, usually that wouldn’t happen until after your third class. Today was going to be rough.

The loud chime of the bell startled you out of your thoughts. You shakily put your papers back into your binder and put the binder back into your backpack. Right as you were about to walk through the door, you heard Techno catch up to you. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah Tech, I’m just peachy.”

“Are you su-”

“Technoblade. I’m fine. Now if you excuse me, I have to get to my next class. I have an important presentation I’ve gotta prepare for.”

Without giving him any room to argue, you rushed off to your english class. You had Adrian and Annie in your class. For your presentation, you were paired up with people that you hardly knew. At least they did their part in the project, you were certain you were going to die if you got paired up with Adrian and Annie again. You loved them, but they never did any part of their portion of work. They left it to you to finish at midnight the day the project was due. To be fair, they both told you they had family emergencies, so you covered for them just that once.

You pulled out your flashcards only to have them knocked out of your hand when someone bumped into you. You quickly crouched to pick them up so you could have them in order by time class started. “Oops, sorry love.”

It was Annie. She and Adrian towered over your crouched form smirking at you. Looking back down to rearrange your cards, you murmured “it’s ok.”

“Are you ready for this presentation, I know I am.”

You smiled a little. “Actually, I think I’m going to ace this. English is my best subject.”

“Yeah (y/n), I wasn’t asking you. I was talking to Annie. Besides, you’re probably going to fail this.” Adrian scoffed.

“Thank you for asking, Adrian,” Annie shot a pointed look at you, “at least someone cares.”

The bell rang, signifying the start of your second block. You felt like you had a lump in your throat blocking your breathing. If Adrian, one of the smartest kids in your english class, said that you were going to fail, then you probably were going to fail. That would take a huge hit on your grade, this project was worth a quarter of your final grade after all. You were zoned out for the entirety of your classmate’s presentations putting yourself into a spiral. You jumped when Mr. Todd, your teacher, called your group up to present.

You stood stiffly in the middle of your two groupmates and clutched your flashcards with clammy hands. Luckily, your part of the presentation was not first. When it came to your part, you were stuttering and tumbling over your words. You even dropped your flashcards in front of everybody, causing half the class to snicker. Your face burned as you hurried to pick them up and your other groupmate took this as a signal to continue the presentation. You still had an important point to make that was integral for the set up to your other groupmate’s part of her presentation. You stared at your flashcards for the rest of the presentation.

When the bell rang, you made a mad dash out of the classroom. You didn’t want to talk to anybody, especially not Adrian or Annie. It was a relief that you had your lunch period at the moment. You could hide yourself in the bathroom nobody used and let your panic attack ride itself out.

You ducked inside a stall and sat on the toilet, bringing your knees up to bury your face in them. The tears and panic you were holding in all day let itself out with explosive effects. You started to hyperventilate as you muffled your sobs with your knee. Your chest painfully clenched so you couldn’t breathe. Your limbs felt like they weighed two tons each and they were shaking intensely. You didn’t hear the end of the lunch bell ring. By the time you calmed down slightly, you were five minutes late to AP world history.

You packed your stuff up in a hurry, power walking through the halls. You probably looked like shit, but you didn’t care, you had a class to get to and a test that you probably wouldn’t be able to finish now. You lost ten minutes of your test time. When you tried to open the closed door, you found that it was locked. You had to knock if you wanted to get in. You raised a shaking hand to knock, but the door was opened by a less-than-impressed Ms. Osborne. She ushered you to your desk and gave you your unit test.

You couldn’t focus. The multiple choice section was usually a breeze to you, but you couldn’t comprehend any of the questions. When you could comprehend them, you couldn’t concentrate on choosing an answer. You did your best to find the correct answers, but you were almost positive that at least half of them were wrong. Your handwriting was nearly incomprehensible and your essay topic was something you didn’t study for. When you were done with half of the body paragraphs, the bell rang and you had to turn in your unfinished test.

You had your independent online psychology course next in the library. You usually worked alone secluded in a corner deep inside the library where nobody went. You would get some solace in being alone. Maybe you’d calm down enough so that you could ride home with your brothers and not go for a long walk so you could avoid them.

You settled down in the comfortable chair and pulled out your laptop to get started. Psychology was your favorite class. It was easy for you to understand, it didn’t have much of a workload attached to it, and it was fun to learn about. It always calmed you down reading about the intricate workings of the brain.

By time the day was over, you got most of your psychology work done and you were on your way to the car you shared with Technoblade and Wilbur. You took out your spare keys and slumped against the window in the backseat. You were absolutely drained after your terrible day and you still felt panic swirling deep within you, waiting for the right moment to strike.

You stretched out your legs across the seat and leaned your back against the door. For the first time that day, you felt peaceful. You still had at least fifteen minutes to yourself until your brothers would start to make your way to the car. You felt the panic subside slightly and you fully relaxed. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off into a light sleep. You needed your energy for tonight’s match.

The door you were leaning on swung open and you tumbled backwards smacking the back of your head against the metal frame of the car and reverse scorpioning onto the pavement. Your entire upper back and the back of your head exploded in pain and your lower back hurt slightly from having your back bent uncomfortably. You heard laughter above you as you felt tears of pain start to slip out of your eyes. Your legs swung out from their place above your face and landed on the ground with a painful thump.

You saw three blurry figures above you laughing at your pain. You reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at your tears and saw Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. They were cackling as you shakily stood up and sat on the comfortable seats of the car. You waited patiently for them to calm down.

Eventually, Sammy calmed down enough to explain what happened to you through chuckles. “I’m sorry (y/n), it was just too good to resist. You should’ve seen your face.”

She and the others broke back into uncontrolled laughter as they remembered your embarrassing fall. You were used to their antics, and quite frankly it felt good to make your friends laugh, even if it were at your own expense. Just as they were calming down once again, you saw Wilbur and Techno walk out the front doors of the school laughing at something the other said. Annie and Sammy heard their laughter and quickly turned around to watch them. They had massive crushes on both of your brothers, many in the school did.

Your brothers made their way to your shared car and stopped to look at you in slight confusion. “(Y/n), were you crying? What happened?” Wilbur asked worriedly.

“Yea-”

“Oh Wilbur, it was terrible, (y/n) fell out of the car. I don’t think she closed the door before she leaned on it.” Annie interrupted you with a faked concerned tone, a complete contradiction to her reaction before your brothers came.

Techno hastily made his way to the driver’s side door. “Well, if she’s hurt we better get going, right Wilbur?”

“Yes! We better get going, please excuse us.” He sat in the passenger seat and closed the door without hearing Sammy and Annie’s desperate attempts to stop them so they could talk to them. Your brothers thought Sammy and Annie were annoying. They absolutely hated being around them.

Waving apologetically at your friends, you pulled yourself into the car and closed the door. Annie and Sammy looked offended that you had let Wilbur and Techno get away from them. Avoiding their eyes, you looked down at your tightly clasped hands. They were shaking slightly.

After pulling out of the parking lot, Techno glanced at you from the rearview mirror. “You ok (y/n)?”

“Yeah, my back just hurts and I have a headache.”

“Well, do you wanna go and get some ice cream? We still have some time left before we have to pick up Tommy and Tubbo. Dad doesn’t have to know,” Wilbur asked you.

You sighed, you wanted nothing other than to take a nap before your match. “Sorry, but I need to watch what I eat today. We have semifinals tonight and I can’t have anything sugary. I just wanna go home and take a nap.”

Your brothers were quiet for the rest of the car ride until you reached your driveway. Techno twisted his body around in his seat to look at you after he put the car in park. “Did you actually fall out of the car?”

Shit, should you tell him the truth? If you did, they would almost certainly get mad at your friends. Sammy and Annie would never forgive you if you turned your brothers against them. You decided that you would take one for the team again. “Yeah, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Techno snorted. “Well, that was stupid,” he jokingly said. “Next time you’re gonna get run over by a parked car.”

You knew that he meant that as a joke, but it still stung. Stamping your emotions down, you laughed with him and Wilbur. It was stupid of you to do, you shouldn’t have let your guard down if you weren’t at home.

You winced as you slung your bag on your back and walked the best you could back into your house. Your upper back was killing you. You made a beeline to the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet looking for some pain relief pills. You took some and shambled off to your room to take your well earned nap. You set your alarm’s setting to its loudest volume and passed out.

You jolted up and gasped when you felt a wave of pain hit your upper back. You blearily looked at the time. You had a little under two hours before you had to get back to the school for your match. You groaned when you pulled yourself up, your head pounding with every turn. You pulled yourself out of bed and once again took some pain pills. You went downstairs to grab an apple or something to eat. Your dad was at the stove stirring something around in a pot.

He turned to look at you with an excited smile. “You ready for your match tonight? You’re gonna kill it!”

You only nodded halfheartedly and plopped yourself down at the table with your apple. Philza frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, but he figured that it was just because you just woke up from a nap. You’d bounce back eventually.

“Wilbur told me that you fell out of the car? How’d you do that?”

You shrugged, wincing slightly as it moved your back slightly. “Dunno, must’ve not closed the door.”

Philza was at your side in a hurry, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Did you get hurt? Show me where it hurts.”

“My back and the back of my head.”

“Can I move your shirt so I could look?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

You felt him gently pull the neck of your t-shirt away from your body to peek at your back. You heard his breath hitch as he looked. Was it that bad? “Good god (y/n),” he breathed out.

“What, is it bad?”

“Don’t you feel how bad it is? Your entire back is bruised. I think there’s some blood too.”

“Damn.”

“First, language. Second, that’s all you have to say? Aren’t you in pain?”

“Yeah, but the pain pills are gonna kick in soon. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you be able to play tonight? I really think you should sit this one out.”

“No, I’m playing tonight Dad.”

“(Y/n),” oh no, he was using his stern dad voice. “It’s not a good idea to play tonight. You’re hurt, I’m sure they’ll understand if you sit this one out.”

You felt frustration rise up in you. “We’re in the semifinals. They need me, I’m the main setter. They’d lose without me playing.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious. You’re not playing today.”

“Dad, I am playing today. Look, I’ll talk to Coach Williams to see if I could be rotated out more often. I know she’d let me.”

He stared at you for a while before sighing. He knew there was no convincing you. “...Fine. But you better talk to Coach Williams about sitting out for a bit if your back hurts too much or I swear I’ll drag you off the court myself.”

You smiled a little at the small victory. “Thank you! I promise I’ll sit out if needed.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “If needed?”

You sighed, “when needed.”

He walked over to the pot, stirring the contents slightly. “That’s better. Dinner’s almost ready, I made some pasta.”

“It smells good, but I think I’m skipping out on it for today. I already ate this apple and if I eat any more I’ll probably hurl on the court.”

He made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, “fine, but you’re eating something when we get home tonight.”

He walked off to go get your brothers and Tubbo for dinner. You could hear their booming steps racing down the stairs towards the kitchen. They raced into the kitchen and almost crashed into the back of your chair. You stood up and looked at the two excitable fifth graders. “Careful boys, don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re no fun (y/n),” Tommy whined.

“Sure, sorry bout that,” Tubbo beamed at you.

You chuckled, making your way upstairs to get ready for your match. You took off your clothes with great difficulty and slipped on your jersey and your spandex shorts. They were way too short for your tastes, but you couldn’t wear longer ones, they’d just get in the way. You fondly remembered how your dad flipped out when he first saw you in them, he hated them with a burning passion. He still hates how short they are.

When you were struggling with pulling your hair back into a tight, sleek ponytail, the back of your head throbbed continuously with pain. You most likely bruised your scalp.

You slipped on your shoes that were made specifically for playing volleyball and headed downstairs. You were met with Tommy and Tubbo jumping in excitement seeing you in your uniform. They loved going to your matches, even if they would always pass out in the car after them because matches usually ended late at night. You grabbed your dad’s keys and headed to his car. Before you could lead the boys out the door, Philza’s voice stopped you.

“(Y/n), coat.”

You huffed, grabbing your coat and putting it on before tossing him his keys. You four got into the car and set out for the high school. The short drive was filled with Tommy and Tubbo asking you questions about volleyball and encouraging you. “(Y/n), you’re gonna kick their butts!”

“Yeah!” Tubbo cheered

Despite their voices causing a spike of pain to shoot throughout your head, you laughed at their enthusiasm. It was always nice to hear your little brother and pseudo brother in the stands cheering you on, they were your and your team’s personal cheerleaders.

Not long after you got to the school, you were stretching with your team on the gym’s floor. Your posse found their way into the stands, sitting in the front row. The away team watched your team like a hawk, analysing every single player for any weakness. It was because of them that you tried to not show any pain when you moved your back. You talked to Coach Williams before the team stretch and she was obviously sympathetic with your situation. She agreed to switching you out with the standby setter every few rotations.

The echo of the whistles caused pain to ring in your head every time someone scored or a foul was called. Your team captain, Haley, was constantly, yet discreetly checking on you throughout the game since she was always next to you. She was the team’s main spiker after all.

The game droned on and on before you realized that the opposing team was targeting you when they were offensive. They probably realized that you were injured a round ago. You tried your best to block every ball that was sent your way, but a few managed to slip past you when you couldn’t move fast enough. This team was good, but your team was better.

The score during the final round was tied and the clock was on it’s last ten seconds as the ball soared your way. You dove to hit it, landing on your shoulder on the hard floor and hitting it up high enough for Haley to spike the ball down. The crowd went wild as the ball bounced off from the opposite end of the court almost simultaneously with the screeching of the referee’s whistle, signifying the end of the game and your team’s victory.

You laid on the floor in pain, you thought you must’ve pulled your tender muscles in your back and shoulder. It hurt to move it. You felt one of your teammates grab your hand to yank you up into a giant full team group hug. You yelped slightly in pain as you felt arms press against your back and hands firmly patting your bruised shoulders. You were whisked away into the locker room to change into the pajamas you brought with you.

“(Y/n), are you alright? That was a pretty hard fall.” Haley’s soft voice asked you. You felt your heart sing in your chest.

“Yeah Hales, I’m fine. I just pulled a few muscles.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed together, “are you sure? As your team captain and your friend, I’m worried about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You felt warm knowing that she cared about you. “I’m sure, worrywart.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and breathed out a soft laugh. “Sorry for asking, grump.” Her laugh sounded like music to your ears.

Your phone vibrated in your pajama pocket, alerting you of your family waiting for you in the car and for you to hurry up. You sighed, “sorry Hales, I gotta go. Dad’s getting impatient.”

She gave you a small smile. “Oh, well, tell your family I said hi! Good work on the court today, I wouldn’t ask for a different setter.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and you watched with wide eyes as she left the locker room. Your phone vibrated again, your dad was really starting to get impatient.

You walked out of the school as fast as you could to find your dad’s car waiting for you up front. Jumping in and softly closing the passenger side door, you slumped against the window. “(Y/n),” Tommy’s tired voice slurred. “That. Was. Pog…”

You glanced back to see him and Tubbo snoring away in their seats. Your match was more exciting than usual, so that must’ve really tired them out. You chuckled, turning back around to lean against the window. You took care not to put any weight on your shoulder or back.

“(Y/n), you were amazing out there, but why did you dive for that ball? That fall looked like it hurt.”

You hummed tiredly, “thanks Dad. I just did what I thought would win us the game. We’re going to finals!” You quietly sang.

“Did you hurt your shoulder?”

“I actually don’t know, but I think I might’ve pulled a few muscles. Nothing too bad.”

“...I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you tomorrow morning during your first and second blocks. I want you to get your back, shoulder, and head looked at. You looked miserable the entire match.”

You sighed, too tired to argue, “mmk.”

He chuckled before the car fell into a comfortable silence. The gentle bouncing of the car and the subtle hum of the engine was lulling you to sleep. Your eyelids were drooping by the time you pulled into your driveway.

You drug yourself out of the car and into the house, leaving Philza with the sleeping boys. You walked straight to your room and plopped down on your bed, passing out instantly for the second time that day.

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gojology · 4 years ago

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— Gojo and Nanami | Their Insecurities

pairing : insecure gojo x gender neutral reader, insecure nanami x gender neutral reader warnings : unedited, probably some misspellings, maybe some cursing, i probably dont make sense at all wordcount : 1703 a/n : this is so bad dear god please forgive me for deeming this as content

GOJO SATORU ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Gojo’s insecure about his lack of bodyhair. His lack of facial hair and arm hair worries him. Being babyfaced wasn’t something positive in his eyes- no, he wishes he was physically more masculine.

Your eyes meet his, the sun rays bathing both of you in an orange filtered light. His mouth is slightly opened, skin flush to the touch. After a night of intimacy, your ready for another round, pushing your palm towards his forehead. “Good morning, Satoru.” you say, voice slightly wavering even in the most private presence, without the formalities and what not, he’s surprisingly normal, and it’s taken you a bit to adjust to that. He’s warm, but it’s the good kind of warm, and it shows on his silly, dopey smile.

You guess it wasn’t the time for more sex, so you resist your urges, directing the energy to something else.

Gradually, your palms find themselves on his cheeks, and you pinch them slightly, giving him a look you hope is loving- because you really do mean it. Your rest assured, as the curve to his swollen lips grew even wider. The sounds of bird chirped as your fingers danced across his jawline, finally at your final stop, his chin.

You tip his chin up, and sure enough, hickeys are adorning his neck. A feeling of joy and honor fills you for a brief second, you were the one that was allowed to see him vulnerable, given the pass into his locked up heart. He finally breaks the silence between the two of you, pushing away your slack hand delicately.

It’s peculiar, there’s a tremble to his lips, like he’s scared, or about to burst into a fit of tears. You think it should be the other way around, but here you were, arms held close to your chest, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, bated breath preventing you from questioning the sudden change in tone.

“Hey, um, Y/N, weird ass question, but, am I hairy? Like, wooly mammoth hairy?”

You can’t tell if it’s sarcasm or not.

Trying not to make a face, you shrug your shoulders. “Well, I mean, not really. You’re actually pretty nonhairy, in terms of uh... The average-” you pause, realizing how drastically his face fell. “-But I do like non-hairy guys! Who would wanna date a wooly mammoth anyways? Hey, baby..” you coo, giving him a tiny peck on the cheek, fluttering your eyelashes. “What’s this about? Hey, you know, you can just be straightforward with me, I don’t mind.”

He doesn’t take a moment of hesitation, exasperatedly blurting out, “Does my lack of.. Hair, bother you?” but it seems he regrets it, your cheeks puffing up, stifling a giggle. Yet, he maintains the bone-chilling eye contact, his eyes are as vivid as ever, so blue it looked like the entrance to heaven. Your immediately lulled, whatever he was going to say was definitely urgent.

“W-What? Are you being serious?” covering your mouth, your voice is muffled, but his face looks absolutely terrified, and you relish in how funny he looked. It wasn’t everyday that he was genuinely frightened, well, maybe he didn’t show it often. “Of course not! Why would I be even remotely worried about bodyhair when I have something way more eye-catching in front of me?”

The shock turns into a sheepish smile, returning for a second time, your heart melting instantly. He takes a long, deep breath, exhaling the tension away, tugging at the covers to go over his chest. You hadn’t realized that he had stolen more than half of the blanket for himself, but you don’t make a fuss about it.

For all the weight he carried on his sagging shoulders, you’re sure the warmth is appreciated.

NANAMI KENTO ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Nanami thinks he’s a boring person, through and through. Outside of work, he doesn’t see why anyone would want him. Some days, he wonders if he should pick up on Gojo’s personality, telling jokes and being sarcastic and what not.

The fine, white porcelain Nanami had gifted you was beautiful, to say the least. Nanami frequently shone it until it glimmered in the light, wiping any smudge or speck of dirt that dared to get on his beloved tea set that he gifted to you a few months prior. Gold trim, alongside depictions of birds fluttering about, and your favorite flowers. It’s perfect for you, and that’s why he had gotten it. His eyes had instantly brightened, picturing your beaming face as you served the two of you some tea.

But he wonders, would you be happier if he perhaps gifted you something more up to date in comparison to the porcelain? He had enough money to buy you the world, bags, jewelry, he’d often used to hear stories of his co-workers giving their wives expensive, well, anything, and they’d be over the moon. A sudden realization grew inside of him at the thought of this:

Was he too out-of-date?

The thought went rampant in his usually collected mind, twisting and turning at night, only the sound of you, deep in sleep, could calm the troubled man down. As a consequence to his overthinking, he got little to no rest, and if he got little to no rest, his eyebags would turn their ugly, sneering faces in his direction.

And so, as he’s baking tea cakes to go along with the afternoon tea the two of you would routinely drink, he’s going deep into depth of himself. He’s a good worker, good at...

What was he good at? Aside from work, he can’t see why he’d be of use. Nanami acknowledges he’s stoic, which may be good in some cases, but often, everyone runs away from him because he appears as scary with those cold, calculating eyes. As opposed to Gojo, everyone enjoyed how lenient of a teacher he was. Well, Nanami isn’t sure on that, maybe aside from Megumi, Nobara, and Yuuji, everyone hated that. Regardless, him and Gojo don’t share something in common.

Gojo has humor, and he doesn’t.

So why did you like him?

Nanami’s subconsciously drumming his long, bony fingers against the counter, eyes studying the ceiling like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Steadily, an acrid smell completely overwhelmed your senses- now, you’re hacking into your arm, and finally, Nanami comes back to Earth.

He blinks a few times, like he’s drinking in his surroundings, before he realizes the tea cakes are completely burning into a crisp.

Now, he’s on heightened alert, yanking open the handle to the oven and fanning out the flames with a random oven mitt he had hastily grabbed for. Beads of sweat are developing on his skin, before finally, you rush in, still hacking up a storm with a large pot of freezing water in your shaking hands.

Nanami curses himself for ever appearing as informal, but then he remembers he’s infront of his significant other, he didn’t have to put on an act. His face relaxes, and he opens his mouth to speak, to apologize, but he’s paused- by you. You raise your palm up at him, the other hand opening up a window looking over the garden.

“Nana.” he freezes completely, the affectionate nickname was specially reserved for confrontations like this. You spoke softly, which, for some reason, was significantly worse than you screaming into his ear. Your eyes follow suit, staring at his collar, loosening his tie. He winces, but Nanami’s not sure why he does. You had touched him millions of times, so why was it now that he didn’t accept it?

“Yes, my love?” he finally breathes out, wrapping a strong, gentle arm around your waist just loosely. You place your thumb just below his lower lip, your index finger rubbing his plush lips all at the same time. The exchange is purely affectionate, yet, he’s still tense.

“What has gotten into you?” you murmur.

“I- Nothing, darling, I’ll bake another-”

“No.” is all you say before you grab him by the chin, unwavering. Usually, those piercing eyes of his are emotionless, something shocking. The eyes are the gateway to the soul, so why is it that it’s blocked off? But you guess it wasn’t the case here, he stared back with the same level of intensity, fear and peculiarity. You stay in that position for a little, savoring just how much you must mean to him, it wasn’t everyday he was vulnerable and let you inside. Your breathing is heavy, eyelids heavy as well due to his routinely ruckus every night, but you’re determined to erase any trace there was left of that. You kiss him. It’s sloppy, yet chaste. A fight for dominance usually occurs between the two of you, and almost routinely, Nanami wins, but this time, he lets you do the work.

Your lips never once trail away from his own. Heavy breathing through nostrils, hands roaming where it shouldn’t at such an early time, but who gave a fuck about the rules? It wasn’t a workplace, and you’d never let it be one. He clings onto your figure, you savor his muscular physique. Not once do his hands not roam, your flesh was his, and his was yours.

Finally, you pull away, heat rising to your cheeks, tears are beginning to dawn on your glassy eyes. “I’ve listened to you roll around in bed every night, mumbling shit about how you don’t see why I’d want you. You better donate your eyes and brain to charity right now.”

This wasn’t the reaction, or beatdown he was expecting. He flinches at the vivid image he got of you gouging out his eyeballs. “...Why must I do that?

“Because, you don’t use them, obviously. If you took a fucking second of your life to look deeper into your personality below the surface level, you’d see how fucking amazing you are and I love you for that.”

Shaking your head furiously, you shush him up yet again when he finally decides to speak up, tears are beginning to spill down your cheeks. “Shut up, Nana. Shut. Up.” pulling him in for another kiss, your hands grabbing at his shoulder like he was going to let go.

But he never did.

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demonslayedher · 4 years ago

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Dream Analysis of Mugen Ressha

Spoilers for the movie, while it does not depart from the plot of the manga, they made adaptational choices which I may refer to within.

While Enmu has control over what kind of dream his victims see, ultimately, he would have no way of knowing all of the details of his victims' lives, so we can assume that he is prompting his victims to fill in a lot of the details themselves. These are the worlds they surround themselves with consciously, but their untouchable unconscious spaces say just as much.

I've said some of this before, but these dream sequences give us so much to say about Inosuke, Zenitsu, Kyojuro, and Tanjiro.

Into the dream: Did that "Rengoku-aniki" thing really happen???? It's animated like a fever dream (or drawn like a typical Gotouge-being-Gotouge panel), but both the movie and the manga leave this inconclusive. It can be interpreted two ways: 1. The two other demons were there all along as decoys, set to appear only when Enmu's blood technique slowly started to take effect so that they'd let their guard down. In this way, we'd know that the boys had a true way of witnessing Kyojuro's prowess and a true bonding moment, thereby making his death hit all the harder later. This would also mean that one of the cars was totally unusable for passengers, and many of the passengers were already thoroughly spooked before falling into sleep. It would also imply that they were all super excited, thoroughly relieved, returned to their seats, and then just passed out.

2. The moment the tickets were clipped, Enmu's very, very, very realistic dreams took immediate effect, but he still needed time before it took effect enough that their guards would go down. If this is the case, then it implies the following: 1. Enmu's illusions can be shared 2. Everyone syncs extremely well together to have all been sucked in by the same illusion (it's possible it was only Tanjiro's, but since we get in everyone's heads a little in this part, I believe they all experienced the same thing). Reacting in ways so true to how they would in waking like, they learned as much about each other as truthfully as they would have if they were fighting while awake. 3. The "Rengoku-aniki" thing is the moment they're falling into a deeper stage of sleep, when any bizarre thing will make sense. They've lost any sense of holding back and are embracing the emotions as they hit them. Even if that was all a dream, the bond formed was very real. But then, as they fall deep, they fall into their own headspaces. Inosuke: I love how bombastic this dream is. It moves at a very fast pace, and everything revolves around Inosuke. He is physically much larger than Ponjiro, Chuuitsu, and Pyonko, who clearly follow him as their leader, the most powerful person in this cave exploring world full of wonder and excitement. True to life, these underlings can at times be frustrating or stupid, but there is no one else Inosuke would rather have at his side to take on a hugely impressive foe. It's a relatively simplistic world, what Inosuke really cares about is his place in it, and who is there.

Taking it a step deeper, he should not be able to manifest in his self-conscious space, but Gotouge attributes his and Zenitsu's ability to do this and protect their cores from intruders to their strong senses of self. What's telling is that his subconscious space is practically identical to his conscious dream space; like there is no breakage between one stage of reality and the next. In its Zen-like simplicity Inosuke's mind is never at odds with itself, its interpretation of reality is fluid and seamless. However, being at this deeper state brings us to a deeper state of self actualization, with Inosuke manifesting closer to the ideal beast he views himself as.

Now, with Inosuke being so fully invested in what he sees as reality, he's still got a carry-over effect from dream after waking up, which one could interpret as not having fully shaken the effects of Enmu's blood technique. After all, Zenitsu simply never broke out of it, Tanjiro had to kill himself in his dreams each time to fully snap out of it, and Kyojuro was the only one powerful enough to have broken through its effects through his own willpower. When Tanjiro says the train is a demon, he buzzes with "I was right!" (a conviction that only got stronger in his dream), and Inosuke's declarations of being the boss and Tanjiro being his underling are indignantly plentiful and he fully believes what he is saying every time he brings it up, even if he's aware that he's no longer in the cave exploring dream. But, given that Inosuke is so at peace with his own version of reality, it's also just as likely that his conviction of being The Boss was also only compounded by the dream, and all that dream did was give him a more fun setting in which to play around in. But, what was so fun about the dream, what made him sleep-giggle with pleasure, was that everyone else was finally getting with the program and recognizing him as the boss, as they should. Finally. It's so frustrating in real life that he has to keep reminding them to get it right. Get it, Santaro?? GOOD. Zenitsu: What I love here is the contrast between subconscious and conscious space. Both of them have the same theme melody, but played in very, very different ways. They also both play with the same core desire in very different ways as well. Is it so much to ask that he can just spend some time alone with the girl he loves?? If we jump straight to the pitch black unconscious space, he specifies to the intruder that only Nezuko is allowed there. Not just girls in general, not a close friend like Tanjiro, only the one girl he loves, and even then, you'd have to love someone a lot to invite them into the deepest, darkest corners of your soul. And it is a very, very, very, very dark corner. Zenitsu's spent most of his life building that dark, pessimistic personality, compounded by the treatment he's always received throughout his life and what he believes about himself at his core. He's ugly and depraved there, and very defensive. Because he holds himself in such darkness, that makes him desire the bright, happy, completely idealistic world of his conscious dream world. It's rich with detail and warm and he knows it well, that places is the first place he ever felt someone have hope for him; it's Jiichan's home, that sunny place with delicious peaches and full of clovers and lush greenery and a charming stream. Of course he'd want to show it all to Nezuko, she deserves to see such a happy, pretty place! And, while the world is idealized and happy, Nezuko is e-x-t-r-e-m-e-l-y cute and actually wants to hang out with him too. She's willing no hold his hand, none of the girls who dated (read: used) Zenitsu in the past were ever willing to hold his hand. He even gets to show her that he can be cool, and she likes it!! She looks him in the eyes and is totally honest about enjoying his company!!

He just wants someone to want him back. He wants to belong in the sunshine too. So, even if he had it in him to wake up from Enmu's blood technique, who can blame him for staying there? (You know, besides Tanjiro, who has been desperately screaming for them all to wake up and help him protect the passengers. Zzzzz, five more minutes, Tanjiro, zzzzzzz----) Kyojuro: This... isn't really a happy dream. Kyojuro has accepted a lot of sad parts of his reality so wholeheartedly that he doesn't seek the comfort of a dream in which his mother is still alive, or a dream in which his father is proud of him. Instead, what Kyojuro was looking for was the chance to go back and say more to Senjuro. This implies that on the real day he knelt in that room, while his father faced away and read the book* while Kyojuro told him all about how he defeated Lower Moon Two and became a Pillar, and was met with his father's heartbreakingly unenthusiastic reply, he later went outside and...

...didn't say any words of comfort to Senjuro.

This regret, that he didn't do more for his brother whom he knew was hurting in his own silent ways this whole time, was what sat most bothersomely in Kyojuro's otherwise peacefully self-assured psyche (or fired-up psyche, if you go by his subconscious space) . It makes sense that in his dying wishes, the first thing he requests is that Tanjiro do this in his stead. *Speaking of that book, Kyojuro had forgotten about it until his memories pulled together to create the details of the dream, which was why he thought to mention it to Tanjiro later. This shows that Enmu is not an architect of people's dreams, he only sets them in motion. How believable they are depends on each victim. (Totally unrelated, I love the design of the Rengoku estate's garden??? It's primarily evergreen and unflowering trees, meaning it stays relatively steadfast throughout the year, a garden designed in samurai villa taste. Plus the details of the house also fit really well, I think??? Would need to review research of buke-yashiki architecture to say more.) Tanjiro: ...*deep breath* This boy really, really wants to go home. Like, the climax of the movie is amazing and all, but it's the scenes with Tanjiro's family that make me cry. Ugh, where do I start. Enmu probably just grabs on to whatever thread of a desire a person has, and then he just tugs on it and says "this way, let's go really far in this direction, show me where it goes, hmm, okay, nice, lovely. Have fun here, I've now seen enough to write my own angsty version for later." So... so I'm just going to work backwards a moment. Enmu screwed up here, thinking he could really read the depth of Tanjiro's family and his feelings for them. He thought he could make a convincing version of these "characters" cry and shove Tanjiro around and speak meanly to him and make him feel shame. And the cut to that dream, OH MY GOSH, truly horrific sound and color change. But Tanjiro's sees through it so fast that he wakes up immediately and uses that anger at how Enmu wrote them to cut off his "head." You screwed up, Enmu, you blew it, maybe other people would very so blown down by the shock that they wouldn't question how unreal that dream sequence is, but Tanjiro has honed his fighting spirit so much that it's been nagging him even throughout his happy dream. And he really, really, really wants to stay in that happy dream. Like, even though he's on guard at the beginning, so much so that he only focuses on the familiar feeling of a demon being around and does not notice the familiar landscape AT ALL. But the moment Hanako and Shigeru step in, convincingly made from Tanjiro's memories and unedited by Enmu, Tanjiro throws that all away in an instant. As he says when he's trying, after trying and trying and trying to rip himself away from the dream, he was never even supposed to had left this world. He was never supposed to had touched anything like a sword, they were all supposed to stay there together, living their simple life. If things hadn't gone wrong that one night. Tanjiro cares deeply about his mission, he's adopted his training deeply, he has serious desire to improve, which is why his subconsciously keeps trying to call himself back to reality, but it's so hard, because this is where he wants to be, and it's even harder because it feels so real. It's a little peeve of mine when families with lots of little siblings are written to be too angelic and idealistic, and there is some of that with the "let's make sembei, yaaaay" scene, but... but that's actually pretty true. I'm giving myself away with how close this hits to home, but it's a dynamic in a lot of large families, especially large families pretty happy to stay to themselves and people who live the same sort of conservative, traditional lifestyle, to foster in the older siblings some pride in taking care of the little ones and helping create that happy world for them, even if taking care of little kids can be rough. It's not to say that things are always happy and fluffy, they're not, and that's not to say even

happy kids don't resent being in a large family sometimes. But there's plenty of moments in daily life, especially in the presence of small children, that you get swept up into a sillier, happy, caretaker side of yourself, and since you all grow up with these silly moments together, you're going to naturally fall into into some silly, scripted-feeling moments of "then I'll be in charge of eating the sembei!" "no faaaaair!". So, I'll give the sembei scene a pass because that IS a moment that happens in years of moments with the same posse of kiddos around you all the time. But it's also so striking to me how each of Tanjiro's siblings, however idealized, has their own personality. The traits are so subtle but consistent and Tanjiro knows all of them. They pick up on things about each other, they grow realistically annoyed and surprised and concerned and scared like they would if they were real instead of only Tanjiro's memories of them. Those kids feel so real to me, even if they are annoyingly overidealized in some parts as Tanjiro is letting himself get swept away. And just when he's managing to part from it to go face reality, Enmu makes more attack: he brings in Nezuko, trying to make it feel like there's no point in Tanjiro running at all. She's fine. There's nothing left for him to fight for. Everything's fine. And all over again, Tanjiro just stops. He KNOWS it's not real, but he's hurting so much to hear her voice again that he just sto-o-o-o-ps. And his desire to stay with the others catches up to him all over again, and he's tempted all over again to stay, EVEN KNOWING IT'S NOT REAL and there are very, very, very pressing matters to attend to. Even if it was all a little happy and idealized, more than anything, it felt like life always did. It's telling that when Tanjiro finally, FINALLY pulls away from that that time, he doesn't look back, and the family stops chasing him. This is Tanjiro accepting reality, however much it hurts. He's already had a couple years to accept this, but it was all overwhelming to get such a vivid taste of it again.

Tanjiro wants to do well to his organization and honor Urokodaki's training and avenge the fallen and prevent anyone else from being hurt and see an end to Kibutsuji Muzan and make Nezuko human again, but more than anything, he wants that simple life. And it's so, so heartwarming that at the end of the manga, he gets it.

It's not the same. It'll never be the same.

He never wanted a life with a sword, but he's been working so hard at it anyway.

#my heart is broken and it's Kamado Tanjiro's fault #KnY Fandom Theories and Meta #Mugen Ressha Hen #Kamado Tanjiro #Kamado Tanjirou #Agatsuma Zenitsu #Hashibira Inosuke #Rengoku Kyoujurou #Rengoku Kyojuro

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asset35-maya · 3 years ago

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MANMADE FATE

PART TWO OF THREE

Read part one here

“Come to bed.”

Gavin hummed an absent-minded response.

“Gav...”

“We’re so damn close. We can’t stop now.”

“You’ve been at it for hours and we have work tomorrow. Come to bed.”

Lips pressed against his neck and arms wrapped around his torso from behind. Gavin finally stopped clattering away at his keyboard and leaned into Connor’s embrace.

They both sighed as their eyes fell upon the android laying on their couch in apparent slumber. They had made heaps of progress in the five weeks since smuggling the RK900 out of the Cyberlife warehouse.

His thirium pump now beat steadily and his LED glowed blue. They’d even managed to activate his synth skin (and dressed him in their own clothes when that presented obvious problems)... but they just couldn’t get him to open his eyes.

It was now a mission of their own. Independent of anything North asked of them, and far exceeding the expectations of her original offhand instruction. It made absolutely no sense, but the couple had developed an attachment, if not an obsession, with the RK900.

They’d even named him.

“He kind of looks like a David.”

“Fuck no. Richard.”

“Allen. Shit that reminds me of Sixty’s boss.”

“Maybe he doesn’t need a human name. RK… Nine…. hmm… Nine sounds nice. Nine, Nine… Nines?”

Connor’s eyes had lit up spectacularly at the suggestion and it so came to be that their silent roommate was called Nines.

Outside of detective work and North’s secret errands, Gavin spent all his time poring through the data stolen from Cyberlife in the hope of finding some clue on activating Nines. He’d fall asleep at his workstation and his boyfriend would carry him to bed… but not join him there.

Instead, Connor would resume his place on the floor beside the couch. He’d take his successor model’s hand and whisper to him, pushing parcel after parcel of code through a one-way interface.

A lesser man might have found it creepy to see Connor frozen on the ground in the early hours of the morning, staring deep into a face identical to his own… but Gavin would merely brush a hand through both Connor and Nines’ hair and sit back down at his computer to generate more code for them to try.

This went on for weeks.

Then came the text messages.

Gavin thought it was advertising spam at first.

[Too much caffeine and not enough melatonin. Try decaf.]

[When was the last time you shaved? I can add razor blades to your shopping cart if you like]

[Your couch is really comfortable but a blanket would be nice]

Then one morning Connor had dashed into the bathroom where Gavin was brushing his teeth. It was technically impossible, but the RK800 looked like he was out of breath.

“Gav, he can talk! He’s talking to me! In my head!”

“Mmffff???”

“I think he’s tried to speak to you too.”

Mouth otherwise occupied, Gavin’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

His phone buzzed from the edge of the bathroom vanity. He snatched it up.

[Good morning, Gavin. Don’t you look fresh! Told you a shave was in order.]

Gavin went white as a ghost. The toothbrush clattered into the sink and his phone slipped from his grasp. It was saved from landing in the toilet by Connor’s deft catch.

"...Nines?”

“Yes! It’s him! Gavin, I’m so happy I could kiss you but I’d rather you rinse your mouth out first.”

“I haven’t stepped into the living room yet. How the phck did he know I shaved?”

“Er... I might have... don’t be mad, don’t be mad! I gave him access to my peripherals. He can see and sense whatever I do. Poor devil, he’s been immobile for so long. I thought it was only fair to give him some stimuli.”

A lesser man might have found objections to that, but all Gavin did was spit in the sink and pull Connor in for a celebratory kiss.

[Spearmint?]

From that point on, there was new zeal behind their efforts. Gavin furiously wracked his brains for any residual knowledge, any subconscious memory that might explain why Cyberlife had placed the RK900 behind such bars.

But nothing came to mind.

Then North had come knocking on their door.

She shoved past Gavin and barged into their living room. Her brown eyes swept over the prone figure on the couch (now swaddled in fluffy blankets) and pierced through the guilty-looking pair.

“How dare you keep this from me?”

“Err...”

“You found what we were looking for all along and now you want to keep the glory all for yourself? I should have known not to trust a human.”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, Reed. This is the Singularity. Cyberlife’s crown jewel.”

“North, I love you, but you sound crazy. He’s just another unlucky experiment and we’re just helping-”

Connor held a hand out.

“What did you say he was?”

“Technological Singularity. I mean, that’s what they used to say about androids in general, Con. Artificial intelligence equivalent or greater to human intellect. But this unit you took from that warehouse... is the holy grail of robotics.”

[Really? I’m more of a digital vegetable at this point than anything else.]

“I went over all our plans again. Every single one of them. My Tracis helped me run through every alternative direction our search could have gone. It all led back to that warehouse! We didn’t end up in the wrong place, guys. We just didn’t know what we were looking for... and it’s that android lying on your overstuffed and ugly couch.”

[Your friend has an excellent sense of humor.]

“North, that makes no sense. He’s not some tech marvel. We can’t even get him awake. There’s too many interlocking protocols preventing-”

Gavin trailed off as realization dawned. He turned to face his boyfriend and found his thoughts mirrored in Connor’s awestruck expression. There was no reason for an ordinary android to have security measures that prevented activation.

They ushered North out of the apartment and began another one of Gavin’s ten-hour coding sprints.

The result was a shockingly simple landing page. An activation code request. Merely six digits of alphanumeric input.

So close… yet so far.

[Go to bed, Gavin. I’ll still be here in the morning.]

Connor pulled the human even closer and clamped his mouth over his throat. Gavin sucked air sharply in through his teeth, tipping his head back to offer more access.

That certainly brought them into the bedroom.

Their clothes landed on the floor in no time and they ended up wound tightly together... breathing and moving against each other in sync... reveling in the intimacy after a long break.

Gavin moaned as a hundred sweet nothings were whispered into the crook of his neck.

“I never thought we would be this close.”

“Mmm…”

“I knew you were kind... but I’d have never dreamed of receiving this love.”

The honeyed voice was laden with emotion that was a shade deeper than expected. Gavin stroked the handsome face and pressed kisses to the perfect cheekbones... closed eyelids... plush lips...

He pulled back to gauge the reaction and the android on top of him sighed blissfully, eyes fluttering open.

Brilliant, sheer, piercing, icy steel blue.

A lesser man might have screamed... jumped out of bed... or maybe just fainted in shock... but Gavin leaned back in... somehow at peace with the fact that the lips on his were Connor’s but there was someone else kissing him...

The rest of their lovemaking was something profound.

The climax was monumental.

Gavin couldn’t prevent the name that escaped his mouth nor the tears that streamed down his face. Connor pulled out with an uncharacteristic roar and fell onto the mattress, LED cycling furiously and chest heaving as his system reset. He blinked several times to restore the chocolate brown irises.

“What the phck did we just do?”

#tw: implied sex #reed1700 #reed900 #convin #rk1700 #rk900 #gavin reed #dbh rk900 #dbh connor #dbh north #dbh fanfic #dbh #dbh writing #my writing #Reed1700 MANMADE FATE

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astranva · 4 years ago

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Dream With Me

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Some explicit language? Not really though.

Category: Pure fluff!

Summary: One thing Harry loves about his girlfriend is her ability to make up the most interesting bedtime stories for him every night. How does it make her feel when he narrates one of her own to the world?

The one where Y/N makes up bedtime stories for Harry and he records one for the world to listen to.

When you tour the world, sing and prance on stages, write, model, play the guitar and piano, get interviewed, have people follow you everywhere, it’s safe to say that the best time to relax and let loose is when you sleep.

Harry enjoyed staying home with his girlfriend more than anything. Relaxed, chill days were his favorite; days when she’d be on the couch reading or on her laptop playing whatever video game she decided to try with people from online, he’d be lounging lazily beside her, his breath steady and calm when she’d run her fingers through his hair momentarily or when he’d be subconsciously playing with hers.

Days when their apartment would smell like pastries after she’d try baking something she saw on the television, or when it would smell like her favorite homecooked meal that Harry’s eyes would almost glimmer with happiness when she’d sneak and steal from the food he was cooking, watching her closing her eyes and a smile making its way to her face the moment she does, and he’d know that he has done a good job this time, again.

Harry loved the domestic life as much as he loved his job as an artist and entertainer. The euphoria he got the moment the crowd sang back to him, is one that he felt he achieved as well when he was with his girlfriend of 2 years when she’d be dancing to his songs in his clothes. The happiness he felt when someone would hug him and tell him that he means so much to them, is one he feels within just her smile in mornings or the soft, random kisses she’d give him. The bashfulness that would engulf him when someone would tell him that he’s good looking, was one that he felt when his girlfriend would tease him by wolf-whistling when he’d show her a new outfit or suit or just going anywhere really.

Don’t even get him started on how he feels with every single “I love you” she promises him because he was sure there would be no feeling close to what he feels when he hears those words from her, and especially her.

But there was something else about her, too, that nobody could give him but her – her stories.

Touring the world and doing what he does is hectic, of course, it is. It can be stressful, pressuring, and just plain tiring. So when he goes back home later than her after her job, and he goes straight into her arms, she knows he’s going to need a story to sleep better.

He’d nuzzle his head in her neck, smelling the scent of her shampoo with a whiff of her bodywash, his arms around her waist, hers around his neck, her hands moving to gently and lightly scratch his scalp.

“How was your day?” Harry would mumble, closing his eyes and letting her softly sway them in their place.

“Was alright,” she’d answer softly, “How was yours?”

And the sigh he’d release would be enough of an answer – tiring.

“Take a quick shower, yeah? Are you hungry?” She’d pull back to look at him, a soft smile on her lips as she asks him.

Harry would shake his head, “No, still feel too full from lunch.”

“Let me grab you an apple though. Lunch was a long time ago.” She’d pat his chest, “Go. How do we feel tonight? Do we feel like rescuing dwarfs or ending capitalism?” She’d grin, and it would instantly make him grin.

“Anything is fine. Just want to sleep with you beside me.”

On some days, they’d lie on their bed and she’d make up a story about how there were 3 dwarfs who lived in a mansion with everything miniature-sized and would climb each other and wear a coat and a fedora whilst outside. Why? “You can’t tell me you never wanted to try that, Harry!”

Then on other days, she’d tell a story about a boy named Harry with a rapidly growing fish in his backpack. Ring any bell? She remembers starting that series a long time ago with him, adding twists, comedy, and metaphors along the way until Harry decided to surprise her one day with an idea for his music video;

“Hey, baby, remember the fish in my backpack? We’re using that in Adore You! See you soon! Love you xx” he had texted.

Other days she’d make him think with the most random questions and assumptions.

“History is biased, Harry. When will the world stop considering Christopher Columbus a discoverer and instead take accountability for what he did to the natives of the land? What if Christopher never happened?”

And he’d be looking at her as she talked, one of her hands playing with his hair while the other moved all over the place for emphasis and to show how absolutely wonderful and amusing that mess of her mind was.

Some days, she’d be too tired. Drained from a day at her work, she’d be lazily playing with hair as her story was told in some sort of slurs.

“And then-And then they held hands, got on their horses and- no, they got on their skateboards,” she’d chuckle sleepily, “And they ran away. They didn’t have children because they didn’t want children and figured that the world was too ugly for that right now, so they adopted a blind dog and a deaf cat, and lived happily ever after.” She’d be out the moment she finishes, and Harry would be smiling at that and his heart thumping with love for her and love for how hard she has been trying to keep the ritual of a bedtime story alive, even when she was too sleepy and tired. It could be a 1-minute story and he’d feel better, and lighter.

It was one day when Harry went back home, turmoil evident and clear on his face. She noticed how tense his body was, how he clenched his jaw and saw him rubbing his temple as he took off his cardigan and was proven right when she put her laptop on the couch beside her and Harry took a breath before letting her know what happened;

“Fucking paparazzi. Do they think that’s an actual job?”

That day, he had showered and changed into one of her oversized hoodies (he was sure it used to belong to him) and shorts before joining her in their living room to find a tuna club sandwich waiting for him with a small cup of orange juice, his girlfriend under a blanket which she had retrieved when he was showering.

He told her all about the drama he faced that day over his tuna sandwich, giving her “thank you!”s every single time she agreed with him on how annoying they were.

“I get that people are different and that the economy is shit and everybody’s doing anything to get money but trying to trip me so they could get a photo? Why?” He rhetorically asked, shrugging.

“I agree, like,” her eyebrows furrowed as one of her arms reached out as if she was talking to somebody else but him, “Treat people with kindness, you assholes!”

And then there was a pause before Harry began to giggle, all the way to a loud laugh and struggling to catch his breath. She joined him, choosing to tackle him in a hug, hugging his head close to her chest before kissing his forehead, “Nobody is allowed to make you mad, you hear me, Styles? Now finish up, I think I know what to say tonight.”

She had taken a seat on Harry’s piano right after she uttered her last word, Harry turning his body around as he watched her with excitement and amusement. She cleared her throat, “This next song is dedicated to my mans,” Harry laughed, taking his phone in his hand and recording her as a keepsake, “It’s a song I worked very hard on. Stayed up all day and night.” She played offkey notes on the piano, “Harry, love,” she said slowly as she turned her head around to look at him, laughing when she found him recording her with the biggest grin on his face, “This one is for you.”

He had taught her how to play the Happy Birthday theme song on the piano when she joined him on tour once and began laughing when he heard her playing exactly that but with her own lyrics.

“Y/N makes me good stories, Y/N makes me good stories, Y/N makes me good stories,” she pressed the wrong key, letting out a tiny “oop” before continuing, “And she will make me sleep better toooonight.”

After, what she called a “skit”, they both brushed their teeth, did their night-time skincare routine, and were finally in bed.

Taking their usual position, Harry was on his side, looking at her with one arm draped around her waist. She was on her side, looking at him, one hand playing with his hair.

“Let’s try something different,” she suggested softly. “Close your eyes.”

Harry smiled at her, squinting teasingly which caused her to chuckle softly.

“Close your eyes, you baboon.”

So he did.

“Follow my instructions. Take a deep breath in,” she instructed, watching and hearing him follow her, “And then out. In.” He did as was said, “And out.”

Harry felt like almost sleeping from just how soft and gentle she was being, with the couple of deep breaths that he took, it felt like he could really feel how soothing the setting was; his hair played with, on clean sheets that smelled like the vanilla detergent they both loved mixed with her own scent, her presence beside him. It felt like heaven.

“Have you ever wondered what happens when you sleep?” She rhetorically asked, “Where you go, and what you feel; the places that you seek. When you start to drift away, your mind becomes a book,” she paused, “That writes itself then fades away before you wake to look.”

Harry almost swooned at what she said, embracing the calmness her words, voice, and overall presence radiated.

“Tonight, we’re going to think about anything you’d like.”

His mind instantly flashed to a scene that he had been dreaming and thinking too much about. The beach, him and his Y/N, wet with water and laughing before 3 kids were squealing and running around them. Call him a sap, but he saw a future with her and he loved kids.

“But let’s visualize some scenes. Clear your mind, love.” The hand which played with his hair stopped momentarily before he felt her knuckles softly caressing his temple and down to his cheek, making his reflexively smile which instantly put a smile on her face. “Let’s head to places more celestial.” She whispered.

“Imagine you’re there beneath the stars, which when you pause to think about it, actually, you are.” A sweet, gentle kiss followed her statement on his nose, watching him scrunch it with a wide smile and a hot face with a blush.

“You are, too.” He whispered, inching closer to her.

“Hush.” She said jokingly but blushed, before continuing the story which she had actually been thinking about for a while but saved for the right time.

She went on, describing sceneries for him and watching his lips tug into smiles as he listened to her, his face showing her different emotions despite having his eyes closed.

“Travel with me to moonlit valleys, blanketed with heather, the kind of landscape you and I could dream about forever.”

Harry was sure that if he wasn’t so sleepy, he’d be grabbing his journal to jot down everything she was saying and make it into a song, but he couldn’t cut their moment short. He didn’t have the heart to.

His Y/N continued, letting him relax more and more with every word she said.

He probably smiled the widest and felt like his heart would beat its way out of chest when she spelled out the word “love” to him, pecking different parts on his face with a kiss as she did.

“L,” she pecked his nose, “O,” she pecked one of his eyes and giggled when his face scrunched up in surprise, “V,” she pecked his temple, “E,” she pecked his cheek, “Love.” She kissed him softly and quickly.

And when she told him to think of “the ones he cherishes the most”, Harry couldn’t help but let out a low sigh of contentment as he imagined a garden with his family, friends and in between them, right under a spotlight, stood his Y/N in a flowy white floral dress, smiling so lovingly at him.

That night, Y/N watched Harry’s body get more relaxed by the minute, breath getting steadier until she realized that he had fallen asleep, his arm limp on her waist and his leg draped over hers.

“Goodnight.” She whispered.

He woke up before her the following morning, with a smile that proved that he, in fact, had a good and peaceful night's sleep. When he woke up, he realized that she was spooning him; one of her arms holding him tight, her leg over him, her head leaning against the back of his as he held her hand which was draped on his stomach.

Harry had to pause and reflect. Yesterday’s bedtime stories were probably one of her best and he was sure that if his Y/N decided to take that to the next level and write it down and read it to help ease those with a difficulty sleeping or anxiety, she would be helping out more people than she would imagine.

He stayed in his place for a while, scrolling through his phone and watching the previous night’s video without sound so that he wouldn’t disturb her. He watched how she laughed in that video, how domestically free and shamelessly herself she was, how she effortlessly managed to carry the weight of that day’s burdens off of his shoulders and throw it away.

Y/N woke up not long after and Harry felt it when he heard her let out a groan before she stretched, him instantly turning around to see her. “Good morning, beastie.” He joked as he always did to her in the morning.

“Morning, beauty.” She replied sleepily with a smile. “How was your sleep?”

“I’m certain that you’re a magician, Y/N. I’m sure of it.”

“Oh shoot. Caught.” She teased, wrapping herself around him by climbing and lying on top of him, feeling his arms wrap around her. “But really, how was it?”

“It was amazing. What was that last night?” He asked gently.

“What? You didn’t like it?”

“Like-Y/N, I loved it. That was some therapeutic shit right there.” His chest vibrated with chuckles, “Seriously. I think I want you to record that.”

Her eyebrows rose up and as did her head as she looked at him, “Really?”

“Yes!” He nodded eagerly.

“Wait, I have to show you something now that you mentioned it.” She grinned before climbing off of him and getting out of bed and walking towards her bedside table, mumbling about how she could’ve “shifted closer and gotten it without having to get out of bed.” She opened her drawer, taking out the notebook Mitch had gifted her for some reason last Christmas. It was a medium-sized notebook which had koalas on it with the title being “I’m 100% koalafied to become president!”

She sat beside Harry, who sat up and looked at her with both confusion and excitement as she shuffled through the pages.

“Here,” she stopped at one page, “That’s like, an outline? I don’t know what you call it. But I decided I’d write a bedtime story for you and that’s what I read to you yesterday.” She looked like a kid who had just won first place at a spelling-bee competition as she gave Harry her notebook.

His eyes fell on the title, “Dream with me.” He said softly.

“It’s cliché I know, forget about it.” She said bashfully, waving her hands around.

“No, it’s not,” Harry shook his head, “I did dream with you. Darling, this is incredible.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes!” Harry laughed excitedly, putting the notebook aside, “Write more, will you?” He asked softly as he opened his arms, letting her move to place herself on his lap and wrap her arms around him.

“Don’t treat me as if I’m a professional. You’re overfeeding my ego.” She joked.

“And why not? You are the best bedtime storyteller I have ever seen.” He said lowly.

“You think too highly of me, Harry.”

“Not too high,” He shook his head with a smug smile, “Just enough to appreciate how bloody talented you are.”

And that began a new ritual. It then became usual for Harry to find his girlfriend perched up anywhere, her koala notebook supported on a cushion on her lap as she wrote away stories which she told him every night, deciding on the perfect ones according to different times and moods.

One day, an idea popped in her head.

Due to the pandemic and how they were both staying safe and going out only when absolutely necessary, Y/N knew how chaotic and sad the world was. She knew some chaos needed to happen, knew that some chaos was revolutionary which is why she decided against staying home and silent and was with Harry during the BLM protests, knowing that something had to be done and that something wasn’t to sit and mope.

But everyone deserved the breather. Everyone deserved to let out a breath and to catch a good night's sleep.

It was when she stumbled upon a video on YouTube that was a 39-minute video of just Harry talking with rain in the background and she saw the comments from fans that she gasped and almost sprinted to Harry.

Harry, sitting in his recording and music room, was sat on a chair with his guitar, strumming and humming when his girlfriend barged in and began to ramble. “I’m sorry I didn’t knock but it’s so important! There are so many people we can help, or like, you can, and it’s super easy, you already have the equipment and ev-“

“Y/N!” His eyes widened as he called for her and put his guitar aside, “Honey, calm down. It’s okay. Let’s talk. Come here.” He held his arm out.

She blushed and began laughing quietly at herself as she seated herself on his lap, brushing back her hair. “Sorry, sorry, too excited.”

Harry smiled, “And I absolutely love it but I’m having just a liiittle bit of hard time understanding.”

She laughed before taking a deep breath and straightening her posture, “Alright. You know how awful everything has been? How-How busy and noisy the world has been for a while?” She asked and Harry nodded, “Well do you know that your fans have a video of you on YouTube with many interviews in there because they love your voice? And they added rain and everything, reduced noise.”

“Oh, wow.” He tried to conceal his blush by laughing.

“I know! You know how good your voice is so why don’t you give the world a little something?”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, “I sing?”

“No, they know that. They have your songs and covers and everything but you talking?” She raised an eyebrow at him with a suggestive smile.

“Baby, I really don’t think I’m getting anything.”

“Read them something! A bedtime story.” She suggested with an excited smile and a gleeful tone.

“Like you do to me?” He asked, wanting to understand better.

“Yeah, exactly like that. You can upload it on your website or see if any app is willing to partner, whatever you want.”

“Do you think people would like that?” Harry asked again, wrapping his arms tighter around her to bring her closer as he looked up at her.

Y/N smiled and gently cupped his face, “They’ll absolutely adore it.”

Harry hummed, in thought. “Yeah well, I can’t do that on my own.”

She nodded, “You have connections. Jeff has connections, you can find a part-“

“No, love, I mean I can’t do it without you.” He grinned up at her, watching as her face then showed confusion, “Not without your beautiful, absolutely wonderful stories.”

Her eyes widened, her head tilted. “What? No. These are for you. Told you I’m no professional, Harry. I’m sure there are faaar better people.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Nonsense. We do this together or we let people have trouble sleeping.”

“You manipulative piece of shit.” She shook her head with a smile, leaning her head back, Harry chuckling.

“Dream with me.” He said after a moment, “I can read Dream With Me.”

She looked at him for a moment, her smile widening before she nodded, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss. “I love you.”

Remember what I said about the indescribable feeling he got when she said those three words? It was there.

And she felt it, too, when he replied with a promise of his – “I love you, too. So much.”

---

Harry had contacted Jeff, who had contacted some people before finally landing on a partnership with Calm. There were two conditions in this work;

Harry would record from his home.

He would be reading his girlfriend’s story.

Now imagine owning a company of that sort as Calm and having Harry Styles contact you with these two conditions. Yes.

It took a couple of days. In the comfort of their own home, Harry and Y/N had him record then they would tweak some stuff then they would listen and try again. They were aware that music would be added, and Y/N was way too excited to listen to the final product.

In his denim hat, black t-shirt, striped cream-colored pants, using his Vans as slippers – which Y/N always cringed at and told him that it would ruin his shoes – and the script in his hand, Y/N stood on the side, admiring. He had allowed his scruff to grow, which she definitely wasn’t complaining about. A bracelet she made him when they were only friends years ago on his wrist, its colors washed out from when he’d shower or swim with it. Headphones were on his head, but she knew he could hear her if she said anything.

When she took her phone out to take a picture, Harry’s eyes moved to her before moving back to the script with a smile.

“Maybe all the memories that we’ve gathered here tonight are all dreams now remembered or wishes in plain sight. No matter what, they’re with us now, for this night and forever. And every time we close our eyes, they’re yours and mine to treasure. Goodnight, and sleep well.”

Harry then turned to look at her, eyes gleaming with happiness and calmness, as her hands were clutched together against her chest, watching and listening.

“I love you.” He added.

913,746 likes.

yourinstagram: Goodnight❤

#wellbeafinelime #AAA FIRST ONE! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!#harry styles #dream with me #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles one shot #fluff one shot #harry styles dream with me #harry styles fluff one shot #fluffy #harry styles social media au #harry styles social media imagine #harry styles instagram #social media au

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wesimpforxiao · 4 years ago

Text

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 5.4

Darkness.

What a strange feeling it is to have your senses deprived and stolen from you. Were you still alive, or were you also nothing in this realm of nothingness? Look at you, unable to form a coherent thought or a cry for help. Look at how you've fallen.

You've fallen too deep this time. Was Xiao even looking for you? Did they manage to kill Childe? Was Aether defeated? Did the Fatui get what they needed from you, and discard your body in the snow? All these fears floated alongside you in this sea of darkness, but you could not discern the answers.

Just how much time passed since you were dragged into that portal?

But as soon as you found yourself in this wretched place of nothing, something began to manifest. A single voice found you, then two. Soon enough they were blaringly loud and obnoxious. But eternal sleep sounded nice. Maybe this darkness wasn't all bad. A peaceful end to your unpeaceful demise.

"Why is she still sleeping?" Childe sounded a bit agitated and overprotective as he glared at Signora. "We require her to be in good health."

"Relax, Childe," Signora lent him a faint smile. "Do you not know that archons and adepti can hear pleas for help? This will keep the guardian you spoke of off our trail. Later we'll use it as bait to capture him."

"It wasn't necessary to hit her so hard," he muttered. He could still see caked blood at your hairline.

"Now that we're back, I'll inform the Tsaritsa of our achievement. Make sure she doesn't try anything stupid." Signora left the cell and retreated upstairs.

Childe watched her leave and returned his gaze to you. His fingers lightly traced your jaw. "I warned you that things would get ugly, ojou-chan. You should have considered an early surrender."

............................................

"I can't hear her," Xiao paced the city gates while Aether and Paimon tried to reassure him. The worry that exuded the otherwise composed yaksha was enough to put them even more on edge. If only he had been faster, if he had pushed off the ledge harder, you wouldn't be in the Fatui's hands now. A part of him tore himself to shreds for his lack of agility in the spur of the moment, but he quickly silenced it. Reducing himself to a failure would only hinder his ability to rescue you when the time came.

"We know where they're headed! They'll be in Snezhnaya without a doubt!" Paimon attempted to bring optimism to her friends.

"It won't be that easy to infiltrate their base," Aether groaned. "We won't even know where she's being held, or if she's even there in the first place." This comment only seemed to agitate the yaksha further.

Aether was right, and Xiao hated it. As much as he wanted to barge into Snezhnaya the second you disappeared, acting on emotion and rage wouldn't do you any good. The likelihood that they were using you as bait was too high. He needed to formulate a plan, just like every other battle he's participated in. "Quiet," Xiao ordered the two of them to shut up in a disturbingly low voice. "I need silence."

"S-Sorry!"

The yaksha disappeared without another word, and reappeared before Zhongli in Liyue. He was just leaving the funeral parlor after a long day. "We have a problem," Xiao growled.

......................................

"Mmph," you slowly regained consciousness sometime the next day. "M-my head..." Your blurry vision slowly focused on the ground in front of you. The amount of scum on the tile made your stomach riot, and your gaze shifted to your wrists which were chained to the ground. "So...dizzy."

The sound of metal clinking made you look up. A Fatui agent was unlocking your cell door, and Childe entered. "Good, you're awake. Someone very important wishes to meet you." He nodded to his subordinate, who then unchained your hands from the floor and rechained them behind your back. Childe grabbed you by your injured arm and pulled you to your feet.

"Ngh!" The sudden rise of pain in your shoulder made him chuckle.

"That wasn't even me going all-out, ojou-chan," he spoke in a quiet voice as he guided you down a dim narrow hallway. "That injury is nothing compared to the ones you'll soon receive."

"Shut up," you groaned, not particularly caring if it'd earn you torture later. The two of you soon came upon a set of doors, and Childe guided you through them.

The room was grand and remarkably...dim. The air was stale and seemed to freeze in here. Over ten Fatui agents and skirmishers, the top of their ranks, stood on either side of the path that led to an underwhelming throne. The blue glow that shone through the windows illuminated you much like an interrogation light. Childe pushed you onto your knees once you reached the empty seat at the far end of the room; he spared no expense at agitating your injury, a sadistic smile spreading across his lips every time he heard your stifled groans.

A figure moved from the shadows and took its seat on the throne. The shadows from its headboard obscured the person before you, but you didn't need to know what the person looked like to give you an answer.

"Bow," the friendly mask of Childe finally broke completely, and he forced you to the ground with a foot to your back. "It's customary to show your respect before Her Majesty."

"Urk," your face smooshed against the cold tile. You appreciated that it was much cleaner than your cell floor. It was a weird thing to focus on given the circumstances, but if you were going to live in that disgusting cell the rest of your life, might as well appreciate what you have now, right?

"Rise," a powerful voice boomed through the room, and Childe yanked you back to your knees.

You're really milking this, aren't you? You glared at the harbinger when your shoulder ached from his harshness, but his hardened expression was focused on his queen. That's when you noticed Signora to the left, who was accompanied by two other powerful-looking individuals. Harbingers.

I can't call Xiao here, you realized with disappointment. Even with his years of experience, he couldn't face four harbingers and an archon alone. If you were to call him, he'd be here instantly and without the aid of Aether or anyone else. It would serve as a trap. Knowing this, your shoulders dropped with the weight of an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

You were alone.

"Do you know what this is?" The figure leaned forward enough so that her gloved hand was exposed to the light, along with an object you recognized to be your vision. The panicked look you gave your empty belt loop seemed to satisfy her question. "I hadn't realized I had gifted a vision to someone very valuable to our cause," she mused, turning the vision over in her hand. "You see, we archons bestow visions subconsciously. If I had known you were my target, it wouldn't have been gifted to you. I give you my thanks for your cooperation, but you will not be needing this." She crushed it in her hands, and let the shattered pieces clatter to the ground with the faint clinking of glass and metal.

"Wait, no!" You threw yourself forward, but Childe's grip prevented you from moving. That was my only chance! My...only...! Tears dribbled down your cheeks, and Childe watched you with an empty gaze. If there was some slim possibility of getting out of here, that was it. You stared brokenly at the pieces sitting on the floor.

"If you prove your loyalty to my cause, dearest one, perhaps you'll earn it back," the voice echoed through the chamber. "But until then, that will pose a problem. We don't want you to leave prematurely, do we? You had only just arrived."

"P-please," you cried. "Please don't do this." Childe brought you to your feet and began to escort you out of the room. "Please! No! NO!" His escort was more like dragging your flailing body as you tried to kick at him. "Noooo!"

Your screams of protest no longer echoed in the chamber once the doors shut behind you. A few Fatui held looks of uncertainty or even fear behind their masks, but remained silent. The room was quiet until Signora spoke. "Who will be in charge of her?"

The Tsaritsa's lifeless eyes floated to the harbinger that stood to Signora's right. "Il Dottore."

The white-haired man grinned manically with only half of his smile visible from beneath his mask. "What an excellent casting, Your Majesty. You will not be let down with the results of my research."

.......................................

Childe chained your wrists to the floor once he returned you to the cell. He brought a stool into the room and sat on it, intent on watching you until he was called to do otherwise. You didn't meet his eyes. "I gave you a way out," Childe spoke as he watched various expressions pass across your face while you thought of your options of escape. "To avoid the torment that's to come. You have no idea what you're in for."

"Shut up."

"If you follow instructions, I'm sure you'll earn a few luxuries."

"Like a clean cell?" You rolled your eyes. "Why would you do something like this? I don't get it."

"I owe my loyalty to--"

"No!" Your shout cut him off. "Cut the crap, Tartaglia. Why?" Your eyes glowed enough to illuminate the cell, then faded again. Your determination to remain strong continued to shine in your pupils, though. "If what you told me in Dragonspine was true, if you actually were interested in me, you wouldn't be doing this. I don't give a damn about your rehearsed 'loyalty' line, I'm sick of hearing it. So why?"

Childe searched your eyes for his own answer.

"You lied to us, said that you just wanted to join us on an adventure for awhile," you continued, eyes moist with the beginning of tears. "You ate with us. You laughed with us. You sparred with us. Did all of that mean nothing to you? We trusted you!"

"Sweet, naïve ojou-chan. Trust is for children. This should've been expected." He stood up and grabbed the brim of the stool. He walked towards the cell door.

"Do you even care about family?" The question stopped him in his tracks, but he didn't face you. "You've talked about your siblings before. Do you really expect me to believe you have family values if you disregarded mine?"

"Watch your words, comrade." A dangerous voice left his lips, but it didn't faze you.

"How would you feel if I had been the one to meddle in your family's affairs? To kill them? Do they know how many sins you've committed against innocent people? Do you tell them? Have you told Teucer, or do you continue to wear the same stupid façade of a respectable, perfect older brother? I'd love to see the look on his face when he finds out you're nothing but a monster and a fraud."

Your head slammed into the wall behind you, and Childe's face was suddenly inches away from yours. His hand pressed against your neck enough to deprive you of air, but it eased slightly as he continued to look at you. "Let me get one thing straight. I didn't kill your grandmother," his voice was quiet, with slight guilt, and at the same time full of rage.

"T-then why did you force her to sign the house away?" You gasped for air when he finally let go of your neck.

"She signed it of her own accord," he rose to his feet.

"But why?"

"She refused to give information for free, so we offered her a considerable amount of money and to buy her house so she could move wherever she'd like," Childe grinned slightly when you gave him a look of skepticism. "In the end, she didn't have any useful information on you. But I was more than willing to oblige her, since I respect family."

He replaced his seat back in the middle of the cell and silently watched you once again. You didn't really know how to respond to his words about Granny, so you just glared at the muck on the floor.

Coming up: First contact, a plot of rescue and...a rare sight of a yaksha.

#genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #xiao #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #xiao fanfiction #xiao one shot #genshin imagines

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youryanderedaddy · 4 years ago

Text

Two-time

I have a birthday today and this is my present to you, guys... it’s softer than usual, kinda messy, but I hope you enjoy it dot dot

tw: mentions of sex, emotional manipulation?, non-consensual touching, possessive / obsessive behavior, reader has a dating trauma oops, angst, lots of crying :(

It felt nice. His big warm hands on your skin, his skilled finders touching and digging deep on your most sensitive spots. His tongue on your neck and his palm resting between your soft thighs. Stroking your hear, whispering threats of a good time into your ear. You liked it. You liked the pleasure and the attention, the sweet words, the compliments - everything the handsome young man provided for you. Even the little routine you two had fallen into was nice, you didn't mind the way he woke up earlier and served you breakfast in bed, cuddling close to your naked body, radiating heat under the white puffy sheets. And today wasn't supposed to be any different.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." Joe smiled upon seeing you yawn, stretching your sore muscles, your hair all messy and tangled, your eyes shining bright with energy. A beam of light ran trough your face, lighting it up, and you grinned cheerfully as you took the plate in your lap. The man sat next to you, staring while you ate in silence. His hand wrapped in your silky locks, massaging your scalp. You slowly leaned into the gentle touch, resting your head on your lover's shoulder.

"I've been thinking about asking you something for a while now." He spoke out quietly, watching your chest rise and fall with every peaceful breath you took. You were so beautiful laying in his embrace, serene and angelic like a child. "Would you move in with me?" Jay added after a while. This was the moment he had been waiting for since the day he met you for the first time and it made his heart beat faster than ever, the butterflies already racing trough his clenched stomach in manic circles. "It would make me really happy to have you here with me." He admitted softly, tightening his grip on your shoulders, pulling you even closer.

His words honestly surprised you. Some deep subconscious part of you waited, dreaded this moment, while the other hoped it would never come. But it was obvious, now that you thought of it - every relationship had layers and levels and it was only natural for yours to reach a new higher one. And just how much this scared you, forcing shivers down your back, suddenly breaking in cold sweat. Some things never changed in the end. People did nothing but push for more of you, never satisfied with what you had already given them. But you wanted to believe that Jay was different - he was a cool guy, always sweet and goofy, slow to anger, an understanding person and a great listener. You couldn't ruin another great thing because of an annoying misunderstanding yet again.

"I am flattered." You started off carefully, your voice slightly colder than before as you drew away from the warm hug to look the man in the eyes. You needed to hold your ground without losing decency, no matter how tense the conversation was going to be. "You are one of my closest friends and you are an amazing lover." You reached out to pull away a lock of dark hair covering his forehead and tucked it behind his ear. You felt like a monster for what you were about to say, but it needed to be done. Otherwise you'd be lying not only to him, but to yourself as well. "But I am not ready for a relationship right now." You inhaled slowly, noticing how the light withdrew from Jay's pretty blue eyes. "Please, don't take it personally. I told you since the beginning that I am not one for commitment." You smiled softly at him, wiping away the traitorous little tear running down his red cheek. "We have fun, don't we?" You whispered under your breath, playing with the man's fingers, drawing circles on his palm to calm him down. "Isn't that enough?" Your lover finally raised his head to look you straight in the eyes, his all dark, icy, filled with sorrow and betrayal.

"No." He replied sternly, roughly grabbing your arm. In the next moment the man pushed you onto your back, pinning your hands over your head. His face was twisted in pain and his teeth were pressed together, making his features appear harsh and sharp. Jay placed a small kiss on your collarbone before moving up, biting and licking the sensitive skin along the way until there was formed an ugly bloody mark. He didn’t stop at that - soon your whole neck was covered in hickeys, some bright red, some blue and some even turning purple. “I want you to be mine.” The man stated, his cheeks now wet with tears. His expression was desperate, his gaze hiding so much adoration and yearning. “I need you.” He kept going, burying his head in the curve of your neck while holding your body down. You couldn’t move and you had no idea what to say. In the end your friend was just like every other person in your life - greedy and obsessed with having you. You had so many dreams and hopes for the future, yet he wanted to lock you down because of his own selfish desires.

“If you don’t let me go this instant you will never see me again.” You stated in cold monotone voice, glaring at him with hatred. You couldn’t help it as you felt lost and hurt by the sudden switch in the man’s cheerful attitude. You tried to push him off, hoping that the whole act was one big distasteful joke, but to no avail. His strong body remained motionless, towering over you, and despite being very familiar with this position due to the countless nights of shared intimacy, this time it felt suffocating, frightening even. “Let me go!” You finally shouted, starting to get scared for your safety. At the moment you wanted nothing more than to go back home, lay down and forget this whole fiasco of a morning.

Jay quickly pressed his lips over yours, shutting you up before you could say anything else and hurt his feelings even more. His heart was already aching, bleeding, torn to million pieces scattered over the floor. The kiss was rough, hungry, devoid of any tenderness or consideration for your own feelings. It was wet and invasive, salty with the tears you were both shedding, nothing like the sweet seals of love you used to share in the past.

“I can’t live without you.” The man whispered, stroking your hair softly. He looked so miserable and broken down, yet he never loosened his grip on you. “One day you will understand exactly how I feel about you, beloved.”

#yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #male yandere x you #yandere oneshot #yandere x you #yandere concept #yancore #yandere angst

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janekfan · 4 years ago

Note

ooooh..... difficult anniversary and/or you’re not human anymore bingo prompts for jarchivist obliteration?

AAAA This took so long! I am SO SORRY!!! <3 <3 <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31123295

Jon was used to hurting.

Used to hiding.

Which is why he didn’t notice. Didn’t understand what was happening to him and more importantly why.

A panic attack here. A bad day there. A cold, maybe? Until the scars on his skin from the worms and the corkscrew and the scratching woke one day as though they were fresh and new. His skin crawled, the slightest touch filled him with revulsion and, lord, he had to keep it together because Martin would almost certainly overreact and Jon hated, hated to be the source of his worry.

So he would ignore it as usual.

Whatever it was would pass. And he could avoid being the center of attention for this thing that was out of their control. He’d read the Lord of the Rings. He knew about the less romantic side of anniversaries. What was one more thing for him to overcome?

It didn’t stop them from hurting like the day they were drawn on his body and while the rents in his skin looked the same as they ever did, he nearly bloodied himself after a particularly wretched nightmare with his frenzied clawing.

And it passed. The burning, bleeding, boring sensations disappeared and Martin hadn’t suspected a thing. Okay, that was a lie. But he seemed mollified enough when Jon wrote it off as a tough week at university.

“I’m just tired, habibi.” He forced himself to reach for Martin’s hands, sighing in gusty relief when everything was normal and allowing himself to get wrapped up in warm arms.

The mark left behind by the Distortion ached deep and throbbing and somehow also elsewhere. It was a phantom pain traveling the myriad corridors of his veins, his arteries, his nerves and when he couldn’t rid himself of it in any conventional way, he waited. It would pass. It would. Just like the last one. This was just pain. He knew pain. Was fast friends with it by now and this was nothing like his worst days.

“Jon-darling?”

“Mm?” He was flipping through the pages in a book, not too fast, not too slow, not really reading anything, trying to pretend that everything was normal when his foot cramped up like he’d been bitten. He was practiced now in not looking; there wouldn’t be anything there anyway. His skin might as well have been a great big door and the only way through to the other side didn’t involve knocking.

“You look pale.” Ah. Well. Pain like this would do that to a man.

“Just a little sore today, love.” It wasn’t a lie. Jon set the book aside, not bothering to mark whatever random page he’d landed on, and threaded their fingers together.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you talk me into carrying the shopping.”

“What are you talking about? I always help carry the shopping.” Despite his chronic conditions, Jon pulled his own weight.

No, stop. Of course you do and you have nothing to prove, especially not to Martin of all people.

“You’ve been run down.”

“I have not!” Martin fixed him with a stern look and he cowed under his scrutiny. “Perhaps a bit, but you know how these things go.”

“I do. And I can’t help but feel like there’s something you aren’t telling me.” Here it was. Martin’s overture, his olive branch. His invitation to come clean and tell the truth and avoid his wrath when he found out later. But Jon never was a quick learner of these social lessons.

“I’m fine, hayati.” Jon soothed, tipping Martin into his newly throbbing shoulder. “I’m fine.”

The next three hit him like a lorry, nearly as hard as they had a year ago and nearly all at once.

His burn scar, just like the worm scars, felt blistered as badly as the day he’d taken Jude’s hand, and he shook violently at the onset of it, thankful he was squirreled away in his office at the University and not crying into Martin’s shirt even if that’s where he’d prefer to be but Martin hates burns.

Hates how they look, how twisted and ugly they become when they scar.

Burns made him upset. Burns made him sick.

He hates them. Hates them. And while Jon was reasonably sure Martin would never turn him away when he was hurting like this, the fluttering undercurrent chanting what if wouldn’t leave him be.

So Instead he sniffled away in the dark, wrist pressed between his knees in a vain attempt to stop the shaking while he tried to remember how to breathe.

It was dark when he slipped into bed beside Martin, dead asleep after a run of night shifts. For a frantic moment Jon wanted to shake him awake, beg for reasurances, for relief, but it would ruin this. Martin looked so peaceful, face relaxed in repose, cheek soft when Jon pressed his trembling lips there.

“Jon... ?” Washing out on a swirling tide his voice was fuzzy, thick with exhaustion, and the hand that brushed the small of his back lingered only for the time it took for him to drift back under. No. He’d wrought enough damage here. Better for Martin to rest without worry. He shouldn’t have to deal with Jon and his problems. Especially when they would be arriving like clockwork for the rest of his life. Jon pressed himself against Martin’s warmth, trying to soak it up, stop the shivering. How could he be so frozen when his whole right arm was engulfed in flame? Silent, he let the tears come, closing his eyes against a burgeoning dizziness he knew would only grow worse.

Be quiet. Just be quiet. Don’t disturb him, you mustn’t. You’ve nothing else to give except more burdens that aren’t his to carry.

The ceiling was spinning so fast above him; lights, cast shadows, cabinets whirling, reeling, spiraling so much he’d be sick with it any minute. The vibrations from Martin’s pounding footsteps resonated through the whole of him, pulsing, in time with his uneven battering pulse.

He barely remembered the actual fall, just the terrifying sensation of being weightless and the fear welling in his throat like coagulated ink. Forever. He’d be falling forever. Nothing to hold. To grab. To slow. To Know.

Endless.

His scream wrenched away from him in the rushing winds filling up his ears, stealing his voice, his breath. No one could hear him in this place. Martin would never know what happened. That Jon was eaten up by the sky. Surrounded infinitely on all sides by a sea of simultaneous nonexistence and brutal presence. Jon’s awareness whittled down only to the pull of gravity in all the wrong directions.

“Jon!” A bleary shape manifested above him, blocking out the worst of it. Hands, gentle, probing, searching subconsciously for breaks, contusions, his training winning out over the panic Jon could just make out in the set of his mouth. Fingers ran soft through his curls, seeking out any swellings and Jon winced when he found one. Must’ve struck his head on the way down. Those cool hands settled, cupping his face, and twin thumbs brushed over his cheeks. “You’re warm, love.” A murmur, almost to himself as Martin puzzled.

“B’bit of, of vertigo, s’all.” Uncoordinated, Jon’s arm struck out as he tried to reach for him and landed on his wrist. “Tryin’...nnh.” He gripped Martin like a lifeline, slamming his eyes shut against the need to be ill.

“You’ve clocked yourself.” Fair enough. “But I think you’re alright. Think you can move?” With no other option than to speak lest he set it all swirling again, Jon whimpered. “Okay.” With one more pass through his hair Martin stepped away and soon enough had Jon settled as best he could on the tile, tucked beneath a blanket with a cold pack pressed to the back of his neck. Relief came gradually and Martin’s unasked questions lingered on the edges of their companionable silence. “Better?”

“Mm.” Despite the hard surface applied to every pressure point, Jon was falling asleep cocooned in the safety of Martin’s soothing company.

He wouldn’t be able to keep this up

Martin teased him mercilessly about the loss of his voice and Jon let him have it if it kept him from noticing how sore his throat really was. He wanted to tell him that it was Daisy’s mark, to cry and come clean and beg Martin to stay.

But that wouldn’t be fair. Jon had to be a whole person in this relationship and stop relying on Martin to pick up the slack. He would figure this out. He’d prove his past didn’t control him.

After he could get out of bed.

And here was what he’d strived to avoid. Finally laid low.

“I worry, Jon. You know that.” That was the problem. Martin was already going to be late to work from all his fussing. With the scrap of voice he’d gained back he protested in a hoarse whisper, syllables squeaking past what felt like a shredded voice box and listened to Martin call in again. He had to be better than this but he was overwrought, dangling at the end of a very frayed rope. This marked a sharp decline and Jon was sure it hadn’t escaped Martin’s notice that they were coming up on the date he’d more or less died. He could barely rouse himself in the mornings for school, drifting through lessons and relying more on his TA than he’d like. More than once he’d splurged on a cab, not sure if he’d make it on the tube and Martin’s fretting and worry and distress only made Jon more secure in his conviction. If it was this bad already, how bad would it become if he knew the reason it was all happening? They were supposed to be free of this. Jon wasn’t supposed to keep doing this to Martin.

Melanie’s scar throbbed, chipping away at any scant reserve he had left and ruthless with its aim. It was worse than Daisy’s even though he could understand both motivations. Daisy was putting down a monster. Mel was striking out at someone trying to help, driving home with the scalpel that no good deed goes unpunished. Rationally, he knew he’d deserved it. Too bad it didn’t dull the sting of it all really.

“Darling? Sweetheart?” Jon forced his eyes open, gasping when it sent the dark room to pirouetting, his stomach to churning, staging a mutiny against the scant meal he’d forced on himself not too long ago. Anything he’d gained in their short reprieve had long melted away under the stress. “I’m here, what’s wrong, love?”

“Nnothing…” he regretted the word as soon as it passed his lips.

“You’ve a fever so high it woke me. That’s not nothing, Jon.” Mercifully, he gave him a moment to gather his thoughts, catalogue how much more of this he could take before it broke him. Burned hand shaking, Jon clenched his fist which didn’t help the pain rocketing through his arm and into his heart, but steadied him.

“Jus’a, a bit of a flare up.” Those sometimes came with fevers.

“Oh, love. Why didn’t you say?”

Because it was a lie. Because I didn’t want you to worry. Because I never want to see you upset over me. Because I’m not worth it. Because if it’s always going to be like this--

“Din’t want you to, to…” The cramping agony slurred his voice badly, stringing syllables together with an uncooperative tongue was too much effort. “Nngh.” Dazed and groggy, Jon shut his eyes tightly, trying to focus on Martin’s soothing touch stroking over his face. Like a coward, Jon let sleep rescue him from the truth.

It was the flesh that gave him away.

Woke him screaming; hot and twisting in agony with Jared’s phantom fingers dug into his rib cage. More fingers clamped onto his shoulders, shaking him, a distorted voice calling, shouting his name over and over and over.

“Jon!” Martin was little more than a blur, obscured by tears, and Jon’s panic was reflected straight back at him. “Where does it hurt?”

“Wha…?”

“Where, habibi? Left, right? Please, Jon.”

“Not...not. S’not--” He couldn’t get the words to come, to admit after so long what he’d kept poorly hidden.

“Not what?” Frustration bled sideways into his words and Martin gripped him harder as though he might tear the answers out of him.

“Real.” It burst from him in a raw, somehow soft explosion. It wasn’t. Not really. The wounds were long healed over.

“Looks plenty real from here, Jon.” He batted away questing fingers.

“No. No.” There was no way he’d be able to explain through this piercing agony, the literal holes invisible in his skin.

“It’s the fears, isn’t it? Your marks, your scars.” Martin already knew judging by the disquiet in his tone. This was merely confirmation.

“Yes.” He sobbed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There was hurt in his voice, sadness and betrayal, alongside the ire.

“I thought, I thought--” Jon couldn’t breathe, panic and pain stealing the very air from his lungs. This was only going to get worse. After all they’d done, he’d done--how was he still a monster?

“Shh, shhh, thought what, love?” Martin held him carefully, mindful of all the ways Jon hurt, ticking off fears and scars on mental fingers, trying to figure out how long he’d been hiding it. How long he’d been suffering alone.

“Supposed to be, god, supposed to be safe, free of this.” He was trembling now, with chills or anxiety or both, gasping for every sip of oxygen and swallowing seawater for his trouble. “Can’t, what if--?” Choking himself off, Jon strangled. Martin stayed silent, rocking them both gently, back, forth, soft, slow, calm, calm, calm, and when Jon finally spoke again had to strain to hear him over the echo of a hammering heart beat. “Every year?”

Every year.

He couldn’t Breathe.

Everything was close. So close, too close, and he was crushed under the implications.

“Jon?” Now he was heaving for it, fast and deep, and while Martin could feel the strain it was to breathe he knew it wouldn’t be long before Jon lost consciousness altogether. “Hey, hey, listen, hayati, slow down, sloow down.” Jon’s entire body lifted when Martin inhaled, and again, and again, until he picked up the thread and made more than a half decent attempt. “Okay, there you are, you’re doing so well, sweetheart. So well.” Time passed in measured breaths, so much so that Martin had begun to think Jon had fallen asleep when:

“You’ll leave.”

Soft and shattered. All the fear that he’d piled onto the pain flowing out of him, a dam burst and broken.

“I won’t.” Jon’s movements were hard-won but he managed to shift himself enough to face him. His expression was firm.

“You, you can’t be stuck taking care of an i’invalid again, Martin. I won’t. I won’t have it.”

“Ah. You won’t have it.” Martin scoffed. “And what about me? When do I get a choice?” Jon, eyes wide and dark with exhaustion and pain, looked at him as though he’d grown a second head, perhaps a third.

Or like Martin was a predator and Jon was prey, cornered and hurting.

“You shouldn’t want this.” Me. “This, this burden. This trap!”

“You’re not some sort of trap!” Martin could see the moment Jon decided to change tactics, to try and convince him otherwise, win the game. Too bad for Jon that Martin knew him better than he knew himself.

“You want this don’t you?” He sneered, so convinced, and while once upon a time it would have made Martin wilt and retreat, now he was familiar with Jon’s lashing out. Sorry, Jon. “I won’t be another reason for you to martyr yourself.”

“And I won’t be scared off by your nasty attitude.” Softening, he reached for Jon’s trembling hands, running his thumbs methodically over the backs of them. “I won’t. Together. Right?”

“Martin.” His name broke open on a sob. “I don’t. I don’t want this for you.”

“Tough.” Smothered, Jon’s next words died in his throat, a fledgling bird crushed before it could take flight. “You don’t get to choose for me, even to protect me.”

“Every year--”

“We don’t know that. Not yet.” Martin eased him down. “You aren’t a burden. You aren’t trapping me here.” He kissed away the tears, the hopelessness, even as Jon shook his head nigh delirious.

“I am, I am.”

“No, love. What you are is worn out and hurting.” Martin teased out Jon’s tangled curls, stroking his fingers through them and watching him relax as much as he could at the moment. “What you’re going to do is let me take care of things. Of you, Jon.”

“Don’deserve you.” Fresh tears welled in half lidded brown eyes, slipped into the fly aways at his temples when they closed. “Never have.” Martin stood, pressing lips to his hot brow, intending to gather up anything he thought might help.

“We’ll talk when you’re feeling better.” Jon nodded and Martin turned to leave, stopping when he found himself caught by quaking fingers tangled in his sleeve.

“I, I love you.” Contrite, whispered and awaiting rejection. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, darling.” Martin leaned down, thumbing away new tears. “I know, I know and I love you too.” He stole one more shivering kiss. “Let’s get you taken care of.”

#TMA #the magnus archives #jon sims #martin blackwood #jmart #jonmartin #sick #anniversaries #scars #fever #pain #hurt #fights #reassurances

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breakyeol · 4 years ago

Text

Midnight Train

one shot

┗ pairing : kyungsoo x reader

word count : 7.5k (ohmygod this was supposed to be a drabble)

warnings : language, explicit sex

a/n; I saw a picture of soo on a train and was suddenly inspired. also, don’t go with a stranger to a hotel. not a good idea in real life. be safe kids. I have zero self restraint when it comes to soo, please forgive me.

You don’t know what time it is, and honestly you don’t really care. But it’s late, you can tell that much. Clusters of tiny stars are shining brightly against the inky blackness of the cloudless night sky, the full moon bathing the city in its soft milky glow.

Any other night, perhaps you’d stare up at it in awe, bustling mind eased and taken by its natural beauty. It’s not often you see a night sky like that, so vast and endless and whole, unobscured by clouds or light pollution.

But tonight, it hurts. It hurts to look at something so beautiful.

Because tonight, you lost something beautiful. Or at least, something you once believed was beautiful. Maybe that’s why it hurts so terribly, sitting like heavy stones in your chest, a lingering reminder refusing to let you be. Because something you’d once thought was beautiful turned out to be something so horrifically gnarled and ugly, something so twisted and mangled that you’d managed to fool yourself into believing it was magnificent.

It’s the feeling of betrayal that has salty tears dripping down your cheeks, slipping down over your shuddering lips and clinging to the slope of your chin.

You feel tricked.

You feel lied to.

You feel deeply wronged.

So you stand on that metal platform surrounded by the cool night air, crying silently and so terribly alone, and you refuse to look up at the beautiful starry sky, only staring blankly ahead at the dull metal wall on the opposite side of the rusting tracks.

The platform trembles beneath your sneaker clad feet as the train pulls into the station. A low screech shatters the heavy silence that previously encased you and you blink in mild surprise, abruptly broken from your inner turmoil. Your hand lifts, roughly swiping away any lingering wetness from your face before you’re pressing forward. It takes more concentration than it should have to push through the weakness in your knees, but you manage, stepping carefully over the small gap in the floor and through the door.

A middle aged man dressed in navy blue greets you with a vaguely forced smile, eyes tired and underlined by dark bags. It must’ve been a long day for him as well. Sympathy draws the corners of your lips upward, though you’re certain it looks unstable and awkward on your downcast face.

Moving past him, you take in the state of the train. A soft breathe of relief escapes your lips, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. Empty. Completely empty. As much could be expected at this hour of the night. Most people were already home, tucked safely beneath the comforting warmth of their duvets.

If only…

Swallowing back the thought, you make your way through the rows of seats, not stopping until you reach the very back of the vacant train car. Your exhausted body is more than happy to slump against the plush red fabric, limbs going slack the moment your butt makes contact. It’s pure relief for your sore feet and unsteady legs.

But the relief is short lived.

Only a handful of seconds pass before there’s a familiar tug in your chest, and you’re thrown right back into the abyss of your own memories, regrets, and sorrows. A slow ache consumes your head and you have to close your eyes. Too much is going on in your mind. You wish there was an off button for your thoughts. Better yet, your emotions– your pain. Life would be far more convenient that way.

A muffled voice suddenly crackles over the intercom, announcing the train’s departure from the station. Your eyes flutter open and, by chance, they flick over, only to widen in surprise.

There, in the seat on the opposite side of the aisle, is a man.

For a moment, you’re confused as to how you could’ve missed him. Then you note how he’s hunched over, body curled in on itself, head resting up against the window. The glass has fogged beneath his nose, where a pair of thick rimmed glasses rest low on his bridge. The corner of your lip twitches at the sight of his hands tucked comfortably between his thighs. It’s cool for a summer night, and you find yourself wondering if he’s cold. The answer is a clear yes if the goosebumps decorating his arms are anything to go by. Your fingers subconsciously twitch towards the coat resting across your shoulders, the one thing you’d gone out of your way to grab on your way out.

Would it be too strange for you to offer it to him?

Something aches inside of you though at the sight of his downward arched brows and pouted lips. He looks so terribly alone and so awfully small. You couldn’t just leave him like that. Stranger or otherwise, the thought of doing nothing made your stomach twist unpleasantly.

Silently, you tug at the sleeves of the coat until it falls off your shoulders, pooling behind you uselessly. Sliding carefully to the edge of your seat, you tap your fingers gently against the plastic lining of his. If he hears it, he ignores it. Or, perhaps he’s sleeping. But, with how tightly his jaw is clenched, you doubt that.

“Excuse me?” The words are a whispered breath on your lips. Nonetheless, they were effective in finally drawing his attention. Slowly, his eyes flicker open and drift over to meet yours. For a moment, the ability to speak is stolen from you.

Those eyes— they were big and round and deep. Deeper and darker than the entire ocean, or rather, the night sky. Because within their depths, were stars. Bright, twinkling flecks of soft light. It was like he’d stolen them right out of the night sky.

They were iridescent. And they were beautiful.

So beautiful that it hurt.

It hurt to look at him.

But it was a different kind of hurt. It was the delicious kind that reaches beneath your skin and deep into your very being. That ripples through you in slow, heavy waves, igniting blistering flames in their wake. They pull you in and swallow you whole all at once. Looking away wasn’t an option. Even if you could, you’re not so sure you’d want to.

He raises a confused brow. The motion, however slight, enough to bring you out of your thoughts and back to the real world. Clearing your throat, you stutter back into motion, holding out the coat in suddenly warm palms. His features twist, a light frown pulling at the corners of his full lips as his gaze flicks between your face and the clothing item extended towards him.

Dryness invades your mouth and you force yourself to swallow down the sudden buzz of nerves, tipping your chin forward in feigned confidence.

“You look cold.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then he presses his lips together and you know simply from the look on his face that he’s about to refuse.

“Take it,” you insist with a soft chuckle before he gets the chance to shoot you down, “it seems like you need it more than I do.”

He glances down, briefly taking in the position he’s currently curled in. A soft shade of pink tints his cheeks and he clears his throat, straightening himself out. But it’s only when you nudge it persistently in his direction one last time that he finally accepts it, dipping his head in silent gratitude. You watch in quiet satisfaction as he slips it on, fitting him almost perfectly, albeit a pinch on the larger side.

The corner of your lips tip upward, then you turn away. The clicking and low hum of the train as it bustles along the tracks fills the silence that fell over you. Though it doesn’t last too tremendously long.

“Ah– I think this is yours.”

You almost flinch at the low, smooth voice that breaks through the quiet. Head spinning back around, you meet his large, beautiful eyes. Large, beautiful, red eyes.

Crying. He had been crying. It was obvious now. You could see it in his swollen eyelids, flushed cheeks and reddened nose. You wondered if he was looking back at you and seeing the same telltale signs of heartache in your features.

But you bite your tongue, and drop your gaze to the small, silver band cradled in his palm. A ring. Your ring. The same ring with those damn initials engraved on them. The same ring that carried too many memories.

Memories of cheesy pickup lines and secret glances. Memories of late night talks losing sleep. Memories of clammy hand and shy caresses. Memories of movie dates and hot blushes. Memories of petty arguments paved over by gentle kisses and murmured apologies. Memories of love. Memories of loss. Memories of lies and pain and betrayal. Memories you no longer wanted.

You sigh softly, a bittersweet smile touching your lips.

“Keep it.”

His eyebrows jump, gaze bouncing between the ring and your face. “It… looks important.”

“It was,” you admit softly, interlacing your fingers, “but not anymore.”

The expression that crosses his features catches you off guard. It’s not of confusion or of judgment or disbelief, but of understanding. Understanding. How rare.

“Are you sure?” He asks quietly.

For a moment, you fix your gaze on the small, silver item that not long ago made your heart soar with nothing but pure delight every time you looked at you, but that now roused only painful heartache and unwanted memories. There was no going back to how things were, no chance of recovery for your once steadfast love. You’d been proven wrong one too many times, and refuse to be made a fool of again.

Sometimes, holding on did more damage than letting go.

“I’m sure.”

He stares at you, a conflicted look glinting in his dark eyes. You couldn’t quite read him, couldn’t quite make sense of the swirling emotions in his heavy gaze. But then he moved, fingertips reaching for something on the back of his neck. You tilted your head in confusion, briefly distracted by the endearing way his face twisted into an expression of concentration. Then, you catch a glimpse of something metallic— a necklace. He made quick work of the clasp, the item slipping easily off of his neck and into his awaiting palm.

“Then you…” he let out a soft breath as he extended his hand to you, fingers enclosed around the necklace, “you should take this.”

It was a simple piece of jewelry, a thin silver chain with what appeared to be a small, circular locket with two sets of initials engraved into it. The metal was surprisingly warm and you found yourself toying with the locket, tracing the pair of initials with your index finger.

“Which is yours?” You ask, glancing up at him.

“DKS. Doh Kyungsoo.”

“Doh Kyungsoo.” You repeat softly, testing his name on your tongue. There’s something melodic about the way it flows off your lips, and you like the way it tastes. Doh Kyungsoo. It was a name befitting his face.

“Pretty.”

It’s the lateness of the night that prevents your usual filter from functioning properly, the word escaping you before you can second guess it. Faint warmth touches your face, and you fix your eyes on the locket, not wanting to look up and gauge his reaction just yet.

“Thank you.” His voice is soft, and you find you can no longer fight the upward lift of your gaze. But the warm pink cheeks and shy smile you’re met with soothe the nervous buzz in your stomach. “And- and yours?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching as he slides a gentle thumb over the engravings. Everything about this man is gentle, soft, like the moonlight that falls across the sides of his face, making him appear to have a silver halo. His eyes, his skin, his voice, his lips; he’s soft all over, and you’re willing to bet that that same nature reaches into the very core of his being.

You wonder if he’d be soft under your fingertips, against your lips, caressing your skin.

The thought invades your mind so quickly that it momentarily stuns you, and you draw back, blinking hard and with a sudden warmth in your face. Your feelings always have the strangest timing.

He asked you a question, you remind yourself, forcing yourself out of the dangerous grip of your own thoughts.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n.” Your throat strains around the words and you have to swallow against the unexpected dryness.

His lips twirl. “Pretty.”

The cool air in the train car is suddenly suffocating.

Oh god.

“Do you have a place to stay for the night?”

What did you just say?

His eyes widen and you hold your breath, wishing you could pull the words right back out from the air that they now hung in, heavy and demanding, unable to be ignored.

“I don’t.”

The softness of his reply contrasts heavily with the expression that flashes across his face, the glint in his eye as his fingers tighten around your ring. You sink your teeth into the inside of your cheek, the warm metal of his locket pressing against your fingers.

“Me either.” You take a breath. “I know a hotel.”

Silence. Soft, warm, intoxicating silence.

Then his tongue drags over the full, pink flesh of his bottom lip, and you know you’re done for.

“Take me there.”

It’s a nice hotel.

The interior is pretty. Simple, but pretty. Flecks of gold complimenting soft, warm tones of brown. The woman behind the counter even manages to muster up a somewhat friendly smile as she passes you a room key despite the late hour; though, you’re certain she’d much rather be anywhere else in the world. You also don’t miss the soothing hum of orchestral melodies that pump through hidden speakers as you step into the mirrored walls of the elevator.

It’s a nice hotel.

But you can’t seem to appreciate it. Not fully, anyways. The mere knowledge of Doh Kyungsoo’s presence ruptures your sanity, and deems you wholly incapable of thinking rationally. The promise of midnight’s caress lingers in the air around you, invading your every sense like a poisonous gas. It’s something you can’t see, can’t smell, can’t touch. But you feel it. You feel it pulsing in your veins, dizzying your mind, eating away at your self control. It’s like there’s a string being pulled taut between you, the tension growing greater and greater with every passing second. Your gut churns in anticipation, skin prickling. You can barely keep your feet from shuffling and your hands from fidgeting as a foreign impatience gnaws at you.

But then the door of room 107 clicks shut, and the string snaps.

You have him pressed up against the door before your brain can condone it, mouth feasting on his. He doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, hands sliding around your waist and pressing into the small of your back, holding you tightly against him.

You pour yourself into his kiss, pour out your pain and heartache, pour out your hopes and dreams that will never be, pour out your longing and desperation. You pour until he’s overflowing. But even then, you don’t stop, and he doesn’t want you to. Because just as you’re pouring yourself into him, he’s pouring himself into you, filling you up in ways you never imagined possible, filling the void that another created. He’s chasing away the emptiness with his eager tongue, fending off the icy chill of betrayal with his warm caress.

Greedy fingers find the collar of your borrowed coat, hurriedly pushing it off his shoulders. There’s a soft thud when the thick material hits the floor. A low groan vibrates in his throat, one hand raising to cup the back of your head while your own slip beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. It’s over his head and discarded onto the floor in a matter of moments, and then there’s only skin. Warm, smooth skin. He’s hot to the touch, almost searing, but you can’t find it within yourself to mind the burn.

Distracted and disoriented by his feverish kiss, you don’t realize you’re moving backwards until the back of your knees hit the end of a mattress and suddenly you’re sprawled flat on your back. Kyungsoo hovers above you, panting and red in the face. His lips are swollen and a delicious shade of pink, just begging to be bitten. But it looks like he wants to say something, so you refrain.

“I— I don’t usually do things like this.” He admits, voice unstable and breathy. “Actually, I never do things like this.”

His confession has a light smile curling onto your lips. “Me either.” You murmur, admiring the way the silver moonlight spills across his sun kissed skin. He shudders faintly as your fingers trace over his bare waist, up over the small of his back, following the length of his spine until they reach their final destination, threading themselves through his thick black locks. His midnight eyes flutter behind the rims of his glasses when you offer a gentle tug. He makes no objection as you carefully remove the spectacles from his face, reaching over to set them gentle on the nightstand before returning your attention to his handsome face.

“But there’s a first for everything.”

He professes his agreement with the press of his hot mouth against yours. The kiss is softer this time, probably because you allow him to lead. It’s slow, deep, tender— tender in such a way that it’s somewhat surprising, especially between two strangers. But you don’t question it, instead relishing in the slow drags of his tongue and gentle nips of his teeth.

His lips are sweet, tasting of mint and honey. But there’s a bitterness, a distinctive saltiness that clings to the plush flesh. You don’t have to question if his tears slipped over them, tears he probably hadn’t bothered to wipe away. Briefly, you wonder if he can taste the lingering residue of your own heartache. Then you feel an unmistakable hardness against your hip, and stop thinking all together.

He groans, the sound soft and low. “Can I touch you?”

You don’t miss a beat. “Yes.”

At your concession, warm fingers rouse goosebumps across your skin as he feathers delicate touches over your exposed stomach. Chills roll down your spine, body arching up, seeking out more— and he happily delivers. You jolt as he presses his face into your neck, hot tongue licking from the curve of your jaw down to the slope of your shoulder. All the while, his hands slip higher up your body, sliding beneath the thin fabric of your blouse, not stopping until they find the swells of your bra clad chest. You hiss as his thumb drifts underneath of it, slowly circling your rapidly hardening nipple.

He hums against your collarbone, pleased with your reaction. “Sensitive?” He asks, though you can just make out the slightest of mocking pitches clinging to the word. You don’t bother denying it. Instead, you push your hips up, rolling them slowly, deeply into his, drawing out a low groan from his lips, forehead falling against yours.

A smirk traces your lips. “Sensitive?”

He chuckles, hooded eyes fluttering open. The look within them, the lust, the hunger, the desire, ignites every last fiber of your being. You can’t seem to remember the last time anyone has looked at you with such intense want. And you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel incredible. To be wanted. To be craved. Even if it was by a complete stranger.

You tip your chin up, easily finding his pillowy mouth and smothering it against your own. His kiss was addictive. You just could not seem to get enough of it.

All too soon, he was pulling away and you have to bite your tongue to stifle a sound of protest. His hands find the bottom of your top, toying with it for a short moment before he asks, “can I take this off?”

Abruptly, you sit up, forcing him to fall back onto his heels. “Don’t ask. Just do.” He can only watch with lust blown eyes as you peel your shirt off of your body in one swift motion, exposing your bare skin to his ravenous gaze. A deep moan rises from the depths of his chest, the sound rousing an inexplicable heat in the pit of your stomach that quickly seeps into your bloodstream and spreads through the rest of your body like an erotic poison. Teeth biting sinking into your lip, you trace a finger over the strap of your bra.

“This, too?”

“Don’t ask,” he takes in a breath so deep that you can almost feel the hot rush of oxygen filling your lungs as well, “just do.”

You intend to laugh, finding enjoyment in this little game of yours, but the sounds breaks off halfway up your throat when his hands circle around your body and you feel his fingers making quick work of the clip, the tension giving way in a matter of seconds.

“I think that’s the fastest a mans ever been able to take off my bra.” You muse with a playful quirk of your brow, allowing him to nudge the grey material down the length of your arms, before tossing it uncaringly onto the floor. “I’m impressed.”

He smiles, and you’re, once again, immediately floored by its beauty. “I’m glad I could leave an impression.”

Please, feel free to leave me with more than just an impression.

Somehow, you manage to bite your tongue and keep the words locked in your mind, quickly deciding that undoing his belt is a task far more deserving of your attention. It’s impossible to miss the bulge straining against the tight confines of his jeans, but you get the sense that he’s unashamed. You don’t mind. Besides, what’s shame between a couple of heartbroken strangers?

“Fuck.” He huffs out the curse, mouth falling open as your curious fingers caress over his arousal through the tight, black fabric of his boxers. You can feel the heat of him, the impressive hardness giving away his unspoken need. “No, no… let me take of you first.” He murmurs, gently brushing your wandering hands away from his clothed length. “Lay back for me?”

Christ. You happily fall back into the plush white pillows, legs spreading around the shape of his body. Desire coils in your belly in tight, hot tendrils as his hands slide up the length of your legging clad thighs, skin burning fiercely in their wake. His lips press slow kisses to the skin of your hip while his fingers gently peel the article off of your body, leaving you almost completely bare aside from a pair of thin black underwear. It’s a sight he eagerly drinks in.

“Please.” You plead pathetically, a need unlike anything you’d ever experienced pulsing like liquid ecstasy through your veins. His gaze pierces you, pupils blown as his lips graze over your clothed heat. There’s no need to elaborate, he knows what you want, knows like he can read the desire on your face. It’s static shock when he slips a finger beneath the undergarment, grazing your slick lips in the process of shifting it to the side. It’s pure electricity when he dips down and slips his tongue over your core, all the way up to circle your sensative clit. Your hips jerk up, but he presses them back down into the mattress with steady hands.

“You taste so sweet…” he breathes, hot, praising words caressing your burning skin and igniting an angry flame in the pit of your stomach. A low whine rumbles in the back of your throat, eyes fluttering in bliss as he teases your slick opening with warm, pillowy lips. Fingers slipping through his thick black locks, you weakly tug him closer, a familiar ache swelling in the pit of your stomach.

“Tell me what feels good.” You can only nod dumbly at his muffled request, the vibration of his voice directly against your wet core having a mildly dizzying effect. Pleasure spills into your veins at the same time he takes you by surprise, a single finger pressing inside of you. An airy ‘oh god’ flutters off your lips, but that doesn’t seem to satisfy him, so he presses, “good?”

“Yes. Yes, so good. So good.” You manage to choke out as he tugs at one of your legs, positioning it over his shoulder. He’s looking up at you now, starry eyes taking on a dangerous, lustful glow beneath the silver moonlight. It’s the kind of look that makes your stomach twist and your pussy throb.

Oh god. Who is this man? To make you feel this kind of pleasure… it’s the kind of pleasure no one has ever managed to make you feel before. It’s the kind of pleasure that licks at every cell of your being, rippling through you in slow, heavy waves. Your toes curl, your back bows. Your muscles shudder. It’s hot and it’s everywhere, invading every inch of you like a slow poison seeping through your bloodstream, infecting you down to your very core.

Doh Kyungsoo. You don’t know much about him. Only his name and that his heart is in a similar state as your own. But it doesn’t seem to matter.

Or, rather— that’s all that seems to matter.

Perhaps you sensed it, sensed his pain, his broken heart. And when you looked into those beautiful starry eyes, you had seen suffering that mirrored your own. It drew you to him, and him to you. You’d come to a mutual agreement in that moment. What was the use in suffering alone? Might as well share your pain with another. Maybe it would ease the hurt, or maybe it would just make it all the worse. Whichever came to be, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. Not right now, at least. Not with the way that his lethal tongue was lapping at your heat in slow, deep strokes. Not with the way he was thrusting his fingers inside of you, curling, caressing, exploring.

It was too good to be concerned with anything else, future and past alike. Even your broken heart had become an afterthought under his bliss inducing ministrations.

“Oh god—” a shuttering curse flew from your chest, heel pressing into his shoulder blade. He had wrapped his lips around your clit, flicking his tongue over it expertly and at the same time, his fingers had found that perfect little spot inside of you that sent white hot electricity crackling through your veins.

Then, the coil snapped. Specks of white invade your vision, and for a moment you believe you are seeing stars. Or perhaps it’s his eyes, but you can’t really tell which direction you’re looking in, the incredible pleasure of the high he had just thrust you into entirely too dizzying and disorienting to decipher up from down or left from right. A choked moan followed by a broken whine escapes your gaping lips. Your hips jump off the mattress, refusing to be restrained any longer as they grind themselves desperately against his heavenly mouth. He doesn’t object, only moaning deeply as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

“Holy fuck…” you pant, chest heaving. He chuckles, climbing up and attaching his lips to yours. You taste yourself, the bitter sweetness hitting your tastebuds with a delicate swipe of his tongue against yours.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he hums into the kiss, gentle thumb drawing slow circles against the skin of your hip, “got me so hard...”

“Yeah?” You ask, voice airy. He nods, sinking his teeth into your lower lip. “Let me feel.”

You feel him smile into the kiss. Then his hand finds your wrist, guiding it slowly down the length of his body, until your fingertips are feathering over the strained fabric of his boxers. He’s hard. So hard. You can almost feel him throbbing. Any haziness lingering from your previous orgasm is immediately vanquished by the thought, wicked desire flooding your senses. He’s breathing hard against your throat, gripping tightly at the flesh of your thighs. He shudders violently when you find his tip, tracing it experimentally. The sound he produces in response is enough to have you clenching around nothing.

“Do you have a condom?”

His head snaps up, wide eyes meeting your hooded ones. He has to swallow a groan once he sees the expression on your face, the lust burning in your gaze. Nodding, he slips a hand into the pocket of his half off jeans and tugs out a small, square foil. You can’t help the mild amusement that curls the corners of your lips, the irony not lost on you. He huffs at you, “I like to be prepared.”

“I bet.” You croon, voice pitching playfully.

He grinds his hips into yours in retaliation. Still sensitive, you jolt beneath him with a quiet moan, a reaction that coaxed a mildly taunting smirk onto his glistening lips. Fixing him a glare lacking any genuine malice, you hook your fingers into the loops of his jeans and tug.

“Shut up and get naked.”

Laughter bubbles at his lips, and you can’t help the way your heart trembles in your chest at the sight of his scrunched nose. The sound of it warms you up from the inside out, and you smile. He’s beautiful when he laughs.

“Yes, ma’am,” he giggles, sitting up to kick his jeans onto the floor, followed suit by his boxers. Somehow, he’s even more beautiful completely bare, his honeyed skin and lean muscle on full display for your feasting eyes. Your tongue licks at the inside of your teeth, longing to steal a taste of him. But you refrain, barely, and only in favor of pressing the heels of your palms into his shoulders and flipping him onto his back. The swift change in position draws a surprised gasp from his lips, but he makes no complaint as you swing a leg over his hip and settle yourself on top of his thighs.

Plucking the condom from his hold, you shoot him a light smirk. “Let me help you with that.” His brows raise, pink tongue peeking out to drag over the corner of his mouth.

“Yes ma’am.” His voice, having dropped an entire octave, makes your skin prickle with goosebumps, arousal swirling to life in your stomach. Carefully, you tear open the wrapping and slip the rubber over his length. He visibly shudders at the contact, eyes fluttering when you not so accidentally allow your fingers to feather over his hot skin on the way down. Shifting forward, you position yourself above him, one had falling onto the mattress beside his head while the other teases your entrance with his tip. You want him inside of you, want to feel him stretch you out, want to feel him throbbing and hear those gorgeous sounds that you’ve already found yourself addicted to. And you don’t deny yourself of that desire, sinking down onto him in one swift motion.

There’s a sharp intake of breath, and you’re not completely certain if it was you or him or both. But you know it’s him that lets out the first real sound, a groan, low and smooth in your ears. The sound is trailed by a shaky curse, a breath of your name, and the feeling of his fingertips pressing into your hips, though, he makes no attempt to get you to move. After all, you have, what feels like, all the time in the world. There’s no need to rush things. He knows that.

For a handful of moments, you remain still, adjusting to him, to the blissful stretch. You can’t remember the last time anyone has filled you so well, so wholly.

Inhaling deeply, you push yourself into an upright position, palms flattening over the gentle swells of his chest to balance yourself on. When you finally move, it’s at a slow, deliberate pace. Controlled downward thrusts of your hips that have him filling you to that perfect depth over and over again. Heat consumes you, your skin trembling and perspiring within its grasp.

He’s holding you so tight, looking up at you with those starry eyes. Those beautiful starry eyes that have somehow both completely undone you, and made you complete again. In the span of only a few hours nonetheless. It’s baffling. He’s baffling. How can a man like him exist? How could anyone have let him go? Then again… he’s still a stranger. But he’s a beautiful stranger with the kind of gaze that reaches past your skin and bone and straight onto your core. It feels like he sees you, knows you, understands you. And oh god, after so long— it feels good to be seen.

You moan breathlessly, head tipping back as your hips roll hungrily over his. Below you, Kyungsoo is fighting to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a single moment. But the pleasure is overwhelming, hot in his veins, boiling in his blood. He was losing himself, but in the best way imaginable. In you, to you, for you. Slowly, yet all at once. It’s like drowning: filling his lungs, pouring into every empty crevice of his body. It was consuming him— and he was loving it.

Searing fingertips dance over your body, up your stomach, over your breasts, across your collarbone. Your skin burns and shudders in their wake, the sensation so distracting you don’t notice one of his hands coiling around the back of your neck until you’re being tugged downward, swollen lips colliding with his. You moan in surprise before melting into him, gentle hands raising to cup his burning cheeks.

“You feel—” he gasps against your mouth, “so good.”

His hips snap up, causing your back to arch deeply, chest pressing tightly to his. You can feel the racing of his heart, the astonishing heat of his skin. You swear he’s going to burn right through you.

Not that you’d really mind.

“Kyungsoo.” You pant, hands dragging down the length of his neck to grip at his steady shoulders.

He tips his head forward, bleary, hooded eyes fixing on yours. “Yeah?”

“Fuck me.”

There’s a pause. And then you’re on your back, splayed out beneath his body, and he’s fucking himself into you like his life depends on it. An uncontrollable cry is wretched from your throat, arms flinging themselves around his neck as he lifts your hips off the mattress. Like this, he can go even deeper, fuck you even better, make you come even faster. He knows what you need, and he knows exactly how to give it to you.

Ecstasy rips through you when his fingers reach between your bodies, finding your swollen clit with astonishing ease. Your legs raise, ankles locking around his back, urging him closer, urging him deeper. A strained groan tears free from his fluttering lips, his eyes squeezing shut as you clench around him. In response, he rolls the heel of his palm over your clit, while simultaneously hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you that has been neglected for far too long.

It’s so much— too much. It feels like you’re on fire, and he’s pouring the gasoline. If he keeps going like this, you know you won’t last.

Then his eyes, those goddamn starry eyes, meet yours, and you feel yourself come undone.

If there was any lingering hurt, sadness, or regret— it is completely obliterated by the mind numbing intensity of your second orgasm. It hits you hard and fast; ten times more powerful than the first. Your muscles shudder, your skin burns, your mind empties. All you feel is pure, euphoric pleasure. Every cell of your being is consumed by it.

Kyungsoo doesn’t last a moment longer than you do, the second the first wave hits you, he’s spilling himself into the condom, moaning and trembling above you. You are just conscious enough to force your eyes to stay open, not wanting to miss a second of the beautiful contortions of his handsome features as he reaches what looks to be the epitome of pleasure. There’s little doubt in your mind that the image of him unraveling will haunt your dreams in nights to come. Not that you’d mind. A face like his is a pretty good face to be haunted by.

By the time his high finally recedes, his muscles are so exhausted that they quiver beneath the weight of his body. He just barely manages to hold himself up long enough to roll safely off of you, before collapsing onto the mattress at your side.

For a moment, neither of you speak. Catching your breath alone is proving difficult enough without being hindered by any pathetic attempt at formulating a coherent sentence in the aftermath of one of the most mind blowing orgasms you’ve ever had.

Your cells are still trembling in the aftershock when Kyungsoo finally speaks— or, attempts to, at the very least.

“That was— you were— wow.”

Breathless laughter bubbles at your lips and your turn just in time to see a bashful smile creep onto his.

“You were pretty wow yourself, Doh Kyungsoo.”

Doh Kyungsoo in the wake of an amazing fuck is something to behold. His bare skin glistening with sweat, cheeks and chest flushed a deep red, his thick black hair is unruly and sticking out in strange directions. He is an absolute mess, and he is beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that your breath catches in your throat at the mere sight of him, though you try your best not to make it too obvious.

With a huff, you roll onto your side and toss an arm over his stomach while the other slips beneath the small of his back, fingers interlocking on the opposite side of his body.

“I hope you don’t mind,” you hum tiredly, eyes fluttering shut, “I’m an avid believer in cuddling after sex.”

He chuckles, and you feel the warm press of his palm between your shoulder blades as he tugs you closer.

“I don’t mind,” soft, starry eyes flit over your blissed out features, “I don’t mind at all.”

In the distance, a train horn blares.

“Why’d she leave you?”

The question doesn’t seem to catch him off guard. But his hand pauses where it had begun to trace abstract designs in your skin. He blinks, purses his lips, then exhales softly from his nose and stares blankly across the room.

“She… fell in love with someone else.”

This surprises you.

“That doesn’t make sense.” You mutter, brows furrowing.

He glances down at you. “What do you mean?”

You meet his eyes. “You’re one of the good ones.”

He falters. It’s only for a moment, in which his eyes widen, lips part, cheeks flush, but you can see something flash across his face. An emotion he gives you no time to decipher before he wipes the expression away and raises a brow, one corner of his mouth turning upwards in a lazy smirk.

“And how exactly, after knowing me for all of three hours, did you come to that conclusion?” Curiosity and amusement swim in his gaze.

“Call it a sixth sense,” you grin, peering up at him, “I’m good at reading people,” you contemplate that for a moment, “sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

Your shoulders raise and you watch your fingers trace invisible words across his chest. “I thought he was the kind of man that would never betray me, never lie to me, never break my heart. I thought I knew him. But look where we are now.”

A comforting hand caresses your waist.

“What happened?”

That could be a loaded question. What happened? Everything. Nothing. Something. But you opted to give him a more straightforward answer. “I’m not sure. The only part I really saw was him railing his secretary in our bed. But it’s not so hard to make up the rest of the story in my head.”

“His… secretary?”

You chuckle. “Cliché, isn’t it?”

“Yes but…” he cuts himself off and shakes his head, but you can practically see the gears beginning to turn in his head.

“What is it?”

He hesitates, then speaks slowly, carefully, as if contemplating each work before it could come out of his mouth. “It’s just, my g— ex-girlfriend worked as a secretary for this big shot new tech company. Crazy coincidence… right?”

A shock goes through you. Big shot new tech company? You’d definitely heard those words before. But there was just no way. The chances of it were one in a million. There had to be hundreds of big shot new tech companies in your city, and thousands of secretaries that worked for them. There was no way…

“W–What’s the name of the company?” You ask, even though you’re not entirely confident that you want to know the answer.

He swallows. “Strato Tech.”

You blink once, twice, then ask,

“I don’t suppose your girlfriend has a bird tattoo on her left shoulder?”

He offers a nod. “That would be her.”

There’s another pause. And then you’re laughing. You’re laughing so hard your stomach aches and tears spring to the corners of your eyes. Kyungsoo is in a similar state, bellowing belly laughter exploding from his chest, loud and uncontrollable.

For what feels like hours (but was probably only minutes) the two of you laugh. You laugh because what are the chances? What are the chances that your fiancé and his girlfriend work at the same big shot new tech company? What are the chances that they feel a mutual attraction and begin a secret affair? What are the chances that you stumble onto the same train as her heartbroken boyfriend and fall into bed with him? What are the chances?

“This is unbelievable.” Kyungsoo pants, tossing an arm over his eyes, a cheek achingly wide smile plastered across his face.

“When’d our lives turn into a poorly written soap opera?�� You scoff in disbelief.

“You tell me.” He chuckles.

Then, an idea strikes you. Mischievous excitement sparks in your eyes.

“I feel like this is an opportunity we can’t miss, Doh Kyungsoo.”

He raises a brow, intrigue curling at the corners of his lips. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”

Smirking, you sit up on your knees and reach for something on the nightstand. “All you have to do… is sit back and look pretty.”

Chanyeol sighs softly, hands sliding over his face.

He fucked up. Bad.

It’s been hours. Hours since he made the mistake of bringing the new secretary back to your shared home. Hours since he watched helplessly as you stormed out. Hours since he kicked his accomplice to the curb and desperately scrambled to right his wrong. Hours since he made one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

It’s been hours, and he can’t stop worrying.

He tried calling and texting, but you must have turned off your phone because none of them went through. He even reached out to your friends and family. None of them knew what he’d done yet, but none of them knew where you were either.

He never meant for this to happen, really. He had been stressed out and drinking, and she’d been there. Apparently, in his tipsy mind, that was enough. Enough to throw years of his wonderful relationship out the window in a matter of moments.

It was a mistake.

But it was a mistake you wouldn’t easily forgive. Not like the (many) times when he accidentally knocked glassware off the counter and it shattered. Not like the time he showed up so late to one of your dates that you’d eaten both the main course and dessert all on your own. Not like the time he kept you up late and you’d been so tired the next morning you slept through a meeting. Not like the time he got upset because you beat him at his favorite video game and ignored you for two days.

This was a mistake that no amount of desperate apologies or late night kisses could fix.

He cheated.

Groaning in frustration, he presses the heels of his palms against his swollen eyes. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Then his phone dings.

He all but lunges for it, and feels his heart leap into his throat at the sight of your name plastered across the top of the screen. His hands are shaking so terribly that he mistyped his password three times before finally managing to unlock it.

But the message that greets him makes any semblance of hope for your future together drop like a dead bird in his chest.

from : love of my life 💕

tell your little secretary friend that her sexy boyfriend says hi ;)

delivered 3:04 am

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