#tomorrow was utterly stunning

[isthatacalzone]

trying to find an actual opinion on the bear S3 is proving impossible bc every post I find is people complaining that their ship is fucked despite the fact literally everyone involved has been extremely fucking clear that it's not happening

[zeedist]

DOODLING .ᐟ — ALHAITHAM

little doodles﹕a little interaction in a boring class. sfw .ᐟ fem!reader x alhaitham, students / academic setting, short & sweet. word count: 1k proofread: yup.

“Can I ask what exactly are you doing?”

Low and whispered, dragging below the speech of your professor, Alhaitham questions you. Peaking up, you can catch a glimpse of his relaxed eyebrows, slanted pale teal eyes looking at yours —he keeps doing that often now, as if he always sought for your eyes anytime, anywhere, anyhow. There’s warmth in them, you caught on that a time ago,  in the way his loosened jaw and softened look even when coated with confusion. 

Before replying, you scoot closer, murmuring, “Drawing.” It sounds like a confessed secret in a way, a little intimate exchange in a classroom full of students and a disseminating professor. You focus more on his ragged breathing than on the lesson for today’s class. 

“I can witness that firsthand with my perfectly functional pair of ocular apparatus through their retinal mechanisms,” he deadpans, but in the low tone he uses, it sounds like he pouts through it. You can only stifle a little laugh, not wanting to be kicked out together like last time. 

“But in my hand?” He points out, lifting said member slightly as if the weight of the question rests within his palm, his fingers curling in subtle confusion. You place your fingers above his, pulling them back down to the table, fixing the hold on your pen before adding another line.

Not giving him a verbal answer, you hum instead, dragging the ballpoint over his knuckles, adding little leaves and flowers occasionally. It’s routeless, a simple doodle of a vine growing all over the extension of his hand and slowly inching closer to his palm. He doesn’t enquire again, instead taking some notes for the both of you with his free hand. All while you entertain yourself trying to draw every flower you know from memory to add it to the growing vine doodle in your boyfriend’s hand. So entertained with it at times that you don’t notice the fluttering fond smiles on the corner of his lips as he takes glances of you so focused, so utterly adorable. 

Finalizing the last touches right as the bell rings to announce the end of this period, you look proudly at your work as he extends his fingers, taking in with detail every curse and crevice of your carefully crafted creation. He can’t even muster words for some seconds, too distracted, too enamoured. His silence makes you speak up, asking instead: 

“Isn’t it cute?”

“It’s more than cute, it’s precious... Just like you are.”

You smile, so beautifully and endearingly, that his heart's skipping a dangerous beat or two. Oxygen catches in his throat, momentarily trapping his breath in this overwhelming rush of emotions. His chest tightens. For a fleeting moment, he’s convinced that the world stopped spinning, sounds around him fading to nonexistence. And all that existed was you —the warmth of your smile, the curve of your lips, the pure joy in your face. Every fiber of his being is captive of you this instant. 

Oh, how stunning you are.

Alahitham accompanies you to your dormitory, with an ongoing conversation carrying short debates about the topics you each learned today and gentler talks about both of your future plans regarding your individual educations. It’s one of those things that transcurs so naturally between you two, a well-spoken and clear exchange of ideas, the ability to stand on different ends and still be able to respect one another, and the wish to remain together. The chemistry simmering slowly into a deeper bond of affection with the help of time. 

Even as you made it home, the exchange continues on your doorframe about tomorrow’s plans, and it only ends because you insist for him to get home before it gets too dark. You hug him, the heat of your farewell gesture burning into his skin, pumping straight to his heart as his mucles relax and he holds you, tight and lingering, until you are the one to part reluctantly. 

“See you tomorrow, my dear,” his breath brushes your forehead, leaving a kiss there. 

Other more tender words lingers in the tip of his tongue, however, Alhaitham swallows them to join the bundle of butterflies squirming in his stomach. Wings fluttering violently as you press a goodbye kiss on his lips —blessed, he’s utterly blessed. He returns it, lingering a little longer, holding your waist for a second too long. And when he parts, heart drumming on his chest, he spends a while too long reminding you to eat dinner, to brush your teeth, to not stay up too late, and more little things he thinks about all the time regarding you —he worries for you, now, always. 

When the separation finally does occur, his walk towards his own living quarters fills with silence. Your perfume still lingers on his nose, lips still tingling and he’s unable to pull his eyes away from the drawn vines in his hand. He’s able to figure out some flowers, among them, your favorite ones —he reminds himself to get you a bouquet after class tomorrow. 

Later that night, he somehow manages to shower without soap and water dissipating the ink from his hand. Don’t question how he pulled that off, just know he struggled doing so with only a hand. 

He skips his usual reading before bed, taking time to admire every curve and leaf you doodled in his hand again. Your soft touch buzzing in his fingers, your warm breath brushing against them when you leaned closer to add extra details to a sunflower, and the sweet smile you gave him. And he dozes off while looking at his hand, your precious grin engraved in his memory. 

He wishes, as he drifts in a dream —hopefully about you—, that parts of you like this would forever remain with him. So that he could always carry you with him in a way. 

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 16

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"Tag, you're it."

summary: the dark truth came

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, pedophilia, cannibalism, human trafficking, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 16

masterlist!

previous | chapter 15

next | chapter 17

The grand façade of the five-star hotel in Atlanta towers above you, its glass exterior reflecting the city’s vibrant energy as you and Joel step inside.

The lobby is an opulent display of marble and gold, with plush furnishings inviting you to sink into their comfort. A bellboy takes your bags, and the moment the door to your suite closes behind you, the weight of the world seems to lift, leaving you with the soft hum of luxury.

You can hardly contain your exhaustion from the long drive, and the bed calls to you like a siren. As you collapse onto the plush mattress, you let out a sigh of relief.

The softness envelops you, cradling your tired body. “I thought we were running low on money?” you ask, glancing over at Joel as he leans against the door, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Yeah, well,” he says, his voice low and reassuring, “you don’t need to worry about that. Your well-being is important to me.” With that, he strides over, climbing onto the bed beside you.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. His warmth washes over you, and as he leans in, his lips brush against yours, igniting a spark that flares into a heated kiss.

You both lose yourselves in the moment, the world outside fading into a distant memory as you make out, the kisses growing deeper and more fervent, your bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces. After a blissful five or seven minutes, you pull away, breathless and smiling.

“Tomorrow is your birthday,” you remind him, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “What do you want, mister?”

“Just you,” he replies, his tone serious yet tender, a glimmer of something deeper in his gaze.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “But you already have me.”

“Then I don’t need anything else,” he insists, his sincerity wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket.

You can’t help but tease him, your fingers playfully ruffling his hair as you sit up. “C’mon, be serious. Do you want something? You gave me this beautiful necklace for my birthday. I want to give you something.”

Joel hugs you tighter, his arms strong and protective around you. “Baby, you don’t need to do that…”

But you’re persistent, determined to show your love in a way that feels tangible. “Maybe tonight, I’ll buy you something around here,” you say, the idea of surprising him bubbling up excitement in your chest.

As the sun begins to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you both spend the morning and afternoon wrapped up in each other’s arms.

You explore the depths of passion, losing track of time in the sanctuary of your room. You love how he makes you feel—desired, cherished, and utterly safe.

By the time your knees feel weak and your body is pleasantly sore, the late afternoon sun spills golden light through the window, casting a soft glow around the room.

Joel eventually decides it’s time to venture out, to treat you to something special. “I have a surprise for you,” he says, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

He hands you a beautifully wrapped package, and when you open it, a stunning dress spills out—silky and elegant, in a deep emerald green that complements your eyes perfectly.

“Joel,” you breathe, taken aback by his thoughtfulness. “It’s gorgeous!”

“Put it on, doll,” he encourages, watching you with a smile as you slip into the dress. The fabric feels luxurious against your skin, and you twirl in front of the mirror, the dress swirling around you like a dream.

Hand in hand, you walk to the restaurant he’s chosen, the path lined with flickering street lamps and bustling with life. The atmosphere is electric, filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses, and as you step into the fancy restaurant, the scent of gourmet dishes wafts through the air.

Joel’s hand on the small of your back feels like an anchor, grounding you as you navigate the elegance of the evening. You catch glimpses of couples enjoying their meals, laughter and conversation mingling in the air like a sweet perfume. Joel leads you to a cozy table adorned with candles that flicker softly in the dim light, creating an intimate atmosphere.

As you sit down, your heart swells with gratitude. Here, in this moment, you feel cherished and adored, cocooned in the warmth of Joel’s affection.

As you both settle in, the waiter brings the drinks first—a vibrant cocktail for you, a robust whiskey for Joel. The glimmer of the glass catches the candlelight, sending dancing reflections across the table waiting for the foods you both ordered.

You take a sip, the sweetness swirling in your mouth like a warm embrace, but your attention drifts to a family seated at the table across from you.

The sight of them—two children, a boy and a girl, with laughter spilling from their lips and the warmth of belonging wrapping around them like a cozy blanket—stirs something deep within you.

You feel a pang of yearning that echoes in the hollow spaces of your heart. Oh, how you wish for that kind of life with Joel.

A home filled with love, where you could nurture little ones, providing them with the warmth and affection that was so cruelly absent from your own childhood.

You’ve always wanted a family—a sanctuary of laughter and joy, where the walls would hold stories of adventure, and every room would resonate with the echoes of happy memories.

You envision tiny feet padding softly across the floor, their innocent giggles dancing through the air like music, filling your home with life. You want to heal the wounds of your past by giving your children the kind of love you’ve never felt—by being the parent you always needed.

But a shadow of doubt clouds your mind. Is Joel ready for this? Does he even want more children after everything he’s lost? The memory of his daughter, Sarah, still clings to him like a bittersweet fragrance, a reminder of love that was once vibrant but has now dimmed.

What if he doesn’t want to marry you? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, tightening your chest as anxiety settles in. You know that asking him could change everything, and the fear of his answer lingers in the air like a fragile butterfly, ready to take flight at the slightest disturbance.

Lost in your thoughts, you stare into your glass, watching the ice clink softly against the sides. You consider broaching the topic but hesitate, the weight of your desires pulling at your heart.

Should you risk this beautiful moment for the sake of your dreams? You know you’re still young, yet the longing for a life shared with him swells within you, demanding to be heard.

“Hon?” Joel’s voice cuts through the fog of your reverie, pulling you back to the present. You meet his gaze, the warmth in his brown eyes a grounding force. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his brow furrowing in concern.

The question lingers in the air, an invitation to delve deeper into your thoughts. You feel the delicate thread of hope intertwining with your fears, the two battling for dominance in your mind.

Maybe it’s time to talk about this—to share the dreams that swirl around in your heart like autumn leaves caught in a gentle breeze.

“Nothing, really,” you reply, your voice soft as you gather the courage to speak your truth. “I was just thinking about...” The words feel heavy, laden with unspoken fears and wishes, but you tread carefully, hoping to navigate this conversation without pushing him too hard. “About us, and what the future might look like.”

Joel leans back slightly, his gaze unwavering, encouraging you to continue. “What do you mean?” he prompts, his voice a gentle nudge, urging you to share.

You take a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs as you wrestle with your thoughts. “I just... I see families like that,” you say, nodding toward the children, “and I can’t help but dream of having something similar. A home filled with laughter and love.”

His eyes narrow slightly, processing your words. You can feel the weight of your confession hanging in the air, fragile yet profound. “Do you think we could have that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid of the answer yet yearning for honesty.

As you await his response, the restaurant buzzes around you, but all that matters is this moment—the flickering candlelight, the delicate clink of silverware, and the silent hope hanging between you like a fragile thread of possibility.

Joel falls silent, his brow furrowing as he absorbs your words. His hand envelops yours, warm and reassuring, yet you can feel the weight of his thoughts pressing down like an invisible shroud. You hold your breath, the air thick with anticipation. In the depths of his gaze, you can see the flickering flames of his emotions, battling against the shadows of his fears.

He finally speaks, his voice low and steady, as if sharing a secret that only the two of you can hear. “I want a family with you, doll,” he admits, his words tumbling out with a mix of tenderness and hesitation. “I want to marry you.”

A rush of warmth floods through you at his declaration, a promise wrapped in hope. But then the storm clouds gather in his eyes, and he continues, his voice strained. “But I don’t know if all this is too soon. You’re young, and I’m getting older.”

Your heart sinks, feeling the chill of his worries seep into your bones. You can see the flicker of doubt in his eyes, and it cuts deep. “I just... I’m afraid I won’t be here for you or for any future kids,” he confesses, a shadow passing over his features. Tomorrow, he will turn 50, a milestone that carries both wisdom and an aching sense of time slipping through his fingers like sand.

The thought of having children at his age weighs heavily on him. “I had Sarah too young, right after high school,” he continues, his voice heavy with reflection. “I don’t know if I’m ready again. You deserve someone younger, someone you can grow old with.”

His words hit you like a cold wave, and you feel the need to push back against the tide of his doubts. “Don’t you say that, Joel,” you insist, your voice firm yet gentle. “You’ll be fine with me. I’m never going to leave you.”

A pause lingers between you, filled with the electric tension of your hearts colliding. “Baby, I understand,” he replies, the vulnerability in his tone slicing through the air like a fine knife. “I want to marry you so bad. I will, one day.”

You can see the struggle in his eyes, the inner battle raging as he grapples with his fears and hopes. “But I don’t know about having kids…” His voice trails off, leaving the unsaid hovering between you like a fragile wisp of smoke, swirling and twisting in the candlelight.

Your heart aches for him, for the man who has faced so much loss and heartache. You wish you could wrap him in a cocoon of comfort, shielding him from the shadows that loom in his mind. “Joel, I want you to know that it’s okay to be scared,” you say softly, squeezing his hand. “I’m scared too. But what we have—it’s real. It’s worth fighting for.”

In that moment, the world around you fades away. The noise of the restaurant, the laughter, the clinking of glasses—it all blurs into the background as you focus solely on the man before you. His fear, his love, and the intricate tapestry of both weave together in a way that is raw and beautiful.

“I want to build a life with you,” you continue, your voice steady, grounding. “I want to create a home filled with love, with you by my side. We don’t have to rush into anything, but let’s not let fear keep us from dreaming.”

His gaze softens, the flicker of hope returning, and you can see the cracks in his armor. You are a light in his darkness, and you feel the shift in the air as he processes your words. In that moment, you know you’re both standing at the precipice of something extraordinary, a bridge between your dreams and his fears, ready to take a step forward together.

***

After dinner, the two of you decided to explore the vibrant streets of Atlanta, your hands intertwined as you strolled through the lively atmosphere. The night was electric, the air thick with laughter and the distant echo of music drifting from nearby bars. But as the evening deepened, you found yourself gravitating toward the inviting warmth of a jazz bar, the sultry melodies beckoning you inside.

The bar was alive, filled with a cacophony of voices, laughter, and the smooth sounds of a saxophone serenading the crowd. You nestled into a corner table with Joel, who seemed captivated by the performance, his gaze fixed on the stage, a gentle smile gracing his lips. He leaned back, losing himself in the rhythm, while you couldn’t help but marvel at how this moment felt like a scene from a classic movie—a snapshot of two souls caught in the magic of the night.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere around you pulsed with energy, but you felt a flicker of mischief spark within you. You decided to slip away under the guise of fetching something from your room, an excuse that would allow you to find the perfect gift for Joel. “I’ll be quick and back here,” you assured him, your voice bright with excitement.

He nodded, handing you the key with a small smile. “Alright, I’ll hold down the fort,” he said, oblivious to your true intentions.

Instead of heading to your room, you dashed to the watch store next to the hotel, heart racing with excitement. You slipped him some cash, knowing he wouldn’t mind—this was your chance to surprise him. The chime of the doorbell announced your entrance, and the warm, inviting atmosphere wrapped around you like a soft blanket.

As you browsed the selection, a sense of determination fueled your steps. Joel always wore that old, broken watch; you wanted to replace it with something new, something that signified your shared journey. The shopkeeper engaged you in cheerful conversation, but a nagging feeling began to creep in, an unsettling sense that someone was watching you. You glanced over your shoulder, but the store was filled with strangers, each lost in their own world.

You shook off the unease, focusing on the task at hand. After a brief search, you found the perfect watch—a sleek, timeless piece that felt like it belonged on Joel's wrist.

You purchased it, the wrapping paper crinkling under your fingers as you prepared to make your way back. But as you stepped out of the store, that feeling returned, a prickling sensation along your spine, urging you to hurry.

You went to your room first to put the gift under the night desk and then hurry back to go back to the bar, your heart racing as you spotted Joel still seated at the same spot, engrossed in the music.

He looked up, his brow furrowing in concern as you approached. “What took you so long?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You feigned fatigue, stifling a yawn. “I’m tired,” you murmured, leaning against him, feeling the warmth radiate from his body.

He stood, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, his jacket falling around you like a protective cocoon. “Let’s go to bed, baby,” he said, his voice low and soothing.

Once back in your hotel room, he guided you to the bed, laying you down gently. The soft sheets enveloped you, and as you closed your eyes, you felt his hands carefully unzipping your dress, replacing it with comfortable pajamas.

You could sense his tenderness, the way he was taking care of you as if you were something precious.

Just as sleep began to pull you under, Joel’s phone buzzed, interrupting the tranquility. A frown creased his forehead as he read the text from Tommy.

"Joel. Need to talk to you ASAP. Call me.”

You could feel the tension in the air shift, the weight of concern settling over him like a heavy cloak. “Joel, come to sleep with me,” you murmured, your words laced with sleepiness and a desire for closeness.

But his heart raced at the urgency of Tommy’s message, a sense of dread creeping in. “I have to call Tommy,” he replied, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going? Don’t leave me,” you pleaded, the fog of sleep clinging to your mind.

"I'll be right back, you go to sleep, don't wait for me," He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a promise lingering in the air as he slipped out of the room and locked the door behind him.

You watched him go, the warmth of his presence lingering like the fading glow of a candle. Alone in the room, you felt the shadows lengthen, and the unease that had chased you earlier returned, whispering doubts into the silence.

What was so urgent that he had to step away?

Meanwhile, outside, Joel walked toward the outdoor bar, the cool night air hitting him like a splash of cold water. He dialed Tommy’s number, anxiety bubbling just below the surface. The music from the bar faded into a distant murmur, replaced by the rapid thumping of his heartbeat.

“Tommy, what’s going on?” Joel’s voice was low, laced with the urgency of a storm brewing on the horizon.

Each word hung in the air like a fragile note in a symphony, the tension coiling around him as he braced for the storm that was about to unfold.

“Joel, her parents are missing,” Tommy’s voice crackled through the line, a jolt of electricity that shot straight to Joel’s core.

Confusion washed over him like a tidal wave. “What?” he managed, the word slipping from his lips like a prayer in the face of dread.

Tommy explained, his words tumbling out in a rush. Days ago, your parents had stormed into his home, frantic and wild-eyed, demanding to know where you were and where Joel had taken you. They had been like a tempest, filled with anger and desperation, leaving Tommy shaken and frustrated.

Now, days had passed, and whispers of their absence crept through the town like an unsettling shadow. “The church says they’re missing. No one has seen them,” Tommy said, the weight of fear heavy in his voice.

“They fucking knew you're in Atlanta,” Tommy continued, the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Joel's heart dropped, a chill creeping through his veins. “What? How the fuck did they know?”

“Evelyn,” Tommy replied, his voice tight with anger. “Her mom manipulated Maria to tell her where she is. She promised Maria that she just wanted to meet her, that she wouldn’t tell her husband. But you know how it is. Maria is a mother—she felt sorry for Evelyn, so she let it slip. I'm so sorry, Joel."

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, anger surging through him like fire. “How could you let your wife snitch, Tommy?!”

“Joel, she just felt sorry for her! She’s a mother too!” Tommy countered, his frustration evident. “You know how emotions run deep in situations like this.”

A harsh breath escaped Joel as he wrestled with his rage. “And now they’re coming for us. We’re not safe anymore.”

“Listen to me,” Tommy said, urgency lacing his voice. “You need to move tonight. It’s been two days; they’re probably already in Atlanta, tracking you down. You need to get to Miami tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, but you have to lay low now. Pack everything. Leave tonight, Joel.”

Each word carried a blend of reassurance and unease, but before they could delve deeper, chaos erupted in the background. A scream echoed from the phone, and Maria’s voice cut through the air, followed by a loud pounding at the door.

“Police! Don’t move!” The command reverberated, sending chills down Joel's spine. Panic surged within him, a wild creature clawing at his insides. “Tommy, what’s going on?” he shouted through the phone, desperation threading through his tone.

But before Tommy could respond, the line went dead, severed like a fragile thread. Joel’s heart raced, dread curling around his mind like a creeping vine. He tried to call back, but his phone had died, leaving him in a whirlwind of uncertainty.

"Fuck!"

***

Tommy stood frozen in the chaotic scene unfolding in his home, Maria and Ellie trembling beside him as they were ordered to raise their hands, kneeling on the cold floor, surrounded by a swarm of police officers.

The tension was palpable, the air thick with anxiety and confusion. “What’s going on?” he demanded, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at his insides.

One of the officers stepped forward, a grave expression etched on his face. “Are you Tommy Miller, Joel Miller’s younger brother?”

“Yes, what’s going on?” Tommy replied, confusion bubbling within him, spiraling into concern.

The officer gestured to the floor, a stack of papers in his hands. “We need to ask you some questions regarding your brother. Is this his property?” he asked, pointing to the house in Houston that belonged to Joel.

Tommy felt his heart plummet. “Yes."

"Where is your brother now, Mr. Miller?”

Ellie’s eyes widened, a spark of panic igniting in her voice. “What’s going on, Tommy?” She looked to him, fear etched in her young features, and he struggled to maintain a calm façade for her sake.

“I don’t know. He left months ago. What’s the problem, officer?” Tommy’s voice wavered slightly, his mind racing with thoughts of Joel’s well-being.

The officer hesitated, a grim expression painting his face. “Are you in contact with your brother?”

“No, What’s going on?” Tommy say try to calm in front of his family.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come to the station with me,” the officer said, his voice firm yet devoid of hostility. “It’s alright. We just need to ask you some questions.”

“What’s going on?” Tommy demanded again, dread coiling around him, tightening like a noose.

The officer’s words fell like shards of broken glass, each one slicing through the air with brutal precision. “We found Reverend Tony Gibson and his wife’s bodies inside your brother’s Houston house. And we discovered the remains of Father Ben Anderson and Jamie Lee buried in the backyard. We believe your brother is the killer.”

Tommy felt his world tilt, like the ground beneath his feet had been torn away, leaving him suspended in a void of disbelief. The truth, heavy and suffocating, crushed against his chest. It couldn’t be. Joel? The man who had bled for his family, who had protected and sacrificed… a killer? The words reverberated in his head, but they didn’t settle. Instead, they churned like a storm, throwing everything into chaos.

***

Meanwhile, downstairs at the bar, Joel sat in the eye of his own storm, gripping a cigarette between his lips, staring out into the dim light with a mind that churned restlessly. He couldn't afford to panic. Panic clouded judgment, and judgment was the only thing keeping you both alive.

The bitter sting of whiskey still lingered on his tongue, mixing with the acrid smoke as he paced, his boots scuffing against the rough outdoor pavement. His thoughts moved in a fevered rush: What if they find us? What if they take her away? I can’t lose her…

The thought hit him with the force of a wrecking ball, his heart twisting painfully inside his chest. You had become the tether to his sanity, the one fragile thread of goodness that kept him from unraveling completely.

If they took you, it would be like losing his daughter and wife all over again. The thought was unbearable.

As he dragged in another breath of smoke, someone bumped into him, jarring him from his dark thoughts. “Oh, so sorry, my friend,” the man said, his voice oily and smooth.

Joel turned, eyes narrowing as he took in the stranger. "It’s alright," Joel muttered, but something about the man’s posture, his voice—it scratched at the back of Joel’s mind.

He had seen him before. Where? The man's gaze lingered a moment too long, and then he smiled—a wide, unsettling smile that crawled up the edges of his mouth like something out of a nightmare—before turning and walking away.

Joel's stomach churned with unease as the man disappeared into the night. He flicked the last of his cigarette into the street, watching the ember sizzle as it was swallowed by the rain-soaked ground. A chill ran down his spine. He didn’t have time to puzzle over strange men and familiar faces. He had to get to you.

Up in the room, you were tangled in the softness of sleep, a temporary reprieve from the endless fear that had become your constant companion.

But something stirred you—an unease in the pit of your stomach, or maybe just thirst. You reached out beside you, feeling the empty, cool space where Joel should have been. His absence sent a pang of loneliness through you.

Groggy, you slipped out of bed, your bare feet cold against the floor as you padded towards the bathroom. The hum of the TV filled the quiet, a distant murmur that felt comforting in the otherwise silent room. You left it on, just to chase away the shadows of isolation.

The tap water was cool, sliding down your throat as you drank, but it did nothing to quell the growing unease. And then, the door creaked open behind you. “Joel?” you called out, your voice still thick with sleep as you set the glass down. You turned toward the door, half-expecting his familiar silhouette to fill the frame.

But there was no answer.

The silence was unsettling, creeping under your skin like ice. You moved out of the bathroom, glancing around the room. It was empty. The door was closed again, as if no one had ever entered.

“Joel?” you called out again, the uncertainty now sharp in your voice.

And then the TV flickered, the volume suddenly blaring, a reporter’s voice slicing through the quiet. You turned, your heart thudding in your chest as the words sank in.

“Breaking news—Texas police have discovered the remains of Father Ben Anderson and Jamie Lee, as well as the bodies of Reverend Tony Gibson and his wife, Evelyn Gibson. All found inside the Houston home belonging to successful Texas construction businessman Joel Miller.”

The reporter's voice filled the room, chilling you to the core. “The police suspect that Joel Miller is responsible for the deaths. His whereabouts remain unknown, and no motive has been identified.”

Then, Joel’s photo appeared on the screen, his face a familiar sight, the man that has saved you. The man that you love so much. “If you see this man,” the reporter continued, “please contact the FBI immediately.”

Your heart stopped as the world crashed down around you. No. No. This can't be true. The world around you tilted, your breath caught in your throat. It wasn’t possible.

The photograph flashed again on the screen—Joel’s face staring back at you. The man you trusted, the man who had saved you. He couldn’t have done this. He couldn’t have killed them…

Your heart pounded wildly as the room began to close in on you. Fear tangled with confusion, twisting in your gut. How? How could this be? 

Joel had been with you—he hadn’t even seen your parents for months. The police were wrong. They had to be. But the panic was relentless, clawing at your chest, suffocating you with questions.

And then you heard it. A sound. The floor creaked behind you. You spun around, fear surging like wildfire through your veins. “Joel?” you called, your voice trembling now, barely more than a whisper.

No answer.

Instead, a hand clamped over your mouth, smothering your scream before it could escape.

“Hello, darlin’,” a familiar voice purred into your ear, dark and twisted. No, no, no. Your heart dropped, icy terror flooding your veins. 

Not him. Please, not him.

You struggled, but his grip was iron, his breath hot against your skin. “Oh, finally, you’ll be mine, little lamb,” he whispered, his words like poison, seeping into your bones.

His free hand gripped a syringe, and before you could cry out again, you felt the sharp sting of the needle piercing your skin.

“Tag, you’re it,” he hissed, his voice low and menacing as the drug slipped into your bloodstream, pulling you into darkness.

The world blurred around you, the room spinning as your legs buckled beneath you. Your vision dimmed, the edges of the world fraying like an old photograph. And then, everything faded to black.

But even as you fell into the void, one thought burned through the haze: Joel.

***

Joel stubbed out his cigarette, the embers smoldering like the thoughts consuming his mind. He moved towards the elevator, the weight of the world pressing down on his chest.

His hands fumbled in his pockets, searching for the room key that wasn’t there. Damn it, he thought, retracing his steps, trying to recall if he had left it upstairs.

He didn't want to disturb you, already knowing you were probably fast asleep. His exhaustion made the world blur, but his urgency heightened every sense as he turned back towards the lobby.

“Hi,” he said at the front desk, leaning heavily against the counter. “I left my key in room 313. My girlfriend’s asleep, and I don’t want to wake her. Could you give me a spare?”

The receptionist offered a polite smile. “Of course, sir, but I’ll need to verify it first. Could you show me the receipt we sent to your email when you checked in?”

Joel, nodding absentmindedly, pulled out his phone, the device trembling in his hand as he scrolled through his emails. “Yeah, here,” he muttered, showing her the screen.

The receptionist looked it over and disappeared briefly. As Joel waited, his gaze drifted to the television hanging above the desk. The news flashed across the screen, pulling him from his thoughts with the force of a train wreck.

The reporter's voice sliced through the haze. “...suspected in the murders of Tony and Evelyn Gibson, with the remains of Father Ben Anderson and Jamie Lee found buried at his property in Houston.”

His body froze, heart pounding in his chest like a drum. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. His breath caught in his throat, his pulse deafening in his ears.

The mention of your parents’ deaths sent a tidal wave of dread crashing over him. He was drowning in it, unable to catch his breath.

They found the bodies. They found everything.

“Here’s your key, sir.” The receptionist’s voice barely registered as Joel snatched it from her and bolted towards the elevator, his mind a maelstrom of terror.

Someone had set him up.

He hadn't buried Ben and Jamie at his house—he buried them far from there, deep in the desert. And he didn't fucking killed your parents.

Someone was playing with him.

And the one thought ringing out like a church bell in his mind was you. He need to get you out of here, now.

The elevator doors slid open, but Joel barely noticed. His movements were frantic as he rushed down the hallway, bursting into the room. The air was too still, too quiet.

His heart thudded in his chest as he called your name, the words heavy with panic. Without looking to the bedroom, "Baby, we need to leave. Now. Pack your things." He moved straight to the bathroom to pack things, but there was no reply.

“Doll?” His voice cracked, the terror bleeding through as he searched the suite, opening doors, ripping back curtains. The emptiness swallowed him.

You were nowhere to be found.

His breath grew shallow, panic clawing at his insides as he tore through the room. Then, he saw it—a note beneath the blankets on the bed.

His hands trembled as he picked it up, unfolding the paper with dread sinking its claws into his gut.

"I told you to be careful and keep her safe, didn't I? Now this sweet delicious little lamb will be mine forever, my friend.

And you will never see her again.

P.S. Thank you for making it simple for me by the way, oh, and I killed the parents. You're welcome."

The words seared into his mind like a brand, a taunt that stoked the flames of his rage. His pulse roared in his ears, blood rushing hot and violent. 

Who is this? How had he missed the signs? How had he allowed this to happen? He should’ve seen it coming. Joel's hands clenched into fists, the note crumpling in his grip.

He's a mess, unraveling, his thoughts spiraling into chaos. Every fiber of his being screamed for vengeance, but fear gnawed at the edges of his control.

The man—the one who had been watching him, the one who had been following them—it had to be him. That same eerie smile flashed through his memory, the unsettling familiarity of the stranger who bumped into him earlier.

Chicago, the word echoed in his mind. He remembered the voice, the cryptic warning. He’d been too careless, too wrapped up in his own guilt and fear to see it. Now, you were gone.

Joel screamed, a raw, guttural sound that filled the suite like a wounded animal. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe. You were gone, taken, and it was all his fault.

His vision blurred, anger and despair blurring the edges of his reality. He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t.

He stumbled to gather his things, tossing everything into a bag with shaking hands. His mind raced, but one thought rose above the chaos.

He had to find you. No matter what it took, no matter how far he had to go, Joel would burn the world down to bring you back to him.

He wouldn’t lose you. Not to some monster. Not again. Not ever.

As he sped down the highway, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, the world outside blurred into darkness. The FBI was after him, the law branded him a killer, but none of it mattered.

He would find you. He had to.

[xoxochb]

I've been reading ur blurbs for so long and I wanted to ask if you could write Percy x daughter of ares reader? ur my favorite pjo writer <3

— king of my heart ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

★ - “my broken bones are mending with all these nights we’re spending up on the roof with a school girl crush, drinking beer out of plastic cups”

warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing per usual, making out, enemies-ish to lovers, 10 things I hate about you reference, littering (don’t do this please!), I’m TERRIBLE at writing love confessions sorry 😣 pairing: percy jackson x daughter of ares

you and percy never really got along. it was useless banter after another, purposely trying to infuriate each other all the time. and for what reason? you were unsure, that’s just the way things were and you accepted them as they were. but as a daughter of ares you suppose anger and hatred ran through you naturally

ignoring, for only a moment, that you hated the son of poseidon it was an undeniable fact that he was incredibly attractive. most people at camp would agree with you on this, it was nearly impossible for you to find someone who hadn’t, at one point, had a crush on him. you hated yourself, truly, for letting yourself see him in this way. but then again, you couldn’t help it, not when he was so… him!

in the midsts of another cabin eleven party you escaped to the roof with a plastic cup of beer. perhaps drinking your problems away will make you forget you liked your enemy of all people. though to your unfortunate luck, the very occupant of your thoughts joins you soon after

“what is that? your third cup?” asks percy, sitting down beside you. you sigh and close your eyes, taking a moment to keep your composure before responding,

“fifth”

“gods of olympus…” he murmurs “don’t come crying to me when you’ve got a killer hangover”

“trust me, I won’t”

the atmosphere converted to silence following your statement. it was, though, peaceful, you enjoyed this moment. the cold midnight air nips harmfully along your exposed skin, a dress being the utterly wrong outfit choice for tonight— you suppose it had been worth it because in your defense the dress was stunning, style over comfort always

“what’re you doing up here? I mean, alone?” percy speaks up, breaking the silence

“I just wanted some peace and quiet”

he nods in understanding. you finish up the rest of you drink before throwing the cup off the roof for someone to find during clean up tomorrow morning

“you know, you’re not as vile as I thought you were”

your brows furrow confusedly. “what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, I just-” percy stops himself from confessing further, conquering a new excuse instead “I always thought you were a terrible person, y’know? always trying to find ways to anger me. but you don’t seem half bad, not really”

you ponder for a moment before responding, “you’re not that bad either”

faintly, just maybe a tad, out of the corner of your eyes you see percy crack a smile, maybe if your delusions weren’t taking over you might have said a light blush painted his cheeks. he glances over at you, seeing your small shivers. gods— he’s so fucked. slowly, he slides off his black leather jacket and places it on your lap suddenly, making your eyes widen in confusion

“you’re cold, aren’t you?”

oh no not the blush. “I- yes. uhm- thank you… percy”

shit, the way his name sounds rolling off your tongue is enough to make him want to do anything for you. he wonders if you were aware of the affect you held over him. the silence became awkward at this point. should you say something? or should you leave and never speak to him again? perhaps it was the alcohol, maybe you were feeling oddly confident, but before you’re aware of what’s happening, your mouth seems to be speaking for you instead

“percy, I- can I tell you something? and promise me you won’t laugh”

“you can tell me something but I can’t make any promises on the laughing situation”

you roll your eyes. “that’s fine. I just- I wanted to tell you… ask you? I don’t know, it’s weird”

“and you’re not?”

“shut the fuck up” despite his idiotic comment you can’t help but laugh. there’s no way you’re about to confess to him “I- like you. and it’s stupid, I shouldn’t like you. but I do unfortunately so now I’m stuck”

“you… like me?”

you roll your eyes. “yes, just— forget it. I’m drunk anyways”

you attempt to crawl away but percy catches you and sits you atop his lap

“drunk words” he places his finger on your mouth, then moves it to your head “are sober thoughts”

“bullshit”

“you think I’m lying?” he laughs “ask anyone here”

“I- I’m not doing that. I’m leaving”

you try to leave again but his hands quickly reach up to grab your waist and keep you in place. you glare at him so hopefully he takes a hint that you’re not having this conversation, but in response he only smirks. suddenly, you feel a warmth along your neck, only when it’s too late do you realize it’s percy’s lips. maybe it was the alcohol, maybe you had wanted this, but you didn’t push him away. though you had questions still

“percy…” you murmur despite the fuzzy television static growing through your brain. he hums along your neck sending a vibration through your body (additionally an insane heat between your legs). “I- you… are you drunk?”

“I don’t drink”

of course he doesn’t

“then what—” you quickly shut your mouth to stop any idiotic thoughts from spilling out. but at the same time percy swiftly slots his lips over yours eliciting a gasp from you. there’s no way he wasn’t drunk, it was bullshit what he says. because who just ups and kisses their enemy because they’re bored? apparently he does. he pull back angrily making him frown

“we can’t— we can’t do this. we’re enemies”

“your point?” he settles for kissing along your neck again. you let that slide for now

“we- I mean… we’re supposed to hate each other”

“who said I ever hated you?”

oh shit

“you did”

he laughs at this, shaking his head in silence. you let your drunken state take over the moment and silence you. your cheeks flush a dark pink shade when your senses are momentarily snapped back as you realize your surroundings

you’re on the roof. with percy, your enemy. who’s currently manipulating you into thinking he never hated you. and he’s got his hands under your shirt and he’s kissing your neck

you’re so fucked

[samcarpentersgirlfriend]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS | BILLY LOOMIS X READER 𖤐₊˚.

summary: you know he’s in a relationship. you know that this is wrong. but somehow, you just can’t seem to stay away from billy loomis.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: angst, cheating, billy isn’t a great guy lol, reader is insecure, suggestive content, swearing, fem!reader

a/n: yes this is (admittedly a little loosely) based off of the taylor song… I never claimed I was 100% original!! idk what this is tbh but I haven’t posted in a while so <3

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

He’s barely opened the door before his hand grabs yours, pulling you out of the rain and into his warm embrace. He doesn’t even complain about your sodden state, lips crashing into yours as he clumsily backs you against the wall.

“I’m glad you made it, baby.” Billy murmurs in between kisses, voice low with lust. “Fuck, I couldn’t wait any longer. See what you do to me?”

God, it makes it so much easier when he talks to you like that. When he talks like he breathes just for you, like you’d hung the stars and moon. It’s easier to pretend that way. 

It doesn’t take long. One moment, your legs are wrapped around Billy’s strong frame and the next, you’re laying beneath him on his bed, sighing as he works on your neck. The marks he leaves are purposeful, and they’ll no doubt be a pain to cover up tomorrow. You tell Billy exactly that, making sure to inject just the right amount of that teasing tone you know drives him crazy into your voice. 

“Good,” he says lowly, “Lets people know you’re spoken for. Can’t have anyone touching what’s mine.” He grinds down as if to emphasise his point, hips meeting yours in a way that sends a jolt of electric thrill through your bones. 

At least, you think that’s what it’s from; maybe it’s all simply down to his choice of words - mine. He knew what that did to you - what visceral effect it must have on you. Knew how much it meant to you to be wanted and desired and cherished by somebody like Billy Loomis. It was all you’d ever wanted. 

Except…

“Except I’m not.” Your voice barely comes out above a whisper. Billy comes to a halt, his lips moving from your collarbone as his brown eyes meet yours. He looks confused and vulnerable in a way that makes you sorry for even bringing it up, but you can’t ignore it. Not now. Not today. 

“You are. You know that you are. You mean everything to me, just-"

“Just not as much as Sidney, right?” Her name tastes like ash in your mouth. It always came back to Sidney Prescott - sweet, smart, stunning, Sidney. The girl who barely knew you yet always made an effort to smile at you in the hallway and compliment your outfits. The girl whose boyfriend you were sleeping with behind her back. 

From the moment he’d flashed you that charming smirk of his, you knew you were a goner for Billy Loomis. And you’d tried to fight it, you really had. He was bad news, all of your friends thought so, and most importantly, he had a girlfriend. Everybody knew him and Sidney were serious. And you were better than that, sleeping with a taken man. 

Except, as it turns out, you weren’t. Not really, anyway. He didn’t even have to try to get you in bed with him, but after the first time, you’d felt so goddamn guilty that you swore it would never happen again. 

Your resolve lasted an entire week. Billy was like a drug, alluring in every possible way and so entirely addictive. You couldn’t stay away from him even if you tried. And although the guilt never entirely disappeared, it sure as hell became easier to ignore when Billy whispered sweet nothings into your ear and made you feel like you’d had everything you’d been missing your entire life. 

“Sidney?” Billy laughs, a sound almost as beautiful as he is. “Sidney means nothing to me. I’m going to blow her off, and then we can really be together, do it right.”

As awful as it is, the thought of that seems completely compelling. You want to be Billy’s, utterly and solely, more than anything on this earth. Besides, anything would be better than passing him in the hallway and pretending you don’t know every fraction of him so completely intimately.  Pretending like he’s not the first and last thing you think of each day. Pretending that you don’t solely wear the single perfume that he complimented once.

So intimately that you know that, at this moment in time, you can’t believe a single word that flows from his mouth - no matter how desperately you want them to be true. 

“Billy,” you sigh, turning your head away from his pleading gaze. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he replies rather impatiently. “You know it’s-"

“Complicated,” you finish miserably. “I just don’t get why it has to be!”

“Look, I can’t talk about this right now. Can’t we just…” 

He trails off, and his lips catch yours in a passionate kiss. It’s too easy to sink into it, to sit back and just let Billy take the lead and give you just what you want. It’s damn near impossible to pull back, but by some miracle, you manage to do so. 

“I’m just saying,” you protest. “If you can’t stand Sidney, if she’s truly as bad as you say she is, why can’t you just end things with her?” The sheer frustration that laces your tone is evident even to you. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this Billy, it’s driving me insane, I-"

“What, so you’re mad at me now?” Billy scoffs, tone completely accusatory. “Because you knew what you were getting into - you’re hardly innocent here, alright! I didn’t trick you into sleeping with me - last I checked, you're perfectly fine with our arrangement when it means you get to be the one under me! So why d’you even care, huh - in fact, why don’t you do us both a favour and keep the fuck out of my business?”

You reel back as if you’ve been slapped. Not because of what was said - you both know the words to be true, however deep down that is - but because of how much they hurt. You knew you were a horrible person, but you hoped that Billy saw you as more than that - you needed him to see you as more than that. And by the way he usually acted in your company when it was just the two of you, you thought that he did. When you were alone, he worshipped you. Fuck, the boy looked at you as if he was completely and utterly in awe of your mere presence. And he’d definitely never snapped at you like this. 

It’s one thing hating yourself for what you’re doing, but it’s another having the one person you love so deeply confirm all the ugly parts of your personality that you work so hard to keep hidden from the world. 

He can evidently read the hurt written all over your face, and Billy’s once irritated gaze softens. “Shit,” he breathes, and you can’t tell if he genuinely sounds remorseful or if you’re naively hearing what you want to believe. 

It’s easier to go with the latter option. 

You make a move to stand, but you feel a strong arm pulling you back down onto the bed below. “I’m so sorry,” Billy apologises, pushing a stray hair behind your ear. “I’m being an ass, I know that. I didn’t mean to take it out on you, baby.” With your arm still in his tight grasp, it would be difficult to stand up without outright pushing him away from you. But with each hushed word Billy speaks, you find yourself wanting to stay more and more. After all, he was right. You were already guilty, and your dignity was clearly long gone. What would be the use in leaving? It’s not like you could fall any further from grace. 

Your eyes flutter closed as Billy kisses all along your jaw, mumbling apologies under his breath as he does so. “I’ll fix everything, I swear. You’ve just gotta trust me,” he vows before his lips suddenly move beside your ear. His breath is hot as he murmurs, “you do trust me, right doll?” A small, pathetic whimper escapes from the back of your throat, and you find yourself nodding before you even decide to move. 

“That’s my girl.” The honey-sweet tone of his voice is enough to make you crumble, and your fingers desperately start to make work of undoing his belt. It doesn’t take long, what with your hands working practically on autopilot. Billy takes the hint, and he eagerly pulls your shirt over your head with ease, strong fingers unclasping your bra once he’s finished. 

You’re making a complete fool of yourself, a bitter voice whispers at the edge of your mind. He’s spelled it out for you, and yet you’re still here, letting him undress you like this. How pitiful. 

It’s not incorrect. Billy Loomis had undoubtedly made a mess of you. Ruined you. Before all of this - and God, how long ago that seemed now - you were good. You were headstrong and assertive, and you’d never been one to let people walk all over you. That girl was a far cry from the person you were now, and she’d undeniably despise the idiotic fool you’d become.  

You wouldn’t exactly blame her, either. You know that when you get home, you won’t even be able to face your own reflection. You never can. 

But you also know damn well that when Billy undoubtedly comes running back to you, because he does, every single time without fail, you’ll blindly follow him right back into his arms - and right back into his bed. 

It’s awful. You know that, no matter how much parts of you try to pretend otherwise. There’s no sugarcoating it, no justification for your actions that aren’t completely shallow and selfish. You just have to hope that one day, you’ll snap out of it. If Billy doesn’t choose you - accept you fully like the way you accepted him long ago - you like to think that one day, you’ll have the self-respect to leave and tell Sidney the truth. Hope she’d accept your shitty excuse of an apology. But as you lay here in this room right now, back arched and Billy in between your legs, you know that day won’t be any time soon.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

[evanpeterspeter]

Warren Lipka - part 2

Part 1 here💗

AN: kinda gotta leave y’all on a slight cliffhanger, my lovely pookies. 😼🫶

TW: yelling, slight abuse? Violence, M receiving and F receving, and just some smut ig.

Wc: 2.7k

———————————————————————————

It's been about a week now, you and Warren have been getting closer together. Such as in gaming together, smoking and having deep conversations together and low-key flirting with each other. Today was the day Spencer comes back from his trip and Spencer seems more excited than usual. The keys jingle on the lock from outside, unlocking the door for Spencer to come in. Warren is in his usual spot and is playing video games, and you were in the bedroom studying on your next assignment. Spencer dropped his things by the door, shedding off his shoes and coat. "Hey, Warren." Spencer said in such an emphatic tone. Warren raised a brow, not looking away from the flashing screen. "Hey? How was your trip nerd?" He said to Spencer, not taking an eye off his game. "It was good, I'm finally gonna do it man." He said as he smiled to himself. "Uh huh." Warren said mindlessly, not paying attention.

Spencer walked over to your door. He stood there, heart racing, his breath in a hitch and his hand in a fist against the faded wooden door. He took a deep breath in and knocked. "Come in." You projected from the other side. He took a deep breath and opened the door. He saw you sitting with one knee propped up towards the ceiling and you sitting with your left leg underneath the right propped leg. You look up at Spencer with a soft smile and tilted your head. "How was your trip dude?" He smiled from your warm welcome and sat on the bed next to you. His hands were in between his knees, squeezing them together. "It was great! Met new people and old family." He looked up at you with glistening eyes. "I saw that asshole cousin of mine, Gabe." You gasp and chuckle. "Ew! Really?! What a weirdo!" You said shaking your head. Spencer admired how your smile created soft creases in your cheeks and how whenever you laugh, you tuck that one side of hair behind your ear. "Y-y/n?" He said skittishly, playing with his fingers. "Yes, Spencer?" You said in a sweet tone. "I-.." he clears his throat. "D-did you want to go get some coffee with me tomorrow?" You tilt you head, slightly puzzled. "Spencer, we always get coffee together. What's different about it this time?" He rubs the back of his neck looking down. "Well..I-I was thinking maybe we could go out on a-.. on a date?" He cringed with his last words. Your eyes widened and you felt your gut drop. you felt frozen. You never saw him romantically and it was such bad timing, especially since you've slept with his best friend. You looked over and he turns his head facing you, looking for a response. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to figure out what to say. "Please?.." Spencer pleaded. You felt pressured and nodded in fear of hurting him. He smiles big and stands up clasping his hands together. "It's a date!" He smiled and left the room, closing the door behind him. You stare at the door, utterly stunned at what happened and you get this overwhelming feeling of dread hit. You loved Spencer, but not like that. You saw him as your grooms-maid, not your groom. You gather your books and plop them onto the cold wooden floors. You cover yourself in your sheets, hiding from this confusing world.

~

You got up and got ready for the day. You wore a soft silk black skirt, a fancy patterned tights that kind of like fishnets, a torn tight fitting Led Zeppelin shirt and some beat up black boots. You put on your accessories, and then grabbed your bag. Spencer stands by the front door, opening it for you. You look over seeing Warren still sleeping. You felt your heart ache, as if you were cheating on him, even though you aren't even dating. You look back up at Spencer and he had a huge grin plastered across his face.

You guys arrived at the Cafe place, Spencer opened the car door for you, reaching his hand out for you to grab. You sheepishly extended your hand and he guided you out the vehicle, shutting the door and walking you to the cafe door. As you and Spencer walked it you were hit with the warm smell of freshly grounded coffee and the sweet smell of glazed treats that sit pretty in the glass windows by the front counter. You've always loved cafes and especially with your dad growing up. The thought made you feel some slight sense of comfort, but the thought of being here for romantic reasons with your best friend made you feel so uneasy.

"Y-you look beautiful today, Y/n." Spencer choked out nervously. You reddened at the comment and gave a shed a small meek smile. "T-thanks, Spencer." He walks to counter with your hand still in tangled with his, and he spoke to the barista. "H-hi! Can I get a large hot coffee with 4 creams and no sugar." He turned to you with a soft smile, then to look back at the barista. "And she'll have a large iced vanilla coffee with whip cream on top and caramel drizzle." You smiled sincerely as he always remembered your favorite coffee.

You and Spencer find a seat outside, he pulled the chair out for you and himself. The sun shined bright, making all your features shine just as bright as the sun. You saw Spencer's face turn to a bright pink, feeling rather flushed from your beautiful features.

You and Spencer talked for what seemed like hours, he scooted closer you. You had your hands clasped together on the fake wooded cafe table. Spencer dug your hand out from in between and held it, intercrossing his fingers between yours. You looked at him with your nervous eyes. He continued to speak as if nothing came of it.

Next thing you know, he cupped your face with both hands and pulled you into a sharp kiss. Your eyes widened and you Immediately pushed away gasping. Spencer jumps back being startled. You wiped your lips and shook your head. "I-im sorry Spencer. I just.. I panicked. I'm sorry..." you looked at him. He rubs the back of his neck, extremely embarrassed. "M-maybe we should get back to the apartment." You nodded eagerly and stood up gripping to your purse close to your body.

The ride back was very quiet and the tension was tight. Once we arrived at the apartment, he unlocked the door. "Y-Y/n.. you can head in. I have to-.. I mean.. I'm gonna stop by the university to uh..study...if that's okay with you.." you nodded while holding the handle to the door eagerly waiting to leave. "Y-yeah of course! Uhm...yeah..just let me know if you need anything." You said giving a pressured smile. You fled out the car, trying to scurry in from the sharp cold that ate though your skirt. Spencer promptly drove off and you unlocked the front door.

As you walked in you noticed Warren eating some sort of concoction of a panini sandwich with Mac and cheese inside of it. You took notice of the box it was sitting in.. 'is that from the cafe Spencer and I went to?' You thought to yourself. "Hey, Warren." He didn't even look up at you, taking a bite out of whatever the hell he was eating. "Warren?" You said while putting your purse on the counter. "Hello?" You said but more stern. "Warren.." you said walking to him. You tapped his shoulder and he smacked your hand away. "What the fuck,Warren?!" You said stepping back. "What's your fucking problem?" He plopped his food on the small end table in front of him, standing up abruptly facing you with an irate expression. You step back looking up at him, feeling anxious but mad. "What's YOUR problem." He said while poking you chest harshly. You push him away hard. "Why are you being a fucking dick?! I did nothing wrong!" He steps forward, poking you again but harder. The kind of poke that'll leave a bruise. "Maybe if you weren't such a fucking whore I wouldn't have a problem!" Your brows furrowed and you push him harder. "Why would you call me that?!" "Because you're just kissing anyone and everyone." You shook your head. "What are you talking about?!" "I saw you and Spencer kissing and holding hands like as if you were about to have sex on the fucking table!" Your eyes widened and you step back shaking your head. "I didn't want that! I don't even like him like that! And for your information HE kissed ME! Why is it even a problem anyways? Am I not allowed to go out with a man? We're not even dating!" You pushed him one last time, that being the last straw that broke the camels back. Warren wrapped his hand around your neck, slamming you against the wall with his other hand behind your head to prevent your head from harshly hitting the wall. You look into each other's eyes, yours welling up into tears, feeling scared but also feeling a slight sensation of euphoria. His body was pressed against yours. A single tear falls down your cheek. Warren lets go of your neck and cups your delicate face and looks at both of your beautiful glistening eyes. His eyes well up too, becoming red in the face he pulls you to a tight hug hiding his face in the small curvature of your neck. "I-Im so sorry Y/n. I would never hurt you. I don't know what got into me."

You cradled his head closer and leaned your head on top of his, planting a soft kiss on top. He gently dropped his hands to the side of your waist to pull you closer. You felt a slight tingle in your lower belly, as you felt his member against your lower stomach. Your breathing hitched because you felt him grow against you. He lifted his head up, looking at you with a slight of swollen red eyes. It wasn't the high kind of red eyes, it was the pain in your heart swollen eyes. You felt that pain, the way he looked at you with puppy eyes, his soft but strained breathing, the way his hair fell in front of his face. You tucked a small bunch of his hair and tucked it behind his ear, rubbing his stubbled cheek you leaned into a gentle kiss.

You and Warren locked lips. You palm your hand against his hard cock, gently massaging it. He lets off breathy silent moans in between kisses. You pull away looking into his dark eager eyes and you slowly slide down the wall to get to your knees. Warren looked at you with confusion but immediately it clicked. As you got onto you knelt down below him, you grabbed his gray sweatpants by the elastic band, pulling it down, as his cock sprung up free from being contained in such gray cotton. You wrapped your gentle, soft hand around his firm base. You slowly pump him up and down, leaning forward to press soft kisses on his tender, pink head. Warren grabbed your hair, pulling it to a messy pony and wrapped his hand around the bunch. You began to kitten lick his sensitive tip. He let out a deep groan, looking down at you, you looked up at him, you fluttered your long lashes with big doe eyes. He was flushed by the way you looked up at him. You decided to take him into your mouth, It was warm and soft.

"F-fuck.." He said closing his eyes in pleasure. "You're doing such a great job.." the small praise made you even more wet. You took him all the way down to the base until your nose was nuzzled into the small tuff of hair. It had a slight scent of fresh laundry, most likely from his sweat pants. He looked back down, impressed with how much you took of him in your cute petit mouth. "That's my good girl.." he said in a velvety tone with a slight smirk. You bobbed your head back and forth with more passion. You pulled off with a pop and used your right hand to jerk him fast. "Aren't you my little princess, doing such a good job." the way he praised you made you squeeze your thighs together, to contain the pulses in your wet bundle. You take him back into your mouth and sucked him off. He used his free hand to caress your hollowed out cheeks. He bucked his hip in and out your mouth, using your hair to face fuck you. You had drool and precum seeping through your lips, onto your chin. "Fuck I'm going to cum baby.." you pulled off, pumping him fast and you opened your mouth, resting his tip on your tongue, while looking up at him. Warren cums all in your mouth, as all the salty cum and saliva roll off your tongue and onto your chin, neck and shirt. Warren let out a mouthful of profanities as his high was slowly fading.

Warren looked down at you with a weak smile and helped you up from your knees. "Wow, my girl made such a mess. I bet she also made such a mess somewhere else." He slid his way into your sheer panties and dipped his fingers in between your folds and collected your slick, lifting it up to his lip and sucking it off. "Mmm..you're so wet.." he smirked. He lifted you and laid you down on the counter top, spreading your legs open. He leaned forward wiping your face and chin with whatever rag was near by. Warren had moved your pantie bottom to the side of your lips and he bent forward licking a strip up your soaked cunt. You let out a mewl and arched your back. "Mmmm.." you let out loud. Warren chuckled and went back down to flick your clit with his tongue. He sucked his right middle finger and pointer finger, sliding them into your entrance, curving them up against your plump walls. You let out some whimpers and grabbed the back of Warrens hair. You grind against his tongue and he finger fucks you. "F-fuck, Warren...mmmm."

"What the fuck?!"

You sprung up looking at the front door. There standing, Spencer with flowers and a bag of groceries, that seemed to be all my favorite comfort foods. Your eyes were wide and mouth agape. "Spencer!..I-I  can explain!" You shouted while putting your skirt down. Spencer threw everything onto the floor and walked up to Warren. Warren stood up and faced him as he was hit in the face with Spencer's fist. "Agh!" Spencer shouted as he flicked his hand in pain from the blow of his fist against his best friend's face. "F-Fuck you, Warren! You k-knew I loved her!" He weeped, as his face was tomato red and wet full of tears. "A-and fuck you too Y/n! You're not my friend anymore! I hate you! And you know what? Warren I want you out of this fucking apartment tonight!" He turned around, stepping on the flowers and stormed out the door.

You immediately hopped off the counter and went to Warrens aid. "Warren..I'm so sorry.. oh my god.." you held his bloody face as he winced at your action, causing him pain. "I'm okay, Y/n, I'm fine.."

"No, Warren you're not. Your nose is bleeding." You went into the kitchen to collect some paper towels and you came back, placing it to his face. He took it from you and walked to the living room, aka his living area, and grabbed his duffel bag, packing things up.

"W-Warren you're not actually leaving..right?.." you said with a half broken heart. He continued to pack in silence. "Please, Warren don't leave..I don't want you to leave.." he paused but then went back to packing. "W-well..I also signed the lease..so it's also my apartment too..he can't just kick you out! I have say so too!" You shouted in frustration. All though, Warren continued to pack.

———————————————————————————

Taglist: @evansonlylove @xrag-dollx @warrenlipkaswife @jazzberrysblog

[dekusleftsock]

I’m so obsessed with them I can’t fucking sleep

I HAVE TO BE SOMEWHERE TOMORROW AND ITS 2:30 IN THE FUCKING MORNING

They take up so much space in my god damn MIND. RIGHT NOW.

I think I didn’t give horikoshi enough credit. For so long I literally thought toga was some sort of fetish character, but she’s not. She’s so so so far from it. I thought she wasn’t a good representative of the queer experience, but she’s just NOT.

And to see a girl in a manga address a boob in a not necessarily sexual and/or joking context, but simply because it fit the symbolism and importance of that moment? I never would have expected that from a male writer, especially a male manga writer like horikoshi.

And the absolute amazing dialogue and writing they did for toga and the rest of the league, and then to ochako and toga? To be open and honest that, maybe it is ego, but what matters is that she truly and utterly cares about toga, the real her. The person she currently is. It’s fucking stunning and amazing and I just can’t stop thinking about it.

Toga and Katsuki, the two characters who were shamed for their selfish and deviant ideas of heroics and love.. being praised by the person they love.

Izuku you selfish bastard.

Ochako you selfish bastard.

I love it. They’re all selfish. Because love makes them selfish. Holy fuck I’m so gay right now kmskmskmskmskmskmskmskms

[qcswrites]

Sowing the Seeds of Love - Part II: Full Bloom

Read Part I - Budding Love HERE :)

Synopsis: Burdened by his duties from a young age, Neteyam had little time to partake in the joys of youthful romance, his only release being fleeting moments of intimacy with various females. His longing for a more passionate affair had begun with a burning desire to have you. But you never saw him.

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya Reader

Content: Romance, Fluff, Drama, Angst, Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI

Word count: 10k

Author's note: Hello, friends! I'm back! This took longer than planned but it's a little longer than the first chapter so I hope that helps :) It's Neteyam's POV before/during/after the events of Part I. P.S. there's a tiny B99 reference somewhere in here. If you happen to catch it, we could be friends haha hope you enjoy!

I hope I haven't missed anyone but thank you all for enjoying my work :) @vivid-ink @ntymavtr @swaggygurlbae @vintaqestar @mahalkomarvel @riatesullironalite @luvteyams @investedreader

Also on AO3: Full Bloom

Your hair was arranged prettily atop your head, flowers tucked carefully into it, peeking out from behind the pointed tips of your ears. You were stunning. For many months now, Neteyam had burned for you, with the closeness of your families morphing into a slow form of torture. Night after night, he had sat across from you, forced to sate his desires with only the proximity of your delectable scent. 

“Neteyam.” Your voice startled him out of his reverie.

“Yes?”

“Some more stew?” You offered, blinking up at him innocently, holding a bowl of yerik stew. 

“Ah.” He accepted the bowl easily, shivering ever so slightly when his fingertips grazed yours during the exchange. He rarely spoke to you, though it was not for lack of interest. Clearly. In truth, he found himself severely lacking in nerve when it came to approaching you outside of the meals you shared with his family. Some mighty warrior he was. 

He had grown up alongside you, a natural consequence of your parents’ long-standing friendship. Yet, he had never quite managed the closeness that you shared with his brother. Much of his youth had been spent training and learning the ways of the future leadership of the clan, and he had always eschewed notions of romance, his only release being fleeting moments of intimacy with various females. 

Though your paths rarely crossed in the daytimes, he had harboured a quiet affection for you. Fondness would come to him, unbidden, as he watched you patiently care for Txep and treat the injured when he visited his grandmother in the healer’s alcove. 

Only in the last while, his fondness had morphed into something more. It had become an ache that left his heart racing in the daytimes and skin slick with perspiration in the nights as titillating images of you flashed through his mind more frequently than he’d care to admit. 

But you never saw him. Neteyam had wondered many times in the moons past whether you could feel his burning gaze on you, eventually coming to the bitter conclusion that his newfound desires went completely unnoticed. It seemed inconceivable for his world to have shifted on its axis the way it had and for yours to have remained the same. But that was the reality….

Neteyam let himself indulge in a moment of weakness then, allowing himself the pleasure of thinking that it had been his face you had imagined as you adorned your hair with pretty flowers earlier that evening. But it was a lie. Those flowers were not for him, but for the man seated next to you. 

Irritation flared in his gut as he caught your gaze lingering on his brother as he laughed jovially at some joke that he had himself had missed, too caught up in lamenting the tragic state of affairs he found himself in. More maddening was the fact that Lo’ak, the skxawng, was utterly oblivious to your affections. 

“Bro? You there? Hello?” Neteyam started as a hand waved in his face. 

“What?”

“Dad was asking about tomorrow,” Lo’ak continued, slightly amused at his bleariness. “You know? The mission?”

“Ah,” Neteyam said, reverting to warrior-mode, momentarily forgetting his disgruntlement. “The scout party has reported some unusual activity on the edge of the settlement.”

“Could it be hostiles? His father enquired, concern colouring his expression. Though it had been years since the tawtute had been banished from their lands, deep-seated misgivings between the clans had persisted, manifesting in occasional skirmishes along territorial boundaries. 

“The scout party believes so,” he answered in the affirmative, expression turning grave at the thought of what the next day would bring. Hostiles were often outcasts with limited supplies and capacity to inflict harm on their people. But, he knew better than to underestimate the tenacity of men with little left to lose. 

“What’s the plan?”

“The scout party believes that they have set up camp near the waterfall. We will surround the area after dawn tomorrow and secure it.” Neteyam continued, quietly relieved for the distraction from his own inner turmoil. 

“They’ll put up a fight, no doubt,” added Lo’ak, a faint smile playing on his lips. 

Neteyam shook his head at his brother’s cavalier attitude. Lo’ak had a proclivity for missions such as this, which were fraught with danger, finding a thrill amidst the peril. “It’s not a laughing matter, bro,” he rebuked, expression darkening at the memory. “Aran nearly lost his arm from the infection.”

Lo’ak only waved him off. “Nothing will happen,” he remarked, eyes flicking over to you as he spoke his next words. “And if it did, you’ll patch me up, won’t you?”

Neteyam turned to face you, watching as a faint blush coloured your cheeks at his words. “Of course.”

A heat brewed low in his belly at the sight, followed immediately by a wave of guilt at his own misplaced anger. He knew he was being unfair, in that you knew nothing of his feelings for you, let alone returned them.

He loved his brother more than life itself but in truth, he could not help but wonder why you pined after him so. Lo’ak was handsome, well-liked by the women of the clan and had his fair share of casual dalliances. You stood by and watched it all while still never wavering in your feelings for the man. If he did not feel so conflicted about the object of your affections, he would have admired your loyalty. 

Your soft giggles drew his gaze back to you, where Lo’ak had since joined you, poking your side teasingly as an inside joke, no doubt, slipped past his lips. His envy reared its ugly head once more, and he found the heat in his belly returning at the cosy sight of the two of you. 

Great Mother, he needed to get away. 

* * *

Neteyam grunted softly as she moved rhythmically above him, fingernails digging into the skin of his chest. His hands trailed her lithe form, coming to land on her hips, guiding her movements. Closing his eyes, he relished in the pleasure he gleaned from the friction between their bodies. 

He had been seeing Nimira quietly for months now. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, a quick release in the woods after evening patrol. But somehow, all these months later, he found himself pinned underneath the familiar weight of her as she rocked desperately against him, desperate for release. 

She was close, he could tell from her increasingly frenzied movements. He met her movements, frustration growing as his own peak eluded him. Something was wrong. In a swift movement, he had her on her back, hand cupping the back of her head gently. 

She gasped, startled at the sudden movement. “Neteyam, what—”

“Let me take care of it,” he murmured, thrusting more insistently against her. Her complaint faded into a series of breathy moans and sighs. 

Soon enough, he felt the familiar feeling of his own mounting ecstasy, breath hitching and movements growing more frantic as he reached his peak. He reached down, rubbing Nimira furiously where they were joined, willing himself not to spill before she reached her peak. 

In the aftermath of his pleasure, he turned over to glance at Nimira, who lay panting heavily on her back. 

“I’m sorry, Nim,” he said, slightly shamefaced. “If I was too rough.”

She laughed softly, turning her body to face him. “You don’t have to apologise,” she said slowly, reaching out to run her hand gently down his arm. “It was good. Really good.”

Relief flooded him and he smiled reassuringly at her. Nimira knew of Leyna. His feelings for you were not a secret but he wondered sometimes if she would be quite so nonchalant if she knew the depth of what he felt for you. He suspected that she would not take too kindly to the sensual fantasies of you that entered his mind, unbidden, during their dalliances. 

“You’re frustrated, today, Neteyam,” she said softly, breaking the comfortable post-coital silence that had fallen between them. 

Caught. He froze, mind searching frantically for an innocent explanation.

“Is it the mission tomorrow?”

Relief enveloped him at her words. That was right, Nimira was also a warrior and had been assigned to join the team investigating the suspected hostile activity at the edge of the Omatikaya territory. 

He nodded at her in the affirmative, hoping that had looked convincing enough. 

Nimira sighed in understanding, moving closer to him. “Me too.”

“Everything will be okay,” he murmured, returning her gesture, rubbing her arm gently as he spoke. 

“Aran is coming tomorrow,” she said softly, after a long pause. That was right. Aran. As fate would have it, Nimira had been nursing feelings of her own for the young warrior for many moons now, and they had bonded over their shared romantic woes. 

“I know,” he comforted, sensing her anxiety. Aran had been shot in the shoulder during their last mission. While they had been relieved to hear that the arrow had failed to pierce his vital organs, their relief had been short-lived as a worrying fever had come over him, unrelenting even in the face of the array of healing brews fed to him in the weeks that followed. 

“It’s too soon,” Nimira muttered, shifting closer to embrace the sturdy weight of his arm. “He’s not ready.”

“He’s a strong warrior. He wouldn’t have joined the mission if he didn’t think he could do it, Nim,” he countered gently. “He’s spent weeks now laying in the healer’s alcove, being tended to by my grandmother. She thinks he’s ready too.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I trust the tsahìk, it’s just, I—”

“Can’t help but worry?” He finished. “I know the feeling.”

Nimira smiled at his words. “Speaking of whom, how’s Leyna doing?”

A scowl came over his face, earning a soft chuckle from her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” she teased. “You’re here with me now, so I know the answer to that question.”

“Nim!”

“What?” 

“You know what.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said finally, patting his cheek gently. “That was unkind.”

He shook his head. “You’re not wrong. Everything is still shit.”

“You could just talk to her, you know?” Nimira nudged his side, prompting him to face her. “You can’t be pissed at her when she doesn’t even know how you feel.”

He smiled ruefully, leaning forward until the tips of their noses brushed against each other. “You always give the best advice, Nim.”

She smiled, pulling him atop her again. “I know. Now shut up and kiss me.” 

* * *

Neteyam let out a strangled hiss at the stinging sensation when Olin, one of the apprentices, applied a cleansing salve to the wound on his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” muttered an apologetic Olin, turning to reach for a bottle of pxir (beer). “Have some of this, it will ease the pain.”

“There really is no need for all this,” he groused, accepting the bottle. “It’s barely a graze!”

Olin tutted. “Brother, you know as well as I do that even the smallest break in the skin can result in infection. What if the arrowhead had been laced with txum (poison)?” 

The mission had been a success, save for a brief scuffle with the hostiles that had led to his injury. Neteyam longed to leave the healer’s alcove, where he had been barricaded in for the last hour, being fed various healing brews and antidotes for any dangerous contaminants on the hostiles’ weapons. 

But that was not the reason for his sour mood. Neteyam let his gaze turn sideways, landing on his brother who lay in the next bed, being tended to by none other than you. 

He watched with growing ire as your delicate hands rested on his abdomen, absentmindedly stroking the skin there as you waited for him to finish drinking the healing brew. That’s not even close to where he is injured, he hissed internally. 

“Bro, you alright?” Lo’ak looked concerned, eyes raking over his flushed face. Turning to you, he said, “Is it a delayed reaction or something?”

“I’m fine.” Neteyam said, waving off his brother. “Just tired.”

“Leyna, look him over would you?” Lo’ak chuckled softly. “He’s a stubborn one.”

“There’s no need—” His breath caught in his throat as your hands brushed against his forehead. Great Mother, he felt like a fool. 

Neteyam willed his body not to react as you poked and prodded at him. “Open your mouth.”

“W-what?” 

You gazed at him curiously. “So I can check for sores?”

“Ah.” Neteyam opened his mouth obediently, eyes widening as your fingers prodded the side of his cheek gently as you checked for any signs that he had been poisoned. He had had this dream before. Similar concept, slightly different execution.

“Is something wrong?” His voice came out garbled, your fingers having not ceased their intrusion. “Have I really been poisoned?”

You shook your head slowly, removing your fingers as you spoke. “I can’t see any sores and you have not sparked a fever yet.”

“I’m to live then?”

You smiled softly. “That’s right.”

The memory of your touch lingered in his mind in the hours after. His family paid little notice to his silence at last meal, accustomed to his typically taciturn demeanour. He willed himself to give into the mundanity of the next day’s tasks, to think of anything but the soft smile you gifted him before he left the healer’s alcove that evening, the feel of your delicate hands on his face, in his mouth, which only served to inspire more sensual fantasies of you on your knees before him, bobbing back and forth on his co—there he was, doing it again.

If he had hoped that sleep would subdue his racing mind, he was sorely mistaken. An hour of tossing and turning in his hammock had done little to alleviate his, ah, predicament. He was not unfamiliar with the intricacies of sexual attraction, having partaken in casual encounters of his own. However, none of his previous experiences had bred the kind of all-consuming fixation afflicting him in the present. 

Growling in frustration as sleep continued to evade him, he climbed carefully out of his hammock, padding quietly across the boughs of kelutral, descending down the spiral staircase at its centre. Landing on the forest floor with a soft thump, Neteyam scanned his surroundings, relieved to find it quiet, which was unsurprising given the late hour. He glanced down warily at his rapidly intensifying problem, deciding to move quickly through the village before he was faced with another clan member. How mortifying it would be to be found in the state he was in…the olo’eyktan’s firstborn son and second-in-command nursing a rather exuberant erection….

Seeking out a tree hollow outside the gates leading to kelutral, he sighed in relief. He had found this place many months prior after evening patrol, returning it regularly when he wished to be undisturbed. As second-in-command, he spent a considerable amount of time training with the war party and leading the hunting party. As such, most of his days were spent in stifling proximity to others. It was not that he disliked his role—he took great pride in following in his father’s footsteps—but he had admittedly always preferred solitude, having been more reserved than his siblings even as children.

Sheltered away from prying eyes now, he undid the ties of loincloth, swiftly discarding the material off to the side as he reached for the length between his legs, which had stiffened to the point of causing him pain on the walk over. 

Breathing heavily, he squeezed and stroked his cock rhythmically, eyes shut tight as the pleasure coursed through him in waves. Titillating fantasies of you doing things with him, to him, flooded his mind. 

You, on your hands and knees, mouth full of him, eyes meeting his coyly as you bobbed your head back and forth. The soft rounds of your breasts moving in time with your hips as you rocked above him, mouth open in pleasure…breathy moans….heavy breathing…eyes rolled back in bliss as his hips met yours….

“Argh, fuck,” he cried, bracing himself against the trunk of the tree, gasping for air as he reached his peak. Slightly shamefaced, he turned to retrieve his loincloth from where he had tossed it and refastened the ties. 

Great Mother, he needed to get a grip. 

* * *

You were avoiding him. He was quite certain of it now, watching as you hurried past him as he headed to the back of the alcove to wash his food mat after last meal. You did not meet his eyes but he glimpsed your stricken expression at his proximity. 

Frustration stewed in his gut at the present state of affairs. It had been almost a week since your conversation in his family’s alcove and you had only returned since with your family for their weekly shared meals. Hell, he was quite certain that you had been avoiding his brother as well. It was unbearable, more so than when you did not take notice of him at all. 

He had replayed that conversation in his mind a thousand times over in the days since, cringing at the indelicacy of his words and your panicked hiss at his confrontation. He had ruined everything before it even began. 

Sense would dictate that he give you space to come to terms with his words and leave you be. But, the pit in his stomach had grown unbearable and he longed to clear the air between the two of you. 

And that was how he found himself trudging through the thick vegetation that encircled the clearing where clan members called their ikran. He had recognised Txep’s excited squeal in the distance and knew, with certainty, that you were close. 

Emerging soundlessly from behind the bush, he called out, “Going out flying?”

He caught the surprise on your face as your head whipped around at the sound of his voice. “Yes, we are. What’s it to you?”

He smiled slightly at your words in spite of their hostility. Great Mother, if you knew the things that voice did to him. “Mind if I join?”

Before you could reply, Txep squealed upon catching sight of him, turning away from Pänu and barrelling into his arms. Txep was the sweetest little one he had ever seen, and Neteyam had always had a soft spot for the boy. Txep wanted to be a warrior and always trailed after him during his morning duties. His mother had apologised profusely for the boy who was particularly adept at evading his parents to find the warrior party during their morning trainings. Neteyam had waved off the apology, happy to indulge in keeping Txep entertained. In truth, he missed when Tuk was smaller and would do the same.

He saw the conflict swirling in your eyes at his question and knew he was playing dirty as turned to the boy in his arms before adding, “Txep, can I come flying with you and Leyna?”

You had a soft spot for Txep, and he knew that there was little you could refuse him. It was one of the things he loved (loved?) most about you.  

With a sigh, you nodded affirmatively. He silently cheered, disentangling himself from Txep to call his own ikran. 

Waiting patiently until Txep was seated on your ikran, he called you softly, willing himself to gather the nerve to say the right thing this time. 

Breathing heavily, he said finally, “I’m sorry, for the other day. I shouldn’t have said it.”

To his relief, your expression softened at his words. “It’s okay,” you began slowly. “You didn’t say anything I didn’t already know. It’s stupid, really.”

“No, it’s not stupid. He is.” 

That prompted a laugh out of you, thrilling him in the process. “I didn’t know you cared. I didn’t even realise you noticed my presence. This is the longest we’ve ever spoken, you know?” 

Naturally, Nim was right. “I pay you plenty of attention.” He countered cheekily. “Maybe you are the one who doesn’t notice.”

Not waiting for a response, Neteyam pulled down his ionar in a swift motion and leapt up on Tìxtur’s back, commanding him to take flight, trying and failing to stifle a laugh at your surprised exclamation. 

Turning away from you, he urged Tìxtur forward, deliberately urging him to fly faster. There was a place he wanted to show you; somewhere he had never shown anyone else. 

Neteyam only smiled softly at the shrill sound of Txep’s excited squeals as you urged your ikran to match his speed, pretending to not hear your questions as to where he was taking you. 

The landscape shifted beneath him, trees growing more sparse as they flew. Finally, he glimpsed the familiar sight of the valley in the distance, urging his ikran to slowly descend down onto the plain. 

He watched with anticipation as you landed by his side, initially too preoccupied with Txep and utterly oblivious to the marvel of your new surroundings.

Finally, you glanced up, gasping as you took in the sight of the valley, vast mountaintops on either side cradling the ground on which you stood. Neteyam watched you quietly, affection blooming in his chest at your awe. You were so beautiful. It was a thought that had come to him now a hundred different times in a hundred different ways. 

“It’s beautiful here, Neteyam,” you praised, meeting his gaze. He only smiled in return, overcome by a dizzy sort of elation. 

Txep was instantly transfixed by the river water, with its vivid shade of lilac, running to dip his feet in the water. 

Coming to stand behind you, he whispered, “He’s the sweetest little one I’ve ever seen.”

“You should see him when sa’nok prepares teylu, pounces like a palulukan, that one.”

Neteyam laughed softly. “I don’t doubt it. Tuk was much the same when she was younger.”

Wanting to speak more privately, he led you further along the riverbank, out of earshot of Txep. 

“How did you find this place?” You asked, after a brief silence. 

He shook his shoulders nonchalantly, explaining his evening exploits after the completion of the day’s duties. 

“So, this is where you disappear off to in the evenings, then?” 

Your words caught him by surprise. You had noticed. 

“I pay attention,” you added, trying and failing at nonchalance. 

He smiled. “So you do.” 

* * *

Neteyam watched quietly from the side as members of both clans drank and caroused in the centre of the shelter below kelutral, grooving to the tune of a rhythmic drumbeat in the background. 

Members of the Tipani clan’s leadership had come for a weeklong visit, culminating in the present celebration. Neteyam had spent the past week at his father’s side, tending to their visitors and partaking in negotiations concerning the exchange of goods between the clans and other diplomatic matters.

However, it was not his fatigue from the week’s duties that kept him from joining in the dancing and merriment. His piercing gaze found its way back to a particular dancing pair, eyes narrowing further as the Tipani clan’s second-in-command, Nareyo, reached for your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his dancing form.

His fingers twitched where they held the cup of kava that he had been nursing, the increasing strength of his grip threatening to shatter it and spill its contents across his lap. 

“At least give me that, if you’re not going to drink it,” a voice from his side said. 

Turning at the sound, his gaze shifted to land on Nimira who was watching him, eyes twinkling with amusement at his sour expression. 

“Don’t” he warned, tipping the cup back, swallowing the contents in one gulp. 

“You’re being a child,” she chided, nudging his side. “Ask her for a dance.”

“Wouldn't want to take her away from Nareyo,” he said, scowling. Nareyo was slightly shorter in stature, but a striking male nonetheless. Having spent much of the last week in his company, Neteyam would grudgingly admit that the man made for good company.

“Au! They’re only dancing, not mated. You can ask her for a dance.”

“Who says she wants to dance with me?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and you’ve been spending so much time together.”

“That’s not true, we—”

“You hardly ever ask me to meet you anymore,” Nimira continued. “I’m much less satisfied nowadays. I should know.”

“I’m sorry, Nim, I—”

“Oh would you hush! That wasn’t the point!” She hissed, pressing her hand over his mouth to silence him. “I’ve seen the two of you. She looks at you that way.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“She does.” Nimira, casting a furtive glance at you as the song came to an end. “Ask her now. Go, Neteyam.”

Nimira shoved his shoulder insistently, prodding him to stand before snatching the cup from his hands. “Go,” she mouthed, nodding at you. 

Neteyam sighed. “You’re full of shit,” he mouthed back, not letting himself indulge in the possibility that you returned his feelings. Still, he made his way across the floor, approaching you just as Nareyo thanked you for dancing with him with a kiss on the back of your hand. 

You smiled at the sight of him, hand slipping from Nareyo’s grasp as you turned abruptly from the other man to face him fully. Resisting the urge to preen at the action, he returned your smile. 

“Leyna,” he greeted warmly, pressing a kiss of his own to your hand. 

“Neteyam,” you breathed, eyes softening. “I didn’t see you earlier.”

“I, uh.” He hesitated, suddenly embarrassed by his earlier behaviour. “I was busy with something.” He paused to breathe deeply before holding out his hand in invitation. “A dance?”

You smiled brightly at him, slipping your palm into his grasp. “I’d love to.”

He pulled you closer as the music resumed, a slower, more relaxed melody this time. Gently swaying, he pulled you closer, unable to resist the prospect of being in such close proximity with you. Inhaling deeply, he appreciated the familiar sweetness of your scent. 

His heart raced as you leaned into his embrace, settling your head gently against his chest as you moved together to the music. Take that, Nareyo.

“You must be exhausted,” you said, voice muffled slightly where your face rested against the skin of his chest. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“Duty calls,” he said, shrugging his shoulders only slightly so as to not jostle you. 

“Me too,” you sighed. “I’m grateful for their tsahìk’s teachings but she is a, ah, passionate woman. Like her son, actually.”

“Nareyo, huh.” He mused, feigning nonchalance.

You pulled back from him then, visibly grimacing at the mention of the Tipani clan’s successor. “He’s, uh, nice?” 

“He’s a strong warrior,” Neteyam offered. Why was he defending him?

“He is,” you allowed, before adding softly, “A little forward is all.”

“Forward?” 

“Would you call offering to make me his tsakarem forward?

His jaw clenched at your words. He had proposed marriage?  

“Naturally, I accepted,” you continued, laughing softly as he blanched. 

“Great Mother, woman,” he breathed, catching on to your teasing tone. “You scared me.”

You clicked your tongue. “Should I be hurt that you sound surprised? I was the last one in our class to complete iknimaya, you know?”

“Really?” 

You hummed. “I was scared I’d pick the wrong one.”

“That’s not possible,” Neteyam argued. “The Great Mother guides you to your match.”

“Point being,” you continued. “I take too long to decide things. Ergo, no whirlwind romances.”

Duly chastised, he nodded. “Point taken.”

“Don’t tell my mother, though,” you added after a long, contemplative pause. “She misses home dearly and she would have leapt at the chance to return to take care of her grandbabies.”

Neteyam laughed. “My lips are sealed.”

Sighing softly, you resumed your spot against his chest, leaning your full weight against his body, letting him guide you through the familiar steps. Neteyam relished in the feeling of your soft curves nestled safely against him, wondering belatedly if you could sense the rapid thrum of his heart.

“Shit.” You tugged at his hand then, pulling him abruptly away from the centre of the dancefloor. 

Startled, he spluttered, “Leyna, what are y—” 

“Nareyo’s coming this way again,” you hissed, hurrying through the crowd of onlookers. “He’s going to ask me again if I’ve ‘reconsidered coming home’. Ack!”

* * *

Panting heavily, Neteyam landed with a soft thump on the mossy ground. This morning’s training had been spent practising hand-to-hand combat, a programme that had been designed by his father, a relic of his tawtute origins. 

Though, if Neteyam was being honest, he was not feeling much gratitude for his father in that moment. After a gruelling morning of sparring with the other warriors, he was well and truly spent. 

Gentle hands touched his forehead, rubbing the skin comfortingly. Leyna. 

“Have some water,” you coaxed, bringing the paywll (water plant) leaf to his lips.

Eyes meeting yours in gratitude, he began to sip from the leaf as your hands rubbed his back soothingly. In truth, he much preferred archery and rarely partook in such trainings with so much vigour. But, you had come to watch the warriors that morning and he was only slightly ashamed to admit that the sight of you had prompted his, ah, performance. 

“Who was that for?” You teased.

Caught. “No, one,” he answered evasively. 

He watched as your gaze travelled over the crowd that had gathered to watch the morning’s tournament, landing on Nimira who smiled softly at him in greeting.

“Ah,” you acknowledged. “I see.”

Growing alarmed at the conclusion you seemed to have reached, he quickly interjected, “No, that’s not…Nimira and I are not—”

“It’s okay,” you allowed. “We all need a little respite.”

That got his attention. Unable to help himself, he questioned, “Who’s giving you respite?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Leyna.”

“Not saying!”

His brother’s voice interrupted the two of you. “Another round?” He called from the other side of the clearing. “You up for it, bro?”

Grimacing at the thought, he shook his head. “I’m done for the day.”

“Come on,” you cajoled, kneeling to whisper by his ear, “Mighty warrior.”

Eyes widening at the coquettishness of your tone, he turned sharply, meeting your gaze with a beseeching expression. 

“It’s okay, I suppose,” you allowed after a pause, a coy smile still playing on your lips. “It’s normal for males to lose some of their virility as they age.” 

Aghast, he cried, “I’m only a year older!”

It was working. You were in his head and you knew it. 

Grumbling, Neteyam clambered to his feet. “The things I do for you…” he muttered, reaching for your hand to steady himself. 

You giggled, stepping back from him to give the men space. “You love me,” you teased, smiling at him from where you stood with the other onlookers. 

“Not a chance,” he called back. Liar.

* * *

Thrumming with anticipation, Neteyam dismounted from his pa’li, turning to address the returning hunting party. It had been a successful hunt, having brought back enough yerik to feed the clan for the next few days, with the remainder of meat from the day’s meal being cured and stored away. 

“Thank you, brothers and sisters,” he called out, appraising the hunting party. “I thank you for your efforts, and I thank the Great Mother for providing.”

The crowd reciprocated his thanks, lifting prayers of their own to the Great Mother before dispersing at his dismissal. But it was not the euphoria of the successful hunt that had him fumbling with the saddle on his pa’li in his haste to leave. Rather, it was the prospect of an evening alone with you after weeks. 

Caught up in preparations for the Tipani clan’s visit and the general humdrum of clan life had kept you apart for much of the last few weeks. A few fleeting glances and quick exchanges of greetings in between their duties had left him wanting for your company. 

“Hot date?” his brother grinned impishly as he caught sight of his expression. 

Neteyam quickly schooled his expression into one of placid indifference. “No,” he answered plainly. “Just going out flying.” 

“Is that what they’re calling it now?” Lo’ak chortled, thumping him on the back. “Hope you have a good flight, then, bro.”

“What are your plans, then?” Neteyam asked, hoping to direct his brother elsewhere. Technically, he was not doing anything wrong by meeting with you—it was hardly an illicit liaison—but he could not shake the discomfort he felt when it came to sharing the details of his budding association with you with his brother.  

“Ah.” Lo’ak smiled amusedly. “I’m going flying myself, actually.”

Neteyam followed his brother’s gaze to where it rested on an attractive female who blushed, nodding bashfully in Lo’ak’s direction. Seren was a good hunter, but Neteyam did not know her personally, certainly not in the way his brother seemed to know her. 

“Fuck off with the flying shit,” he shot back, tone teasing. “Seren, huh.”

“It’s not like that,” Lo’ak clarified. “We’re seeing each other casually, if you catch my meaning.”

“Yes, bro, I know what you mean.” Neteyam rolled his eyes. “I’m aware of what sex is.”

Lo’ak only chortled. “Celibacy is making you irritable.”

“I’m not—what are you—”

“You haven’t been seeing Nimira, have you?”

“That’s not—stop talking shit.” Neteyam spluttered, caught off guard by his brother’s observation. 

“We live together, remember?”

“That’s not—” Neteyam paused. “I’m not irritable because of that.”

“Sure.”

“Perhaps, I’m irritated because a certain brother of mine refuses to stop asking me annoying, intrusive, personal questions.”

“Ha..ha, you got me.” Lo’ak chuckled. “I’m still right about your, ah, problem.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

Leaving his still tittering brother, Neteyam turned to head for the ikran calling point near the rookery. He was loath to lose precious time he could be spending with you and worried that he had kept you waiting in entertaining his brother’s antics. 

To his surprise, the clearing was empty, no sign of you or Pänu. Scanning the surrounding vegetation, he waited, expecting you to emerge any time. As the minutes ticked by, he grew more antsy, not knowing you to be tardy. 

Contemplating his options, he decided to return to the village and check your family’s alcove. Skin prickling from nerves, he swiftly scaled kelutral, padding along its boughs to reach the entrance to your family’s home. 

“Leyna,” he called, noting the lack of activity in the space. Perplexed, he turned a corner, sighing in relief when he caught sight of you, faced away from him with a food preparation mat before you. 

You were so engrossed in your work that you did not seem to have heard his initial call. 

“Leyna,” he called, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. 

“Great Mother,” you screeched, jumping at his touch. “Neteyam, you scared me!”

Slightly amused, he questioned, “What happened? We’re supposed to go flying, remember?”

“Wiya, I’m so sorry,” you cried, eyes widening at the realisation. “I was just so busy—” You nodded at the mess on the food mat. “—I can’t believe I forgot.”

“It’s okay,” he allowed, eyes tracing over the food mat. “Are you making melon cake?”

“Yes, well, I—your brother saw Txep eating it the other day and asked for some so I thought I’d make some for him. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”

So, that was why you were late. Neteyam felt a sliver of irritation at your words. He nodded slowly. “I see.”

“You’re upset with me.”

“No, I’m not.” Neteyam said, his voice terse. 

“You are.”

“I’m really not,” he rebuffed, stepping back from you in a motion to leave. “You’ll need to wait to give him the cake, though.” He paused, before adding, “He’s busy with Seren now.”

“What was that?” You asked sharply.

“What?”

“That bit,” you pressed. “About Seren.”

Neteyam shrugged. “I just thought you should know his whereabouts if you were planning on giving my brother his food.”

“No,” you said slowly. “That wasn’t why you said it. Y-you—this isn’t about that, is it? My feelings—you were trying to hurt me.”

Neteyam opened his mouth, denial on his lips when he caught the anguished expression on your face. Had he really said that? To hurt you?

“This—you’re unbelievable,” you muttered. “That was months ago. I’m not—it’s not like that anymore.” You paused, breathing deeply. “Why does that even matter? Why do you care?”

In the many months he had spent with you, as your bond had grown stronger, he had fantasised, a hundred different times, of how he would confess his feelings to you. Perhaps, in the woods, where you would retreat to converse for hours in the seclusion of the thicket. Or, in the valley, during one of your trips, with you by his side, laughing gaily as you felt the cold water tickling your toes. But not this. Never this. 

So, he deflected, regretting the words almost as soon as they left his mouth. “It-it’s just—it’s sad to watch.”

“It’s sad to watch?” You repeated dully, folding your arms across your chest. “Then, maybe you should leave.”

“That’s not what I meant—it’s just—I don’t want you to get hurt.” He babbled, attempting to mollify you. 

“Huh,” you said slowly, unable to keep the animosity from spilling into your voice. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Leyna, I was only trying to—”

“Just go.”

* * *

“No.”

“Alright, then,” he acknowledged, slightly stung by her curt declination. 

“I wasn’t done,” Nimira continued, grabbing his shoulders to make him face her. “Stop.” She reached for his bow, prying it from his hands and setting it on a nearby rock. “Just, tell me what happened.”

“Why do you think something happened?” He queried, not quite meeting her eyes. “Does something have to happen for me to want you?”

“Actually,” she said, eyeing him sceptically. “In your case, yes.”

“Nim, please,” he sighed. “Just let it go. You said no. I heard it. We have patrol now.”

“We also had patrol when you propositioned me, hmm?” She pushed him lightly, urging him to sit, while she knelt beside him. “Now, talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit,” she shot back. “You’ve been moody all week—”

“I’m not—”

“—by Eywa, I’m sick of it. The sullen face and the one-word answers to everything.” Nimira shook her head. “You haven’t gone running off to find Leyna after evening patrol which means she’s involved somehow. So, just tell me what you did.”

“Why do you assume it was me?”

“Simple,” Nimira said, chuckling softly. “You’re shit with girls—”

“That’s not—I’m a grown adult, I’ve had—”

“I’m not talking about sex.” She poked his side teasingly. “We both know that you do just fine there. I was talking about relationships.”

Knowing that she would not back down until he confessed, he sighed, “I fucked it up, Nim. Everything.”

“Fucked it up how?”

Pausing, he replayed the memory in his head first, wincing slightly as he recounted the details, deliberately avoiding looking at her face. 

Nimira sighed when he fell silent. “Oh, Neteyam.”

“I was trying to protect her,” he mumbled feebly. The longer you held onto feelings for his brother, the more it would hurt. He only wanted to spare you the agony. Right. Right?

“That’s not why you said it,” Nimira said softly. “You were jealous—you are jealous.” Sensing his objection, she raised her hand to silence him. “Don’t deny it.”

“Maybe I am,” he allowed. “But now she won’t speak to me. I haven’t even seen her.”

“Then, go look for her and tell her you’re sorry.”

“What if she doesn’t accept it?” Dread pooled in his belly, recalling the anguished expression on your face.

“You have to try.” Her lips quirked upwards impishly. “And besides, I don’t have an opening tonight. I’m busy.”

Still languishing over his impending conversation with you, it took him a moment before he caught on to her meaning. “Wait,” he started, eyes roving over her face as she waited for him to continue. “You’re busy tonight. And you’re—” He gestured to her growing smile. “Aran?”

A delighted laugh bubbled forth from her. “It just happened.”

“When?”

She shook her head amusedly. “Maybe if someone wasn’t too busy brooding, he would’ve noticed.”

“Nim.”

“Fine,” she laughed. “We stayed back after training the other day. We were just talking and it just happened. He kissed me.”

“Oh, Nim,” he said warmly, bumping his shoulder against hers. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she returned, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’d like to be happy for you too so apologise to her.”

Neteyam nodded solemnly, resolving to find you after last meal and rectify his mistake.

* * *

Neteyam padded quietly across the forest floor, smiling absentmindedly as it pulsed brightly with hues of green beneath his feet. It had taken some wheedling but he had finally managed to coax Ka’ni into revealing your whereabouts. You were praying at ultra ayomokriyä (tree of voices) and he was determined to catch you before you retired for the night. 

Pushing past the clusters of bioluminescent tendrils that grew from the tree, he wandered deeper into ultra ayomokriyä until he caught sight of your kneeling form, having already made tsaheylu with the tree. His heart clenched as his gaze landed on your face, eyes closed in prayer. It had only been a week and he had missed you greatly. 

Neteyam hesitated, caught between not wanting to interrupt your prayer but also growing uncomfortable, being made to feel like a voyeur. Steeling himself, he approached you slowly, kneeling next to you before gently tapping your shoulder to announce his presence. 

In spite of the gentleness of his action, you startled, jumping back and severing your neural connection with the tree. “Neteyam!” You yelped, chest heaving as you took in the sight of him. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly, desperately hoping that you would not send him away. 

“It’s fine,” you managed, breaths slowing as your panic waned. “You surprised me, is all.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. For more than just startling you.

“It’s okay.” You moved to stand. “I should be leaving. It’s getting late.”

Neteyam shot up, reaching for your hand to stop you from moving away. “Wait.”

“Neteyam, what—”

“Please,” he implored. “Just give me a second, to explain.”

“Explain what?” You asked tiredly, still not pulling your hand out of his grasp. 

“I’m sorry for what I said. It was cruel and unfair.” He paused, watching your face for any reaction. “Please forgive me.”

“Neteyam, it’s just—” You sighed. “Is that all I am? The pathetic girl who trails after your brother?”

“Leyna, that’s not—”

“Let me finish,” you said. “That’s what you meant, isn’t it? Because, if you’re only here to babysit your brother’s lovesick little friend, then you can leave. Because that’s not what I am.” You laughed ruefully. “At least, not any more.”

“No, Leyna,” he pleaded, heart clenching at your words. “We’re friends. It’s not like that.” Friends, right. 

He could see your eyes softening and his foolish heart clung to the hope of reconciliation. By Eywa, he could not go another day without you, your beautiful smile and the pleasure of your company. He missed their evening flights together and the hours spent in the woods, content to engage in lively conversation as the sky darkened. Even if you only ever saw him as a friend, he would take what he could get….

After a long silence, you uttered the words he had longed to hear. “I forgive you, Neteyam.”

“Leyna, I—”

“And I don’t need your protection, okay?” You added carefully. “I’m a big girl and I’ve had feelings before.”

Wincing a little despite himself, he nodded. “Understood.”

Satisfied, you reached for his hand. “Come, let us pray.”

Relieved to have been forgiven, he smiled warmly at you, letting himself be led to where you had been seated before. Kneeling slowly, he reached for a cluster of bioluminescent tendrils, before bringing his neural queue towards it, watching as they joined eagerly. He sighed as the sensation settled, his eyes drifting shut. Tsaheylu.

An immediate calm fell over him, and he relaxed into it, feeling keenly the Great Mother’s presence around him. His mind drifted to thoughts of the Great Hunt, which was due to begin in a few days. He sought the Great Mother’s guidance and strength to allow him to lead the hunt successfully. 

Cracking an eye open briefly during his own prayers, he startled, not expecting to meet your gaze, eyes trained on him with a curious expression on your face. “Everything alright?”

You nodded, with a tight-lipped smile. “Just thinking about something my grandmother said the last time I visited her.”

“What did she say?” 

“Oh, that’s a secret,” you said airily, laughing at the indignance blooming on his face. 

“Come on, te—”

“How did your parents fall in love?” You interjected, catching him by surprise. 

“Everyone knows that story,” he said slowly, curious as to your sudden interest in the subject. It was true, though. His parent’s love story had cultivated quite an ardent, ah, fanbase. Particularly among the younger girls who could be overheard giggling over the tale. Star-crossed lovers from different species who end up together; admittedly, he could grasp the appeal of the premise. However, over the years, the details of their whirlwind romance had undergone a rather intense metamorphosis, the details changing and shifting as they passed from ear to ear. Neteyam had had to step in and personally clarify many of the details himself. No, his father had not descended from the sky in his human form, free of any breathing apparatus. Ridiculous.

“Tell me anyway,” you coaxed, nudging your shoulder against his.

“Uh, my father came here with the tawtute, with the RDA.” His sentence ended with a soft snarl; he had not said that word in a long time. “He was here to learn more about the clan to get access to the lìngtskxe (unobtanium) deposit under the old tree.”

You tutted. “Eywa, now I know why you do not join me at the children’s hut for storytelling in the evenings,” you teased. “Put some emotion into it.”

“Do you want to hear it, or not?” 

“Yes, yes, go on.”

“While trying to learn about the clan for the RDA, he fell in love with sa’nok, who was training him for his initiation rituals.” He continued. “Then, he turned his back on the RDA and joined the clans to drive them away.”

“And he tamed toruk!” You added.

“Yes, he did,” he concluded, finding your excitement endearing. He wanted to kiss you.

Remembering another detail then, he added with a laugh, “They didn’t even have a proper ceremony. My grandmother never got to officiate their wedding—she still complains about it. They ran off and mated. Right here, actually.” 

“It’s so romantic,” you sighed, gazing wistfully into the distance. 

“I don’t think romance was on their mind.” He paused. “Sexual frustration, maybe?” He added with a grimace, not wanting to think of his parents that way.

“Wiya, you’re hopeless,” you admonished. “They came from different worlds and fell in love, what were the odds of them even meeting, hmm? It’s romantic.”

“If you say so,” he allowed, a small smile playing on his lips. “How did your parents fall in love?

“Oh,” you said, chortling. “Sempul and sa’nok met here after the first battle with the tawtute. He says that he fell in love with her immediately but sa’nok wouldn’t give him the time of the day.”

In a conspiratorial whisper, you added, “Sa’nok had feelings for someone else.”

Oh. His eyes widened at the detail; he would need to speak to your father one of these days.

“How did he win her over?” He queried, wary of appearing too eager. 

“Ah, sempul likes to joke that he managed to wear her down eventually,” you supplied. “But, sa’nok says that she found his determination endearing and found him more charming the longer they spent together. But, she didn’t know if she should stay here and not return home because sempul was too nervous to tell her. She didn’t want to leave her home for the possibility that he cared for her.” You paused. “What made her choose to stay was him telling her how he felt for her.”

Ah, that. The pesky fact of a confession. He had not yet gathered the courage to share his feelings with you. 

“That’s nice,” he added quickly, realising that he had been silent for longer than appropriate.

You looked at him curiously, finding his demeanour strange. He squirmed, resolving to tell you how he felt. Soon.

* * *

After much back-and-forth, he had finally been released from the healer’s alcove after a few weeks, a thin bandage at his side the only evidence of his injury. Though he knew they meant well, he had grown tired of the healers’ fretting and resented being caged in the alcove. 

But, there was also an, ah, other reason for his impatience, that was, his desire for more privacy. As he left the healer’s alcove, his thoughts returned to you, as they did more often than not. The heady feeling of your lips against his had become his new fixation. In the weeks since his injury, you had been a daily visitor, sneaking into the alcove in the evenings, once the other healers had retired for the night. 

He was pleased to note how little coaxing from him it had taken for you to renege on your vow not to kiss him until he had fully recovered. Though you remained painfully cautious of his injury, with every night that passed, he grew more daring in his touches. To his delight, he had come to see all of you during their nightly rendezvous in the healer’s alcove, shielded only by a wispy curtain between the beds. 

Unfortunately for Olin, she had also come to see all of you, courtesy of an errant moan and untimely mishap with the curtain. She had fled the alcove with a startled yelp followed by copious laughter. You had been mortified, burying your face in his chest, insisting that you would not return until he was discharged; you came back the next night.

Now that he was no longer under observation, he was free to do whatever and well, whomever he liked without fear of intrusion. Padding quietly through the forest, he followed a familiar path to where he knew you would be. 

As the vegetation thinned, he glimpsed you, on all fours, picking seeds from the ground. Pxorna seeds, he supplemented with a small smile. With the cooler season nearing, pxorna would become harder to find, which was why you had insisted on gathering enough before then. For him.

“Yawntu (loved one),” he called softly as he neared you, heart pounding in his chest as you turned, beaming at the sight of him. Setting your pouch down, you rushed towards him, pausing only as you reached him so as to not jostle him.

Pulling you securely against the warmth of his body, he inhaled your sweet scent, feeling the lingering aches in his body disappear. Leaning into his embrace, you burrowed into the crook of his neck.

“Did everything go okay?” You murmured, voice muffled where you were pressed against his skin. “Was the tsahìk upset about letting you leave?

“My grandmother? She wasn’t happy about it but she agreed.” He laughed softly before adding, “Olin was quite supportive, though.”

You pulled back, eyes widening at the implication. “I would hit you so hard right now if you weren’t still recovering.”

“You love me,” he crooned.

“That, I do,” you allowed, raising yourself on your toes to press your lips against his. He returned the kiss with equal fervour, hands trailing down your back to grip your hips to pull you closer. 

“I need you,” he murmured against your lips. “Now.”

The seclusion of the thicket bolstered your confidence and you responded by pulling away to untie your chest covering, letting it fall with a coy smile. 

Neteyam groaned at the sight of your bare breasts, reaching to palm them when you slapped his hands away, nodding meaningfully at him. Recognising your meaning, he acquiesced, reaching for the ties of his loincloth, letting the material fall from his hips, landing carelessly on the forest floor. 

Turning you gently, he pulled your back against his chest, nestling his chin in the crook of your neck while he inhaled deeply. The scent of you was intoxicating and made him want you even more. Trailing his lips down the soft skin of your neck, relishing the litany of moans and sighs that slipped past your lips at his gentle ministrations. 

Placing a hand on your belly, he pulled you firmly against you, letting you feel how much he wanted you. His other hand rose to cup the soft skin of one breast, fingers brushing over your nipple which pebbled interestedly under his attentions. “Oh, Neteyam.”

Growing impatient, he bent down to scoop you in his arms and lay you against the mossy ground. “Neteyam,” you cried in alarm, hands reaching for his bandage-covered side. “Your wound—”

Pressing his lips firmly against yours, he assured, “I’m okay, yawntu. It’s okay.”

“But, you need to—”

He silenced you with another searing kiss, smiling as your complaints slowly morphed into sighs as he deepened the kiss. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” he returned, smiling impishly as he reached for the ties of your loincloth, undoing them swiftly before discarding the material off to the side. The pungent aroma of your arousal flooded his nostrils with its tantalising scent. 

Encouraged by your breathy moans, he reached down to trail his fingers gently between your thighs, smiling against the skin of your breast as you cried out at the action, grinding your hips against his hand. 

“Impatient, are we?��� He teased, trailing his fingers deliberately around the sensitive bundle of nerves above your entrance, enjoying the way you writhed against him. 

“Neteyam.”

Watching your reactions carefully, he slowed his motions to dip his fingers lower, breaching you gently with one, then two fingers, the ache between his legs growing more insistent at the feeling of your tight warmth around his fingers. 

Setting a familiar rhythm, he pumped his fingers steadily in and out of you, eyes trained on your face. You were especially stunning in the throes of ecstasy and he leaned down to kiss you gently as his fingers continued their motion between your legs. 

Feeling a telltale clenching of your walls against his fingers, he urged you with sweet words whispered against the delicate tips of your ears. “You’re so beautiful…I love you so much…you’re perfect…come for me, my love….”

With a strangled cry, you came around his fingers, hands flying to grip the skin of his back as you rode out your high. Leaning down to nuzzle against the skin of your breast, he murmured, “You drive me wild, my love. I just want to be inside you.”

He felt you pull him upwards to kiss him again. “I’m ready,” you murmured softly in between kisses. 

Eager to be inside you, he pulled back, gripping his cock firmly, nudging it gently against your entrance, leaning forward to—

“Wait,” you cried suddenly, hands reaching to steady his hips. “You shouldn’t—your wound—”

“I’m okay,” he assured again, brushing his free hand gently against your cheek. 

“I know,” you muttered apologetically. “I just worry. Wait.” You pushed against his chest, prodding to him to lay on his back. “Let me,” you explained, his eyes widening in his realisation as you clambered on top of him, seating yourself deliberately against his straining cock. 

Not opposed to the change of position, he gladly acquiesced, bringing his hands up to grip your hips gently, guiding you into position, skin prickling from sheer pleasure as the head of his cock settled into place at your entrance. 

“Are you okay? Are you in pain?” You queried worriedly, casting a wary glance at your bandaged site, scooting imperceptibly further away from it. 

“I’m fine,” he repeated, shifting his hips against yours, endeared by your worry but also impatient to be inside you. 

Gasping at the movement, you nodded, sinking down the length of him slowly until he was fully inside you, sighing in unison at the miraculous sensation of being joined this way. 

“You feel so good, yawntu,” he sighed, eyes rolling back as the pleasure overwhelmed his senses.

Cracking open an eye as you starting rocking above him, he groaned at the titillating sight before him. 

…the soft rounds of your breasts moving in time with your hips as you rocked above him, mouth open in pleasure…

…beads of perspiration rolling down your bare chest as you moved against him…

…breathy moans….heavy breathing…eyes rolled back in bliss as his hips met yours….

The line between his fantasies of you and reality blurred as his pleasure intensified. Eager for you to reach your peak before he lost control, Neteyam ramped up the pace of his hips, grinning at your startled cry at the shift in pace, which quickly dissolved into louder moans as you relished the increased friction between your bodies. 

With a loud cry, you climaxed around him, the insistent clenching of your walls around him pushing him over the edge. Gasping at the sheer force of his pleasure, he clutched you closely against him as his peak washed over him.

With a quick press of your lips against his, you shifted slowly to lay by his side, still facing him, an impossibly bashful expression on your face. He found it endlessly fascinating how you could go from rocking above him frenziedly to a blushing, stammering mess. 

“I love you,” he said, reaching forward to trail a hand down the curve of your cheek. 

“I love you, too,” you returned warmly, shifting slowly to rest against him, nuzzling into the skin of his chest, a comfortable silence enveloping them.

Just as his eyes drifted close, as he gave into the haze of post-coital drowsiness, he felt your lips press against his neck. Shifting his head to face you, he raised an eyebrow at the coy smile playing on your lips. “Again?”

You nodded sheepishly, pulling back to gauge his reaction. “It’s just different—we’re alone, finally—and I just want—it’s okay if you don’t—” You stammered out an explanation.

“You know I could never refuse you, yawntu,” he assured, halting your nervous stream of words. Wrapping his arms around your lithe form, he gently lifted you, settling you against his hips.

Relieved, you leaned down to kiss him. “You’re so perfect. I love you inside me,” you whispered daringly against his lips. His eyes widened, hands reaching down to adjust himself against you until you were right where—

“Great Mother,” a voice screeched, followed by the sound of leaves rustling as their unwilling voyeur evidently began thrashing around in the surrounding shrubbery in their haste to turn away from the clearing they had been occupying.

“Olin?” He guessed, glimpsing a familiar face over your shoulder. 

“I was tired. I just wanted a walk and—I’m going now! Er, enjoy yourselves!”

Stifling his laughter, he called out an apology at her retreating figure, “I’m sorry. Again!”

“No need! Have fun—ack!”

Meanwhile, you groaned against his chest. “It happened again.”

Laughing, he patted your back comfortingly. “We’ll find somewhere else—no, I’ll build you something, okay? Where were we now?”

You lifted your head up from his chest to gaze down at him curiously. “You’re still good-to-go? After that?”

He shifted himself nonchalantly against you, the evidence of his readiness pressing firmly against the skin of your stomach.

Laughing incredulously, you shifted into position. “Well alright then, if you insist.”

[toastyrobos]

Tasteful evening surprise (Crosshair x female reader one shot)

Word count: 2357

((Your a Senator. After a stressful day you go back to your apartment to find Crosshair waiting for you. A surprise, but a welcomed one. He and you enjoy a nice dinner and some much needed alone time. Hadn't seen each other in several rotations))

You were more then ready to rip this dress off your body. Toss it across the room and slip into something more comfortable, less form fitting. Getting dressed up was not the issue. It was the long draining hours you had to spend tied up in it that was the problem. Unfortunately that came with the territory of being a Senator for the Republic.

Most days were fine. Taken up with several meetings and involved delegations, but it was your job and you didn't mind. In fact this is what propelled you forward. Being able to do good for the millions of citizens scattered across the galaxy filled you with pride.

And you were not just one of those talk the talk ones. No. You fought and fought with your voice for the people. Especially for the ones so many in the senate tended to overlook. Every voiced mattered. Exhausted was how you found yourself at the end of the day. On more then one occasion.

Today, however you were nearly spent. Dragging yourself in the direction of your apartment. A rather heated negotiation had ended in shambles and you were just ready to concede.

Before you had even reached the door your heels were pried from your feet, resting at the side of the dress. Exhaustion rolling over you as the code was entered in. The very second the door slid open, heels were thrown aside and you nearly collapsed against the wall from how much your head was throbbing.

How the hell had one meager negotiation turn into such a disaster? Never had you experienced such a tense situation before. Raised voices was one thing, however such aggressive threatening language was not. At least not to you. Different ideologies were as common as a rainstorm, that was a given. But the way these individuals handled discussions...maker.

No. You shook your head. Now was not the time to give them another thought. Unfortunately though another round would be happening tomorrow. Tonight was about you and the cozy couch that was calling your name. Responsibilities of the day, done. Matters taken care of. All that's left to do was settle in for the evening and relax.

"Long day, doll?" You quickly jumped back, almost stumbling and falling over the train of your dress.

That voice.

Sharp brown eyes stared directly at you, taking in your formal appearance. And he liked what he saw. Always did. Especially all those Senator gowns. They only heightened how beautiful you were to the sharpshooter. After all he had a keen eye for true beauty.

"Crosshair.." you were stunned to see him here. "What are you doing here?". Sure you were that he was supposed to still be on a mission.

The corner of his lip lifted. "Not happy to see me?"

You were quick to shake your head. The opposite actually.

"That's utterly ridiculous". You scoffed. "I'm always thrilled to see you. I-I'm just surprised to see you here. I thought you were still on Raxus for several more rotations".

He merely shrugged. Not phased at all by your question. "We finished the mission early". You couldn't help the excitement that twisted in your stomach. It had been so long since you had last seen him.

His lengthy arms draped over the back of the couch, left leg crossed over his right knee. He didn't even have to try to be handsome. He just was. And bless the stars that you were able to call him yours.

Roaming his face, like your always did your eyes focused on the new scar under his eye. It was deeper then you would have liked. But there was nothing you could do about it. He was a solider after all. Bruises, cuts and gashes came with his line of work.

"I hope everything went well". You replied moving in closer to his spread out position.

"Mostly". He answered, reaching in his pocket for a toothpick.

"What happened—no, actually let me guess, Wrecker?"

He nodded, lifting himself off of the couch and came to rest his chest against your back. He slid his arms around your waist and nestled his head in the crook of your neck. Breathing in the floral smells of lavender and rose that he had came to love very much.

"Tech and Hunter were furious". He added, his lips just hovering over your exposed neck. Your insides curled, lips parted slightly.

"I can only imagine. Tech more then likely gave him the usual stern talking to". Crosshair nodded.

"Enough about the mission". He replied changing the subject. "I missed you". You spun yourself around to take in his features close up.

Then a smile broke out on your face. "I missed you too. I had expected to spend the evening alone, but it appears I won't be anymore".

The smirk he gave, that made your toes curl, finally made an appearance and you could feel your heart skip a beat.

"Lucky you".

The distance between you two was becoming increasingly smaller. You could practically feel the heated desires permeating the air as well as your quickened heartbeat.

His eyes dropped to your lips. The longing to kiss you hung in the air. Waiting to see who would close the distance between you two first. You would have certainly done it, but you were never brave enough to make the first move.

Crosshair was the one who made the first move when it came to your relationship. Particularly one day he just had had enough. He couldn't hold himself back any longer so the minute he found you, he pulled you into a small hidden corner, backed you into a wall and kissed you like he was dying of thirst and you were the only drink for miles around.

He seemed to kiss you like that every time he had an opportunity to, or just had the urge to. Now was no different. He took you in his arms and collapsed his lips down on yours. You hooked your arms around the back of neck as he gripped your hips forcefully. It was a whirlwind, kissing the sharpshooter. Every single time he left you in a daze. By the force did he electrify you.

Guess it was fitting. His name. For each time he hit his mark. Making you feel so many different emotions all at once. He really was great at his job.

"You were not kidding". You gasped, pulling away breathless.

Crosshair licked his lips. "What can I say, mesh'la. Your hard to stay away from". He confessed. "Now why don't you let me take care of you tonight".

"Sounds lovely to me". You hummed as his fingers slid up and down your arms. Keeping a rhythm that sent shivers up them. Then he began to pepper light kisses across your skin. Starting at the end of your shoulder, trailing up to your cheek. The familiar sensation warming your body. "It's been a tiring day".

The sharpshooter paused in his affections, picking up on your tone. He was aware of how difficult it was being a Senator. You rarely complained about it or went into too much detail, but he had learned a thing or two from Hunter. Being able to pick up on your exhaustion, your frustrations had become second nature to him.

Right now was no expectation. Small bags under your ears, missing heels, and sleepy tone. It had been one of those days. Though he had no idea what had happened, it mattered not. Anyone that took a shot at you or made an unfortunate comment towards you would answer to him.

Crosshair usually didn't get into fights. When he did however, it was usually in your honor. And mostly it was fighting a reg who had said something unwarranted. He became a different person when it came to you. But he loved the way you made him feel. You were the light in his war stained existence.

"Then let me take care of everything". He whispered.

"Are you staying the night?" You questioned. If he was you absolutely knew where the two of you would end up.

"I couldn't think of anything better". He answered, eye's darkening for where the evening could lead to, and unmistakably would.

Biting your bottom lip you simply nodded. Then wrapped your arms back around his neck, your bodies swaying slowly on the edge of your penthouse apartment balcony. Multi colored lights of Coruascant illuminating the environment and bathing everything in bright rainbows of color. A sight you never got tired of. Maybe never would. It was a light show of color. Golds and blues being the most dominant of all.

The way the electric blues glowed in Crosshair's irises. His eyes lighting up a color all their own.

"Then what do you have planned for this evening?" You inquired, curious to what events were awaiting for you. Hopefully none of it involved going out. However judging by Crosshair's relaxed demeanor that wouldn't be that case.

"A nice dinner prepared by yours truly followed up by just sitting here. Enjoying one another's company—"

"Hold up!" You placed your hands on his armored chest, interjecting. "Since when can you cook?"

He furrowed his brows. "I've been practicing—"

"Since when?" You questioned.

He smiled. "Tech's been showing me how". You didn't know what shocked you more. The fact that Tech knew how to cook or that Crosshair was allowing Tech to teach him...though the former seemed more plausible.

"Why has he been teaching you to cook of all things?"

Exhaling, the sharpshooter turned your hands over in his palms. Feeling the soft delicate untainted skin against his rough scarred ones.

"I wanted to. For you". The truth of his words hit you like blaster fire. And threw you for a loop.

"For me?"

He nodded. "I know we don't get to see each other often, so I wanted to do something special for you". You couldn't fathom this. "Besides I know how much you enjoy a good meal".

"A good meal". You smirked, teasing him.

"I'd be careful what you say, doll". Crosshair warned playfully, amusement rolling off his features, pushing his body forward, forcing your back into the railing, overlooking the sparkling city.

"Or you'll what?" You took the bait.

He lined his lips up with your ear and then whispered in it. "Or will skip right to dessert".

"Tempting, but I want to taste this nice dinner cooked by you".

As much as you were willing to indulge in his suggestion, you now had other plans. Other things could wait. You wanted to taste what he had made. Your curiosity was peaked.

"Then shall we?" Crosshair offered up his arm for you to take. And so you did. Linking your arm with his, you followed him down the steps of the balcony and into the kitchen area.

You watched from your seat as he started to gather up some ingredients from the fridge. Seemingly knowing his way around the floor plan already. Not that it phased you. He knew his way around your place for almost a year now.

Something about how comfortable he was here made your stomach flutter. Maybe it was the implications that it raised. Or that you could picture a future with him. In this very place. In this very room.

You were still wrapping your head around the fact that he had taken this step. You knew Crosshair was series about your relationship, but taking up cooking? That seemed so far out of his element.

That reason alone, butterflies poured into your stomach. Your heart nearly melted. He was willingly to do this for you. Willing to learn something that was out of his area of expertise and that made you happy. Warming your body inside and out.

"You really did this for me?" You just needed to be certain.

Crosshair paused his work across from you and lifted his gaze to meet yours. "Mesh'la I love you. I'd do anything for you".

Hearing those three simple, yet powerful words each time made your heart swell. "I know. It's just—"

He reached across the surface to grip your hand. "Your worth it. Always". And you believed him. You always did.

Finally accepting what he was saying you couldn't contain how giddy you felt. You swore you were acting more like a child then a full grown Senator.

"What would your brothers think if they saw how romantic you were being right now?" You grinned from ear to ear. Immediately his features changed. But hints of love still lingered.

"They won't find out because your not going to tell. Ever". His tone was firm and with it you were one hundred percent positive he meant ever word of it. Rarely did he ever not mean it.

"Of course". The smile still present as ever on your face. "Besides I rather have this side of you all to myself".

He grinned, victorious. "Glad to hear it. Because it's only ever been for you".

When his masterpiece was finally finished, he served the two of you in the comfort of the living room, the glittering view of the city as your backdrop. And maker Crosshair's first mea he cooked for you was excellent. It was savory, yet sweet. It was cooked to perfection and you wondered if that had to do with Tech's precise programming to make sure everything was done just so. Either way you ate every single morsel on the plate. That was more then enough confirmation to him that he'd get the chance to cook for the two of you again. Both of you eager for when that time would be.

In the morning he would be leaving again. Another planet in need of the Republic's help. It was unfortunate, but it was his duty, being a soldier. As being a Senator was yours. The time you two spent together was usually short and there were long stretches of time when you didn't see one another. Thus the moments the two of you had together were precious and you truly treasured dearly.

[swan-of-sunrise]

A Night on the Town

Summary: Steve and (Y/N)’s first date, as told through the eyes of an extremely nervous ninety-seven year old super-soldier and a lovestruck historical-fiction novelist.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi guys! Today, we'll be getting a little look at Steve and Booksmart's first date after the Battle of Sokovia but before the last chapter of Age of Ultron, and I'll warn you now that there's so much freaking fluff in this one-shot! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

A Night on the Town May 2015 The Home of (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Sam Wilson, Washington D.C. (Superhero Snapshots Masterlist)

Ever since taking the super-soldier serum in 1943, Steve Rogers had grown accustom to dangerous battles filled with death-defying stunts and adrenaline-inducing action. He almost never experienced pre-battle jitters and now that he was cementing himself in the twenty-first century alongside a team of other similarly super-powered people, he knew that there was no need to be nervous with his fellow Avengers fighting at his side, no matter if they were battling aliens from the opposite end of space or murderous androids controlled by artificial-intelligence. But as he parked his motorcycle on the street in front of (Y/N) and Sam’s house, Steve’s heart pounded in his chest and after switching off the engine, he was forced to wipe his clammy hands off on his dark jeans.

“It’s just a date, Rogers…” He reassured himself, getting off the motorcycle and reaching into the back compartment to retrieve the bouquet of pink roses he’d carefully picked out for (Y/N). “A date with a woman who’s completely and utterly out of your league.” When his cell phone vibrated in his pocket, he nudged the compartment closed and withdrew the device to see who was texting him on his day off, only to heave a sigh when he saw that it was Natasha.

Nat: Go get her, super-soldier 😉

Nat: You’d better give me all the tea tomorrow, or else I’ll decorate your shield with stickers.

Nat: Have fun!

“What the hell does ‘the tea’ mean…?” Steve murmured to himself as he shook his head at the spy’s eccentricities and tucked the phone back into his pocket. He took a moment to make sure that the roses hadn’t begun to wilt on the drive over and when he was satisfied with their appearance, he made his way up the driveway by the familiar yellow Volkswagen Bug and stepped onto the porch; nervously swallowing and wincing at how dry his throat had become, Steve ran a hand through his hair before pressing the doorbell and taking a step back, a smile making its way onto his face despite the anxiety fluttering away in his stomach.

Moments later, the door swung open to reveal (Y/N) and the breath was instantly knocked out of his lungs at the stunning sight. The historical-fiction novelist was dressed in an off-the-shoulder green blouse, short black jean skirt, sheer black tights and dark brown ankle boots, and her (Y/H/C) hair was fixed in the same intricate style she’d worn to the party at the Avengers Tower. Silver hoop earrings and a delicate book-shaped pendant accentuated the graceful slope of her neck, and her subtle touches of makeup brought out the sparkle in her (Y/E/C) eyes. While Steve stared in stunned disbelief, the hints of apprehension written across (Y/N)’s face melted away into a sweet, red-hued smile that he couldn’t help but return tenfold. “Hi, Steve.”

“Hi, (Y/N). You…You look so beautiful.” The historical-fiction novelist mumbled a bashful word of thanks and Steve held the bouquet out for her to take. “These are for you. I, um, I remember you saying in one of your emails that pink roses were your favorite.”

(Y/N) beamed as she accepted the bouquet of roses and took in their sweet-smelling scent. “They’re stunning, Steve, thank you! Let me just put these in some water-”

“I’ve got it, Booksmart.” A smirking Sam appeared at the doorway with his roommate’s purse in his hands, swapping her for the bouquet and giving Steve a look of exaggerated sternness. “Good to see you, Cap. So, you two’ve got a fun night planned; you’re gonna have her home at a respectful time, right?”

“Hi, Sam. I-”

“You don’t have to answer him, Steve, he’s just being a smart-ass.” After flashing Steve a smile, (Y/N) shot her best friend a glare and slung her purse strap over her shoulder. “Don’t you have anything better to do on a Friday night than annoy us, Birdbrain?”

Sam dramatically sighed and shook his head. “Sadly, not all of us are lucky enough to snag a date with a super-soldier, but I might meet up with Nat later and go to that new bar that just opened downtown. You two have fun, but not too much fun!”

They stepped down off the porch and made their way down the driveway to Steve’s motorcycle, and (Y/N) waited until the front door closed behind Sam to heave an exasperated sigh. “He’s a real character, isn’t he?”

“He’s certainly one of a kind, that’s for sure.” They both chuckled as he reached into his bike’s back compartment and withdrew the spare helmet. “I haven’t been out to very many restaurants here in D.C., so I was hoping that you’d know of a good one we can eat at tonight. Whatever you’d like, I’m game.”

(Y/N)’s eyes lit up in excitement as she fastened the helmet’s strap under her chin. “In that case, there’s a great food truck downtown that serves, hands-down, the best Mexican food. How does that sound?”

Steve straddled the motorcycle and waited for the historical-fiction novelist to lower herself onto the seat behind him before switching the engine on. “I’ve never had Mexican food, but I’ve always wanted to give it a try.”

“Trust me, you’re going to love it!” She exclaimed over the engine’s rumbling, and Steve smiled a little to himself when he felt her arms wrap around his waist. “1560 Wilson Boulevard, you can’t miss it!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve shot her a teasing grin over his shoulder and reveled in the feeling of her arms tightening around him as he peeled away from the curb and sped down the street.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seated side-by-side on a brick planter box a little ways away from Pa’ Tortas El Papi’s bustling food truck, (Y/N) and Steve enjoyed their plates of street tacos and ice-cold Coca-Cola’s and fell into easy conversation as Tejano music played in the foreground and string lights twinkled in the tree branches above. (Y/N) was pleased and a little relieved when Steve told her how delicious their dinner was, knowing how different Mexican food was to the super-soldier’s usual cuisine, and there was a proud grin on her face as she watched him eagerly finish his second plate of tacos and regaled him with stories of her many trips to the food truck with Sam. With Steve, (Y/N) felt completely at ease and all of her worries – about the fallout of the Battle of Sokovia, about the legalities surrounding her breached studio contract, about Ultron’s defeat – were put out of her mind by the super-soldier’s comforting and near-addictive presence.

“I like this song,” Steve stated after they’d lapsed into a comfortable silence, both of them enjoying the last of their sodas while they people-watched from their secluded planter box. “It has a nice melody.”

“‘Amor Prohibido,’ released as a single in 1994 from the album of the same name and sung by the incomparable Selena Quintanilla…or just Selena, if you prefer, sort of like Beyoncé or Cher. It’s about forbidden love and wanting to be with someone despite everyone else’s misgivings about their relationship.” When (Y/N) glanced up from her empty glass bottle and caught sight of the awestruck expression on the super-soldier’s face, she felt her own face begin to warm in embarrassment and she awkwardly cleared her throat before continuing. “Anyway, it’s a very good song…one of my favorites of hers, actually.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head in amazement. “Sometimes I forget just how knowledgeable you are when it comes to music, and then you go and knock me onto my ass with a pitch-perfect summation of a random song’s background and details. It sounds cliché, but I don’t know any other word to call it other than incredible, (Y/N).” His azure eyes were shining as he spoke, and (Y/N) knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he meant every word he uttered; her lips curved into a smile before she wordlessly pressed a kiss onto the smooth skin of his cheek and scooted closer to lean her head on his shoulder, smiling even more when she felt his large hand gently wrap itself around hers. “My Spanish is a little rusty, but I’ll bet that there’s a music expert around here that could translate some of it for me.”

“‘Aquí solo importa nuestro amor, te quiero…’” (Y/N) quietly sang along to the impassioned tune and gave Steve’s hand a gentle squeeze as she translated. “‘All that matters here is our love, I love you…’”

Although they’d finally confessed their love for one another just two weeks prior, saying those three simple words aloud again sent a warm tingle throughout (Y/N)’s body, and she was reminded of the super-soldier’s breathtaking grin and the feel of his soft lips caressing hers as they stood in the deserted hangar of the old S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier.

Instead of replying, Steve simply closed his eyes and hummed along to the melody of the song as a light blush dusted over his cheeks, and (Y/N) seized the rare opportunity to study her distracted date; his handsome face was fully free of the guarded expression he’d continuously worn when they first met, making him appear younger and resemble the ninety-five pound man he’d always been before his recruitment into Project Rebirth, and her heart warmed in her chest when she realized her role in helping him open up and slowly but surely join a world that he once believed that he would never belong in. Not many people are lucky enough to see the man behind the shield, (Y/N) thought as she rested her head back on Steve’s shoulder and smiled to herself, but right now I feel like I’m the luckiest person alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait a minute. Wait a minute, Doc, uh, are you tellin’ me you built a time machine…out of a DeLorean?”

“The way I see it, if you’re gonna built a time machine into a car, why not do it with some style?”

The auditorium echoed with chuckles of amusement at Doc Brown’s reply and while the time traveling car suddenly blazed its way back onto the screen, Steve bit his lip to hide his disbelief from (Y/N), who was engrossed in the ongoing film right beside him. When he picked a 30th Anniversary screening of Back to the Future for his and (Y/N)’s first date, it hadn’t occurred to him that it was a film revolving around time travel, and the irony of being a man out of time taking his incredibly modern girlfriend to see it was definitely not lost on him. It was a fun film that took a more science-fiction route in regard to the time travel aspect – and as someone who’d gone from 1945 to 2012 in the blink of an eye, it was a nice change of pace seeing someone go from present day to being a fish out of water in the past – but Steve started to feel slightly uncomfortable when the high school-aged George McFly was introduced.

Unsurprisingly, Steve was the furthest thing from popular in high school; he was short, skinny and interested in art and the few girls who’d acknowledge his presence were only interested in fishing for a date with Bucky. The only real difference between him and George McFly was that, despite his abysmal success rate, he always fought back against his bullies instead of cowering from confrontation like George. However, it was George’s infatuation with Lorraine that struck Steve; like him, the high-schooler was hopeless with girls and had a difficult time expressing himself around his crush, something that Steve still struggled with over eighty years later. It had taken nothing short of a world-ending threat for Steve to finally confess his love to (Y/N) and when the adrenaline of the Battle of Sokovia finally wore off, so too did his forwardness.

Bucky always made this sort of thing look so damn easy, Steve silently bemoaned and swallowed thickly, his eyes trained on the screen as he contemplated whether or not he should wrap his arm around the historical-fiction novelist’s shoulders. He reached into their shared bucket of popcorn and sucked in a sharp breath when his fingers suddenly brushed against (Y/N)’s; when he looked over at her, she was smiling at him and he felt himself smile back as she tossed a kernel of popcorn into her mouth that was accompanied by a flirtatious wink and returned her attention back to the screen.

It wasn’t until George and Lorraine’s much-anticipated dance in the school’s decorated gymnasium that Steve found the opportune moment to make his move. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he moved his arm up and slowly lowered it to rest around (Y/N)’s shoulders; he was careful to avoid the bare skin of her shoulder and curl his fingers around the silky material covering her upper arm, but the respectful gesture didn’t stop him from feeling the warmth radiating off of her or detecting the subtle uptick of her heartbeat at his careful touch. Steve’s own breath hitched when the historical-fiction novelist not only scooted closer to his side, but also rested her head on his shoulder; he didn’t bother fighting the smile that stretched across his face as his body relaxed and he leaned his cheek against the top of her head, feeling nothing but love for the woman sitting beside him while they both watched George and Lorraine finally share a sweet kiss.

“Earth Angel, Earth Angel, please be mine. My darling dear, love you for all time. I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moon was shining high in the darkened sky when Steve finally took (Y/N) back home. After the movie, they’d spontaneously decided to visit a nearby ice cream parlor and enjoy their frozen treats while strolling around the block arm-in-arm, and it wasn’t until they noticed several bars beginning to close for the night that they realized just how late it was; they were having too much fun eating their ice cream and laughing at (Y/N)’s many attempts to teach Steve how Instagram filters worked, but they were mainly just enjoying spending time in one another’s presence. The rumbling of the super-soldier’s motorcycle ceased when he parked in front of (Y/N) and Sam’s house and switched off the engine, and silence settled over the street as he gallantly walked alongside her to the porch.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” Standing on the porch, (Y/N) gave Steve – who was nearly eye-to-eye with her from where he stood at the base of the steps – a teasing grin. “You sure know how to show a lady a good time, Captain Rogers.”

Steve chuckled at that. “Yeah, well, you’d be the first lady to ever think that; most of Bucky and mine’s double dates usually ended with my date forgetting that I existed and both gals trying to make a move on Buck.”

“I suppose it’s their loss and my gain, then.” While Steve’s cheeks turned pink at her compliment, (Y/N) shrugged off the leather jacket he’d insisted on letting her wear when she started to shiver during their stroll, cringing at the cool night air on her flushed skin but handing the jacket over to him; she took a moment to admire the super-soldier’s muscular physique while he slid his jacket back on and was forced to clear her throat before continuing. “Well, I…I should probably head in; Sam’s probably spying on us as we speak and waiting to interrogate me.”

“I’m sure he’d be at the window if he hadn’t fallen asleep while watching reruns of NCIS.” A teasing smile of his own curved his lips upwards when (Y/N) furrowed her brow in confusion. “Good hearing’s just one of the many side effects of being a super-soldier.”

Sometimes, it was easy for (Y/N) to forget that the man standing before her was Captain America, a bonafide superhero who could lift a ton without breaking a sweat and who miraculously survived being frozen in ice for nearly seventy years. To her, he was just Steve Rogers, a handsome man who strived to learn as much as he could, who had a dry but witty sense of humor and who made her feel well and truly loved. “I meant what I said earlier,” (Y/N) quietly admitted and reached out to hold one of Steve’s hands. “Tonight was the most fun I’ve had in…well, a pretty long time.”

Steve’s azure eyes softened as he nodded in agreement. “Me too. I wish it didn’t have to end.” When she arched a brow at that, his eyes widened in panic and he stammered out, “T-That’s, um, that’s not what I meant, I wasn’t trying to…not that I don’t want to, you know, but…I swear, I’m not implying that you and I should…” He awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck and let out an embarrassed groan. “Ninety-seven, and I still can’t talk to a beautiful woman without gettin’ tongue-tied.”

(Y/N) giggled. “That’s true…” Smiling, she brought her free hand up card her fingers through his hair before gently cupping his smooth jaw. “But it’s also one of the many things I love about you.”

Steve gave her a breathtaking grin and leaned forward, his impossibly-long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as his soft lips met hers; the gentle and passionate way that Steve kissed her made her feel cherished and while his hand moved to rest on the curve of her waist, she couldn’t help but marvel at how the highly-trained super-soldier’s touch was nothing short of reverential when it came to her. His kisses were addictive and as they finally separated for air, she found herself moving forward to press one last lingering kiss onto his swollen lips before pulling away far enough to meet his hooded gaze. “That was…”

“Scandalous? Inappropriate?” (Y/N) jokingly offered. “Something that would’ve ruined both our reputations in the 1940’s?”

“Incredible.” Steve finished, and the tender gleam that filled his azure eyes as he looked at her caused her own cheeks to flush. “You’re incredible, sunshine.”

That was the first time he’d ever called her something other than her given name, and the added emphasis on the term of affection certainly wasn’t lost on her. In the back of her mind, she resolved to ask him about it one day but in that moment, she all but glowed and bit her lip in a poor attempt to hide her bashful grin. “I know how busy you are with the move to the Avengers’ new facility and the fallout of the Battle of Sokovia, so I’m not sure when we’ll be able to go out again but I hope it’s soon.” After Steve nodded in agreement, (Y/N) pressed a chaste kiss onto his cheek and with a small pang of reluctance, she pulled away from his arms and finally let go of his hand. “G’night, Steve.”

“’Night, (Y/N).”

They shared one final smile before turning away from one another, (Y/N) to unlock the front door and step inside and Steve to walk down to where he’d parked his motorcycle. She gave him a wave once she saw him sitting astride the bike and stepped into the house, but the brief chime of her cell phone forced her to quickly lock up before checking her unread text messages.

Steve: I don’t think that there’s an adequate enough way to thank you for such a wonderful night, sunshine, but I was hoping I could take you out again tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at eight for dinner and another movie?

While her heart practically burst out of her chest with happiness, (Y/N) typed out a brief but enthusiastic reply and tiptoed into the living room to wake her sleeping roommate, but not before giving the vase of pink roses sitting on the kitchen counter an appraising smile and taking note of the fading rumble of a familiar motorcycle outside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: And there we have it! What did you think of their first date?? Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ziGMhEsAw833GQ9eV44nR?si=6dfead09c76848d5 

Stumblin’ In Book VII: “Superhero Snapshots” Masterlist 

Stumblin’ In Book II: “Age of Ultron” Masterlist

Tagging:  @mrs-obrien​​​​​ @lahoete​​​​​ @awkward117 @cminr @natdrunk​​​​ @momc95​​​​​ @savedbystyle​​​​​ @miraculouscloud @awkwardnesshabitat​​​​​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​​​​ @mangosandmimosas @supersouthy @benakenalove​​​​​ @brooke0297​​​​​ @hufflepeople​​​​​ @becausewelie​​​​​ @outoftheregular​​​​​​ @junipermurdock​​​​​ @ladydmalfoy @mads-weasley​​​​​ @username23345@crist1216​​​​​ @capswife​​​​​ @lilmschild​​​​​ @avngrsinitiative @crowleysqueenofhell​​​​​ @y-napotat​​​ @mary1raven​​​​​ @groovyqueer​​​​​ @ljej95​​​​​ @innersublimefury​​​ @prettysbliss​​​​​​  

[eunhagal]

My holiday ends tomorrow and I feel like there's so much more of this that could be written, so I'm going to try just posting what I have so far. Not normally what I do, but desperate times call for desperate measures. If anybody's really into this, let me know so I don't just keep the rest in my head for my personal enjoyment like I usually do. I have a couple more paragraphs of this, but this felt like the most appropriate break point

Eunha knelt behind the girl, all thoughts but one fading from her swimming mind: An ass this pretty deserves all the pleasure I can give it.

Never mind that they had only just met. Never mind that Eunha couldn’t remember her name. Never mind that this was happening in a public park. Those were unimportant details with no bearing on Eunha’s mission.

The girl hugged the tree that she bent over in front of. Her finger pads gripped at rough bark in stark contrast to the fine, soft hands floating up and down the backs of her thighs. Goosebumps lined her skin, head to toe. Nobody had ever done this to her before. Other partners put her on her back and fucked her pussy, often without foreplay. But now Eunha, an idol (her favorite idol), was insisting on giving her a new, novel experience. She'd been seduced by Eunha for years already. It only took a few words to get her to hike up her skirt.

Eunha tried to make a whole song and dance of removing the girl's underwear, pulling them halfway down her butt, and commenting on how her pussy was so wet that it clung to the fabric. The girl, too desperate to realize it was a compliment, took it to mean Eunha was having a hard time, and reached down herself to jerk the underwear down to her knees. The quick movement stunned Eunha for a moment, but the unobstructed view of the girl's asshole quickly got her back in the right mindset.

A firm but gentle massage spread the girl's butt. Eunha loved watching the tiny ring in the center widen and lengthen as she manipulated the surrounding pliant muscle. The girl's whole ass was a joy, and Eunha would have been satisfied with playing with it for a little while, but she wanted the girl to feel the same pleasure she knew. And to that end, she kissed.

The motion was so soft, so tender. Eunha's glossy lips touched the girl's ring, pressed lightly, and she kissed. It may have been the gentlest touch the girl had ever felt, but it still sent cracks of electricity through her. She raked the poor tree with her nails. She couldn't contain her voice. A breathy moan crawled out of her throat. She couldn't remember the last time she'd made such a lewd noise, even in the comforting solitude of her own bed. The wherewithal barely struck her to cover her mouth. Eunha didn’t mind the dangerous sound, and continued kissing. It was the sort of kissing that would be utterly chaste anywhere else on the body. Something one could expect from a relative on the cheek, or a shy high school girlfriend on the lips, albeit repeated and insistent. No sloppy spit or tongue, just the barest intakes of air through nearly unparted lips. The girl wished that she'd been flexible enough to turn around and watch. Surely, Eunha doing this would be the most beautiful sight.

Eunha backed away. The girl's asshole was surrounded by a perfect, if moderately smudged, kiss mark. Eunha's lip gloss left it glistening and pink. Below, the girl’s pussy drooled to the point of drops falling away. Seeing that confirmation of pleasure, Eunha’s mind threatened to shut down. She wanted to give the girl more. She wanted the girl to know everything she knew herself about tongues and fingers and so many other things that brought her bliss. She wanted to share that bliss, get completely lost in it with this girl she didn’t even know until they both melted away.

Though she retained some amount of control, Eunha really couldn’t help herself.

[nowiamcoveredinyou]

Embrace

Poe dameron x reader

Word count:- 415

30 days writing challenge

A/n:- it's always cute to write for Poe innit? Hope you like it!

You are the quiet girl of the area. So you don't talk to many people, yet you don't forget to share a smile when you meet your neighbours. Except one, Poe dameron. The good looking and charming guy who always passes through your house every morning at the very moment you get out for your morning walk. His eyes glances at you and yours looks at him too. Even if he wants to talk, you turn away. However that still didn't drive him away, he'd still be passing your house every day. You got used to it too. If once in a blue moon you don't see him you wonder if he's okay? next day again seeing him calms you down from the worry you'd never admit having for an absolute stranger. Someday if you miss your morning walk, you'd peek through the window if he's walking by, and he would.

It was one day when the sky warned you, a morning walk on that day wasn't quite favourable. Yet you were stubborn, so you went out and after ten minutes it really was proved to be a bad one. The rain came pouring and you went your way back to your house and suddenly the rain stopped falling on you. You looked up to see an umbrella, held by ... The charming everyday guy? you wondered. You were too stunned to talk so he finally opened his mouth,

"I'll get you home"

You didn't fight, you nodded and let him help. The walk was quiet and soothing until the strike of a lightening lit up the sky, terrifying you, with a bursting sound. Out of fear you wrapped your arms around the man beside you. You embraced him and he embraced you back, covering you like a shield. After getting back to your senses you felt utterly embarrassed. You pulled away and saw that man wasn't mocking or feeling awkward at all.

"sorry" it was the first time he heard you talking,

"it's okay" he assured nodding and led you to your home. Before you entered you said,

"y/n, my name is y/n".

He knew you were willing to talk to him. Poe smiled and said, "I'm Poe dameron".

You turned and nodded.

"should we have a walk?" he asked, nervously.

You thought for some time and then replied, "tomorrow same time." And entered your house at once. Both of you waited eagerly for next day, come the rain or sun, you didn't care.

[its-all-or-nothing94]

Formual 1 / MotoGP Fusion - Part 6

Summary: You are the first female MotoGP rider ever. You race for KTM Factory Racing, leaving Jack Miller your teammate, and one of your main sponsors is Red Bull. You grew up with most of the riders but your best friend is the multiple MotoGP Champion Marc Marquez. After your horrific crash the year before, you are ready to start the new season and probably a new love?

Pre-Story - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

A/N: Some pics are just random people - I know, I know, but they fit ;)

Ship: Not telling yet (Marc Marquez, Carlos Sainz or Charles Leclerc)

Warnings: none

Taglist: @laneyspaulding19, @luciaexcorvus, @raizelchrysanderoctavius

💥 Love Triangle Chronicles Continue: Y/N Y/L/N Kisses Carlos Sainz After F1 Miami GP, but Y/L/N's Twitter Comment Leaves Fans Bewildered! 💔😘

😱 The rollercoaster of emotions continues as conflicting signals bewilder fans, while Pierre Gasly's defense adds a new twist to the love saga! 💔🤔

In a stunning turn of events after the F1 Miami Grand Prix, the love triangle involving MotoGP star Y/N Y/L/N, Charles Leclerc, and Carlos Sainz has taken yet another dramatic twist, leaving fans utterly bewildered. After an exhilarating race where Leclerc finished in P7 and Sainz secured P5, a captivating picture emerged, capturing Y/L/N congratulating Sainz with a tender kiss on the cheek, fueling the belief that they are more than just friends. However, Y/L/N's recent comment on Twitter has cast a cloud of confusion over the entire affair, leading fans to question the true nature of her relationships. 💔😘🤔

The image, capturing the intimate moment between Y/L/N and Sainz, sent shockwaves through the racing community, with fans leaning towards Team Sainz as the preferred romantic interest for Y/L/N. Hearts shattered and emotions ran high as fans passionately declared their allegiance to their chosen driver in the hopes of capturing Y/L/N's heart. 💔💑🔥

However, just as fans were beginning to celebrate the apparent confirmation of the Y/L/N-Sainz romance, a surprising tweet from Y/L/N herself threw everything into disarray. In her comment, she emphatically stated that she and Sainz are merely friends, leaving followers in a state of confusion and raising questions about the true nature of the kiss shared after the race. 🤔💔

Adding another layer of intrigue to the already complex love saga, Charles Leclerc's best friend and fellow F1 driver, Pierre Gasly, stepped forward to defend his companion, asserting that Sainz and Y/L/N are indeed just friends. Gasly's intervention only served to further complicate matters, leaving fans wondering if he is trying to protect his best friend's interests or if there is more to the story than meets the eye. 🕵️‍♀️🔍

With conflicting signals and a web of emotions entangling the racing world, fans are left with more questions than answers. Will the true nature of Y/L/N's romantic connections ever be unveiled, or will this love triangle continue to confound and captivate us all? Stay tuned as the high-octane drama continues to unfold both on and off the track! 🏁🌟

yourusername22 ☑️ Le Mans Circuit Bugatti, France

Liked by marcmarquez93, motogp, charles_leclerc and 964’735 others

yourusername22 Great Q2 with @jackmilleraus on P4 and P3 for me! We gonna rock this race @ktmfactoryracing!!

View all 5'243 comments

ktmfactoryracing 🥳👏🏼👏🏼 We’re so proud! jackmilleraus 👏🏼😁

marcmarquez93 You almost got me, goof yourusername22 Lucky you! I’ll get you tomorrow 😉

motogp Finally we’re back! 💪🏼

charles_leclerc Well done! 👏🏻

f1baaabe Okay, me literally screaming, everytime Charles interacts with Y/N!!! 😱😱😱 amex798 Right? I wanna finally see them together!

🌟 Leclerc's Surprise Appearance at MotoGP Le Mans: Charles Supports Y/L/N as She Secures P3 in Qualifying! 💥🏍️ ☑️ 

😱 Love triangle takes a backseat as attention turns to an unexpected MotoGP rendezvous and Y/L/N's impressive performance! 🤩

In a stunning twist to the ongoing love triangle saga, F1 star Charles Leclerc was spotted at the MotoGP Le Mans in France, putting the focus momentarily on the racetrack rather than the tangled web of relationships. The Monagesque driver surprised fans as he appeared to support his rumored love interest, Y/N Y/L/N, who delivered an impressive performance by securing P3 in the qualifying session. 💥🏍️🇫🇷

While rumors of a romance between Y/L/N and Leclerc have been circulating, the attention temporarily shifted to their professional endeavors as Y/L/N's outstanding achievement took center stage. Fans were captivated by her prowess on the track, leaving the love debate momentarily on hold. The electrifying atmosphere at Le Mans was charged with excitement as Y/L/N showcased her skills, leaving spectators in awe. 🏆🌟

As the dust settled from the thrilling qualifying session, attention inevitably returned to the ongoing love saga. Fans, who had been leaning towards Team Sainz after Y/L/N's affectionate gesture at the F1 Miami GP, were left pondering the true nature of her connections once again. Y/L/N's recent comment on Twitter stating that she and Sainz are just friends added another layer of confusion, fueling speculation and raising questions about her interactions with Leclerc. 😘💔🤔

Adding to the intrigue, Charles Leclerc's best friend, Pierre Gasly, previously defended Sainz and Y/L/N's friendship, leading fans to wonder if his presence at the MotoGP race was a subtle show of support for Y/L/N's racing achievements rather than a romantic gesture. The love triangle saga continues to twist and turn, captivating fans with every unexpected development. 💔🔥🔄  

As the racing world eagerly awaits the next chapter in this enthralling narrative, the focus now shifts back to the MotoGP Le Mans race itself. Will Y/L/N's outstanding performance on the track translate into a victorious finish, further intensifying the love triangle storyline? Buckle up, racing enthusiasts, for the journey is far from over, and the final lap promises to be the most exhilarating yet! 🏁🌟

[lil-melody-moon]

Hello, my dear! Here comes the last fragment, which is from the final chapter of the fic! Get your arse ready because the revenge starts tomorrow😆

I know this is a very tiny fragment, but I don’t want to spoil the end😭

Enjoy!

————————————————————————————

You woke up, completely disoriented, the early morning light filtering through the thin curtains of your small bedroom. You rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the sleep that still clung to you like a heavy blanket. With barely a thought, you reached for your glasses, the familiar weight a comfort on your nose. The phone, sat on the bedside table, its insistent ringing cutting through the quiet of the morning.

You picked it up, still half-dazed, and that’s when you heard Frank’s voice.

“Hello, Caroline.”

Your throat was dry from sleep, and it dried even more at the sound of his authoritative tone. You had been avoiding his calls for weeks now, ever since that night. Heat rushed to your cheeks as memories flooded back

“I’m just calling to inform you that I’m coming back home,” he said, and your heart dropped into your stomach. The words echoed in your ears, and you fought the urge to beg him to stay away. You knew you had to pretend to be pleased, to put on a cheerful front, but the feigned excitement just wouldn’t come.

“That’s… that’s great, Frank,” you managed, your voice sounding weak even to your own ears. Just as you gathered your thoughts, ready to ask him when he would be back, he dropped the bomb.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been doing while I was gone.”

His words hit you like a slap. Your stomach twisted, and for a moment, you could barely breathe. Panic surged through you, and your mind raced to find an explanation, to defend yourself against an accusation that felt utterly unfounded. Did he knew? What did he think he knew? How did he knew?

But before you could utter a single word, the line went dead. He’d hung up, leaving you in stunned silence, the receiver still pressed to your ear as if that could somehow bring him back.

Your heart was pounding, the noise deafening in the stillness of your room. You felt as if the walls were closing in on you, trapping you

Frantically, you looked around your room, your eyes darting from the patterned wallpaper to the window where the morning light cast a soft glow. You felt a wave of nausea wash over you. What were you supposed to do now? You had no idea when Frank would arrive, and the thought of facing him filled you with fear.

Your mind was racing. Panic gnawed at your insides, and all you could think about was running away, anywhere but here.

But then, a thought struck you like lightning: You knew it was risky, that calling him might complicate things further, but desperation was taking hold. If Frank was convinced he knew everything, what was so wrong with reaching out to the one person who could help?

You picked up the phone again, your heart pounding as you dialled the number. Each tone felt like a countdown. It rang, each sound echoing your anxiety. What would you even say to him? You chewed your lip, anxiously waiting for an answer.

“Hello?” His voice came through, warm and familiar. Relief washed over you, momentarily easing the tight knot in your stomach.

“Ernie, it’s me,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tremor that betrayed you. “I need you to come to my house.”

Hello! You don't know how excited I am about this, I literally cannot wait!

Eh, I'm fine with such a small amount. It's a bit teasy, but let me get to the comments 💜

Ah, such a comforting morning just to be destroyed by Frank - this guy can destroy everything 😂

I like the shift of the mood and also I have two interpretations of Frank's accusation. First, that he really knows what was going on behind his back - anyone from his friends could tell him. Second, he's guiltripping me just because he always did it to control me and he was away for a long time - the easiest way to regain his control is by doing things like this. My panic would justify the second outcome and the first one as well. Like I said, Frank is destroying everything!

Also the shift from panic to seeing even the slight comfort in thinking about having Ernie close to me, just in case something horrible might have happen. I'm still scared, but I do have someone to help me now, so considering what I know about myself at the beginning of the story so far, this is a very big change.

I only have one question, because I know how you love angst. Will there be some in this chapter?

[ilovescreamvi]

Sweethearts

pairings: Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

summary: He stares from afar and after months is finally given a chance and he won’t blow it with you when you guys are on a study date.

warnings: no spoilers! way before ghostface! none just pure sweetness and fluff from this sweetboy🫶 Also this is not proofread so if there’s any mistakes i am super sorry!

He’s been watching you for quite some time now form afar.. well not in a weird way but admiring your beauty, and how you didn’t need much to look stunning. His eyes would wander from your eyes to your lips and the way you would reapply your gloss every 15 minutes that went by which felt like forever when he was close or even in the same room as you.

Everyday at exactly 12:15 pm you would walk through the doorway and it would make his heart beat faster threatening to jump out of his chest and his blood would seem to slow and make him dizzy when you passed by to sit in the back row. His cheeks would go flush when he was hit by your signature sweet scent. He accepted the fact that he was utterly in love with a girl way out of his league who would never go for him, but if it meant that he got to see you everyday on campus and in class he would sell his soul.

You couldn’t help but hide the tiny smile that came to your face whenever you walked through that door and saw his cute puppy face sitting in the third to last row in the class. The stare that would linger on you did not go unnoticed by you at all, you knew he had something for you. Truth be told you did too but what’s the fun in telling him now?

You walked by him and sat in the very last row along with some other friends and Chad. Chad was attractive and nice but he wasn’t Ethan. Ethan made you feel things that Chad could never ever make you feel, hell you didn’t even have to talk to Ethan to get those feelings! Your stare diverted from the board down to find the back of Ethan’s head and how he’d look down at his notes every few seconds. Ethan was such a nerd, a cute one though and just the thought of it made you giggle a bit.

When the bell had rung everyone made quick work of shoving papers, books, and binders into their backpacks. You waited outside the the classroom as you waited for Ethan to walk out in order to ask him for help on the test for econ. The familiar scent of musk and vanilla walked passed you and you stopped him by calling for him. “Hey Ethan?!” His head whipped around at the sudden call for his name. He was stunned when he saw you infront of him with a few books and a baby pink notebook with your name written in cursive on the cover in your arms.

“Uhm w-whats up?” He muttered in total shyness and mentally facepalmed himself at the his lame response to the most prettiest girl in the whole world. His cheeks grew a light shade of pink and he could feel his ears begin to warm up. “Do you mind helping me study for the test in econ tomorrow?” Ethan stood frozen in his shoes and gulped back searching for an answer that he already had in his head, Yes! A million times Yes! He wish it was that easy but instead a simple, “Mhm yup.” was given. You awkwardly nodded and led him to the library.

A small wave was given to the little librarian who stood behind the counter all day shushing the jocks who came in to “study” on the computers. Your hand was about to pull back the chair when Ethan beat you to it and pulled it back gesturing you to sit. A smile was shared between the both of you as he pulled out his heavy econ book. The very same one you never stopped by the library to get. “So the test do you have any notes that may help us?” He sounded a bit more bolder and assured about what left his mouth.

You handed him your pink notebook with a pink fluffy pen, noticing the tiny smirk on his face. He opened the book and noticed tiny little hearts written on the corners of the pages some with thinly initials in them. Most had the initials of your name in them but some had E’s in them. Ethan’s eyes grew at the doodles on the corners trying to keep his eyes away from them as you could easily be crushing on some else whose name also begins with an E. He dragged his thick finger down each page skimming through each line and date at the top pages. He looked till finally reaching the newer dates he double tapped the page and handed you the notebook.

“Look through those notes and I will highlight what you should read tonight in the book.” The boy infront of you whispered as he searched his small pocket on his backpack for a highlighter. He noticed how you were actually looking over the notes just like he asked you to. His mind went into a deep hole of other things you’d do if he asked. He shook his head to rid himself of such thoughts of you. A soft sigh left your lips and he looked up to see your pen in your mouth. His hand went up to your lips taking the pen from your fingers. “Don’t do that.” Your brows furrowed, “I’m hungry that’s all.”

He huffed and reached into his front jean pockets pulling out a colorful bag of sweetheart candies. He handed you a heart that read “Ur cute” you smiled and looked up at him as you placed the tiny pink heart between your pillowy glossy lips. He searched the small bag for one that specifically read “I like u” handing it over to you your eyes scanned the light blue heart and a smile spread across you face. “Me too.” You whispered softly and his cheeks went a bright pink. “Are you being serious!?” His voice was no longer in a low whisper tone, the librarian shushed him and you giggled lightly. “Shut your mouth Eth!” You whisper yelled with a finger brought up to your lips.

He laughed and looked at you and your gorgeous features and how every single tiny freckle brought more to look at and so did the gloss in your eyes. “Thanks for helping me nerd.” You whispered into his ear and kissed at his warm cheek. Ethan was stunned and at a loss for words. Class was going to be a whole lot better now. And there was no way in hell he was failing you now.

Hope y’all enjoy this i personally love this!!! Also this is my first post and yess!!! love you all!

[bleachedjuice]

'Adrenaline high' pt 10.

Warnings:foul language and slight nsfw

Hey everyone ! I hope you're all doing OK! And good and swell in this time for the holidays :) sadly this chapter will be the ending chapter for this bitter sweet story BUT DONT FRET THERE IS A KONIG X MALE READER THAT WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW OR CHRISTMAS 👀

Also, if you have any requests for little one-shot stories and such as just dm me or pop a comment on any post of mine and I'll see it.

Anyhow, enjoy this last chapter of this little spice of life :)

Simon stirred away in the sunlight, streaming down onto both your still figures, your bare backside pressed elegantly tightly against his bare chest as you slumbered,taking in the heat of the larger man who watched your sleep peacefully. He then felt his hand shift from your side down to your hips and began to gently slide his hand up and down your side,as if he was forcing himself to remember your touch against his, how your sides dipped and how your curves felt and how the daring mountains of ribs that where moving from every breath you drew mightly moved beneath his touch.

He cooed at you and watched it silence as he felt at peace..but not just at peace.. alive. He felt utterly alive and steady with you right now. And he didn't want to let that feeling go. Not now,not ever.

And he watched as you stirred,grumbling with a whine as you peered over your shoulder at him and broke a light grin at him and shot a quick, 'morning' to him as you rolled onto your other side to face him, and he found his hand placing it self onto your waist and pulling you closer to him, watching you envelope yourself into his warmth. And he spoke, with such a rough morning voice that it stirred you to fumble your morning demeanor and scramble to refind it. "Well, good morning to you too"

And that's when you looked up to see his supirsed and smirked expression on his face, and then it dawned upon you....the sudden realization that he wasn't wearing his mask... and you took in the sight of his face, your mind memorizing a million times over in the short span of such a few seconds. The way his growing out blonde buzz cuts tight curls matched him perfectly in a way... the sigh of his eyes...piercing blue and utterly memorizing you..and his nose..that looked to be defiantly broken a good few times over seemed to be perfect to you... he was perfect to you ..and that's when your gaze found its way to the scar on his thin,pinkish, chapped, and rough lips.. it traveled from the base of his left jaw with his face stubble, and it traveled up through a part of his lef side of the lips revealing part of his gums and teet,especially the canine teeth of his..and it utterly amazed you and looked...utterly beautiful on him.

"Your beautiful..."

The words left your mouth and left you stunned at what you said as your heart stopped before restarting in spasms as you realized what you had just said... and you watched as his gaze went wide before it softened as he replied to your voice.. "God's I love you." His voice cracked as he spoke..like he was afraid of saying that aloud..like he was afraid of even putting it out there to anyone..to you...

And then that single phrase made you think..and then you mouth opened and a single phrase that came out of your mouth made you want to slam your head into a wall.

"What are we?" It was fast,sudden..nervous.. afraid perhaps of what Simon would say?

All you knew is that He smirked and replied with such a crooked smirk that it made you shiver Beneath his gaze as his brows quirked up.

"Well..what do YOU want us to be hm?"

Fuck.

You then thought before beginning a mindless ramble to yourself in your mind before you suddenly spoke, quickly, as if you where afraid of the ability to speak to leave you before you two had stopped talking.

"Well,let's see, we both fucked,we're cuddling,we've saved eachother a million times. You make me nervous,I can feel your hard on rubbing against me, and we're in YOUR bed.. so..what does that make us Simon?"

"Well..thats makes you my Boy yes?"

My boy..

His..

Your his...

And him yours...

You then nodded and snuggled closer to Simon's body and breath with him,listening to his steady heartbeat with the comfortable silence surrounding you two.

As of right now, you weren't just two humans.. hell, you two weren't just "The Hound" and "Ghost"..you two were just, "Y/n" and "Simon"

Two humans just trying to find where they belong.

And you belong with him. And he belongs with you. Together, and you had found a high better than any drug, him. He made you feel.. safe, perhaps? And you..you made him feel alive, secure.

Both of you had found your own Adrenaline High amongst each other, each both making the other alive and moving...

And well... you both knew that the journey from here on out..

As you both laid in eachothers arms,both drifting back to sleep smiling...

That this was going to be one hell of a ride....

I hope you all enjoyed this small, lengthy ride of a journey as much as I have with this story, and don't fret! Like I said, there is one with Konig and you coming soon enough! Possibly in two days,and requests are always open :)

But thank you all that enjoyed this story and are going to look and find it it in the future. :) until tomorrow everyone.