#'way to make light of my trauma you bitch' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hazelfoureyes · 2 months

Text

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part two)

This is part two! Here is part one. I lied, there is a bit of smut! Oopsie daisy. Inspired by @moonmark98 ‘s story idea of reader trying to forget Alastor and failing. I hadn’t planned a second part initially so I hope you like it 🥺

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

You return to earth and spend a year trying to crawl out from under the memory of Alastor. When an employee tells you a terrible past trauma, you end up right back where you started.

minors DNI

“Ooh my, this is highly unusual. Charlie is right, you really shouldn’t be here.” Stolas fretted over you. “Uuunfortunately I don’t have my book at this particular moment however I can just snag it from Blitzy and be back soon.”

“What’s a blitzy?” Angel looked around the room to no one in particular.

“What isn’t he?” Stolas cooed.

“Wait a minute!” Husk snapped his fingers, “Is that the imp who burned down loo loo land?”

“The very one!”

“He also takes hits out on people on earth, doesn’t he?” Husk gave Stolas a sideways look. Alastor hummed in acknowledgment.

“Ah haha yes” Nervously chuckling, Stolas scratched at the feathers behind his neck, “Anywho! I’ll return shortly and get you back where you belong, little one.” He flashed his kind smile to you before bowing to Charlie and portaling out of the room.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Charlie sat beside you on the edge of the bed. You’d been escorted immediately to an empty room upon arrival, sat down while the core staff of the hotel flitted about wildly upon hearing Angel’s recounting of events.

“You smell dirty”, the tiny maid cackled and ran to you before being lifted by her apron by Husk.

“That is a”, you rubbed your wrists nervously, “complicated question…”

“There’s nowhere safer in all of hell than this room. With Vaggie and me and Alastor”, Charlie brought her hands to her mouth, “or— not Alas- I mean” She looked at Vaggie, “What do I mean??”

“Nothing and no one will lay a finger on you here.” Vaggie was staring at Alastor when she said it.

“I don’t think its fingers anyone’s worried about”, Angel shifted his gaze from Alastor to you and back.

Alastor turned his head slowly to meet Angel’s eyes, “Did you say something, Angel Dust?”

He shook his head and quickly left, Niffty and Husk in tow.

“I think you should leave, too.” Vaggie crossed her arms.

Alastor replied by taking a step closer to you, gesturing with his microphone, “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. She is safe and sound, barely a bruise on her.” He looked over you, the side of your face still slightly pink from the way you hit the ground hardly an hour ago. He could hear your body sliding across the wooden cabin floor still, what a strangely exciting noise. What else could he drag you across? What surfaces could he slide your over? What noises would they make? What noises would you make?

“You took her fucking soul, Alastor. In a coerced deal!”

“If I remember correctly, that is exactly what I had been asked to do.” He grinned, taking his monocle off and cleaning it on his sleeve. Vaggie looked to Charlie, who shrunk from her horrified face. “Plus, she’s still alive. Who knows if the deal even counts. I’ve never made one with a living person.” With an exaggerated shrug, Alastor took a seat on the sofa opposite the bed, legs crossed. “Either way, she isn’t anywhere near Val anymore.” His eyes met yours, for the first time since…

You looked away. He wanted to grab your chin and force you to see him. He wanted to read what was written on your face. Shame? No…yes, but something more. Embarrassment. Confusion. Ah— You clenched your jaw, finally returning his stare. Anger. “Did I not do exactly what I had promised I would? What I had warned you I would?” Your lips curled over your teeth. “While yes, I hadn’t explicitly stated the number of times-“

“Stop talking! No, no. Enough of that.” Charlie waved her arms as if she could dissipate the very topic away, “Alastor could you please give me a moment alone with her?” She looked at him with big, worried eyes, “Please?”

Through gritted teeth Alastor acquiesced, “It is your hotel, Princess. I’ll be just outside the door.” The last sentence was for you, you could feel it like you could feel his shadow still ghosting over your legs.

As soon as the door shut, she closed the distance between you, looking to Vaggie who offered her a supportive nod.

“Seriously, are you hurt? Did he— Did he hurt you?”

Oh, you wish he had. That’d be easier to say. Easier to process. You wish he’d knocked you around like Val had done earlier. That left you indignant, enraged. But this — whatever this was — you couldn’t find purchase on a reaction. You didn’t even want to think the things bubbling under your consciousness.

“Just my pride. Uhh,” you shifted, your thighs and cunt sore to the touch, “He really did warn me. Got my okay, kind of. And he didn’t hurt me, except dragging me around and flipping me but-”, You noticed Charlie’s alarmed expression, “I’m physically fine.”

She nodded, her expression still oozing concern, “Well that’s good, then.”

“What… You both seem humanish, but what exactly are-“ You tipped your head in the direction of the door.

“Well I think Angel is some kind of spider…Husk, not entirely sure honestly”, Charlie looked up as if searching for a memory, “Alastor is a deer. It’s all tied to how people lived and died, I think.”

A deer? You shook your head, “Nothing about that man resembles a prey animal.”

“His death sure did.” Vaggie commented.

“So if I have some weird death I’ll end up here? If I drown… I’ll come back as a fish?” You were mostly thinking out loud, and hadn’t expected Charlie to nod in agreement.

“But don’t think about that! You might still go to heaven. Like Al said, he isn’t even sure the deal is binding.” She beamed and clapped her hands together.

It felt binding.

When that green light had erupted from beneath you, you thought you could feel him. Not the tentacles, or the memory of his hand. It felt like he was in the light itself, casting shadows on the ceiling in the shape of you. It felt alive, every ray of light a breathe washing over you.

You looked down at the robe, white and silky. Where were your clothes? Where was your fucking aunt? What about your phone? You had a car, too. Wait, no… did you drive to her house? Or did she…You hadn’t slept since being dragged to hell. Staring at the hem of the sleeve, you tried to focus your mind but suddenly you were wading in cognitive mud.

Shadows gathered near the foot of the bed before you saw Alastor rise out of the cluster. Charlie said something, Vaggie said something but sharper. It sounded far away already. Your body was beginning to feel heavy, an ache settling across your back and thighs.

“Perhaps you should lie down, my dear.” His voice cut through the murky waters of your thoughts. The bed sunk beside you as he pressed a hand down, the other lifting your chin to force eye contact. Vaggie made a loud noise, Charlie a smaller one, a longer one. Was it words? Were they speaking? Your lids were heavy over your eyes, Alastor’s face beginning to blur. His smile looked strained, eyebrows knitted together in an emotion almost recognized. Concern? His grin threw it off. You raised your eyebrows to try and open your eyes wider but the effect was minimal.

You heard yourself groan as an arm hooked under your knees, another catching your shoulders as you fell to the side. It felt like you were floating. Your legs came down slowly, you could feel the robe adjusting around your waist. Your head went back before comfortably straightening. A warmth spread down your neck, leaving goosebumps to runaway down your shoulder. It was dark now, and in the haze you heard from somewhere so close it felt like maybe you had thought it yourself, “In perpetuity, mon cher.”

You didn’t recognize the room at first, but when you finally managed to lift yourself out of bed you sighed. Home. You only knew it had been real because of the robe and busted lip. Well, mostly sure.

No one noticed you were gone, which wasn’t shocking. Working backwards, you could piece together you had gone to visit your aunt on Saturday morning. You awoke early Monday in your own bed some 60 miles from your aunt's home. Your car had been found abandoned off an old dirt road way outside of town.

You tried to get back to life, get to work. But you were clearly only half there.

Your aunt was found dead the following weekend, half submerged in a swamp just outside of Tampa. Her funeral was funny. Not “haha” funny, “Say hi to Val for me” kinda funny. When they lowered her into the ground you wondered what she looked like. What's the animal manifestation of a selfish, raging bitch? What’s the most untrustworthy home appliance?

Probably a gerbil, or a toaster.

You found yourself doing that a lot, What will they look like in the afterlife?

It took a good six months for you to stop sleeping in the robe. You couldn’t trash it, it was evidence you had been spirited away. It smelled like smoke and baby oil. Like Angel. It was soft on your skin, like—

Oh. It took less time for the dreams to calm down. Maybe a month of waking up in a cold sweat.

At first they were stressful. Val backhanding you. The feeling of leather chafing against your wrists. The cabin. The real one, not the set.

But then one night they weren’t stressful. You could remember the dream like it had really happened. A large hand cupping your cheek, another roaming past your hips before hooking under your knee. The warmth of a breath on your neck, on your navel. More hands. Everywhere. Your back, your ankle, your neck.

You woke up and the first feeling you felt was disappointment. It hit you like a truck.

The dreams slowly ramped up until some nights you awoke mid-orgasm. Never in your life had you experienced wet dreams; you didn’t even know women got them.

And it wasn’t always him—- well, not at first. You’d be kissing someone, a stranger or your ex or whoever. You’d have your hands in their hair, enjoying the feeling of their tongue sliding over yours. You’d be positively humming into their mouth. They’d pull you forward, lie you down, tugging your pants down your legs.

When they’d kiss up your arm and nestle into your neck they’d whisper hottily into your ear, “My doe.”

Sometimes you woke up, but many times you didn’t. Many times you grabbed his face and kissed him, letting him take control and direct you. You’d shrink beneath him, allowing him to use your body as he pleased. You’d surrender, you’d melt. He’d fuck you into the ground of god-knows-where, nails cutting into the flesh of your ass as he pulled you up to meet each punishing thrust. There were trees and starlight and you felt the humidity on your skin.

You’d always squirm away, try to escape the pleasure and he would find joy in pulling you back onto his cock. It felt like a game where you both already knew the outcome. “Going to cum, sweetheart?”, would be the last thing you heard before the real life spasms of your release stirred you awake.

The first man you took home after returning to earth was sweet. Gentle. Too gentle. You’d try to direct him, to let him know you wouldn’t break but he’d shy away from asserting dominance.

Other partners were more in charge, but it didn’t sit right. If you were going to allow someone control over you, you felt like they had to deserve it. You needed to respect them in some capacity.

You tried choking during sex, while it did heighten the pleasure their hand felt so small it broke your concentration. Bondage was fun, you got a rush from shibari, but all it did was inform your dreams.

You tried femdom, and while it was impowering it didn’t scratch that itch. You tried being a sub, but like before you found the people over you as unworthy of you. You didn’t think so highly of yourself, it’s just that autonomy was precious and these people were, well, just people. Mortals.

Your friends enjoyed your hoe era, self titled, but it was short lived. It had been eight months since you returned when you bought your first real sex toy, and took up hiking. It felt nice to be outdoors, and the days you spent in the forests seemed to make for nights of less intense dreams.

Your toy was, ashamedly, selected for its three points of contact. A pink little vibrator, big enough to need some work into you but not painful. The first time you used it you clung to your pillow, heart ballooning against your spiked blood pressure, and screamed a chorus of his name. The two points inside you vibrating in tandem with the small suction cup shape extending from the base doming your clit brought back delicious memories.

Every time, you felt embarrassed after. You could imagine him hearing you all the way in hell and chuckling at how pathetic you were. Satisfied at how empty you felt after.

It wasn’t just about the sex, you were never a very sexually needy person. You were chasing that feeling of surrender, of being both safe and out of control at the same time. The little bit of danger with the pleasure. But not, “local woman found dead in the woods” kind of danger. “Corrupt your soul and ruin your afterlife” kind of danger.

After a year of being earthside, life had finally calmed. Were you still fucked in your dreams? Yes, but a manageable once or so a month. Your toy was nice, but not necessary. A man, or anyone, hadn’t touched you in months. And that was alright. You felt almost normal, except the mornings you woke up hoping to see a pair of red eyes somewhere in the room.

You chalked it up to escapism.

Work had promoted you, twice, which helped distract you from boredom. While performing one of your monthly employee meetings, you met with a young man you’d recently hired. He was still in college, but he had a good head on his shoulders and made quick decisions. You were confident he’d be your equal within the year.

(Implied childhood trauma below the line; not graphic but it’s implied to have happened)

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

“Tired?” He asked you while you logged back into your computer.

You nodded, yawning into the back of your hand, “Spent most of Sunday at Shallow Ridge. Scoping out a good camping spot for when it warms up.”

“No shit, my dad hunts out there. Every Sunday, too.”

“I didn’t take you for the hunting type”, You blinked away the exhaustion and opened his employee file.

“Nah I’m not.” He shook his head, “He used to take me all the time when I was little.”

You nodded, not looking at him and only half listening, “Aww, sounds fun.”

He scoffed. You found the audio file of his graded phone calls, double clicking it. The file seemed corrupted.

“Not fun?” You absentmindedly asked.

You opened the program to manually find the call file. The silence began to creep over you until you felt your chest heavy under the weight of it.

You finally looked at him. The look in his eyes was distant, the color from his face was gone.

“Hey”, your tone changed, your subconscious recognizing something before you did.

He snapped back up, looking at you now. His smile didn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t say anything, just pushed your chair from your desk and looked directly at him.

“What?” He averted his gaze.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? You’re not just a resource here. Hell, I see you more than my own flesh and blood.”

He nodded, and when he finally brought his eyes back to yours his composure cracked and tears fell down his cheeks in streams. “It’s fine” he forced a laugh, “It was like a million years ago.”

You took off the rest of the day, and after providing hugs and your own tears and information on company sponsored counseling and resources, you went home.

Well, first you went to the camping store. And then home. Your dreams that week were calm, as if they knew you couldn’t enjoy a romp in a field.

When Saturday night bled into Sunday morning, you drove your car to Shallow Ridge. You placed the keys on the front seat and left your phone under the seat itself.

You waited for four hours, but eventually a truck pulled up and the man you saw in various Facebook photos and tagged family Christmas cards made his way into the dense forest. You circled back on the trail, head dizzy.

You knew you couldn’t overpower him, but you weren’t trying to win. You just wanted to make him hurt. You’d met men like him before. You’d suffered men like him. Survived men like him. When you two crossed paths on the barely marked trail and you were a beat behind him, you stopped, took out the hunting knife you were told could cut bone, and brought it down into the crook of his neck with both hands.

He whipped around, shock and panic on his face as his hands came back from his shoulder bloody. When he scrambled for his gun you sliced at his chest, then again at his throat but it wasn’t deep enough to stop him.

As he advanced on you, fumbling with his shotgun, you tumbled backwards. He fell with you, pinning you down beneath the full weight of his body on your stomach. Twisting beneath him you almost got onto your side when you sunk the knife into his inner thigh, remembering the artery there from your mother’s surgery. He got the gun loaded, aimed it at your chest, “Crazy bitch!”

“Fuck you.”

He fired.

Your breath left steam as it flitted weakly from your body, frost still on the ground. Your mouth was open as blood held your face to the forest floor. As your vision darkened, you watched the man slump over and onto the ground beside you. His eyes were open and unmoving.

A burst of green erupted from beneath you, and you smiled as you sank down into the light.

“Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?”

(Part three)

༻Masterlist༺

3K notes · View notes

verysium · 5 months

Note

PLEASE DO BLUE LOCK ICKS IM BEGGING🙏😭🌹

😏 coming right up anon. gonna channel my inner critic and not hold back on any of these.

RIN

brother complex. not much else to say except that he needs to get a life. not everything is about metaphorically crushing your older brother's dreams and brooding in the dark hate of retribution.

competitive but only because he is a desperate whore for external validation. ignores everyone but craves the attention of a sole person named sae itoshi. was defeated by isagi once and has never let go of it since. has a one-track mind that is impossible to derail. stubborn when he wants to be.

probably a virgin and will continue to be one until his late 30s.

has not known a single day of peace ever since sae ditched him for the popular girlies. as a result, he has developed a very concerning case of social awkwardness. his idea of a conversation involves a brick wall and thirty minutes of you staring at his resting bitch face. constantly looks like that one grumpy cat meme. judges you for your poor decisions but then gets aggressively defensive when you point out his own mistakes.

reeks of so much teen angst that even metallica can't save him. the problem is that he has nothing to back up his emo persona. his insults lack creativity and, unfortunately for him, phrases like "lukewarm" and "half-baked" and "hell" do not make his words carry more weight. uses the f-word but in the most embarrassing context that it makes you facepalm and internally cringe.

SAE

zero social awareness. this boy's head is empty. the lights are not on up there. there are no picture frames or furniture. the curtains are drawn, and there is not a sliver of clouds or sunshine. cannot read body language and does not know what a filter is.

the source of all of rin's stress. he is the original trauma projector, creator of generational cycles. not even subtle about it. "turns out i was wrong. i thought japan was incapable of ever giving birth to decent forwards." sir....with the way you worded that, you knew exactly what you were doing when you gave rin false hope.

swears but it's even worse than his brother. literally called his elders a "fatso and bob cut duo" and "insect turd." i mean....there is a line between what is considered a legitimate burn and what is a first grader making up insults in his coloring book.

has a horrible haircut and no fashion taste. i already talked about this previously, but it was so bad it deserved a second mention.

a freak but tries to justify it rationally. like what do you mean you can tell a person's athletic ability from their buttock size? just admit you have a kinky fetish already.

somewhat of a coward but i'm gonna give him some leniency due to his tragic child genius backstory. tbh he's just an eighteen-year-old boy who needs a goddamn break.

KAISER

alexa please play clown music. this man sets himself for failure and then wallows in self-pity when he actually fails. like what did you expect? you knew what was going to happen the moment you challenged isagi like that. it was most definitely your fault you got violently humbled.

has a borderline god complex (currently calls himself an emperor but has not evolved into a deity yet.) unfortunately, he does not stand on business. cue the dramatic meltdowns when he realizes there is an actual gap between his ability and his reputation. if you're going to lie, at least make it believable.

insecure and mentally unstable. he probably cuts and re-dyes his hair every single time shit happens. no wonder his locks get shorter every time.

lazy when it comes to anything that is not football and expects others to do it for him. demands princess treatment wherever he goes. unfortunately, not all of us have servants with no self-respect like ness.

"it is not enough that i should succeed, others should fail" type of person.

does not wear shoes and even if he does, it's sandals. put them grippers away.

NAGI

a literal sloth who has so much potential but uses none of it. has no intrinsic motivation of his own, so if he's going to do anything, it has to be you behind the wheel, making sure he gets put to work.

does not have a close relationship with his parents, and so he has no sense of community, holidays, or traditions. no fun at all if you want him to do things like christmas shopping or birthday celebrations.

rots in bed all day and then has to nerve to ask you to carry him around. your back better be strong because his 190 cm body is not going to be light.

not loyal (need i say more.)

REO

second male lead syndrome. also known as that one popular guy who's always picked last.

acts like a victim but then when you realistically tell him to how to change his situation he refuses to do so. you cannot ask for advice and then take none of it to heart. no wonder you're still not over your ex.

"i can fix him" mentality. no, you can't. you are a seventeen-year-old child, not a licensed therapist and nagi isn't even all that.

NESS

touch-starved to the point he will stay in a toxic and abusive relationship in order to gain some scrap of affection. just because you were the black sheep of your family does not mean you can lose all sense of personal dignity.

probably stalks all the people he hates. has a burn book like regina george from mean girls. cuts out and glues little pictures of kaiser all over his bedroom. doodles hearts all over it with glittery gel pen. isagi's face and name are scratched out of every team photo.

delusional and prone to mood swings. medicated but at this point, he is beyond saving.

ISAGI

a home wrecker. has ruined more relationships than he can count on ten fingers yet still manages to smile like he's some angelic saint.

solves jigsaw puzzles for a living (not very cool if you ask me.)

has some unresolved anger management issues. probably repressed all his negative feelings when he was younger, so it all comes out when he's on the field. unfortunately, his twilight-sparkle-friendship-is-magic agenda is not going to work if he keeps cussing out his teammates like that. but then again, he is the main character, so i guess his plot armor makes up for his pitfalls.

says that he's a good guy but then holds personal vendettas against rivals he doesn't like. boy was so ready to throw hands when #kaisagi was trending on the internet. but when you actually think about, he's similar to kaiser in more ways than he'd like to admit.

BAROU

has the worst case of high and mighty "holier-than-thou" attitude. isagi put his ego in check, but it still peeks out from time to time.

he was the ugliest baby when he was born. i am not going to hold back on the child barou slander because it is true. no, he was not a cute and lovable bundle of joy. he looked like a demonic gremlin.

he needs to take more risks in life and try cross-dressing. simply imagining him in a maid uniform will not suffice. it needs to be made into a reality.

with how nit-picky he is, i doubt people can realistically stay within a 1-meter radius around him. unless you are a clean freak yourself, his constant complaints will start to get annoying after a time. even if he does have good intentions, he needs to let people have a little breathing room sometimes. a messy room is not going to kill you.

BACHIRA

this boy's brain is smooth. no folds. no gray matter. no intelligence either. his pencil and eraser have been left untouched since day one. if he wasn't crazily good at football, he would be unemployed and homeless in the future. not even a mcdonald's wants him.

one of those people who will do the literal opposite of whatever you say. you want him to stop talking? well, now he's never going to shut up. you tell him not to step on a pile of dog shit? well, now he's going to walk right into it. you want him to quit running around and act normal? well, now it's his life's mission to make you as annoyed as possible. please pray for your hair follicles because at the end of the day, you're not going to have many left with how much he makes you want to tear your hair out.

has the cerebral capacity of a toddler. if he thinks monsters are real, he's going to think anything is real. super gullible when it comes to any form of scam, ploy, or trickery. the only way he would not be fooled is if he's also played the same prank before.

SHIDOU

a brazen pervert. says the most out-of-pocket things and refuses to apologize for them. sometimes it comes out a little too sleazy for your liking.

"to me a goal is fertilization! a shot is the seed and the goal is the egg!! and the birth of that joy i call an explosion!! my genes are gonna knock you up!" let us give ourselves a moment of silence to digest this quote. only shidou ryusei would come up with a sperm and egg metaphor to describe football. (i guess protection means nothing to him.)

has no empathy. if you dislike him or cannot keep up with him, you're a literal nobody in his books. no sportsmanship. no compassion. no self-awareness.

you cannot say "balls" to him in a serious tone without him misinterpreting it as something dirty. that alone should tell you enough. stay the hell away from him.

where do men get the audacity? right here. from this little bastard. he invented the term "shameless slut." boy was getting off during the u-20 arc and on live TV too. no wonder sae said he was disgusting.

and finally, he comes from a long line of cockroaches. he's even got the antennae to prove it.

i think this might have been a little excessive, but i have no regrets about it. you're welcome anon ♡

570 notes · View notes

sunofpandora · 4 months

Note

Heyyy so I saw your requests post and I’ve been dying to get this one off my chest, so how about a neteyam x omaticaya! warrior! reader where reader’s a fierce warrior (maybe a protege of one of the higher ups). And we all know Neteyam (the mighty warrior lol) is strong and also one of the best their age, but what if Neteyam had such intense feelings for her that all he wants to do is impress her but whenever she comes around he gets all klutzy and flustered? And of course she finds it funny and cute and all that jazz. Just fluff I NEED FLUFF

P.s. The decision to fulfill this request is yours and I won’t be upset if you decide you don’t want to. As long as you’re comfortable, all’s fine by me.

But yeaaa have a good day/night :)

Authors note:

Hi babes!

So I loved this request so much! So I decided to make my very first actual long series! ‘Virago’ is going to be an original work and one of my first long projects. Unfortunately, I will not have a TON of time to do smaller requests in between chapters but i will def try! I’m very excited for this and i wouldn't have even considered this without the request so thank you so, so much.

V I R A G O

Part 1.

The Day the Sky Turned Red.

8.7k words.

𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼/𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼/𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼/

‘Y/n was made of fire. Oh, a goddess girl with lips of lightning and a caged Phoenx under her skin. Neteyam is just the ashes and remains of the heavens she crushed under her heel.’

When grief plagues the young warrior, Neteyam gives her a gift. But it is enough to console the flames in her heart?

Neteyam and reader having a sun x moon relationship (hello 'diaphanous’ readers <3)

Warnings: Descriptions of death/ parental death/ reader is a war orphan/ as always, spider, the reader, and Lo’ak are a trio/ Lo’ak and Reader being platonic soulmates?/ Spider and Reader being trauma twins/ Neteyam being lovesic/ Neteyam being nervous and shy around reader/ Neytiri being mother/ Jake being the husband i wish i had/ Tuk being a little sister and looking up to y/n/ Mentions of grace’s school.

Mentions of insecurity, blood, war, guns, reader being mommy/

I think that’s it?

Oh right, Reader fell first but neteyam fell WAY harder.

Extra info:

Y/n is one year younger than neteyam, the first part of this chapter is a flashback to when y/n was 15. Kiri, Lo’ak and Tuk are the agesthey are in atwow for the first part of the story. They age up in part 2 (in story)

(Ka’lik is the name of Y/ns father, her mother’s name is Zensira. Both were warriors, but Zensira was the best songstress in the clan. (Ninat go cry to the plant in the corner))

Super important note for the request sender:

Hey gorgeous so ik you asked for fluff and don't worry babes. I hear ya loud and clear. Unfortunately the first part of this chapter will be a bit angsty bc the creative juice were flowing and i got carried away but I swear on my grave the rest is nothing but fluff and lovey dovey shenanigans,

Not proofread

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

To some, surrender was a comfort. A sanctuary of softly spoken submission.

To Y/n? It was a ‘bitch move’

3 years ago.

Day the sky people returned.

Y/n is 15-16

The Na’vi say, every person is born twice.

That we can redeem ourselves in the eyes of the great mother.

That being truly evil doesn't mean just craving the pain of others.

That the life of a single diseased root does not kill the whole tree.

That darkness is deadly, because like the brothers and sisters of bountiful green that dwell in the great mother’s garden, we too need sunlight to grow.

Your mother always told you monsters aren't born from a seed.

They grow when they are deprived of light.

But sometimes, we find solace in even the darkest of places.

That sometimes there's comfort in the dense night. Where others see hell, you build a home.

Sometimes we thrive in darkness because we feel we do not deserve the glory of sunlight.

Is it wrong? Is it terrible of you?

To see light where the great mother’s grace and the violence of the sky demons collide?

Things that were not meant to tear the ground of our great mother’s delicate skin.

Their metals and turning wheels, their combat boots and weapons that scream and spit fire.

But did it belong in your hands?

Your father would say,

“Each person is a thread, weaved within a tapestry that tells a story.”

The thing about stories is that sometimes, they may not always end well, or worse, they end too early. Some people stretch the thread as far as they can, too unsettled to be spread too thin, too soon.

Change is fundamental. Mo’at reminded you “there is no death, only change”

A moral structure that refuses to be severed. You believe that's whats what distincts na’vi from the sky people. Humans are quite flawed creatures. Humans love to dream and dance about stars and rain because their planet refuses to cry for them any longer. Humans dwell with memories that are haunted with light that only exists in the past, lingering behind desire to relive. Humans are afraid of grief, or loss. Of the empty void that lingers behind the shadows. Humans love to selfishly cling to the fantasy they don't live in.

You will never understand why they put themselves through such violent tendencies. To torture themselves. To provide reach towards an unseen daydream just to rip it out of their hands.

Humans remain. Na’vi evolve.

Na’vi find solace within the endless sky. Burning with color, blazing infinite. Na’vi dance on the precipice of the clouds.

Grief came over like the waves grazing the tide, promising reassurance and return.

Violence was never a necessity. A lingering intrusion of a spark that refused to become a flame.

But what lies beyond the sky? Was there truly a shadow behind the sun?

When the embers refused to settle.

You found yourself infatuated with open spaces. Abundance found within indecipherable notions.

Cracks in the mountains. Small tears in the tapestry where light leaked through the canopy of the trees.

Nothingness was never a threat.

Not when the promise of warmth remained.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n met grief when she was only a child.

When she was 15, the RDA returned.

The day the sky turned red was the day the air smelled of sulfur and blood.

Gray and red were never a pretty combination.

The demon ship’s wings stirred the trees and a storm of dust arise,

Screaming, everyone running, the distant screeches of ikran and war cries.

The night your parents went out to gather some herbs, and never returned.

When the pale light of the moon became a blazing, scorching, blanket of blankness that simmered into a forest engulfed in white flames.

You found your mothers songcord on the ground the next morning.

Her body stained with red.

You stood next to Neteyam at your parent’s funeral.

You watched as Mo’ats hands guided the delicate floating Atokirina to rest upon your mothers chest as she murmured a prayer.

People have this inherent conception that the hardest part of grief is change.

The loss of warmth in the safest of places, when the shadows loom rather than live.

In reality, it's this unnamed feeling of a void.

Love is the amplification of a connection. Love distracts. It paralyzes you within its sanctuary of promises.

Grief feels like a shield with a hole blown through the middle. When the connection is shattered, and the sky is no longer protected without the scattered solace of the stars to veil the blank spaces.

Emptiness no longer infatuated you.

The sky without the stars is not a mystery anymore.

Neteyam held your hand. It didn't aid the hollowness within the cup of your palm. Guilt revenues in a realization, that even the great mother’s solace could not soothe this wound. This ache. This pain.

Neytiri’s soft sobs scorch the air with a soreness, the morning mist. Her fingertips, victims of bow strings and arrowhead edges gently brush the flowers placed around your mothers body.

Neytiri was your mother’s sister. Not biologically. Preservations in our blood don’t always remain unsevered when a bond is born.

Your mother sobbed with her when hometree collapsed. Helped unbraid her hair for her night with Jake. Your mother had saved Neytiri’s life.

All those years ago when the RDA invaded Grace's school. When her body trembled at the sight of sylwanins blood that painted the floor and the walls, your mother walling as she desperately tried to drag Neytiri away.

To have such a bond. The heartbeat of one another emplaced in your bones, to sing a goodbye song with cruel unmeasured melodies.

Jake held neytiri, gently rubbing circles onto her back, his own grievances had been paid due to earlier.

Kiri’s tear stained cheeks didnt go unnoticed. She stood close to her father, Tuk’s tiny body squished between them as Kiri sobbed into Jake's shoulder . Kiri had always admired your mother. Chasing her shadow like wisp catching the breeze ever since she was a child. A woman of eywa. A healer. A hunter. Her heartbeat reserved for her home. Her people. Her daughter.

Lo’ak had placed his own tribute to the small spread laid out before the gently laid corpses.

A small carved arrowhead.

Your father took over your mother’s job when she had other jobs to attend to, as being the one who trained a young group of warriors. Lo’ak included. He was patient with Lo’ak. Never discouraged him. A father liek mentorship had bloomed. So when his time came to join the great mother, Lo’ak contributed his own item of remembrance.

Lo’ak gave his arrowhead.

Tuk gave a small flower.

Kiri gave a small bundle of herbs the omaticaya believed was to aid the departing spirit on their journey.

Neytiri added a few carved beads from an anklet she wore. One your mother, Neytiri and Sylwanin had shared over the years, each of the three contributing beads or small trinkets to the piece.

Jake gave some beads as well. From a necklace your mother helped him make Neytiri when he struggled with the stringing of the oddly-shaped beads back when Jake was training for iknimiya, attempting to woo the young blue-skinned warrior he knew as neytiri.

All the omaticaya came to bear their gifts. Neteyam included, who gave you the gift of his warmth.

He cradled your hand in his, he raised it to his chest when the roots covered your parents bodies.

You’ve loved Neteyam for many years now. Watching him grow from a boy to a man.

You grew up next to the sullys. Your heights measured next to theirs as a child. Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri, even little tuk had built a circle around you. You were a part of their lives. They were piece of yours.

You found him in an irregular-shaped void in your heart that only he could fit in. Nights were filled of him. His voice. His eyes. His hands. The curve of his nose and the coves of his lips.

His voice was made of tender summers. His eyes were liquid gold.

You saw him. You truly, truly saw him. Not the evascent shell of the perfect warrior or son made of stone.

You saw him in the bleak day and in the night. When reality rivaled your thoughts of him, when the warmth of his touch seemed ephemeral, the invisible interstellar you swore was not a figment of your fantasies. You settled yourself from afar. Sullied yourself with stains of shame from the secrets you kept from him. The thousands of words you harbored, right next to the stars you swore you would steal for him.

This unrepeatable pattern became tiring, something you yearned to touch but your hands couldnt reach.

To tug on the silver string that dangled from this disguise he wore. This mask. This ruse of your heart.

He was to find the perfect mate. The perfect woman, A women to be the closest to an eywa incarnate. That wasn’t you. That could never be you.

Perfect with no edges. No uncalled for curves ad no outward coves.

So you settled once again with the itching of your palms and the aching of your heart.

He was not yours.

Distance became a familiarity because distance was safe.

There was a time where the itching in your palms screamec for his. Now, his had felt hollow as it held yours now.

Grief was a funny thing.

You stood here, your skin feels more like a shell. Your mirror feels more like a window.

Staring at yourself with pity.

Such a weak thing she is.

Sobbing.

What once was warmth and abundant is now hollow and overcast by anguish.

You start to resonate with the corpses that once rested in your line of sight before the roots of the tree engulfed them.

Why is it that the sunlight denies you shelter?

Why must your whole become hollow? The ashes of what it once was line a new path.

Is the sun falling? Have the stars collapsed? Will anyone catch them for you?

What is this? This pain? This agony? Why must it overcast your morals? Your rationality of peace? This homage harbors the resdiual of what little warmth is salvaged from this sunset of black.

You feel the merciless fire in your veins. You want revenge. The cage of a Phoenix becomes an eternity of warmth.

Even with neteyam at your side, the stars are falling. And the sunlight feels cold.

⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆⋆｡☁︎｡⋆｡ ☾ ｡⋆⋆

Later that evening, the clan settled after Jake announced that his clan had to relocate to the Hallelujah mountains, where everyone would rebuild a stronghold and dwell with the loyal humans. To avoid any more bloodshed, Where the humans couldn't find you.

You sat in the Sully’s Marui, Neytiri behind you as you sat infront of the fire.

She rebraided your hair. You had mo’at and kiri unbraided for the funeral. Neytiri’s soft humming soothes you a bit, but your hands haven’t ceased their small tremors of shaking.

She gently runs her hands through your locks, placing a few beads on each braid.

Th hut is silent, Neteyam sits in the corner, he hasn’t spoken since after the funeral.

Tuk perches on Jakes lap asleep, Kiri at your side, rubbing your back. Lo’ak sat on the other side of you, resting his head on your shoulder.

“My sweet”

Neytiri’s melodic whisper whisked through the heavy gray.

“We leave in a few days time, at first light for our new home,”

She paused, her thought lingering behind a wall of hesitation, she exchanges a look with Jake, who nods at her, gently taking tuk of his lap for a moment,

“Y/n, hon, with what's occurred..-”

He waved one hand around, flicking his wrist against the air to try and demonstrate some kind of invisible concept.

But you know he was referring to your parents deaths.

“We don’t think you should be alone.” Jake adds. Neteyam nods with his dad’s words, attempting to gain some kind of partaking in this conversation without speaking.

Neytiri rests her hand on your shoulder, making Lo’ak lift his head to peer at you.

“What are you saying?”

It comes out as a breath, the unveiled remnants of the traumatic experience you had endured still fresh on your still-processing mind.

“Ma yawntu…We want you to stay with us when we settle in our new home. To stay in our home. We can take care of you.”

The warmth of the fire feels pale for a moment. I’ts vulnerability. Its shallow. Yet, Its deep, and dark, and you can’t see the bottom. Your’e left unguarded for a moment.

“I’ll be fine on my own-“

You pause when you realize how hoarse your voice sounds. you clear your throat, your gaze meeting Jake’s. His eyes soften a you an you can tell its pity. Something you would have considered affection becomes an insult. A weakness.

“I’ll be okay. I’m not helpless. I can provide for myself.”

Jake sighs and shakes his head, his words calm.

“Y/n. I know you are strong. Hell, youre one of the strongest i know, kid. But This is not something we’re going to let you carry alone, I made-”

He pauses, taking a breath, his head tilting down a bit and his eyes squeezing shut before he raises his head to continue.

“I made a promise. To the people. To the clan. To keep everyone safe. And to your parents, we would look out for you if anything ever happened.”

The lump in your throat is dry as you swallow.

Neytiri kisses your head gently.

“Ma yawntu, we will look after you..we will guide you on this path.”

She gently guides you to look at her bow in the corner.

“My father. He gave me that bow as he laid dying.”

The air becomes thick, even the moonlight seems to freeze with its slow creeping up the wall.

The only sound is the soft 3-beat melody of Tu’ks soft breathing as she sleeps, but her heavy eyes flutter open now and then as she nuzzles into jakes side.

Neytiri squeezes her hand on your shoulder to keep her voice from breaking, her chest tightening.

“He told me to protect the people.”

The pain in her voice breaks through the cracks in the walls that kept the shadows out, cages that kept the anger in.

“I owed your mother my life. I could not protect Zensira.

I have let the demons take another from me.”

The red in her voice stained the shadows behind ehr words, the sharp syllables in ‘demons’ evident, Kiri closed her eyes and winced at her mothers words, still holding your hand.

She took a breath and gazed at you.

“But yawntu, i will not let them take you. I will protect you. You have always been one of my own at heart. The skyships will not take that from us.

The familiar sting you felt only a few hours ago returned to your eyes along with the ache in your chest.

Jake nodded.

“We can be stronger together, Y/n. Let us look after you.”

The wisp of shallow aches still burn behind your heart but you nod, silently.

Lo’ak smiles in an attempt to lighten the load.

“Just like old times, sis. We used to have sleepovers all the time, now we get to have them every day.”

Neytiri was about to scold Lo’ak for his bluntness until she heard you chuckle,

Tuk’s big eyes blinked open as her tired voice mumbled.

“Now you can play with me more..and braid my hair..”

She mumbes as she smiles to herself. Jake chuckles and ruffles her short braids.

Kiri squeezes your hand and Neteyam’s gaze hasn’t left you since the beginning of the conversation.

You took a walk that night, creeping around the hammocks of the sleeping sully family as you quietly ventured outside the small camp village.

You stand under a tree, the moonlight leaks through the canopy as you start to count the stars. You wondered how the sky and the heavens could still be standing when your whole world had collapsed around you just earlier that day.

When you were small your mother wouldtell you not to pull pn the loose thread of her tapestries she wove. Because the more you pull, the fasfter it will fall apart.

Thats how you felt. One loose string being mercilessly tugged and and all the colors were fading away, you chased them, you chased them along with the falling stars but no one caught them for you.

Your heart has been thieved. Your light has been stolen.

Sin and soul seem to have a war under your skin, and the soft lllabies of the creatures of your planet seem to have more of a shriek-like quality.

Why did the colors go away?

Did they chase you to the place i cannot follow when you went away?

“Y/n.”

You jump slightly, the chill in the pale air becoming a prick of awarness as you reach for the knife on your hip, turning around quikcly.

Neteyam stands before you, his wooded-honeyed scent fills your nose, you blink as a breath of his name leaves your lips.

“Neteyam-

Oh Neteyam you scared me, you asshole.”

Usually he would have laughed. But not today, not with the shadow that looms.

He gently touches your arm.

“I’m sorry, truly-

What are you doing awake? Are you hurt? Are you in pain? Did something-

Did someone-”

You laugh at him. But its bitter and its thin. Its forced.

“For eywas sake why does everyone think i am the weak link suddenly-

I am fine. Stop looking at me like i am wounded-”

Neteyam cuts you off.

“Y/n, i would never think such a thing about you, ever. You know this. I want you safe, you can’t expect me not to be concerned when you wonder off in the middle of the night, syulang”

The nickname from whe you were children is a warm familiarity at the least.

You huff and lean against the tree bark.

“I just needed air.”

Its small and muttered.

A shaky breath left your lips.

“I’m trying to find ways to endure my own thoughts.”

Neteyams eyes soften as he steps forward, he gently takes a place y beside you, back against the tree as he stands next to you. Your hand brushes his, but your fingers refuse to interlace.

The two of you stared up at the stars for a moment.

“Teyam?

“Yes?”

“Do you think it’s ungrateful to feel as if you have nothing, even when others orrond you with love and promises?”

“I’m not sure I follow…”

“Is it wrong to feel alone when your in the arms of others?”

As it falls into place for neteyam, he gazes at you as if you were a mystery in the moonlight.

He tries to see past your walls, to place himself in your shadow.

He glances at you, then back up at the sky.

“No. It’s not ungrateful. I think we’re all born with some sort of circle around us.”

You pause for a moment, looking over at him.

“A circle?”

He nods.

“A circle. The people we love and care for? the people we would do anything for? The people who make our home, they all belong inside our circle.

My father, my mother, Lo’ak, Tuk, Kiri, they're all a part of my circle.”

He pauses for a moment, his tail swishing behind him.

“And…you are too. You’re apart of my circle, Y/n.”

You gaze at him and he withers under your eyes, averting his eyes and fidgeting with his necklace.

After a moment, he speaks again.

“I can’t imagine loosing people in that circle…things must become so…empty. As if the world seems too small all of the sudden.

So no, it’s not selfish to feel alone when that circle is gone.”

His words spark comfort. The hollowness within your palm seems less heavy.

“Thank you.”

You whisper, and he nods at you.

“You don’t have to be alone, y/n. My family…when they spoke to you tonight about staying with us when we travel to the mountains, it was not because there’s a need to replace what you once had. Y/n, we want you to embrace this new circle-“

“What if I’m not ready to find a new circle?”

The vehement tone you were bearning stunned neteyam for a moment.

“Your mother was right. The sky people will take, and they will kill, and they will hunt, until everything under the sky of pandora is either dead or theirs..”

Your eyes hardened for a moment and Neteyam was still as he took in your words.

You look up at the moon once more; taking a breath.

“I do not wish to fear them anymore, Neteyam.

I want them to be the ones who fear us.”

There was a new found devotion in your heart.

A bitter song of fire and desolation.

Vengeance.

Each note a new mockery of blood and ash. Every chorus an unfamiliar revelry of hunger.

That night, under the fallen stars and the cold moonlight, the inextinguishable plotted purpose was born within you.

Neteyam sighed; his gaze fitting back to the moon.

“And so you will..”

No.

Don’t.

I don’t want to loose you in the fire.

But he didn’t dare speak it aloud.

After a moment, he spoke again.

“I have something for you.”

He felt his heart flutter when your eyes met his.

He reached into the pocket of his loincloth.

“It was a gift I planned on giving during the ceremony.”

You felt twitch of anguish as you recalled the memory.

“You already contributed your gift..you gave that armband my father taught you how to weave.”

He gave you a tender look. The kind whispered in the solace of summer and soft secrets.

“It is for you. Not for your loss.”

His words unclouded a new warmth in your chest.

For a moment, your anger ceased to simmer.

“I made this, for you a long while ago..but I never found the right time to give it to you.

Then..the incident happened and I knew it wasn’t a good time..I was planning on giving it to you on this day..but the plans changed.”

He opened his palm to reveal a small carved wooden spiral, polished and smooth. 3 strings with little charming dangling.

The first charm was 2 purple colored crystal, the second was a wooden bead that wore a Maude color, with a tree carved on it, the last was a stack of small purple beads with marbled colors.

He placed it gently in the palm of your hand, and you cradled it with such delicacy.

“Oh it’s beautiful…”

Your breath truly caught itself in his trap.

“When we were young your mother made you that necklace out of those crystals and small jeweled beads, the one she found in the river?..you were so happy to wear something so colorful..I remember the purple ones were your favorite. You always placed them so that they were in the middle. I’d thought I’d add them as a small bonus.”

He smiled at the memory.

You hugged him, your cheek pressed against his chest, he was stunned for a moment but hugged you back, you looked up at him and your breath caught for a moment, your faces mere inches apart.

You both Depart slightly and avert your eyes.

“Thank you. It’s lovely, Neteyam.”

You said softly, he nodded and smiled at you.

“The spiral suits you. Even now with this great loss you bear. It’s a connection. Even to those who are no longer with us.”

You smiled at him back, and the two of you started to walk back to the village.

How could you not see it? The spiral. A sign of support? Of friendship? Of trust?

No my dear Y/n.

It was how he felt like his soul was steadily orbiting around you. Thoughts of you never ended.

His circle.

His spiral.

You were the center.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓

Years later….(y/n is now 18.)

(her code name is “X” neteyam’s name through comms is canonically ‘pathfinder’)

Jake yipped to Neytiri as she raised her bow and looked over her shoulder.

Her face is adorned with war paint, much like yours. She had painted you for the day. Red, purple, blue, the colors of your ikran worn proudly like a hyde of victory.

“Remember the plan.”

Jake says through his throat comms, his volume fighting the wind. You held your two fingers to the small mic on your neck so you could hear through your earpiece.

“Neytiri and I will strike from above, X, you're my Archer. I want you to hit em’ quick and move out fast. Eagle Eye, pathfinder, you two are spotters. Do not engage in close range, or air combat, understood?”

You heard lo’ak groan through his comm.

“Bro, why does Y/n get to have all the fun!?”

You felt a tinge of pride. Knowing you were Jake’s right hand out in the field. Higher ranked than either of his son’s. A skilled Archer.

“Because I'm older and I have more fun.”

You quipped back, unable to hide the smile in your voice.

“Ya know what'd be fun? If you were to crash straight into one of those mountains and fall in your cocky as-”

“Both of you! No arguing on the comms!”

You refocused as the smell of ash and metal was fast approaching. YOu and the war party arrive on the scene right on time

You flew up above the train tracks and watched as the vehicle crashed into a collision of smoke and ash on the derailed tracks. The air scorched to sting your flesh with an uncomfortable heat.

Neytiri let out a ululating sound to signal to you as she flew down to help Jake. Behind you were 3 smaller aircrafts.

You grabbed your bow from the side saddle, mentally commanding your ikran to dive.

Everyone who witnessed Y/n fight swore the wind under her ikran’s wings were grazed with fire.

She was made of red-ribboned rainstorms in a scarlet blaze of uncharted wind and wildflowers.

For a moment it’s all too real. The encore of your arrows, the satisfying stretch of your bow string, Like the last note before the chorus. You dive down, sliding down the neck of your Ikran ever so slightly as the wind stings your cheeks, the sunlight strong. You draw back, a loud call escaping your throat, and the arrow flies.

Its in a blink of an eye the cockpit window is shattered, the pilot now sporting an arrow of yours through his neck as the metal gray bird ceases it’s flight and collapses in a cloud of smoke and sulfur.

You’d usually be celebrating if two bastards weren't behind you.

You grasp two arrows this time, the long wooden shaft in your clutch as you line them up properly for the next shot.

The pilots pathetically attempt to surf with the wind beneath you, scattering your duo targets into far off spots.

Thats the thing about humans. They tiptoed on the wind as if it was uneven ground. Na’vi warriors like you danced upon airstorms and harsh rains. A swirling spiral of helix grazes your skin as you feel one of their shots fly past you the heat just missing your ikran,

You soothe him before regaining your position, you mentally make a new command to your ikran.

‘Drop’

In a moment, the settled feeling of security that once shaved your bones seems to wither away.

Your ikran free falls, rolling against the wind that whips and wails. Your chest heaves as you ready your shot, the reverberation from your bowstring sings to your fingers as the two arrows fly, hitting both pilots as your irkan regains a flying position instead of a falling one, all adrift in a fleeting shot.

The aircrafts fall together, crashing against the ground.

The ground team jake had arranged comes into view frm the side forest clearing, all watching in awe as if you were the embodiment of phoenix.

They raised their bows and let out warcalls, you pridefully returned, raising your bow above your head and releasing a war call of your own.

Neteyam watched from afar. His ikran synced with Lo’aks as they circled the scene below, na’vi led by Norm gathering all the weapons they could.

But he couldnt let himself focus on the world below when all he could see was the woman made of exquisite inferno and grace was scorching the sky with her blaze.

Neteyam felt the wind brisk through his braids as he looked up, squinting against the sunlight in hopes to catch another glimpse of you.

The light of day made you seem grazed with gold that brushed the cobalt hues.

He watched as you shot down the aircrafts, he watched you shoot two arrows.

To Neteyam, you were made of fire.

Remnants of moonlight and high-tided sea storms. A hellish radiance and a scarlet soul.

Neteyam remembered the night he saw the flame embed itself in your soul. The night he gifted you that carving that was now a charm that rested tied to the long expanse of your bow.

He hated it. How inconsolable he feared you were, how he feared this new alit flame would burn his touch away from you. Useless was an understatement, of how he felt that night, even the stars above refused to guide him down teh right path.

He knew you were angry.

He was angry too.

He wanted to fight just like you did. His hatred for these sky demons simmered beneath his skin. He was a warrior. He wanted to fight next to you and his father. He was a protector of the people.

He had seen what they had taken from his home, from his parents, his family, from you.

At first, he thought it was jealousy.

The way Jake encrusted you to be his main archer. To shoot down sky ships.

Neteyam? He wasn’t anywhere near the fighting. Not anywhere near you.

He knew his father thought him and Lo’ak were “too important” to be fighting.

Jake was trying to salvage the sons made of stone before the heat of war can melt the rock.

Were you better than him?

Stronger than him?

Why did his father trust you more than he trusted his eldest?

As he watches you now, the archer who had her arrowhead aimed at his heart from day 1.

He knows its love. It must be.

It keeps him awake at night. The devoured feeling that gnaws at his heart. You were the center of his sky in all your celestial glory and he wished he would have gifted you the entire universe but instead he gave you that carved spiral.

He loved you because where other struggled to see in the dark you danced with dusk. You were a paradox. Detached, but focused. Because you somehow made the most dissolute and reckless seem graceful. You were real. Imperfect. Unconfined hunger bordered by each beautiful bruise blemish and scar that covered your skin.

You haunted him.

“Bro!”

And funny enough, it seems eywa created little brothers for a different kind of haunting.

Neteyams eyes flickered to where Lo’ak circled around him on his ikran.

The cold colors tattered across the ikrans purple and blue skin, trapping the yellow large speckles of shapes of the banshee’s skin.

Lo’ak’s echoes dwindle in the gust of wind, the war paint he wore proudly on either side of his face, Neteyam had watched Y/n paint Lo’ak after his begging back at high camp.

Something about Lo’aks smile in situations like these always found ways to disquiet Neteyam.

His eyebrows hover above his eyes as his fangs bare through his smile.

“Bro! We have got to get down there!”

Neteyam shakes his head, a warning look traces his features.

“No way! Dad will skin us!”

Lo’ak shakes his head, the wind uplifting his braids as he dives.

“C’mon! Don’t be a wuss!”

The flushed first notes of an uncertain heartbeat ablaze neteyam’s mind as he dives as well.

“Shit! Lo’ak! Get back you dumbass!”

Lo’ak dived blow into the musk of what might as well be no man’s land. The air wailed and whipped around him as he hopped off his Ikran. Yanking his kuru from his banshees and running towards the chaos in question.

He looked over his shoulder to see Neteyam following suit. He laughed, waving his hand through the dust and smoke.

“C‘mom bro!”

“Lo’ak!”

“Lo’ak come back!”

Lo’ak faltered momentarily when he saw Norm directing some navi’s into a brigade to gather all the weapons from the train’s supply cart. Swiftly swerving to stay out of the dream walkers sight, he joined the forming crowd where around where Tarsem had just opened a new cart of guns.

“Here boy- take this weapon! Go!”

Lo’ak let put a silly war cry and puffed up his chest,

Neteyam came to a halt.

“Lo’ak, you don’t even know how to use it.”

Lo’ak waved the gun around like it was weightless, handling it like one of Tuk’s toys.

“Nah bro. Dad taught me!”

Neteyam rolled his eyes, done with Lo’aks bullshit.

“I’m sure he did-

Let’s go-“

He grabbed lo’aks bicep but Lo’ak shrugged him off.

“Or maybe I’ll just be like y/n and shoot down some sky demons!”

Above the clouds, you circled the ensuing hustle below. Watching the brigades, monitoring the ground team. Your bow at the ready in its position on your saddle sheath.

And then you saw them.

“Son of a bitch!”

You hissed quietly, swiftily diving down to where the duo of your headache embodied currently argued about something stupid.

Lo’ak smiled as he saw you, but it faded as he watched the shadow of your Ikran (which was larger than the average Ikran, granted)

Loom over the both as you hopped down, glaring at them.

“What are you two shitheads doing here!?”

The feathers on your raid top gently shook in the breeze, a few of your beads clanking together in your braids as you made your descend.

Neteyam seemed to straighten, but his breath seemed to form a blockade for his own voice.

Maybe it was the way the brightly covered beads and feathers of your top accentuated your skin. Or maybe it was the way the fathers in your braids matched your waist beads Kiri had made you.

Maybe it was the way your loincloth seemed a bit more perfect than usual as it hugged your hips.

Maybe it was the way the red, blue, and purple war paint on your face outlined your eyes like wings and shed down your cheeks like tears, sorrowed in starlight for you had just been warrior of the wind.

I guess we’ll never know.

Lo’ak spoke for him.

“We wanted to help! C’mon, we have the ground team to be spotters! They don’t need us! I’ve been practicing the trick you taught me with the bow, just let us fly with you- we promise we’ll-“

You shot Lo’ak down before the words flooded further, the scarlet hues ablazed and begged for nothing but obedience in your voice.

“Kehe! You will do nothing-! Go back to your post. Both of you, now!”

You swatted Lo’ak with your bow, hissing at him, Neteyam tried to drag Lo’ak away.

“Bro let’s go!-“

The sound of heavy mechanical whirring instilled the heightening of your awareness in the moment, your ears pining back as you saw the larger ship approach.

“Gun ship inbound!”

Jake shouted, you saw neytiri hiss and take off on her Ikran.

“Shit! Run!” You cursed, shoving Lo’ak and Neteyam in the opposite direction and making a break away from the approaching enemy.

As it would seem time was not in your favor, your Ikran had already been spooked away by the blast, Neteyam grabbed your hand before you could run,

“Come with us, now!

Go-!”

He shoved Lo’ak ahead of him as they ran, Neteyam’s hand clutching yours as you kept pace with the two.

The 3 of you climbed over the derailed debris, Neteyam and you scaling the bright yellow RDA logo train doors,

“Bro come on!” Lo’ak called.

A flash of light invaded your vision, the scorching heat of the blast incircled you.

You feel Neteyam attempt to reach for you, but instead all you feel is a tug on your wrist as your senses start to numb.

Your airborn for a moment, then your body collides with the uneven ground, the rocky surface below.

You groan, your vision blurring. The embers and ash clash against your skin in the harsh sting of the hot air.

You winced in pain as the adrenaline started it’s course of abandonment. The aching sensation swallows your body.

Scarlet etched its way in a jagged scratch on your side. The world seemed to darkn as the scarlet hues slowly faded to black. The sky’s golden and blue game of chance changes its rules as your eyelids become heavy.

Neteyam’s eyes shoot open as his vision readjusts itself clearly.

Lo’ak is above him, shaking him awake. Panic in the half-notes of his jagged breaths.

“Bro!? Bro! C’mon, get up we gotta go!”

Neteyam stands to his feet, groaning, but quickly regaining his senses.

He looked down at his hand to see where something small and beaded made its home in his clutch.

A bracelet?

Your bracelet.

It hit Neteyam like a tidal wave.

“Shit! Y/n-“

Neteyam tried to run past when his body collided with a taller one, Jake stood looming over his son’s, placing one hand on each of their shoulders “Hey! Easy, easy, where’s Y/n?! Are you hurt?!”

Neteyam tried to speak but all it was met with is stuttered breaths and a poor panicked exclamation.

“That way! I meant to grab her arm and I grabbed this instead-

The blast-“

Jake didn’t hesitate as he started running in the direction you were in, Lo’ak seemingly still in shock and Neteyam following his father without missing a beat,

“Stay behind boy! Get your brother out of here!”

“But sir-“

“That’s a direct order!”

Norm, quickly dragged Neteyam and lo’ak away to the sidelines of the forest to make their quick escape.

The sound of a screech flooded your ears, the footseps barely audible over the smoke and wind.

“Y/n! Oh child, Eywa no.”

You reached for your knife with the last ounce of motor control you could muster, before a hand gently lifted you on your back, the sun’s blinding silver line halo of heat scorched your eyes, you hissed and winced in pain.

The hands were familiar, it calmed you rather quickly.

You knew it was neytiri when the blurry shape of gray purple and green, faintly recognizable as her bone collared-top.

You groaned, the raw rushes of pain encased your vision.

“I’m sorry-”

You mumbled.

“Shh. No apologies, my dear girl. Come, we must go. Quickly.”

The last thing you remember is the gently shrill of her Ikran and her hand around your waist was she settled you in front of her on her ikran. The Scarlet hue no painted the wind.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓

When you awake, its to the sound of herbs grinding soflty in a boil. The reverberations of the grinding tool against the small wooden bowl make your ears twitch.

Your vision settles. Mo’at sits infornt of the small fire in the tsahiks tent, Tuktirey by her side.

Her big eyes blinking at her grandmother’s handy-work, her much smaller tail swishing to the beat of each sound.

You sat up slowly, with a small wince. But the pain was significantly better.

Tuk gasps

“Y/n! You're alive!”

She wraps her arms around your waist, nuzzling her little head into your chest. You smile at the smaller girls, roughly a few of her braids, kissing the top of her head.

“of course I’m alive, yawntu! It would take a million Sky People to take me out.”

You teasingly mocked the position of an archer, holding a pretend bow and arrow made out of thin air as Tuk laughed.

Mo’at gently cleared her throat, making her way to you as she placed a hand on your shoulder.

“ Child, your wounds were deep, but they shall heal quickly with the salve. Kiri shall be back with more herbs soon. But please rest, simply until the bandages are removed.”

You nodded greatfully, squeezing her hand in a gesture of thank you.

She was the closest thing you would have to a grandmother, even before your parents began their journey with Eywa. You never got to meet your actual grandparents. They died in the attack on hometree. The only memory you had of them was through the clans' stories.

You wore a choker that was strung with river pearls and brown leather, a small navy-blue colored stone in the middle. A treasured piece your grandmother once wore.

Tuk snuggled up to you in the hammock, and you gently rubbed her back.

A soft rustling made your ears perk up when Kiri slipped through the tent flap with a basket of herbs.

“Tsmuke, (sister)

You are awake.”

Her expression softened, as if tensed up since the moment you returned unconscious. It probably was.

She handed the herbs to Mo’at and kneeled at your side, gently brushing a few of your braids away from your face.

“How are you feeling? Better? I used yalna bark when grandmother wasn’t looking. Was it Lo’ak again? It’s always Neteyam getting in trouble and you getting hurt when that sxkwang gets bright ideas-“

You gently stopped her mid rant. Holding her hand gently to your chest.

“I am fine, Kiri. A few scratches and bruises has never done much harm.”

She chuckled softly, standing back to her feet to assist Mo’at with the rest of the preparations for other wounded warriors.

As the hours passed, and the sun started to set, Kiri had to drag Tuktirey off to bed and Mo’at left the tent for the night. Leaving you alone to find sleep.

Mo’at had insisted you sleep in the Tsahik’ s tent tonight. Get some extra rest.

You didn’t argue. It was better than sharing a hammock with Lo’ak. The boy snored more than what you were almost certain was normal.

It was an understatement to say you nearly killed someone when you heard the tent flap rustle. You jumped, instinctly reaching for your knife.

It was well after hours.

Everyone should be asleep.

Who was it? Were you followed when you left the train?

Was it a sky demon? An animal?

You slowly felt your heart steady once again when you saw a small pale figure enter your tent, the small glimmer of his mask dances in the firelight. Lo’ak is behind him, looking less hyper than usual. Instead, a subtle tinge of gray flickered past his eyes, but it quickly gilded itself to green and gold once it settled on your form. He released a breath of relief and spider smiled.

“See? I told you she was okay.”

It took you a moment to realize that Lo’ak was worried about you.

You gave him a small smile opening your one arm that wasn’t aching, and he slipped himself under it, sitting next to you in the hammock, resting his head on your shoulder.

Lo’ak was your best friend. But really, he was so much more than that.

He was your family. Your ride-or-die.

Your right hand.

It made you feel a bit guilty, that Lo’ak seemed to prefer you over Neteyam sometimes.

Lo’ak wanted you to be his teacher when it came to his archery training and sparring. Lo’ak wanted it to be you who he went on hunts with.

Yet again, he also only lets you braid his hair because apparently neytiri pulls too hard and Neteyam doesn’t know how to tie them off properly.

Spider was a bit of a different case.

As you grew older, you realized how much you envied your motehrs sense of lightness.

Her entire being seemed to be made of golden hour gardens and softly whispered summers.

She was strong. The strongest woman you knew.

But she was kind.

She wasn’t like Neytiri in the sense that she resented all humans.

Your mother always felt a sense of protectiveness over Spider. A small, pale boy who used his heart instead of brain, chasing shimmyflys and tripping over vines that were larger than him. She welcomed him into her circle. She shielded him from the storms of strange staring and pesky fears.

Your mother always cared for Spider. Helped him re-twist his locs and make him new loincloths and hair beads. Some of your earliest memories were you and spider playing with the small carved toys in your family’s tent, or giggling after dark under the blankets after your father told you both to go to sleep.

She argued when spider had to go back to his foster family, and ended up making bargains with him to stay overnight every few days.

You’re almost positive it’s the only motherly love spider has ever known.

He cried when your mother died.

You think he might have cried more than you did.

Sobbed for days with you, and it brought you closer together.

You smiled as Lo’ak fidgeted with one of the bracelets on your wrist.

When you were about 8, Lo’ak was 7, spider was 9, your mother carved you these special beads for the three of you to use.

You three decided to make bracelets and your father helped you string them together, all collecting charms and gifting them to one another to add.

The two biggest stones were carved river crystal the two boys collected, Lo’ak rolled the beads between his two extra fingers, sporting a bracelet of his own you and spider made him.

“So, I heard you got your ass kicked.”

Spider snickered. Sitting down in front of you.

You whacked him with your tail.

“Fuck off. Those sky demons ate my arrows.”

Spider groaned,

“I’m so pissed. I heard you fell down in a explosion and ate shit-

And now one took a picture for me!”

Lo’ak threw and arm around your shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh yeah. And her Romeo was panicking because he didn’t save her in time”

You flushed, shoving him away.

Spider laughed, standing up.

“I can only imagine-“

He cleared his throat, before making his voice go an obnoxious pitch higher, twirling his locs around his fingers and batting his eyes, mimcmking what was supposed to be you.

“Oh Neteyam! My big strong warrior man! Come save me!”

You hissed in annoyance, but couldn’t help but bite back laughter at the back of your throat.

Lo’ak stood to his feet, puffing up his chest and taking his braid out of the way he tied them back, letting them hang, deepening his voice and stomping towards spider, dramatically holding him in his arms as spider collapsed with a loud rehearsed sigh.

Lo’aks Neteyam imitation sent you over the edge, you were now cackling and had rolled out of your hammock.

“I’ll save you from the demon ships with my bow and arrow!”

Lo’ak, you, and spider all break into a fit of laughter, rolling around on the ground. Lo’ak steadying himself by burying his face in your shoulder as spider banged his fist on the ground, finally, as the laughter died down, the three of you stared at the top of the tent, out of breath, the only sound being the gentle wheezing endnotes of your breaths.

“Glad you kicked some ass today. Those fucking RDA pilots didn’t stand a chance against you and that bow of yours.”

Spider whispered. Nudging your shoulder gently.

You smiled at him, Lo’ak squished in between you.

The three of you said your goodnight s, and you watched the two missing parts of your circle leave the tent before they could get caught after lights out.

You nestled back into the hammock, staring up at the ceiling.

The aching in your arms hasn’t completely vanished it’s fortification of pain in your shoulder.

You gently rub circles around the small carved spiral you untied from the long shaft of your bow when spider dragged it inside.

You played with the small crystals and the beads, gently humming to yourself.

Your fingers traced along the shape, Neteyams eyes invaded your mind.

It was fascinating, really. How a warrior such as yourself had won today's battle and yet the one thing you truly yearned for was still not within your grasp.

It hurts sometimes, to think about how beautiful he was.

The way his irises encompassed golden hour in all its starlight sessions.

The air was thicker in the mountains like this, up here in high camp. Perhaps that’s why the sweltering residual warmth that rippled across your skin like lillies to a pond every time you thought of him

You wondered if he tasted like the sun. Sweet, possibly bitter. Bleak and addicting, such a delicacy deserved to never touch your lips.

Alas the stars did not align for you.

Not tonight.

You trace the spiral one last time before letting your eyes flutter closed.

Your tail flicked as you heard yet another rustling.

The sound of footsteps, slightly heavier than last time.

You groaned.

“Spider did you forget something again?..”

When no answer was heard you grumbled. Standing to your feet and untying the tent flap, only to be met with two two golden hour orbs that had just plagued your mind.

“”Neteyam?..”

authors note:

I’m finally done! I haven’t slept in two days but I’m finished. I can’t decided whether I like the way this turned out but I LOVE some of the smaller little details. Y/n is such a badass and she’s in her reputation eraaaa. We love to see it 😩👏 this first one was a lil angsty but I PROMISE y’all, this series is NOT angst. I’ve got a ton of stuff planned. I’m thinking maybe a little bit of jealous Neteyam? Some humor? Spider and Lo’ak being the captain of the ship? Mo’at being a sassy Granmda? Maybe some sister bonding with Kiri? AHHH IM SO HYPED. I, about to pass out and I can’t feel my fingers but that’s it for now! Stay tuned for part 2 🏹

-Sol

Jan 2034

“Virago” series, chp. 1.

Taglist:

@plooto

#neteyam x reader #neteyam #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #jake avatar #kiri sully #avatar fanfiction #lo’ak x reader #neteyam x you #neytiri

286 notes · View notes

cumsuga · 2 months

Text

Grey Areas Pt 2

taehyung x fem!reader

genre. smut, fluff, angst, romance, non-idol!au, twin!taehyung, BIL!taehyung, widowedmother!reader

Your husband is dead, now you're trying to avoid the man that looks exactly like him. The only problem with that is trauma bonds people, sometimes in more ways than one

warnings: death of a spouse, sleeping with your brother-in-law, grief, unprotected sex (Be safe and be smart; please use condoms), mentions of part infidelity, smoking, light drinking, taehyung is definitely in love with his sister-in-law aka reader, you're a mama (lots of drama), yall be fuckin', anal(?), Taehyung likes fat asses.

word count: 5k

18+ (Minors DNI)

A/n: First and foremost, thank you, @hbkdrecs, for testing/proofreading! I don't know if I'll make this a series or just leave it a mini. Anyway, thank you, everyone,for all the support! Please support your local fic writer by liking and reblogging! Y'all are the best!

Taglist!: @ohsweetmimosa

“You know you fucked up, right?” Jimin asks. Taehyung had spent the two weeks with you as he told you he would. Every night was spent in each other's arms, him in between your thighs or you on your knees. You couldn’t understand what it was about Taehyung, but you couldn’t keep your hands off him. Part of you thought it was because he looked like his brother, but the other part thought he was nothing like Sujin. Taehyung was the complete opposite of him, making you want him even more.

“Jimin, you told me you wouldn’t judge me.” you rub the bridge of your nose. Jimin, your best friend since birth, was known to be a judgy bitch, but right now, you need less judgment and more advice.

“Listen, I’m never one to judge, but bitch.. He’s your dead husband's IDENTICAL twin brother… Right now is the best time to judge. Hell, this is like the plot of an awful lifetime movie. Except Taehyung didn’t trick you into thinking he was Sujin.” he takes a sip of his tea, smiling.

“I’m going to hell, aren’t I?” you gnaw on your thumb. You’re too far gone with Taehyung to go back now. You think you may even love him. He makes you feel safe. He'd choose you if he had to choose between you or his family. It was a naive way to think, but you didn’t care. Why should you? Sujin cheated on you for the majority of your pregnancy, and though you’re not one for revenge, it sure tastes good cold.

“Oh baby, straight to hell, but that's okay. You can explain to Sujin when you see him there.” he chuckles, scooting a mug over to you.

“Jimin. That's not funny. I was with Su for most of my life, and we were married. It’s too early to joke about it! You’re literally being the worst best friend ever.” You groan, and you wish he would be serious. “This is like life or death, serious.”

“My love, you’ve crossed a line from which you can no longer return. There is no advice I could possibly give you that would make you feel better. You're smitten. I knew you were when you called and told me you had to tell me something.”

You sign because, though you’ll never tell him, he’s right. You crossed a line, but you never said you wanted to return. You were fine with knowing you fucked your dead husband’s brother. You could live with it because Sujin would never find out. The only problem was that you didn’t know if you could stop.

—-

“Bro.. that's fucked.” Jungkook looks horrified.

“Listen, I’ve been in love with her since I was 10. I know it’s wrong, but she means everything to me. I just want to take care of her.” Taehyung shrugs Jungkook off. He feels remorse about it, but he won’t lose sleep over it.

“But that’s your brother's wife. Morally, it’s wrong. Jungkook is justifiably horrified.” Namjoon chimes,

“Namjoon, you slept with Jungkook’s sister. I don’t wanna hear SHIT from you.” he’s starting to regret telling his friends about his indiscretion. Jungkook looks bewildered by the revelation, but everyone decides it’s best not to open that particular can of worms.

“I support you.” Yoongi walks into the garage. “Namjoon sent me a voice note of the details. I don’t think what you did was wrong. From what you told us about her before, you called dibs, and Su disregarded bro code. Fuck’em.”

“Hey, that’s still my brother. Chill.” he mean mugs Yoongi.

“Man, we’re a little past the respect thing for Su. I’ll always have love for him, but if we're being honest, he was a shitty guy. Lest we forget the 2016 incident? He’s been doing this shit to that girl for years, we all knew, and we said nothing. We’re all just as bad as him. Namjoon, you witnessed the 2016 incident. Jungkook, you knew it was gonna happen, and Tae Su told you everything. So let’s not all act like we’re all holier than thou.” Yoongi lights a cigarette and takes a long drag.

Everyone is quiet, reflecting on how they’ve all wronged you. Taehyung felt the worst about it all because he knew Sujin had cheated before, but you guys were kids when it happened, and he didn’t think Su would do it again. Taehyung made Sujin swear he wouldn’t, or he’d tell you everything.

“Yoongi’s right…” Jungkook and Namjoon say in unison.

“I know... I know.” He sighs, “What should I do? All I want to do is be with her.”

“So do it. At this point, Tae, you have nothing to lose. If your family disagrees, fuck them. You’ve secretly loved the girl for years. I’m sure Sujin would forgive you. Hell, you forgave him. Now is the time to act.” Taehyung nods, “One more thing... Are you ever gonna tell her it was you?”

Taehyung calls you while you’re returning from picking up groceries. He tells you he wants to talk, and you’re happy because you also want to talk. You miss him, as crazy as it sounds. You want nothing more than to be in his presence.

When you pull up, he’s outside again waiting for you. When he sees you, he immediately goes to help you with Azra. Giving you a quick peck before he rounds the car to you. “Hi, princess.” He gets him out of the car and grabs his diaper bag. Your heart melts seeing him and Azra together, and you feel so fucking guilty. Jimin's words are starting to affect you more than you thought they would.

“DADDY!” Azra screams when he sees Taehyung, squishing Taehyung’s cheeks together. Naturally, you go to correct him, but Taehyung is visibly uncomfortable with it and quickly corrects him.

“No baby, I’m Uncle Taetae. Daddy… Daddy is with Grandpa in the sky.” He points to the sky, and Azra looks up and repeats the word sky. Taehyung pecks his head and walks into the house with you.

He sets Azra in his play place when he gets in and helps you with whatever you are carrying. “Go rest, I’ll grab the rest.” but you pull him back to you.

“Wait. I missed you. C’mere,” You pull him into a kiss. It’s soft and sweet. He smiles into the kiss. He finds it strange how natural everything feels, and he finds it even stranger that he doesn’t feel guilty about what you two are doing.

He gently pulls you away, “My love, I’ll be right back. I’m just gonna go get the groceries. I’m not going anywhere.” He pecks you once more before heading out the door.

You sit with Azra and play with him while Taehyung brings in all the groceries, and you wish Sujin was like this. Sujin helped but never made it a point to do it all himself. The more you compare the two, the more resentful you grow of Su. You want to hate yourself for it desperately, but you can’t.

Taehyung calls out to you from the kitchen, “Babe, did you mean to buy baby food?” you can hear him rummaging through the cabinets and putting stuff away.

“Yeah, I thought we were out. Why?” you say as Azra tries to climb in your lap.

“Because you bought more baby food and have a whole bunch.” You plop him on top of you. He begins playing with your fingers lazily while watching Baby Shark.

“Oh, well, now I won’t have to go get more in two weeks.” everything feels so domestic. It scares you a bit. “Hey, you said you wanted to talk. What about?” You stand up with Azra and walk towards the kitchen.

“About… us.” He stops what he’s doing and looks over at you. He gives you a look that worries you just a bit. Sujin would look at you like that right before starting an argument.

“What about us?” You ask as Azra reaches out for Taehyung, and Taehyung happily takes him.

“Azzy, no fingers in your mouth.” You move to take his thumb out of his mouth, and Azra buries his head into Tae’s chest.

“Daddy..” he pouts into him, and at this point, Taehyung is too tired to keep correcting Azra.

“That’s not Daddy, Azra.” you try to take him back from Tae, but he starts to cry and cling to him.

“Daddy! Az say no!” Azra cries out.

Taehyung sighs, “Has he napped today?”

You shake your head no, “Just leave him. He’s cranky because someone needs a nap. Azzy want to take a nap with… papa?” Azra nods his head, and they leave to go to the bedroom so Taehyung can put him down for a nap. Fifteen minutes later, Taehyung emerges from the bedroom and joins you on the couch.

“I’ve never seen him so cranky.” he tried to pull you closer to him, but he could tell you were upset. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t ever do that again.” you push away from him. “You’re not his dad, don’t do that. I don’t like that.”

He pulls you into his lap, “Listen, I know I’m not his dad. But he was cranky, and I was just trying to remedy the situation. I’m sorry, baby.” you pout at him, and he kisses it away. You’re both silent for a while, watching the TV.

“Do you think we’re bad people?” you question out of nowhere, turning to face him.

“What do you mean?” he’s still looking at the TV but rubbing your knee lazily.

“Tae, look at me.” he looks towards you, so you question again, “Do you think we’re bad people?”

“I mean, kinda. We are bad people because of our previous relationship, but at the same time, I don't think we're bad people for finding solace in each other. I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. I’m not faulting myself for finally expressing that; I don’t care if my family is upset about it. We’re happy. Shouldn’t that mean the most?” his eyes feel like they're burrowing into your soul.

“What do you mean you’ve loved me for a very long time?” The revelation takes you aback, but he’s silent. His cheeks are flushed, and he can’t believe he just told on himself.

“I–I’m. Uhh..” he doesn’t know what to say. He’s scared of your thoughts when he tells you the truth. But he takes a deep breath and lets it go. “You remember when we were all kids? Do you remember when Sujin confessed to you? Well… that wasn’t Su… It was me. And even though you were with Sujin, I never got over you… That’s why I stopped coming around as much when you and Su got married, even less when you got pregnant, and all together when Azra was born. Because I didn’t want to accept that you chose Su, I couldn’t take the fact that my brother knew how I felt about you and still decided to be with you. Sujin wasn’t as amazing a person as everyone thought. He was and still is an asshole. I know I should be upset that he’s dead, but I can’t be. My brother was a terrible person to me. Now I’m just happy I finally get to be with the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

You’re shocked. It felt like a million volts to your system. You never thought in a million years that Taehyung was the boy who confessed to you. He was always so quiet and reserved. Even in middle school and high school, he was never into dating, but now it all makes sense. He never really dated because he wanted to be with you.

“Well… Well, what about Naomi? You two were together for five years. You can’t tell me you didn’t love her. You had to have if you were together so long.” You need him to tell you he’s lying. He has to be because it feels like Sujin used you to get under Taehyung’s skin right now.

“I mean sure… I thought I loved her and wished God that I could have given her what she wanted from me. But It wasn’t fair to keep stringing her along. If I could take it back and not hurt her the way I did, I would in a heartbeat. No one deserves that, and I hate that I did that to someone. To this day, I send her little things to apologize. All of them returned, but I feel a little better knowing I’m trying to right my wrongs to her.” he’s looking at his hands, ashamed of his past actions.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you take his hands in yours, just a little sign to show him you’re not closing him out. He felt so much relief knowing you weren’t scared of his secret.

“What was I supposed to say, Y/N? ‘Hey, I’m actually the guy that confessed to you, and I think you should be with me and not the man you had a baby with?’ You would’ve looked at me like I had six heads, baby. I know you.” he sighs.

“I wouldn’t have… Honestly, the more we’re together, the more I wonder what life would have been like if we had been together since childhood,” you say honestly, and you feel like a weight has lifted from you. Even though Sujin’s only been gone a month, you’re entirely ready to let him go. You’re tired of keeping this relationship a secret and don’t care what others say about it. Sujin wasn’t a good husband to you, and you were tired of pretending he was.

Taehyung smiles at you, “Honestly, me too.” he kisses you softly.

“What are we going to tell Azra when he gets older?” This was your primary worry. You didn’t want your son to get bullied because kids are ruthless.

“Don’t beat me up when I say this, but maybe we should raise him as mine? I mean.. Genetically he is. I will have to get used to him calling me dad, but I’m with it if you are?”

Taehyung sees your shift in mood, but he knows that you know he’s right. “I’ll have to think about that, Taehyung... You’re right, but I’m still a little apprehensive about it.” you’re chewing on your thumb again, but Taehyung pulls it from your mouth to kiss you.

“No fingers in your mouth but mine,” he says as he moves to kiss your neck, and you push him away, giggling.

“Ew, don’t ever say stuff like that to me. Weirdo.” You stand up from the couch, and he smacks your ass as you walk past him.

“Where you going?” He asks as you disappear into the back of the house. You wanted to make sure Azra was asleep.

“I'm just checking on the baby.” You walk back into the living room, sitting in Tae’s lap.

“God, my brother didn’t deserve you. You’re such a great woman. I don’t care what anyone says.” You two are trying to make out, but something constantly interrupts you. This time, it’s your phone, and it’s your mother-in-law. She sounds pissed but keeps everything very short.

“Your mom is on her way here. She sounds mad. I think you should leave..” You’re panicking. She alluded to knowing about you and Taehyung. “I think she knows.”

“So what? You said you wanted to be with me. Why does it matter if she knows or not?” You’re pacing the living room. How could she have found out? You didn’t tell anyone outside of Jimin. You didn’t go anywhere together. There's no way... “Taehyung, please. I don’t think this is going to end well for you… for us..”

“No. I’m not leaving. I love you, and I want to be with you. I don’t care what she thinks.” He stands firm on it, not even budging off the couch. You didn’t want to do this, especially in front of your son. But before you could even process it, there was a knock at your door.

“Taehyung, please! Hide or something. Azra,” you’re whisper yelling at this point, and the knock is getting louder. But she barges in like God was punishing you for being in love. You had forgotten you had given her a key when you and Su bought the house. She sees Taehyung sitting there and immediately starts with the bullshit you were trying to avoid.

“So, it’s true?” she sneers, “Ms. Killian called and told me you haven’t left since the funeral. She told me that she had seen you two kissing in the driveway. So is that what you do? Like a whore? Your husband, my son, dies, and you move on to his brother? And you flaunt it in public. You must be a whore. Is that baby even Sujin’s, or is it Taehyung’s or some other man's?”

You stand there quietly. Too terrified to speak, you thought you were ready for everyone to know about you and him, but fuck were you wrong. This is your worst nightmare. “Speak, whore!” she screams at you.

“Please..” you say meekly, “The baby.”

“Oh, so now you care about my grandson? You didn’t care when you were fucking his uncle. You didn’t care when you were flaunting it to the whole fucking neighborhood!”

You look at Taehyung, and he immediately steps in front of you, “Don’t talk to her like that. You know nothing but what you were told by some senile old lady that doesn’t ever know how to mind her own fucking business.”

She smacks him, scoffing, “Don’t you ever insult my intelligence, you little shit. You were always like this, so jealous of your brother. Always wanting what he had. You never amounted to half of what your brother was.”

“My brother was a lying, cheating piece of trash. I spoke to Natalie. She told me you gave her Su’s number and encouraged her to contact him because his current girlfriend wasn’t as hard-working and was freeloading off your son. You were complicit in his cheating on his pregnant wife. Don’t act so fucking high and mighty, mother. You’re the exact same as Su, and that’s why my father left you.”

You stand there stunned. You don’t want to believe Taehyung, but what would he gain from lying about it? She says nothing and looks away from the both of you. That confirms all you need to know. She knew about it.

“I did nothing of the sort.” she scoffs again, “You’re the one lying up in his house with his wife. You both are scum. My son deserved better than a whore for a wife and a worthless piece of trash like you for a brother.”

“Oh please, you miserable insufferable cunt. You only cared about Su because he did whatever you told him to do. You’re upset because you no longer have someone to control. It fucking kills you to see me happy. But you know what? I couldn’t give less of a fuck. I love her, and she loves me. Go fuck yourself.”

“I think you need to leave.” You hear Azra crying in the distance. “Actually, get the fuck out of my house.” you’re seething. If you knew you wouldn’t go to jail for beating her ass, you do it in a heartbeat.

She doesn’t budge, and she is stubborn, just like Su. “I SAID GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HOUSE, YOU EVIL BITCH!”

“When I tell the family, you will have nothing. You will be alone, just like you always were.” Taehyung just shakes his head in disdain, “Just you wait, and as for you, you little slut. If I ever see your face again, I’ll slap that fucking look off of it.”

“I dare you to. Now get out.” You say, pushing her out the door and rushing to Azra.

“Sh, sh, sh, it’s okay. Momma’s here, my sweet boy. No more tears.”

You're rocking Azra when Taehyung joins you in the room. “I’m sorry, this was never my intention.” He takes Azra from you and sits you in the rocking chair.

“Just sit here and calm down. I’ll get him to stop crying.” He says, walking out of the room and into the kitchen.

When he leaves, you burst into tears; a million thoughts run through your head. What are your parents going to say? What if she tells Azra’s daycare? What will they do? What about Azra and his relationship with them? You knew it was life-ruining and thought you were ready to face it, but you weren’t. You’re scared, and you feel alone in the feeling.

Taehyung joins you with a sleeping Azra back in the room. He sets him gently in the crib and kneels in front of you. “Hey, hey. No more tears, remember? Everything is going to be okay. I will make sure of that. Please don’t cry, sweetheart.” he takes your hands, kissing them softly.

You want to be mad, you want to keep crying, but he just had this effect on you. He made you feel so safe, so secure. You knew he would shield you from the fallout because that’s just what Taehyung does. He’s a nurturer, and you loved that dearly about him.

“I need to tell you one more thing…” he says before telling you about the 2016 incident. He told you about all the girls Sujin cheated on you with before he asked you to marry him. He told you that Sujin said it was to get it out of his system before he was chained down forever. He told you that he kept it from you to protect you and that he should’ve told you when it happened to save you from all the pain you’re going through. He apologized for hurting you and swore never to keep a secret from you again.

“I need you to trust me. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life. I swear on my life, you mean everything to me, and I’ll never lie to you again, " he says before kissing you passionately. “I love you, Y/N. Please believe me.”

“I never said I didn’t, Dummy. I just wish you would’ve told me before I married that prick.” You say, wiping your nose on your sweater and laughing. He laughs softly with you. “How’d you get him to sleep so quickly?”

“Oh, I told him that if he went back to bed, I’d buy him ice cream after his nap. And I swear he was out like a light. It was pretty weird.” he chuckles.

You cup Taehyung’s cheek, rubbing it softly, “I wish it were you.” you peck him.

“Hey, better late than never at all, am I right?” he gets big-headed, so you push him down, but he pulls you with him. He is kissing you again, this time a little rougher than before.

“Not here. Let’s go to the room.” you stand up, extending your hand to him. “Come cuddle with me.”

He gets up, pulling you close to whisper in your ear, “Oh baby girl, we're gonna do more than cuddle. I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you.” Your cheeks are bright red when he pulls you away.

“Don’t say stuff like that.” you shy away from him, but that only eggs him on more.

“Don’t get all coy on me now. You like it when I talk to you like that.” He picks you up and walks you to your bedroom. He tosses you on the bed.

“You’re all I need, all I want.” He climbs on top of you, pushing your sweater up splaying his hand across your tummy. “I mean fucking look at you… You’re literally my own personal wet dream.”

He takes his bottom lip between his teeth while he works on getting your jeans off. You’re squirming at his touch. You were never like this with Sujin, but he never cared to take his time with you. He would never even eat you out. The first time you ever got head, it was from Taehyung. And it was the best thing you ever experienced. He told you he loved eating pussy, and said it made him feel like a man to make his woman feel good before him.

“Off with these, I wanna taste you. You looked so sexy putting my mom in her place.” He kisses his way down your tummy and you instinctively try to close your legs. Always so shy to him seeing you so on display.

“Taehyung..” you keen when he plants a light kiss on the space above your clit, he loved toying with you. He liked seeing you so needy for him. “No games.. Eat it.”

He pops his head up to look at you, ‘Someone is eager, but I think..” he spits directly on your clit and you swear it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, making you clench around nothing.

“I think-fuck- I think, I’ll play with it a little.” he pushes his fingers to your clit, before rubbing his spit around. “I mean, listening to how you sound. One could cum from the sound alone, if I do say so myself. It’s so fucking lewd.”

You moan something that sounds like his name softly, “I’m gonna make you cum just off my fingers before I eat it. I wanna play with your pussy, princess. You like that? Tell me you like it, please… fuck.” he pushes two fingers into you.

“Love it...” you buck your hips into his hand, grabbing his wrist so you could fuck yourself on his finger. Taehyung is just staring at you in awe, I mean sure he’s fingered you before but he’s never seen you like this. “Love it when you play with my pussy, daddy..”

“Fuuuck…” he can’t believe his eyes, his dream girl getting herself off on his fingers. This is everything he hoped for and more. “You’re so fucking nasty.”

“Only for you, wanna be yours. Tell me I’m yours, please baby…please, spit on it again” you beg. And he happily obliges you, he wants nothing more than to get you off quickly so he can go to town on you.

He can feel you starting to squeeze his fingers so he moves his fingers quickly, curling them to rub your G-spot. “You’re mine, my good girl. Fuck, look at you cumming all over my fingers. So fucking hot.”

You come undone beneath him, moaning the most sinful music to his ears, “I’ll eat you out tomorrow.” he pulls you down to the edge of the bed, flipping you on your stomach, and ridding himself of his clothes.

“I love pretty things,” he smacks your ass hard, causing you to yelp, before getting you into position. He rubs his tip into your wetness before tapping his dick against your clit.

“Lemme put it in your butt.” he prods your hole and you look back at him like he’s crazy. “Taehyung don’t even play with me like that. That’s something that needs preparation.”

He chuckles, “I’m kidding-fuck” he pushes into you,” fuck.. I’m kidding.”

Your head drops into the bed, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Taehyung was big, like you knew lanky men were usually big, but fuck that stretch made you see stars every time.

“Big..” is all you could get out before he starts thrusting into you. He smacks your ass again.

“But you can take it all, can't you.” you nod biting your lip. You feel like you’re on ecstasy every time you two have sex, he hits all the right spots. “Yeah I know you can because you’re my good little cockslut.” he smacks again before gripping your cheeks fucking you back into him.

“All this ass, and you expect me to not want to fuck it? You’re crazy, princess. Your pussy is literally like heroine, I’m fucking hooked.” he thrusts harder into you.

“Yeah! Just like that, fuck me Taehyung… Please fuck me!” you're a mess at this point, he’s completely ruined you.

And just like you asked, he gave you exactly what you were asking for, fucking into you like he was gonna die if he didn’t make you cum again. He enjoyed knowing he made you feel so good, he thrived on it. “Gonna cum…”

“In me.. C-cum in me.” you stutter out, “oh fuck. Oh fuck!”

You cum around him, squeezing him like a vice grip, and he follows suit. You can feel him filling you up, it almost makes you cum again. You loved the warmth of it, but you loved him fucking it out of you even more. Reveled in the feeling of it running down your pussy and thighs.

When he was done, he collapsed next to you on the bed. Trying but failing to catch his breath. “Can we do it like that again later? That was sexy.” you hum in compliance, the feeling of sleep creeping its way through your veins. And like the gentleman he is, he gets up to get something to clean you up with.

He returns with a cloth, the coolness stinging your heated skin, but he’s gentle when he reaches your vulva, making sure not to rub your clit too hard but just enough to rid you of the cum that is now starting to dry. “Sorry, I’m trying to be gentle.” he squeaks out.

“I love you,” you say sleepily as he gets you into some pajama shorts. “So much.”

“I love you too, baby girl.” he kisses your temple before leaving for the bathroom. Before you fall asleep, you hear the shower run. You smile in contentment. You could get used to having Taehyung around. You know now for sure that you won’t mind all the stares and gossip as long as he's by your side. You could make it through the day knowing you get to come home to a man who really loved you. So what? You found genuine happiness in your husband's brother; stranger things have happened. This was your grey area. This was the way life was meant to be, how it was supposed to be. You’re ready to move on as long as it’s with him.

© @cumsuga 2016-2024. All rights reserved. — Unauthorized use or duplication of these works, including reposting, translating, and modification in any form, is strictly prohibited. DO NOT USE MY CONTENT FOR ANY AI PURPOSES WHAT SO EVER

credit to @cafekitsune for the dividers

115 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 7 months

Text

Glass Cuts Deepest (2)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: angst, trauma, mention of sexual harassment, violence, swearing, self-destructive behavior ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He woke up suddenly pulling himself up to sit down, breathing loudly, his heart pounding so hard he thought he was dying. He looked around − he was alone in his bedroom, his room in semi-darkness, it was barely dawn. He swallowed loudly feeling his sweaty t-shirt stick to his back and ran his hand over his face, trying to calm himself down.

Every time he thought he had got over it, it all came back to him in nightmares.

Embarrassed, he found that his legs were shaking as he rose from the bed, heading towards his bathroom to take a shower. He stood under the rain of warm water and leaned his forehead against the wet, tiled wall, trying not to think about it, to push it out, to forget it.

He tried to focus on his classes, on the fact that he had to prepare, on the fact that his midterms were coming up soon as well as the deadline for his stained glass windows for his next church.

He needed to focus on his work.

He went to his workshop earlier than usual, taking only a cup of coffee with him, knowing that he wouldn't last alone at home anyway, with only one thing on his mind.

He felt like he was about to throw up and stopped for a moment, clenching his eyes shut. He swallowed loudly, acknowledging that the feeling had passed, and clicked the light switch on the side of the table, the pieces of glass he had cut earlier lit up in bright, intense colours.

He thought that although the glass had hurt him so many times, cutting his hands, in the end it rewarded his suffering with a beautiful final work that he hoped would last for centuries. In this case, he thought, his physical harm had a purpose, it was almost noble.

Unlike what had befallen him then.

He pressed his lips together at the thought, feeling sick again, and put down his brush of patina, putting his hands on the table and leaning back, tired.

He had no strength left.

He heard someone's footsteps − someone walked into his workshop, but did not greet him.

He shuddered when he smelled an intense female perfume beside him and stepped back like a man possessed, looking at Jason Lannister's student with wide eyes.

He felt like something had locked inside him, he couldn't move − the girl opened her mouth to say something, but he wouldn't let her.

"Get out. Immediately." He said coolly, feeling that his hands were trembling.

Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out.

The girl smiled at him in a way he hated, in a way that suggested she thought he was teasing her, that he was pretending.

"I only came to ask for advice on my work, Professor Lannister is absent today." She said surprised, fixing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Get out." He repeated, louder this time, his heart pounding like a mad.

Whore.

Slut.

Bitch.

Get out.

"Are you so unpleasant to all female students, or just to me, Professor? Oh, I forgot, you don't accept women into your workshop. Fucking chauvinist." She growled, furrowing her brow, recognising that she had a right to judge him, to speak to him like that in his own workshop, to a professor who had achieved more in a few years than she would achieve in a lifetime.

"Get the fuck out." He hissed, looking at her menacingly, all tense, unable to get the smell of her perfume out of his nose, too much like her smell, then − he felt like he was about to really throw up though, his stomach twisting in an intense spasm.

The girl bit her lip, putting her hands at her sides, looking at him with some kind of pride, as if she thought she had the right to do so, to tell him how it was going to be, to bring him down to earth with her feminist bullshit.

"You have no right to speak like that to any woman, Professor. Do you understand? I demand an immediate apology." She said with certainty, from which he laughed out loud, shaking his head in disbelief. His face turned from amused to pale with rage, he saw fear and discomfort in her gaze.

"When Jason pats your ass you squeal with joy. Did you come here because you were hoping for the same thing? Then you were wrong. Now, get the fuck out." He hissed, shaking with anger and horror at the same time, her cheeks flushed scarlet.

She really thought he hadn't seen it?

It was things like this that he paid the most attention to.

He had fought for years to get all those fucking perverts thrown out, and because of students like her, Lannister believed that what he was doing was normal, healthy.

He felt a gag reflex in his throat and stepped back, swallowing loudly, trying to catch his breath.

You are such a pretty boy, Aemond.

Your eye, your scars don't bother me at all.

Why are you so tense?

He stepped back, horrified, as she came close to him, too close, looking at him with her lips clenched, her breasts exposed in a substantial cleavage rising and falling in uneven breaths.

All he could think about was wanting to pull away from her, but he couldn't move.

"I know very well that you are a worse pervert than he is. Why do you not accept girls into your workshop? Maybe you're afraid you'd rape them because none of them would ever want you of their own free will?" She hissed, and he slapped her face so hard that she fell to the floor.

He stared at her with his mouth wide open, panting loudly − she looked at him with resentment and horror, catching herself with her hand on her red cheek, not believing he had done it.

"I won't leave it like that, Professor. Have a nice day." She mumbled terrified, on the verge of crying, and walked out, leaving him alone.

He barely had time to run to the sink where the students washed their hands after finishing their work before he threw up.

Why are you so tense?

Just stay still and let me take care of myself.

Look, see?

You wouldn't be so hard if you didn't want it.

He was panting loudly, coughing in convulsions, trembling all over, clasping his hands on the metal sink. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing it was a panic attack, that it would pass soon, it would pass, it would pass, as it always, always had, and it would now too.

It took several long minutes before his heart stopped beating like mad, before his mind sobered again, before he felt he knew what was happening to him again.

He rinsed his mouth out quickly with cold water, washed his face with his hands and groaned low, terrified, knowing what awaited him now.

What he had done.

He was not surprised when, later that same day, the rector himself called him in.

He hadn't reacted as strongly when he reported to him that Jason was too fond of his female students and not every one of them was happy about it.

He listened calmly to the allegations, but when the man asked him to explain, he said nothing but what he really thought.

This slut deserved it.

If he could, he would slap her again.

She was just proof to him that he was right.

He didn't want any woman in his workshop.

His therapist was not happy to hear that.

"Why did you do that?" He asked, fiddling with the pen in his hand, and he sighed heavily.

"She suggested I might be a rapist. She came and threatened me in my own workshop. She came too close, she…"

"…violated your space." He finished calmly, and he pressed his lips together, tracing his chin with his fingers.

"Yes."

"What consequences will you face now?" The man asked him, correcting with a slight movement the glasses slipping off his nose. He sighed heavily, massaging his temple, no longer having the strength to think about it.

"None. I bring the university too much money from the curia. The girl won't press charges against me because I know about her relationship with Jason, but she's slandering me on some inferior gossip site. She implies that I was interested in her. Fucking bullshit." He chuckled, burying his face in his hands, shaking his head.

"Is this ever going to stop? I don't want to hurt any women. I just wish they wouldn't come near me anymore."

The next two years he faced the wry stares of other students and lecturers. He knew what they thought of him − that he had hit innocent young girl, that he was an abusive man with mental problems who needed psychiatric treatment.

If it had been a female student who had slapped him, everyone would surely have thought that he had obviously done something to deserve it, that he had picked on her or made immoral proposals to her.

The fact that he did it must have been because he was habitually violent.

Even if he tried to explain it to them, they would still think he had gone too far.

He didn't give a shit.

They couldn't destroy him any more than he already was.

He just wanted to be able to work in peace.

When he saw before the new semester in the system a woman's name on his attendance list for the second year of his specialisation he decided immediately that it was a simple mistake and went to the dean's office with it, wanting it fixed. The woman grunted loudly, looking at him uncertainly.

"It's not a mistake, Professor. She signed you in as her supervisor." She said, standing up, pulling out for him the documents she had submitted to confirm her words.

He looked through them quickly and clenched his eyes, feeling like he was about to explode.

Why?

Why couldn't he have holy peace?

He figured that he would simply not read her out during class, that he would pretend she didn't exist until she was discouraged. He had no intention of wasting his strength or attention on her.

That's what he did.

"She's not like that, Aemond. Really. She focuses on her work, she's diligent. Three times I made her start the same face over and she did it without saying a word. She is humble and learns quickly. It's a shame to give her up to waste to Jason or Floris." Said Cregan, massaging his chin, sitting across from him in his office.

His words surprised him, as it was the first time since they had worked together that he had tried to smuggle a girl into their workshop despite knowing what his opinion was on the subject.

"No. There are always problems with them sooner or later. She was almost crying by now. I don't want any weepy scenes in my workshop. I −" He paused as he heard a loud knock on the door, Cregan immediately got up and opened it.

He glanced over his shoulder surprised that he hadn't said anything and saw her notebook and pen.

He squeezed his eyes shut, running his hand over his face.

Fuck.

No. No. No. No. No.

"Please, find five minutes for me, Professor." He heard her soft, pleading tone. Cregan stepped back and it was only then that he saw her.

Although dressed like a boy, she had something of a girlish lightness about her − her face was pleasant, her eyes large, full of terror, surrounded by dark long lashes, her lips pressed into a tight line.

He figured that if he didn't let her say what she wanted she'd probably pester him with messages, and he didn't want that, so he hummed under his breath, took out his phone and turned on the stopwatch.

"Five minutes." He said lowly and heard Cregan walk out quickly leaving them alone.

He felt his heart pounding hard, his whole body trembling as he saw her take a step towards him.

"Don't come up, just stand there and talk. You're running out of time." He burst out coolly, clenching his hand into a fist, feeling his whole body take on a defensive form, ready to react aggressively immediately if necessary.

She, however, stepped back and swallowed loudly, looking down at her fingers, fiddling with her notebook in a nervous gesture.

"I know what rules you have set in your workshop and I wish very much now that I had been born a man, but unfortunately I am not." She muttered with difficulty, her voice trembling with fear. He felt a squeeze in his heart at her words and thought that it was indeed not her fault, but he couldn't help the way he was either.

"I saw your artworks while I was still in high school at St. John's Cathedral, and having always dreamed of creating stained glass for churches, I wanted to be taught by someone who is such an accomplished specialist in the field as you are. I know how difficult the job is and I promise to do what you tell me to do without a shadow of dissatisfaction. I will not approach you except to revise my designs or projects. I will always work at the furthest table and sit in the last seat as far away from you as possible, dressing in such a way that you do not notice me and forget my existence on a daily basis. Please." She uttered the last word pathetically, pleadingly, on the verge of crying.

He knew she cared and some part of him sympathised with her, but the other distrusted her, trying to see through the manipulation in her behaviour so notable for women.

He thought she talked about his work to please him, that she was cowering in front of him and trying to pass herself off as humble, where surely if he had only agreed she would have shown him her true face straight away.

They were all the same.

They dressed their disgusting desires in the most beautiful words.

You are such a pretty boy, Aemond.

He swallowed with difficulty, drawing in air quietly.

"Just because you're a fan of my works doesn't make you a talented person. What good is it to me that you work in silence if none of your pieces will be at least satisfactory and your colleagues will have to correct your mistakes?" He asked indifferently, glancing at her again. He could see that she was growing pale and stifled, her big eyes looking at him as if she was about to fall to her knees before him and beg him.

However, she did not.

"Well. All I have with myself now are quick sketches in my notebook. They're portraits of people I see travelling on the bus to my classes." She mumbled, looking at her notebook. He sighed heavily, burying his face in his hand, disbelieving that, knowing his attitude, she hadn't brought anything with her on which he could judge her artistic ability.

What an idiot.

"So you are unprepared." He summarised and saw out of the corner of his eye that she had moved restlessly.

"None of my colleagues had to −" She started with a frown, but closed her mouth immediately when she saw his disgruntled, warning look.

"− I − yes, I'm unprepared. I'm very sorry." She whispered in shame, lowering her gaze, and he sighed again, looking ahead, raising his hand in the air.

He heard her walk up to him and slip the notepad into his palm − he didn't smell any perfume, just the scent of some pleasant coconut shampoo and lotion.

He began to look through her sketches page by page, finding that they were ordinary, simple, not bad, but not good either. He stopped, however, at a depiction of a mother holding a child on her lap, sketched quickly with a simple outline and linear shading.

The composition made him think of Renaissance paintings depicting the Madonna and Child − a young woman was leaning slightly towards the infant, helping it to hold something in his small, clenched hand.

His attention was also drawn to a drawing of a thoughtful old man with carefully depicted wrinkles and an endless, lifelong weariness, some age-old wisdom flowing from his aged eyes outlined with such quick and simple movements.

He paused, too, at the drawing of the young man, his face almost resembling that of an angel sunk in deep sleep, leaning with his temple against the glass, his lips slightly parted.

He sighed heavily and massaged his forehead, himself not knowing what he thought of it, tired and discouraged. He raised his hand with her sketchbook without looking at her.

"Three of your fifteen sketches I would consider good. Do you think that's enough?" He asked dispassionately, hearing her move restlessly.

He thought for sure she was about to start crying and begging, saying that she would improve, that she could do better.

Bullshit.

"No. It's not enough." He heard her heartbroken voice and hummed under his breath, satisfied with her answer and any self-criticism, tossing her notebook into the bin with a slight movement, where it belonged.

He lifted his gaze to her, having the feeling that the matter was now settled and that if she had any doubts about whether she wanted him to teach her, they had just been dispelled.

He saw that she was looking at the spot where he had dumped her notebook in disbelief, her lower lip quivering slightly.

"So I'll do 200 sketches, 40 of which will be good. Or 300 of which 60 will be good. I will do as many of them as you see fit, Professor." She exhaled with difficulty, but with a kind of certainty and ferocity that surprised him. He felt a strange tightening in his stomach − he didn't know what to make of her words, feeling that this was a challenge of sorts.

He shuddered as he heard the ringing of his timer and reached for his phone, muting it, staring blankly ahead.

I will do as many of them as you see fit, Professor.

"400 sketches. And they're all supposed to be good. Without them, don't even show yourself to me. Anything else?" He asked coolly, impatient and angry with himself for not being able to discourage her enough, for not being able to find an answer to her words.

"No. Thank you for the chance, Professor." She mumbled in surprise and simply walked out, closing the door behind her.

A moment later, Cregan walked in, excited, pretending not to ask her at all what he had decided.

"And how did it go?" He asked, and he threw him a furious, tired look and stood up, taking his leather jacket from the back of his chair and walked out, slamming the door loudly.

He walked out in front of the university building through a side exit and fired up a cigarette while standing by his car, taking a deep drag of the smoke, clenching his eyes, trying to calm himself down.

He didn't want her at his place, he wished she would just leave him alone.

He looked around him with absent-minded eyes, seeing students entering and leaving from a distance − he spotted a face he recognised after a moment, but something didn't feel right.

The same girl who had begged him to let her study under his supervision was apparently just walking towards the bus stop, but instead of a long black hoodie and black trousers she was wearing a light-coloured dress with buff sleeves and long woollen socks to mid-thigh.

She had changed her clothes.

She came to his class covered up, dressed as a boy.

I know what rules you have set in your workshop and I wish very much now that I had been born a man, but unfortunately I am not.

I will always work at the furthest table and sit in the last seat as far away from you as possible, dressing in such a way that you do not notice me and forget my existence on a daily basis.

He was furious with himself for feeling some kind of shame and pain, knowing that she looked perfectly normal.

Now, looking at her sideways, he realised that if he had seen her dressed like that today when she came to talk to him, he would have immediately lost his good opinion of her.

Most girls who applied for a place in his workshop thought that the prettier they dressed, the sweeter and more appealing they looked, the better the chances were that he would say yes. However, his tendency was just the opposite and for some reason this girl knew it.

She knew she wasn't the problem, it was how he perceived her and she wanted to change that image in his eyes, to blend into the background.

He swallowed hard, taking a drag on the remainder of his cigarette, staring blankly ahead, realising that she really must have cared.

He figured that if she did what he told her to do, he'd give her one and only chance.

For that sacrifice, for the fact that she understood what he had a problem with.

She showed up only a week later with two thick folders filled with sketches, again dressed in a big black sweatshirt, black trousers and trainers.

For some reason, he felt a squeeze in his heart at the sight of her.

He took her to an empty classroom so he could look at her work without the curious stares of other students. He knew she had done as many sketches as he had told her to, but he didn't have the energy to look through them all.

"Lay them out here. Show me the top 40." He said impatiently, standing a good distance away from her with his hands folded behind his back, smelling that coconut shampoo again.

He saw that she gave him a quick, horrified look and parted her lips, looking at the thick bundle of papers she held in her hand. He rolled his eyes, trying not to explode.

"Can't you judge which of your works are suitable to be shown to me?" He growled warningly wanting her to pull herself together, but she shook her head quickly and began at last to choose.

He frowned as he saw that most of her works were copies and sketches of details from churches he knew well, at least dozens of them, so he decided that she had really taken his task to heart.

"That's enough." He commanded and stepped closer to the table − she moved away immediately.

He thought he liked how she respected his private space and allowed him to focus without her input on what he was seeing.

He leaned over her works, noticing that they were more refined than the ones he had seen before, still light, but also enigmatic and expressive, all drawn on scrap paper, so they reminded him of sketches by Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo.

He liked the fact that she had wisely chosen to portray saints and angels, as these were the most common commissions they received as a students or workshop, showing her skill in this field.

He picked up one of the sketches of a sculpture of the Virgin Mary which he knew intimately, having looked at it often as a child when he went to Mass every Sunday with his mother.

"Is that a figure from the church of St Michael the Archangel?" He asked indifferently, wanting to see if she knew what he was talking about, or if she was sketching by looking at pictures on the internet.

She, however, nodded quickly.

He hummed under his breath and stepped back, looking at everything she showed him from a distance, folding his hands behind his back again.

He thought he was pleased with the result of her work.

That he could give her a chance.

"A month. For a trial. If you disappoint me, I'll kick you out." He said lowly and walked out, leaving her alone with his words.

He stepped into the workshop and was met with curious, uncertain looks from his students.

"Don't you have anything to do?" He growled, and they immediately bent over their tasks and sketches, all around him the swish of a diamond knife and the sound of breaking glass, the rustling of paper and brushes.

Cregan walked up to him and stood over him, unable to contain his curiosity.

"And how did she do?" He asked quietly, but before he had time to answer him, he saw her standing in the threshold, pressing her sketches to her chest, looking at him questioningly.

He nodded for her to enter, and with a light, happy step she crossed that invisible, mysterious line that separated his world from everything else.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

294 notes · View notes

scoonsalicious · 3 days

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 29, Unarmed, Redux - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of injury, death, human trafficking.

Word Count: 1.5k

Previously On...: It was the final showdown! And you died.

A/N: We begin to wrap everything up :(

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

You crawled back toward consciousness with the unsettling sensation of deja vu. Bright lights, pain in your abdomen, the sound of machines incessantly beeping. You tried to pull the covers over your head, but your left arm didn’t seem to want to move.

Well, that was new, anyway.

“The fuck am I in the hospital for now?” you murmured to yourself. “One miscarriage wasn’t bad enough?”

“Ex-fucking-scuse me?” came Tony’s shocked voice from your bedside. “One fucking what now?!”

You slowly opened your eyes. “Uh… hey, Boss. How’s it going?” You glanced over at Tony; he looked terrible, eyes red rimmed and puffy. “What’s wrong? Why do you look like you’ve been crying?”

Tony barked out a laugh. “Are you kidding me? You had us all scared half to death, Kiddo. Pretty sure it took ten years off my life when word came in that Carthage fucking shot you. You know, you were clinically dead for seven whole minutes?! Longest seven minutes of my life– even longer than the Seven Minutes in “Heaven” I spent with Alice Seymour in 7th grade.” Tony shivered.

You blanched. “Seven minutes? Holy shit. I’m sorry, Tony.” You weren’t sure why you were apologizing; you hadn’t shot yourself, after all, but you still felt awful for making him worry.

Tony came to sit alongside you on the bed. “Hey,” he began, taking a hold of your hand, “you have nothing to be sorry for. At all. You warned us from the beginning that Carthage was rotten. We should have done a better job of protecting you from her. I should have done a better job of protecting you.”

“It’s not your fault, Boss,” you told him, squeezing his hand. “None of us could have realized how far gone she was until it was too late. Where is she, anyway? On a one-way trip to The Raft, I hope?”

Tony looked away from you, toward the door of your room. “Not necessary,” he said. “She’s dead.”

You sat up quickly, wincing in pain at the tugging in your abdomen as you did so.

“Easy there, Kiddo,” Tony said, helping you get upright. “You had major abdominal surgery just a few days ago; you’re gonna pull your stitches.”

You let go of Tony’s hand to gingerly prod at your stomach, flinching as you came into contact with the heavy gauze that concealed your incision. Looking back up at him, you asked: “What do you mean, ‘she’s dead,’ Tony? What the fuck happened?”

Tony cleared his throat and poured you a cup of water, as if needing to busy his hands while he considered how to go about saying what he had to tell you. “We pulled up in the Quinjet probably only a few moments after you were shot,” he said, handing the cup to you. You took it gratefully, not realizing until that moment how parched you’d been. “Barnes was holding you in his arms, just sobbing, and… God, Pocket, there was so much blood. We thought you were done. I’ve never– I’ve never seen him like that before. He wouldn’t let go of you. Cap and Point Break had to hold him off so we could get you into the jet’s onboard Cradle; he just didn’t want to be apart from you. Kept screaming it was all his fault, he should be the one who was dead instead of you. Can’t say that, in the moment, I disagreed. We ended up having to sedate him.”

As Tony spoke, bits and flashes of the event came back to you– Bucky offering himself to Jade in exchange for your life, seeing his lips on hers, the sensation of Jade’s bullet ripping through your flesh.

“Once we got you stable, we went back out and found Carthage’s body. I’m not one hundred percent sure what happened, because Barnes still won’t talk about it, but, well, her neck was snapped.”

You blinked in shock. He’d killed her, for you. When it mattered, when it truly, truly mattered, he’d picked you over her. “Wow,” was all you could get out.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed softly.

“Where is he, Boss?” you asked, looking up at him desperately. You needed to see Bucky right away, needed to thank him for saving your life, to apologize.

“I’ve, uh… I’ve been kind of keeping him away,” Tony admitted reluctantly.

“Why?!” you asked, hurt and shocked. “Why would you do that, Tony?”

Tony looked at you defensively. “Because he admitted what he did to you, Pocket. How he hurt you, again, and again. All of it. I’m sorry, but I wasn’t going to let him come near you after everything he’d done. It was his fault you were in this mess to begin with. He’s lucky I didn’t fucking kill him. If he had stayed away from her, been faithful to you from the beginning–”

“Tony,” you interrupted, putting a hand on his forearm to stop him. “Please trust me when I tell you that the situation is a lot more complicated than it appears from the outside, okay? I’ve… I’ve seen things, things that showed me how badly she manipulated him, got into his head. I’m not saying he’s blameless,” you were quick to add when Tony opened his mouth to protest. “He’s got a lot to make up for– I know that; I’m just saying that the party who bears the most responsibility is dead. I want to see him. Please. I owe him my life.”

Tony pursed his lips as he assessed you, mulling over your words. “It’s against my better judgment,” he finally said, “but it’s your call. I’ll send him in.” He stood up, leaning forward to kiss the crown of your head.

“Tony, wait!” you said, before he could go too far. “The missing women. The strip club. What happened with them?”

“You did good, Kiddo,” he said with a smile. “Once we got you outta there, we were able to retrace your location to find the Hydra base where they were keeping you and get into their files– they kept records of every woman they sold, who they sold to, and where they went. SHIELD’s already picked up several of the buyers and identified the key players based on what you’ve been able to get us. We’ve been able to recover seven of the women so far, but Nat’s optimistic we can track down even more.”

You let out a shaky exhale. Seven women, saved from trafficking, with your help. “That’s amazing, Boss,” you said.

“And as for the club, Kozlov’s been arrested on a slew of charges; don’t anticipate he’ll be breathing fresh air anytime soon. And your buddy? Dimitri? He was real happy to start cooperating with us if it meant he didn’t go down with his boss.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief, a weight being lifted off your shoulders. They weren't going to be able to hurt anyone else, you thought to yourself. You’d help make sure of that. Maybe you could make your amends to Chloe, after all.

An idea came to you then. “Boss,” you began, “how much money’s in my swear jar now?”

Tony gave you a bemused look. “Kind of a weird time to be asking about that.” He pulled up his phone and touched the screen several times before letting out a low whistle. “Well I’ll be damned, Pocket. You certainly have quite the potty mouth– there’s almost half a mil in there!”

“I’ve sworn half a million times in the last twenty months?” you asked, incredulous.

“Do you doubt it?” Tony answered, grinning.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” you said with a smile. “Do me a favor? Take that money and divide it up among the surviving women, okay? They’re gonna need resources for a fresh start.”

“That’s real generous of you, Kiddo,” Tony said, giving you a fond smile. “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, well, I learned from the best,” you half-shrugged, grinning back at him. “Gotta pay it forward, right?”

Tony nodded, then turned toward the door. “I’ll make sure it’s taken care of,” he said. “And I’ll send in Barnes."

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Oh, and if there’s one thing this entire ordeal’s taught me,” he said as he put his hand on the doorknob, “it’s that life is short. I’m gonna ask Pep to marry me.”

“Tony!” you exclaimed, delight coursing through you. “That’s fantastic! Congratulations! I’m so happy for you!”

Tony smiled at you. “Be flattered, kiddo. You’re number two to know.” With a wink, he was out the door.

You closed your eyes, smiling to yourself. Tony Fucking Stark was finally settling down. You honestly thought you’d never live to see the day. Fuck, you almost hadn’t. You felt a dull ache in your left arm. It had been strapped down in a sling to your torso, preventing you from moving it, and you had the sinking suspicion there were probably pins holding the fracture in place. You were certainly in line for a long road to recovery.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

98 notes · View notes

much-ado-about-whumping · 1 year

Text

Help for when you’re having a rough time

(If you're looking for my old pinned post with my whump masterlists, you can find it here.)

In light of some deeply sad news in the whump community today, I’m thinking about how many of us here struggle with mental health, sometimes including physical or mental self-harm and suicidality. Since I know lots of folks might be having a hard time right now, I wanted to share some resources that have helped me in rough moments. Please feel free to add on to this post (or make your own, if you want!) with the resources that have worked for you.

First, a note:

Trauma, shame, and suicidality all tend to isolate - they make us feel like we’re all alone in the world, like no one else would understand us, and like the only solutions we have available to us are ones we can think of all by ourselves. In my experience, the antidote to that is connection. If you’re feeling scared or alone, you can hop into my asks or DMs if you want. I’m sure there are other folks in this community who would offer that, too. Many of us have grappled with mental health struggles, including suicidal ideation, and sometimes we can offer each other the care that can be hard to offer ourselves. Don’t be afraid to reach out if you need support.

A quick note about location: I live in the US, but about half the resources in this post are written guides you can access from anywhere. The hotlines and warmlines linked below are US-based. One or two are accessible in Canada or have an online chat or moderated forum that could be accessed anywhere. If you have good local resources from another place, please reblog and add them! (Thank you, @straight-to-the-pain, for flagging this in the notes!)

That said, here’s my absolute first recommendation if you’re feeling generally awful and don’t know what to do:

1. You Feel Like Shit (also available at its original site here)

If you’ve read a lot of ~self care tips~ in your life (and if you’re a bit of a salty bitch like me), you might be sick of being told to eat something and take a nap. (I don’t think we can hydrate our way out of long-term trauma and late-stage capitalistic hell, but thanks.) That said, I’ve found this site REALLY helpful. Personally, I have ADHD and CPTSD, a combination that makes it ROUGH for me to know how to take care of myself sometimes. This site speaks to you calmly, like a non-judgemental friend, and walks you through steps that you might struggle with if you have a hard time with executive function in general, or if you’re ill, grieving, overwhelmed, or otherwise just off your game. I pretty much always walk away feeling at least a little better, even if I don’t complete every step.

There are more suggestions and resources below the cut. Wishing everyone in this community love and care. <3

2. The 15-Minute Rule (info available in many places; after a quick google, I really like this site as a place to start)

One key principle to understanding the resources I’ve put together here is the 15-minute rule. If you’re feeling an urge towards physical or mental self-harm or suicide, studies show that the urge is unlikely to last more than about 15 minutes at its peak intensity. (Sorry I don’t have data on this off the bat - anecdotally, I can tell you that this rule also tracks with my own personal experience.) This means that, if you’re presently feeling overwhelmed by grief or pain that’s turning inwards on you, if you can stay afloat through the next few minutes, the tide of it is likely to ebb. The site I linked above has information about this concept and some great harm-reduction ideas, too. (Another resource on this that I liked in my quick search is here.)

3. Read This First (a compassionate distraction from feelings of self-harm)

I’m gonna be honest; this resource is aimed at folks having urges towards physical self-harm, but it looks like something I would find helpful with urges towards emotional self-harm, too. (It also looks like it could be handy for body-focused repetitive behaviors - BFRBs - like dermatillomania/skin-picking or trichotillomania/hair-pulling).

4. Resources from Pete Walker, psychotherapist and author of Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving

Obviously not everyone reading this will have complex PTSD (also called C-PTSD), but if you’re a person who, in general, tends to beat yourself up a lot, I’d highly recommend checking Pete Walker’s work out. If some of it doesn’t apply to you, that’s okay - take what you need, and leave the rest. This site (and the book it references most heavily) assumes you may have had parents who were emotionally or physically abusive or neglectful. If that doesn’t ring true for you, but other parts of the resources seem helpful, use them anyway! A handy place to start maybe this page on Shrinking the Inner Critic in Complex PTSD (that is, reducing the volume of the voice that screeches unpleasantness at you when you feel ashamed or scared).

As a note: this website looks VERY mid-2000s (which I kind of love). Most of the resources you want will be in the right-hand column full of links. Some of those links will open new pages, and some will automatically try to download a PDF of the article you want to read.

5. Warmlines:

This is something I just learned today - if you’re feeling really lonely and sad, but you’re not in immediate crisis, there are warmlines you can contact! These seem to be numbers where you can call (or sometimes text) to talk with a counselor or trained peer when you need support and connection. I can’t vouch for any of these numbers personally, but as someone who has definitely thought, “It’s not bad enough to REALLY need help,” I think this is a fabulous idea. Here’s a list of warmlines you can check out in the US.

6. Specialized hotlines:

There are lots of good crisis hotlines out there, but some may be better for your needs than others. For one thing, if you’re feeling seriously suicidal, it’s good to know the policies of the hotline you’re calling. In my opinion, everyone deserves bodily autonomy and the right to refuse care; for that reason, I think it’s important to know the policy of the hotline you’re calling as to whether or not they’ll call emergency services without your consent. Everyone has to make their own judgment call on this one, and I’m a little too (lightly!) triggered to go deep into my analysis on this right now, but I wanted to flag that it’s something to be aware of - if you’re going to call a hotline, you can try to look up their policy on calling emergency services before you contact them. You could probably even ask them in the beginning of the call. (A script: “Before we start, can you tell me what your policy is about contacting emergency services on behalf of callers?” If this is true, you can add: “I’m having some feelings of [suicidality/self-harm], but I’m safe and am not in danger of hurting myself or others.”)

With that in mind, here are some hotlines that seem promising to me, in no particular order:

A. For queer and trans folks in general:

Trans LifeLine

Available in the US (1-877-565-8860) and Canada (1-877-330-6366)

Available in English and Spanish

Will NOT call emergency services without your consent (you can read more about this policy on their website, including here)

Peer to peer support for transgender and questioning folks; also, microgrants (small amounts of money) for trans-related needs!

Does not offer text/chat-based support

I’ve never used Trans LifeLine myself, but I’ve heard excellent things about it from peers who have.

The Trevor Project:

Support from trained counselors for queer, trans, and questioning folks

Definitely available in the US; I’m not sure where else.

Offers support via phone (1-866-488-7386), text message (678-678), and online chat (link here - scroll down to Start Chat)

Also offers an online peer support space, TrevorSpace, for folks ages 13-24

Their site says, “In very specific instances of abuse or a clear concern of an in-progress or imminent suicide, Trevor counselors may need to contact a child welfare agency or emergency service.” When you click Learn More, it takes you to their Terms of Service (informative, but in legalese that might be hard to parse if you’re in crisis).

Again, not a service I’ve used myself, but I’ve heard good things!

B. For BIPOC folks (Black folks, Indigenous folks, and people of color more broadly), especially those who also hold LQBTQI identities:

Call Blackline:

Available via phone or text (both at 1-800-604-5841)

Available for people in crisis. Call Blackline can also help connect you with local community organizers and officials if you need to report a negative, inappropriate, or physical interaction with police, other law enforcement, or vigilantes.

From their website:

Call BlackLine® provides a space for peer support, counseling, reporting of mistreatment, witnessing and affirming the lived experiences for folxs who are most impacted by systematic oppression with an LGBTQ+ Black Femme Lens.Call BlackLine® prioritizes BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color). By us for us.

Here’s what I found regarding their policy on emergency services:

You do not have to provide any personal information to use the service. All calls remain private and will never be shared with law enforcement or state agencies of any kind.

Of course, a BIPOC person can contact any hotline for support, but for people dealing with racism, anti-Blackness, and other specific bigotries, I can very much see the importance of talking to someone who shares or understands that experience.

C. For folks processing bad psychedelic trips:

Fireside Project:

This one is something I didn’t even know existed! They do call- or text-based support (1-623-473-7433, or 1-62-FIRESIDE) for people processing psychedelic drug experiences, available 11am to 11pm Pacific time. I don’t have a ton more info, but their site seems really interesting and like they’re serving a unique need.

7. A soothing distraction:

One of the glories of the internet is the fact that it enables us to conjure up images of kittens at a moment’s notice. In that vein, I want to offer up a VERY cute distraction: Peptoc is a hotline (1-707-873-7862, or 1-707-8PEPTOC) where you can hear encouraging messages in English or Spanish from kindergarteners. How sweet is that? (Thanks to the wonderful @newbornwhumperfly for this suggestion!)

--------

Beloved whump community, I want to know about things that help you when you’re struggling. Please feel free to share them if you want.

And, Moya - we’ll miss you so, so much, even those of us (like me) who didn’t know you well. May your memory be an absolute blessing. <3

(I was going to put this in the tags, but oops, it’s going up here - I really hope this post will be helpful to someone, but it was also helpful to me to build. I feel better in a crisis when I can find a way to help - it’s how I soothe myself when I’m sad or scared. I really hope this doesn’t seem preachy or self-aggrandizing - it’s really just me processing-processing-processing. <3)

One more note: if this post makes you think you might want to follow my blog, you're totally welcome, but you should check out my note here first. This is not a DNI list; it's just a heads-up about my content, which could be inappropriate or triggering for some people.

#whump community #how to be a person in the world #ways to stay afloat #suicide mention cw #suicidality mention cw #self-harm mention cw #resources for taking care of yourself #bel talks #touchstones #sorry another disclaimer but also i know my experiences are not universal #my feelings might come from a really different place than other people's feelings #idk for instance if any of the shit in this post would have been at all useful to moya #but I'm sharing it anyway in case it's useful to SOMEONE

567 notes · View notes

luxthestrange · 1 month

Text

Beastars Incorrect Quotes#36 Losers~

This is a song I feel resonates with...Pretty much Louis, Pina, Bill,Riz, Legos-But imagine singing this to the club members... herbivores and carnivores...

Y/n*After seeing and hearing everyone's pasts...while others were piece of work, You look at your clubmates, You sighs and stand on the stage*...

So things look bad, and your back's against the wall Your whole existence seems fuckin' hopeless You're feelin' filthy as a dive bar bathroom stall and Can't face the world proudly and dopeless~

You've lost your way, ya think your life is wrecked Well, let me just say you're correct~

Louis*Is sitting down, feeling the worst then eyes widen confused at you* Wait, what?

Y/n*Smirking at him taking dancing steps back with a beat In your step,making a "L" with your finger on your forehead and looking at everyone* You're a loser, baby A loser, goddamn, baby You're a fucked up little whiny bitch~

Lous*Offended seeing you dance around him mocking him* Hey!

Y/n*Dancing around Bill now with a smirk* You're a loser, just like me~

Bill*Rolling eyes and gives you the bird* Thanks, asshole

Y/n*Smilling as you twirl Juno and making a "crazy" finger at Riz You're a screws loose Loser An only one-star reviews-er

Y/n*Twerking and laying dramatically in the floor pointing at Pina*You're a power-bottom at rock bottom But you got company~

Drama Club: This supposed to make me/Us feel better?!

Y/n*Looking at your own reflection and thinking about your past of your own past...and traumas* There was a time I thought no one could relate To the gruesome ways in which I'm damaged But lettin' walls down, it can sometimes set you straight! We're all livin' in the same shit-sandwich

Louis*Looking at his own hands at all the damage and hurt he caused others from his less-than-ethical deeds and now people close to him and what he did...just to survive for his father*...I sold my soul to a psychopathic freak -

Y/n*Snickers at that and raises a brow at him, Holding a hand out for him to take to spin him around gleefully and patting his cheek...then rolls eyes* Haha! And you think that makes you unique? Get outta here, man!~ We're both losers, baby We're losers, it's okay to be a~

As everyone stated their own truth about themselves

Y/n*Getting close to Juno with a smile* Baby, that's fine by me~

Juno*Smiles and starts to get into the groove and proudly singing* I'm a loser, honey~ A schmoozer and a dummy But at least I know I'm not alone~

You then finally reach Legoshi and hold your hand out for him to grab...which he does as you pull him into the light

Both of you in harmony: You're a loser, Just like me~

Legoshi*Leans on your back and looks at you affectionately* You're a loser, baby~

Y/n: A loser, but just maybe if we~

Both of you: Eat shit together, things will end up differently

Y/n*Both of you start to dance in each other's arms as you sing to him your feelings* It's time to lose your self-loathin' Excuse yourself, let hope in, baby Play your card, be who you are~

Legoshi*Swinging with you and stepping on beat*OOOoooooh~

Both of you holding each other's hands as you gaze into each other's eyes: A loser, just like meeeee!~

youtube

101 notes · View notes

makethatelevenrings · 1 month

Text

Angel By the Wing - THIRTY

*slaps trio* these bitches can fit soooo much repressed trauma

Series Masterlist (Mobile Masterlist)

“Keep or toss?” Bradley held up the box set of the Twilight series. Jake let out a snort of laughter and you tossed the empty trash bag you were holding in his direction.

“Keep,” you announced proudly. “I noticed some empty spaces on your bookshelf, Tex. Time to get you educated.”

The blond rolled his eyes but he accepted the books from Bradley and placed them in the partially filled cardboard box at his feet. Since the three of you had the weekend off, the boys decided it was the perfect time to move you fully into Jake’s place. But there were two stipulations.

One, you wouldn’t lift a finger and simply direct them on what you wanted to keep, sell, or toss.

Two, you would wear a mask because they deemed your old apartment simply unacceptable conditions for their girl and baby.

So, here you sat in a little foldable lawn chair that Jake brought along because “my god, Angel, that couch probably has its own ecosystem” and a KN95 mask strapped over your face while two giant men puttered around your shitty little apartment, motivated by the promise of sex and Wingstop after this. Your hand unconsciously found its way to rest against the soft swell of your stomach through the thin fabric of your shirt as you wondered how exactly your life turned into this.

Your lease still had four months to go but one call from Sofia to your landlord found you free from rent payments, Her threat of legal action and tenant rights scared him straight and you were eternally grateful for your friend. Since your lease ended at the end of the month now, the boys wanted to get you out as soon as possible.

“I think this is the last of it,” Bradley announced. You moved to get up from your chair and both men surged forward to steady you.

“Fucking hell, boys, I still have my balance,” you huffed as you evaded their grasps in favor of checking out the apartment to make sure nothing was left behind. You couldn’t say that you would miss the place. It truly was a shithole. You had accepted it in the past, even with its shoddy locks and mold covered carpets, but now you had a baby to think about. You had a lot to think about, not just the growing little blob inside of you. You disappeared into the bedroom and Bradley took the chance to stop Jake with a warm hand around his wrist.

“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “About jumping you when you got home. I know you didn’t plan this.”

“It’s okay.” Jake brushed it off with a shrug but Bradley merely shook his head.

“You gotta stop that.” The brunet let go of his hand and instead grasped the back of Jake’s neck, making sure the blond looked him in the eye. “Just stop taking it. That’s not you. That’s not my Hangman. Next time I’m a dick, don’t just accept it.”

“And what about when I’m a dick?” Rooster’s hand was a steady, warm presence and Jake wanted to melt into his touch. Not many people can make him feel small but when Bradley grasped him like this and commanded him so easily, Jake welcomed the release of control.

“Pretty sure we’ve made it clear I don’t tolerate your shit.” Bradley offered him a crooked grin and Jake finally did relax. Good. They were good.

“Can you two kiss and make up now?” you asked from where you were leaning up against the doorframe.

“You’re objectifying us,” Jake declared through laughter. You shrugged and tried to appear innocent.

“If I didn’t objectify you, then I wouldn’t be standing here pregnant.” You wagged your finger at them. “And don’t lie and tell me that you don’t check out my ass every chance you get.”

Bradley’s answer to your taunt was a kiss pressed to the corner of Jake’s lips, leaving behind a tingle of beard burn and want. He still couldn’t believe he was allowed this. So many years tamping down these feelings and then hiding it behind closed doors and dim lighting in bars gave way to this euphoric yet burdensome realization that he could have this. It scared the shit out of him. His mother’s words wiggled their way to the front of his thoughts and fought for his attention. What happens when you decide you had enough of him? What would happen if the baby wasn’t his?

He didn’t want to think about it. It’s all he could think about.

“Alright, let’s get this stuff into the truck. I want wings. Do you think we should get a thirty pack?” Bradley pulled away from Jake to start grabbing at the trash bags and boxes that held your life.

“I think between the two of you, we need the fifty pack. It’s like sleeping with two garbage disposals.” You reached down to grab one of the trash bags full of clothes but Bradley swatted your hands away and pointed at the lawn chair.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest as you settled down in your chair, noticing the way his muscles flexed as he picked up two boxes with ease. Maybe being relegated to supervisor duty wasn’t so bad.

“Jake?” Your sweet voice broke him out of his thoughts and he offered you one of his typical cocky grins.

“Just thinking about how hungry I am, darlin’,” he assured you.

“For you!” Bradley called out from where the truck was parked out front. Jake chuckled and bent down to press a kiss to the top of your head before he went to grab some more boxes.

Between two naval aviators who both worked out like their lives depended on it, the truck was packed up with all of your belongings in less than half an hour. It gave you just enough time to look around and think about how everything had changed in such a short time. When you first moved to San Diego, it was on a whim. You had no plans, no job, and no friends.

Now you were pregnant, moving into your boyfriend’s place with your other boyfriend, and your phone was full of texts from people you considered not just friends, but family. Maverick texted you on the regular to see how you were doing. Amelia sent you TikToks and memes to “keep you young”. Penny was your emergency contact. Sarah had roped you into weekly visits that you wouldn’t miss for the world. Sofia and you discussed the pains of cleaning uniforms and how stubborn pilots could be.

The Dagger Squad members that were staying in California had even added you two into a group chat entitled “the Queens + their Jesters”.

You deserved this. You deserved to be happy. After so long of hearing that insidious little voice that sounded oddly like your mother telling you about how pathetic you had turned out to be, this was a chance to live a life on your own terms. You deserved this…right?

Bradley gently lowered the boxes into the bed of Jake’s truck and took a moment to breathe in the sea-salt-tinged San Diego air. In three days, he would be flying to Virginia, loading up all of his things into a U-Haul, and coming back here to settle down. Fightertown, USA was the place that ruined his family. It took his father and broke his mother. Could he really do this?

Tag List:

@mizzzpink@xoxabs88xox@dreaminglandsworld@khaylin27@loveforaugust@atarmychick007@itsmytimetoodream@krismdavis@emma8895eb@startrekfangirl@hangmandruigandmav@lunamoonbby@startrekfangirl2233@sihtricswife@jstarr86@drakelover78@abaker74@emma8895eb@hardballoonlove

#abtw #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader x jake seresin #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick imagine

64 notes · View notes

bookish-whore · 9 months

Note

Hey I'm not sure if you are taking requests rn. BUT IF YOU ARE:

I am an angsty bitch lol. Can I request a fic of AZ x reader? Where reader was UTM with Rhys right? And suffered through so much trauma while there. So much so that she doesn't let AZ touch her and refuses to be alone with him (or any man). They were mated previous to UTM but she just...can't? It can end happily or not, I don't mind. AAAAH TY I LOVE YOUR WORK

I have become possessed by this request and have been furiously working on it, darling. will be out (possibly) tonight/tomorrow!!! there's a little sneak peek below the cut ❤️

A few moments of silence passed between us.

“Azriel’s worried you know” Rhysand finally says grabbing the bottle back, before taking a long drink from the deep amber liquid.

“I know” I reply softly looking down at the sparkling city lights below “I just don’t know how to separate him from everything else, in my head I know that he loves me, that he would never hurt me but when he touches me it just instantly takes me back there, back to her games”

“Have you told him anything about under the mountain?”

“I don’t know how to tell him Rhys, I mean how do you even start that conversation ‘hey please promise you still love me even though I was repeatedly unfaithful to you because I was drugged and forced to please various men for Amarantha’s entertainment’ he’ll never look at me the same way and I don’t know if I can take that kind of rejection”

“You’re mates, all you have to do is let him in, let him see. y/n I have known him for centuries and there is nothing you could tell him that would make him love you any less”

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar series #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #rhysand x reader #acotar

184 notes · View notes

pasta-in-the-pudding · 2 months

Note

hi Jake! I absolutely love your blogs, and I’m wondering if you can do some Homicidal Liu/liu woods hcs? :3 please & thank you!!

GUH LIU <333 He's my special guy I love him

TW: Mentions of abuse, trauma, very light gore, a little angst

Thank you so much for requesting!!

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

General Liu Headcanons

The biggest thing about Liu that effects his day to day life is his DID

He grew up in a very dysfunctional home, where his parents only really had kids as makeshift butlers and to live vicariously through them

Liu, being the older brother had a lot of the "harder" tasks given to him such as cooking for the family, making sure everyone had clean clothes, when jeff was a baby he had to change jeff's diapers, etc

So both kids were very mentally unstable from the start, but what really set the hammer in the coffin for Liu developing DID was that whenever he either did something wrong or didn't do his "chores", he was severely punished by being locked in a closet with no food, water or bathroom privileges for unknown amounts of time

This being said, he has waaay more alters than just Sully, Sully is just the one that fronts the most due to Sully being the main protector of the system

Other than Sully, Liu's system is made up of mostly littles and caretaker alters

Which can be very scary at times, so he does everything in his power to make sure that if someone does happen to front, it isn't any of the littles

Ok, i'm done talking about his DID now

I imagine him to either be fully Columbian or mixed Columbian with American

Jeff is the same way

Speaking of Jeff, Liu is about 5 years older than Jeff

Also on the topic of Jeff, Liu still very much loves his brother, and understands that during the "incident" he was very mentally unstable and he wasn't entirely in control of his own actions at the moment

But after being reunited with Jeff, it took a very, very long time for Liu to even stay in the front of his mind when around Jeff, let alone feel safe around him

Over the years, their relationship has significantly improved

Liu still doesn't feel comfortable being alone with Jeff, or even really going anywhere with Jeff, but he is able to hang out with him and talk

His height is around 5'9"

He always smells like vanilla and sometimes like a grandma's perfume

SPEAKING OF GRANDMAS

Liu is a total grandma

He says "oh lordy lord" after waking up from a long nap, he does the english teacher cardigan tuck, he says "kids these days", etc

But he's chill guys I swear (Jeff come get your boy he just said "Flabbergasted" in front of the hoes)

Also he loves plants

so much

someone stop this guy

It started out innocent enough, just a few plants to take care of because he read that taking care of plants can help with depression

And then he kind of spiraled

He has names for all of them, designated personalities, sometimes he knits them clothes for their pots

He's generally a very quiet guy

I wouldn't say shy per se....but he's like....shy in a cool history teacher way

guys he takes it up the butt

Woah who said that??? wild. Anyways!

He's so gentle and calming guh..

Love that guy, he's so special to me

ALSO he doesn't techincally have any pets but like...there's this one stray cat that comes around that he feeds and in return the cat brings him little dead things

He's named him "Harold Jackson"

He likes to read

He's one of those booktok girlies with all the tabs and highlighters

Genuinely squeals like a bitch when he sees a "Penguin Classics" book out in public

(I'm projecting onto him)

His proxy tattoo is on his shoulder, like right on top of it

He got his ears pierced at the young young age of 25 (reluctantly. Jeff forced him)

And now he wears all sorts of fun earrings! (he wears those e-boy cross earrings...)

His spotify wrapped consisted of David Bowie, Hozier, Cigarettes after sex, and mitski

His favorite color is beige and his hobbies include ironing clothes and sending emails <33

Guys idk if you can tell but i love him a lot

#creepypasta #slender mansion #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x female reader #jeff the killer #jeffery woods #homicidal liu x reader #homicidal liu #homocidal liu #liu woods

62 notes · View notes

eeveebitches · 8 months

Text

collared. || Roman Roy || smut

Pairing: Sub!Roman Roy x F!Dom!Reader Summary: You have a gift for Roman, and he seems to enjoy it.

Word count: 2.496

18+ only! More under the cut ^^~

Warning(s): SMUT, aka 18+ only! Sub Roman, degradation, collar and leash stuff, coming untouched/in pants, aftercare

Summary: You have a gift for Roman, and he seems to enjoy it.

A/n: wrote this in a haze and now its here so yippee. this is also on my AO3 btw :D

_______________________

"Romes, c'mon, just open it!"

You watch him fumble around with the sleek, black gift box, his nervous laughter filling your living room. "Fuck off, I will, I'm just making sure this isn't a fucking bomb you put to kill me or something. You freaky assassin bitch," he jokes tensely, brows furrowing. In the dim lighting you can see his eyes glimmer in anticipation. "So this is like, what, a pair of panties for me to wear around the office or some shit? Or like, a cock ring? Do you like my dick so much you wanna marry it?"

All you do is shoot him a sharp look, but it's enough for him to raise his hands in defeat and start pulling at the tiny ribbon. "I guess romance isn't dead," he mumbles to himself as he struggles to pull at the ribbon's tail. With a roll of your eyes you snatch the box away from him, quickly untying the ribbon for him and handing it back to him just as swiftly.

"You can't do anything, can you?" There's clear humor in your tone, and yet you instantly pick up on the way his chest stutters and his forehead creases. All he can manage to let out is a small 'shut up' before he removes the top of the box, revealing your gift. You revel in the way he starts shifting in his seat, eyes glued to the content of the box.

Roman lets out something akin to a nervous chuckle, high-pitched and curt, as he grabs and raises the gift for you to see. "A collar? Seriously? That's like, majorly fucked up. My therapist is gonna hate your guts, because you just put his ass behind three years at the very least with this."

You watch him as he inspects the maroon red collar and its golden detailing. His hands are shaking as he messes with the buckle, despite his clear attempts at trying to still himself. "I even added a name tag for you," you hum out as you let your back meet the couch's pillows. Roman, on the other hand, shoots up, collar still in hand as he lets out an incredulous laugh.

"A fucking dog collar! You're one wicked bitch, y'know, seeing I told you about the cage shit. Or is this because I told you? Oh, fuck you, I shouldn't have told you that. I wouldn't have if I knew you were gonna do psychological mind games while my guard is, y'know, down."

He starts pacing around in front of you, the tag of his collar jingling as he waves his hands around during his rambles. "And I thought you were trying to be sweet, propose to my dick, have a Las Vegas wedding with it. I had little baby dick names ready for the fuckin' family I thought you were gonna build, but no, you target my childhood trauma instead. Real fuckin' classy, holy shit," he rambles on.

With each word he says, heat travels further and further from his neck up into his face, until his cheeks are left to burn brightly. Even in the darkness of night and dimness of your lights, you can pick up on just how red he is in the face. Every laugh he lets out between sentences becomes shorter, bouncier. It's like you're watching him melt right in front of you.

"So?"

His head whips to look at you. "'So?' Fucking 'so?'"

You stand up and walk to stand only inches away from him, a light grin gracing your features. "So do you want me to put it on for you, or...?"

Roman blinks once. Then twice, and then another dozen times as he processes your words. "It's a yes or no question, Roman, c'mon. Even you should be able to answer that."

"I, uh... god, fuck you," he groans out, eyes squeezed shut before looking down to stare at the collar in his palms as he hides from your heated gaze. Weakly, he hands you it, not making eye contact as he explains. "You spent money on the stupid thing, I don't want you to be a whiny baby about wasted cash."

You let out an unconvinced 'sure' as you take the collar from him. With repressed glee you caress the intricate stitching in the leather. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't immediately thought about Roman the moment you laid your eyes on the thing, knowing how nice it'd look around his neck. "Alright, then kneel in front of me."

Roman's line of sight rises to meet your own. He doesn't say anything, and neither do you. It takes all but four seconds for him to awkwardly kneel down, his dress pants clearly restricting his movements to a degree. "Jesus, you actually kneeled down. Embarrassing," you tell him as you unbuckle the collar, reveling in the way he quietly heaves at your words.

All it takes is a one-two movement to unbuckle it. You dangle the now open collar in front of Roman, a sadistic fire lighting in the pit of your stomach. "D'you want your collar?"

Quietly, he gives you a small nod. Not enough. "I can't hear you, Roman. Do you want your collar or not?" you hiss. The noise he makes is something between a grunt and a moan, his puppy-like eyes glossed over as he stares at the collar. "Use your words, mutt."

"H-ahh, fuck, yes please."

That's what you wanted to hear, so you bend down and carefully wrap the collar around his neck, taking your time as you buckle it back up. You make sure to let your nails "accidentally" scratch his neck as you mess with the tightness of it, watching his expression from the corner of your eye. He doesn't seem to be turning purple, and you're able to wriggle your fingers between the toughness of leather and scratchiness of his stubbly neck.

You back away from him, taking in the sight in front of you. He's already panting, hands awkwardly resting on his thighs. You can see his fingers tremble with anticipation as he occasionally fumbles with the fabric of his slacks. And god, that collar. The red contrasts beautifully against both his pale skin and light blue blouse. You watch the name tag bounce around with each of Roman's quivers, golden and glimmering, borderline hypnotizing.

The veins on his neck are also clearly visible now, though it's more because of the restraint he seems to be practicing, rather than the tightness of the collar. He clearly wants to say something, anything, but he's biting his tongue for you. "You look so handsome with your collar on. Does it feel nice?" you ask, taking slow steps to stand only inches away from him.

He nods his head with a breathy 'yes' as he looks up at you. With a gentle hand you play with his hair, messing it up even more than it previously was. He's always disheveled when he visits your apartment, blouse already buttoned down and sleeves messily rolled up as he unceremoniously throws himself onto your couch.

You hum in response, fingers carefully tangling in his hair as you look down at him. "God, you're really pathetic. Kneeling down with a fucking collar on, how would people react to this? Fucking disgusting."

"I know," he groans out, squeezing his eyes shut in a weak attempt at calming himself. "Oh, you know?And yet you still act like a bitch in heat in front of me. Is the thought of everyone knowing how disgusting you are really that arousing?"

As he squirms and groans you grab the best part of your gift ever-so carefully from behind your couch's pillows, and before he can react you clasp the matching leash onto his collar. "Romes, is this alright?" you quickly ask, and with a quick nod from him you continue. You carefully pull at it, laughing as Roman loses his balance and grabs onto your legs for support. "Now you're a proper bitch! You're probably hard as a rock by now as well, aren't you, freak?"

He doesn't say anything to you, just lets his bottom lip stutter as he takes in raspy breaths, barely nodding his head in confirmation. "Go ahead and loosen your pants, mutt," you snarl at him. Yet again you can't help but laugh at him as he unbuttons- and zips his trousers with an extreme urgency.

"It's sad how needy you are, really. All I needed was a collar and leash, and you're letting me push you around as if you aren't a fucking Roy. I should really contact a gossip site about this or something, or your siblings even," you think aloud, and the way Roman lets out a pathetic whine at the words makes your head spin.

With a wicked grin you yet again yank at the collar. You pause for a moment, waiting for the confirmation that he's still okay, and when he lets out a broken hum of approval you happily tug at it once more.

Each tug at his collar sends a shot of ecstasy through Roman's body, a feeling he wouldn't be able to compare to anything else. No money, nor business validation, nor closed deal can copy what you're doing to him now- what you're giving him. "Are you already close, mutt? Don't tell me you're gonna finish in your underwear just because of a simple tug. You're not that much of a perverted freak, are you?" He lets out a whiny 'I am', and as you look down at his lap you grin at the sight. Pre-cum is steadily leaking through his navy blue boxers, his painfully erect cock twitching from underneath the damp layer of fabric.

You let your face morph into one of pure disgust as you strengthen your grip on the leash, lightly tugging at it as you watch Roman fall apart. "You gonna cum in your pants, Roman? Like the disgusting pervert you are?"

It's clear that he's having a hard time getting his words out. The feather-weight friction of the fabric of his boxers rubbing against him with every tiny movement he makes clearly is too much for him. There's even a slight bit of drool on the side of his mouth, wetting his pretty pink lips and making them shimmer. "C'mon, Roman, tell me if you're going to cum and admit you're disgusting," you taunt. It seems to do the trick, as his eyes screw shut and his breath falters. His face is as flushed as can be, hair tousled and forehead glimmering with sweat. Just the way you like him.

"Fuck, 'm gonna cum," he fumbles out, sharp breaths turning into light moans as you deliver a final, harsh tug to his leash.

He releases with a loud gasp, followed by a low, strung-out moan as he messes up his underwear. You watch him as he lightly convulses with pleasure, body hunched as he takes in each wave of sensations. As his breaths slow down, you bend down and unclasp his leash, holding his burning face in your hands as you tut.

"Such a filthy pup, making a mess. I'll clean you up, alright?" Roman simply hums in response, eyes still closed as he leans into your touch. "You did so well for me," you tell him, kissing his forehead as you unbuckle and remove his collar.

Carefully, you hold onto him and help him stand up. His knees wobble, and his pants sag down a little, but he's managing. He lets out a hoarse chuckle, finally making eye contact with you again. "Jesus fuck, woman."

You smile at the words. He's clearly alright, and that's what matters most. "I know, I know. So you liked the gift?" you ask as you lead him to your bathroom. He shuffles along awkwardly, clearly bothered by the sensation of still wearing his underwear. "Don't fuckin' ask me that, my god. And can you make sure to use the, uhh, the vanilla soap you always use? I'm sticky as shit with sweat."

"And other stuff," you quip, letting Roman sit on your toilet's closed cover as you start running a bath. "Oh please, like your panties aren't absolutely soaked because of me," he replies, adorning his usual, clownish grin. "Uh-huh, you're a total pussy slayer, Romes."

He puffs up his chest and smacks it with flat palms, letting out forced grunts in his ultra-dominant ways. "I'm a total fuckin' alpha. Seriously, how you let me parade around the office by myself is fuckin' beyond me. You should be more worried about all the women that flash their tits at me through the windows," he says, carefully watching the bath foam up as you pour the soap in.

"Maybe I should then just get you a collar with my name on it, force you to wear it at work and stuff," you mumble, more to yourself than to him, but he softly groans at the thought. "Maybe you should," he mumbles back, nibbling at his bottom lip as he looks away from you. All you reply with is a light chuckle.

You hum at the smell of vanilla permeating in your quant bathroom. You use the same soap for every day showers, mostly because Roman has been gifting you it ever since he first caught a whiff of it. "Want me to help you undress?"

Roman shakes his head, pulling down his pants and undergarments and quickly making work of the buttons of his blouse. He clearly struggles, though, hands still trembling as he can't get the buttons through the slots. "C'mere, lemme do those," you tell him, and he doesn't hesitate to sit back down on the toilet lid and watch you, bent down to properly reach the buttons.

"Thanks, mommy," he jokes in a mocking, slightly more high-pitched tone. "Don't call me mommy as if you aren't totally into the idea of it," you retort, winning you a partial victory as he sputters before mumbling a weak 'shut up'.

You watch Roman carefully enter the bath as you remove your own clothes. You make sure to grab both his and your underwear and throw it in the laundry bin, before stepping in and sitting behind him, his back resting against your chest.

With a bit of similarly scented shampoo you carefully wash and massage his hair, humming a vague tune as you do so. He falls quiet, as he usually does in moments like these, simply letting his eyes flutter shut as you take care of him.

"Was everything alright tonight? Nothing too much?" He lazily hums, clearly in a state of tranquil as you pamper him. "It was perfect, you were really fucking hot, aaand I came my fucking brains out untouched. No complaints here."

You laugh at that, and with a small kiss to his bare neck you let yourself get lost in him.

"You were really hot, too."

#succession #succession smut #roman roy #succession hbo #romulus roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #roman roy smut #roman #roman roy x reader smut #roman succession #succession x reader #roman is a total sub in this #collar and leash #fyi not a pet thing #more like a dom/sub thing #female reader

131 notes · View notes

spenobis · 1 year

Photo

The hologram of his loved one sizzled softly in silence till the blue light disappeared, leaving the stars twinkling sadly before them. Casey can only feel his throat closed up with a choking sob yet no sound comes from it but the gentle sniffles of grief. Grief, he almost laughed, grief is supposed to be something that happens once in a while yet for him it’s everyday, for him it’s Master Raph, for him it’s Master Donnie, for him it’s his loving mom, for him it’s Commander O’neil, for him it’s Master Michelangelo, for him…it’s Master Leonardo, and now everyone until he is the only sole evidence his world exists. He doesn’t want to get attached to this world, to the people who are still living, and breathing and so alive because inevitably- they will disappear, just like everyone who he loved in his life. “You know…” the young Leonardo spoke uncharacteristically, without charisma, without energy, without anything that made Leo Leo. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose everyone in one day.” he whispered, the turtle’s hand still holding onto Casey in a reassuring manner with his gaze still stuck on where his holographic future-self used to be “But I know what it’s like to grieve.” he chuckled tiredly, Casey could only lean close yet he still refuse to look at Leo “There was this line dad said when he finally opened up his trauma to us.” a silent pause took place for a moment, until he continued “There is a type of love that is only experienced through sadness, and a type of joy that is only experienced through grief.” In the cold wind and the gentle lullaby of twinkling lights, his eyes slightly widen. “Pain is the price that we pay for love, and the only way to not feel pain is to never feel love.” Casey finally looked at Leo, his sole reason on wanting to get rid of these fond feelings when he sees this worlds’ family, the feeling of where Raph will teach him how to wrestle, where Donnie will rant about science, where his mom will call him into crazy adventures, where Mikey will make him eat different types of food, where April will teach him about the outside human world, where Splinter will let him watch TV with him, or where Leo will make so many bad and cringey jokes. Where everything made Casey so happy. “But love is what makes life meaningful, so don’t stop loving Casey.” “Because we sure hell will never stop loving you.” Casey felt safe arms around him, hugging him in such a familiar way it made him finally burst. To cry out how unfair the universe is to him, how unfair that he has to grow up in a time with no rest, with no moment of clarity, with no moment to tell everyone he loves that he misses them, he misses them so much. Leo didn’t say anything anymore, yet his soft hums will tell Casey- ‘I’m here, we are here, we will not leave you anymore.’ And for a moment, and maybe tomorrow, that would be enough for him to keep on smiling, to keep on being genuinely happy, to keep holding on. ‘Anatawa Hitorijanai.’ He could hear Master Leonardo whisper to him. ‘Anatawa Hitorijanai.’ ------------------------------------ (some lines here are from Cinema Therapy because those guys can make me cry like a lil bitch, so anyways, we need more angst fuel for my boy Casey cus my man needs to reach his angst potential like our turtle bois >:((( )

(I also apologize if there is typos, its been long since i ever type a long ass story!!)

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt casey jr #rottmnt casey jones #rottmnt leo #rottmnt leonardo #rottmnt future leonardo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt april #rottmnt cassandra jones #rottmnt splinter

971 notes · View notes

chvoswxtch · 1 year

Note

Hi! For my first drink could I order an old fashioned with Frankie when he is jealous pls, idk why but I wanna see him in that situation 😏

hi nonnie!

one old fashioned with a bright green garnish coming right up. 😏

headcannon below the cut

frank castle & jealousy

in my humble opinion, frankie is absolutely the jealous type, but he's very quiet about it

it's not that he doesn't trust you, it's more so his own self-esteem issues and the hyperawareness of the baggage he carries around

frankie thinks you are literally the most beautiful thing to ever be crafted by the universe and he doesn't understand what you see in him or why you find him attractive

and despite how many times you tell him all of the many reasons you have for falling in love with him, and all the ways you show him just how handsome you find him, that green eyed monster still rears its ugly head

like when that coworker of yours that's always hitting on you, that he fucking hates, tells a joke and you laugh at it, frankie wants to know what the fuck is so funny and then he starts questioning if you think he is funny (even though you always laugh at his jokes, and when he says something you find funny that he doesn't really get but fuck it, it made you laugh)

he let you get the next round at the bar one time, but after seeing how the bartender openly flirted with you and the attention you got from the other patrons, frankie insisted on getting every round from then on out

but then he noticed that those assholes would just come up to your table when he got up, and it made his blood boil seeing how close they got to you, even if he could tell by your face that you were telling them you weren't interested

but frankie is quiet about his jealousy. he doesn't make a scene unless absolutely necessary

he doesn't rush up to the table and tell that stupid son of a bitch off, no he calmly walks up and stands behind him, glaring daggers into the back of his head until the idiot notices the look on your face and follows the path of your eyesight and finally notices his presence

he can't deny the smugness he feels seeing how their eyes go wide and watching them back away slowly with their tail tucked between their legs, holding their hands up in surrender, quickly scurrying away with a mumbled "sorry man, didn't know she was with you"

frankie gets lucky in that he doesn't have to say anything, he can just glare

when your goddamn coworker catches his piercing gaze from across the room, he suddenly stops laughing, and puts as much distance between himself and you as possible

when the bartender notices him stalking up behind you, placing his hand possessively on your waist and staring at him with murderous intent, the bartender's smile instantly drops and he's shoving your drinks forward and rushing to the other end of the bar

frankie only gets physical if someone can't take the hint or dares to put their hands on you

but whenever frankie is done scaring off your admirers and turns to look at you, his icy glare instantly melts into pools of shame as you stare back at him with a displeased quirk of your brow and a light smirk on your lips

as soon as he hears that warning tone laced within your sweet rendition of his name, he's quickly looking anywhere but at you like a child acting like they don't know what they're in trouble for

"frank." "what? just standin' here. that a crime?"

he knows you're never really upset with him by the way you giggle and shake your head, hands reaching out to grab him by his arms to pull him in closer towards you

"i don't know what you bother getting so worked up about, big guy. you're the one that gets to take me home."

frankie does know that, but he often wonders if the day would come that you decide you want someone else. someone less complicated that didn't carry the weight of a lifetime of trauma and loss on their shoulders. someone that didn't make a career of violence and bloodshed. someone that didn't come home to you bruised and broken. someone better than him

"i know, sweetheart. don't mean you gotta deal with their shit, though."

"i never have to. you always come to my rescue. my hero."

frankie always melts when you call him that, because he never thinks of himself as a hero, but you say it with such sincerity, it makes him believe it

and when you kiss him like you're the only two people in the room, he forgets what the hell he was jealous about in the first place

#frank castle #frank castle request #frank castle headcanon #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #court's 2k follower celebration #court's 2k friends celebration

237 notes · View notes

bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

Text

Dream world

a/n It's been a hot hot minute since I've written for this man and I missed it so much. I hope you will enjoy it! 🤍

summary: Joel can't seem to let go of the shadows hunting him even in Jackson. After countless of sleepless nights and no remedy for it he finds himself needed even more of your and Ellie's love. Can a night of sleep bring him some clarity?

warnings: mention of pills, sleep deprivation, past trauma, people burning.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Joel was convinced. He had very successfully convinced himself that he was never going to find peace. Not after the outbreak. Not after Sarah. Not after almost taking his own life. Not after the thought of losing Tommy as well. All he had done in the last twenty years was lost. Lose everything he loved. Everything he had worked towards. Everything that he had built. There was nothing. Piece by piece coldly ripped away from Joel's hands.

So when you came around. All smiley and giddy. Joel couldn't help but hate you in some way. When he spotted you across the street helping out an old lady, he couldn't help but curse you silently. Stupid thing, Joel had thought back then. Stupid thing that still felt. How could anyone smile now? After everything. Jole hated himself for thinking about it, but he wanted to drop a dead body at your feet and tell you to throw it into the fire. He wondered if you would be smiling then. But all that faded when his eyes met yours, and you beamed at him. Waving before you turned back to the old lady.

Then Joel spent his days convincing himself that you would never have it in you to care for him. You would never even want to be in the same room as him. Joel had a reputation in QZ. Not only because of his strength, no. Joel was careless. Cold. Cunning. He had no emotion. No empathy. A dead man walking. That's what he was. And yet, when he stumbled upon you in the eating quarters handing out food, he couldn't help but silently beg that you would glance his way.

You were someone Joel could crush in the blink of an eye. He knew all the things he could tell you to make you cry, but for the first time in years, he didn't want to. That was the last thing he wanted to do. Joel got addicted to that smile of yours. He found himself looking for it in the crowds. Drinking his nights away when he didn't. And you two would have probably never actually come within a standing distance of one another if not for the day when you stumbled into the discharge area where they burned the infected ones, the ones who accidentally startled a tired soldier. Just this time, you were far from smiling.

Joel noticed you pushing through the sea of people. Trying to get to the trucks. His feet started moving even before his brain had made a decision. "Let me see her! I need to see her", you shouted straight at the soldier, who was gripping your hand way too firmly for Joel's liking. "Let go, you people killing fuck", you spat at the soldier, and he instantly lifted his hand to hit you, yet it never came. You had flinched away, ready to feel the sting, but no matter the breaths you took, it never came. "Who do you think you are to raise a hand against my wife?", Joel had caught the soldier's hand in midair. Shooting daggers at him. "Pick your bitch and move", Joel leaned closer to him.

Your hand instantly slipped between the two males. Joel might have been all big and scary, but he didn't have a gun, and his finger wasn't on the trigger. "I would pick the word whiskey", Joel snarled before turning to you. "I will need you to trust me", he muttered into your ear as he held onto your shoulders. Your sweet smell filled his senses, making him almost quiver. You simply nodded your head at him. "Let me get you, home love, you need to rest", Joel said much louder so the soldiers that started to gather would hear him.

If Joel would have known that you were going to make him want to be a better man. Want to finally look for the light instead of sending people to eat their shit, he would have never believed it. But with every day that you spent by his side, he felt like he could live. Not just drowning in endless darkness. You had been the first person to show him kindness, to see him for him. You didn't judge. You embraced him as he was. You were the first reason why Joel Miller wanted to stay alive.

When Ellie quite literally fell from the doorway into your life, Joel's initial reaction was refusal. He didn't need anyone else; he had you, and that was enough. This kid would be a burden. Unnecessary use of resources. And Joel was already so scared. So scared of losing you. No, he refused to let that thought even linger. Joel knew somewhere deep down that no matter his guards, Ellie would find a way to slither in. She would find a way, and then he would have so much more to lose. So much could be taken away from him.

But one look at you. The way you helped the girl up. The way she jerked away from you, pushing you away. Joel was about to interfere. Was a step away from pressing a gun to Ellie's head when you carefully lifted your hand. Showing it to Ellie as if she was a stray animal that you were trying to get familiar with your scent. Then brush your fingers through her messy hair, stopping to pick a piece of dirt from it. "Just figured you wouldn't want to walk with that in your hair", you said softly, smiling at the girl slightly. Ellie said nothing. But from the way something in her eyes glimmered, Joel knew that your magical touch had made an impact on the girl the same way that it had transformed him.

Jackson could not be real. It just couldn't. From the moment you had made your way there and the initial euphoria of reuniting with Tommy had worn off, Joel just couldn't stop thinking. How? Where was the catch? Were they going to come and take you away while he slept? Where are they also eating their people? It was too good to be true. With so much darkness still around the world, what was the likelihood that right here? Right in this little town, a seed of light grew.

No matter what he did, Joel couldn't settle. He loved seeing you and Ellie finally get to experience nice things. He loved watching Ellie look at the animals and crops that she hadn't seen before with her big eyes. He loved how the tension had vanished from both of your shoulders. How the light sounds of laughter filled the tiny house. How you sang along, teaching Ellie the melodies from the pre-pandemic era. How you two danced in the middle of the living room, both in Joel's shirts, socks on as you slipped around the floor.

Home. This was home. Or at least was supposed to be. Joel knew he should just accept it. But, no. You were home. Ellie was home. Not this place. And God doom him, Joel couldn't understand why he felt a million times more content in the middle of the woods with a gun in his hands guarding you and Ellie while you slept, cuddling together in a sleeping bag than here. There was no peace here for him, no rest. Every sound at night made him jump up. He walked back and forth from your bedroom to Ellie's. Over and over and over again. What ifs clouding his mind.

Of course, you were quick to notice. Never being a deep sleeper yourself, you felt every movement at night. It broke your heart to see the dark circles getting darker and darker under his eyes. The frown set in deeper. You tried to just hold him and let him lie practically on top of you. Let him feel your heart beating. Let him ground himself at least a little. It had helped Joel get a couple of hours of sleep for the first few days, but then back it went. You pulled a mattress in so that Ellie could sleep in the same room as you two. She gave you a puzzled look at first, growling about how the last thing she wanted was to listen to you two having sex, which had led to you pushing her playfully into the mattress. But that didn't seem to help as well. Joel just sat there between the bed and the mattress the whole night. Watching. Monitoring. Waiting.

Ellie herself wasn't worried about this, nor did she notice it until you brought it up and until she saw the worry lacing your face. Her world was made up of you and Joel. Your well-being, both physical and emotional, was vital for her. Most of your moods rubbed off on her. Any frustration and fearfulness were quick to cripple her.

"Is it really bad?", she asked you one evening, slumping onto the sofa right beside you. You just shook your head slightly. "What is it?", "The situation with Joel", Ellie said firmly. A part of you wanted to deny your worries. The last thing you wanted was to worry Ellie, even if deep down you could tell that she had picked up on the situation. "He's worried, and I just — I just don't know how to help him", you said, taking a shaky breath, rethinking it all. "I went to a doctor this morning, and she said they would look for some pills to help with it, but… What do we do till then?"

Helpless. You looked helpless. Ellie was quick to cuddle into your side. Wrapping her arms around you the same way she had seen Joel do so many times. Warmth. Comforting warmth was all she could offer you, and Ellie was hoping that it would be enough for you. Enough to at least keep you going. Your arms wrapped around the girl, bringing her closer to your body. "We will make sure he eats well. That will keep his body going", you muttered, and Ellie was quick to nod her head. "Joel loves a bit of roasted dinner. We could make that", a small smile tugged across your face. Ellie's ability to catch on to little things always made you smile. Just like Joel, most of the time her love language didn't revolve around touching or words of affirmation. She was attentive with her actions. Two scoops of sugar in your morning tea; a scarf hung on too tightly to Joel's winter coat so that he wouldn't forget it. "Yeah, we should make that tonight", you said, placing a loving kiss on Ellie's head before you two headed toward the kitchen.

When Joel stepped through the arched kitchen door, the table was already set. Ellie was pouring the sauce into the little dish, with you closely supervising her. Itching to take the hot dish from her hands. Scared that she might end up burning herself by accident. Joel wanted to smile. Wanted to feel a thread of relief, but all there was tiredness.

"Oh, good. You're back. Wash up and come sit down. I'll get a plate ready for you", you said, stepping closer to the older Miller and reaching up to place a loving kiss on his still-cold cheek. "I'm not hungry; you two eat", Joel said blandly, turning to go upstairs, but your hand quickly reached out to stop him. "It's been a long day, and we made your favorite", you tried again, turning to Ellie, who nodded her head, "And even opened a jar of cranberry sauce". But Joel only let out a frustrated sigh, running his hand over his face. "Joel, come on, you…", but you were quickly cut off by his booming voice, "Y/N, I'm not in the mood for this. Eat and just…", but Joel himself didn't finish his sentence. Waving a dismissive hand toward you two as he stepped out of the kitchen.

You bit down on your lip as the tears started to flood your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself for comfort. You felt Ellie nuzzle into your side the moment Joel disappeared. Her own sad eyes looked at your tear-stained cheeks. You managed to give her a slight smile, brushing some of the hair away from her face. "Let's still fix him a plate. I'll bring it up to him just in case", you said, with an aching chest, as you moved towards the tray of roasted potatoes and vegetables. Hoping and praying that Joel was still going to take a bite or two.

The house was quiet for the rest of the night. Joel didn't come down. You knew he wasn't asleep because you could hear him passing upstairs. You and Ellie went through some of her homework. Getting ahead of her reading tasks since she found them the most challenging. You caught her watching you more than once. Little stolen glasses as if she was always monitoring you. Just in case your eyes glossed over again. Just in case she would need to give you another hug. So she would be right there. And you let her. After a couple of dismissals. Instead of telling her not to worry, you just let Ellie do her thing, knowing that she found comfort in it.

When you two got upstairs to get ready for the night, Joel was sitting on the bed. Head buried in his hands. So lost in his mind that he didn't even hear you and Ellie walking in. Only when you told her to get her night clothes ready did Joel lift his head. The fact that Ellie didn't even look his way as she walked past him made Joel's heart hurt. He couldn't have her, or you hate him. No, if you hated him, it would give you a reason to leave. He didn't want you to leave.

"I ate it. It was delicious", Joel said quietly, gesturing to the empty plate. Ellie went to the bathroom without a second glance, and you nodded your head. "I'll wash it up", you reached for the plate, but Joel caught your wrist, bringing it closer to his lips. "I'm sorry for snapping, it's just..", "I know. It's okay", you said quietly, but Joel shook his head. "This doesn't give me a reason to take it out on you two". Stepping closer to you, Joel wrapped his arms around your shoulders, bringing you closer to his chest.

"I just worry about you so much. We both do", you admitted, feeling your bottom lip start to quiver, "I can tell that you're struggling, but I don't know how to help you, and it kills me". A choked-out sob slipped past your lips. You felt guilty for crying. Guilty of making this about yourself in a way. "I just…", Joel rasped out himself, "So many thoughts, and I can't seem to find a way to calm down". You lifted your head from his chest, meeting his eyes. His heart was beating beneath your palm. "I… you…", Joel shook his head; speaking out his emotions was always a struggle for him. "You don't have to talk about it all tonight", you reassured him quickly. "Just know that we are here for you. Always". With a slight nod, Joel rested his forehead on yours, breathing you in.

You stood there in your lover's arms until Ellie came back. Then, with a little kiss on his chest, you slipped out to wash up yourself, leaving Joel and Ellie together. Still drying your hair, you walked back to the bedroom. Stopping in your track at the sight of the two of them giggling quietly. Ellie was in the bed beside Joel, pressed against his chest. Both of them had their hands stretched toward the ceiling. Ellie was trying to reach Joel's fingers, but her hand was way shorter than Joel's. She was desperately trying to pull at Joel's wrist, but his hand didn't budge. "You're cheating", she mumbled, "I'm not; it's not my fault you have baby T-Rex arms". Ellie let out a scoff, pinching the skin on Joel's arm in frustration. But her frown was quickly replaced by a smile when Joel grasped her wrist, making her slightly pull away from the mattress with a laugh.

"You are both children", you murmured, sitting on the other side of the bed. Joel's hand instantly moved to caress your hip. "Joel is returning to the dipper stage", Ellie teased again. "You'll be returning to the mattress soon", Joel threatened her, but the two burst out into a laugh almost immediately. You shook your head, yet the warmth that grew in your chest was hard to hide. You were happy that Ellie had found a way to reach Joel. They were so similar. They understood each other better than anyone could. Cuddling into Joel, you reached out your hand to Ellie. Joel let out a yawn, and you and Ellie locked eyes. Maybe with you both in his arms, he was finally going to sleep through the night.

Joel woke up with a jolt. A bright ray of sunshine was shining through the window, making him quickly cover his face. His head felt fuzzy. In a way lighter but then also so heavy. As if I had been drinking a night away yesterday. Yet even a hangover seemed less brutal than this. Joel was never a fan of the morning, and this only proved why. His arms suddenly felt empty. He could swear he had fallen asleep with you and Ellie in his arms last night. Stroking both of your hair. Listening to Ellie's light snores and loving the feeling of the warmth seeping into him. Joel reached out across the bed blindly, the sun still way too bright for his eyes. But all he was met with was coldness. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Was it a dream? Had something happened? Had he missed it?

Quickly sitting up, Joel looked around the room. His heart started to beat fast and fast. There was no sign of you or Ellie—nothing. There was no evidence of your being here in the same bed last night. Joel swung his legs over the edge. He needed to find you. Needed to see. "Y/N", he choked out, hands pressing onto his chest that seemed to grow tighter with every passing minute. The corridor was as empty as the room. Joel grabbed for the bathroom handle but found no one there. The ringing in his ears grew louder. "El", he called out again, "Y/N". His shaky hand gripped the railing, and the few sets of steps down seemed like a lifeline to him. "No, no, no", the fear was the only thing in his body now.

You thought you were the first to wake up, surprised to be still laying on Joel's chest. Ellie was quietly laying on her back while she played with Joel's fingers. Your stirring caught her attention as she turned to beam at you, "I think he slept through the night", she whispered. You nodded your head, putting your finger against your mouth. You were determined to make sure that Joel slept for as long as possible. Who knew if the next night he was going to find a peaceful slumber? You carefully moved his arms away from your body. Ellie quickly followed the lead. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?", she asked you when you two were out in the corridor, and the door to the bathroom was already closed. "Pancakes?", you asked, earning a fist pump from Ellie. "Fucking pancakes", she chirped, rushing down the stairs.

It was truly a magnificent morning. It's been a while since the sun has been this bright. You even cracked open some of the windows. Ellie was smiling to herself as she dried out the dishes. You two didn't talk much. It didn't feel necessary. Your head jerked to the side once the sound of footsteps came through the hallway. Yet the smile died out the moment the gasps of air followed suit. You dropped the spatula to the side as you rushed toward the sound.

Joel was leaning against the wall. His head hung low as he gripped the left side of his chest. These panic-like attacks have been happening for a while now. They scared you to death, but the doctor said that his heart was healthy, or as healthy as it could be, given his age and everything that had happened. You reached for him in an instant, making him jump back. "Joel,", you called out, and he practically leaped into your arms, pulling you into him. "Oh, thank God, thank God", he cried. You frowned slightly but let him embrace you regardless. "Are you hurt? Did something happen? Where is Ellie?", Joel's head jerked up as he scanned the room. Ellie stood a couple of feet away from him. Joel reached out his hand toward her, and she instantly moved closer. His breathing eased up. Right here in his arms. Not dead. Not taking anything away from him.

"Is everything okay?", Ellie asked quietly. You expected Joel to say nothing. Understanding his need for space and time, but to your surprise, he did speak up, "I thought I lost you. I thought I finally failed you", you looked up at him straight away. The silent tears were rolling down his cheeks. "I'm just so scared I won't be able to… keep you safe. Make sure that…" Joel said, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. "You're full of shit", Ellie stated, stepping away from him, "You've been here since day one; nothing changed". You wanted to warn her about the words she used, but then again, she was right. "Joel, you brought us here. You can rest a bit now", you reassured him, but he shook his head. "What if something happens while I sleep? What if I can't stop it?", "In our house? In a town that's surrounded by a huge fence?", Ellie cut in again.

You cupped Joel's face carefully, turning his face towards you so he would look into your eyes, "It's okay to still be scared. Fuck, I don't think it's possible to get back to any kind of normality after the last twenty years, but…", you fought the lump that started to form in your throat as you leaned closer to Joel, "But you're going to be okay, we all are going to be okay. Because we're a family. There's nothing we can't accomplish together".

And then it all came crashing down. With a loud sob, Joel fell to his knees, and you sank alongside him. Arms, not letting go of him even for a moment. Ellie stepped beside him, her head resting on his back as she too fought her tears. You let him cry. You may have burst into a silent sob somewhere along the way yourself. Everyone had the scars they carried. Some were deeper than others. Struggling to heal. Struggling to see the light. It was easy to give up. Fighting was a whole other story. But once you found people who made you want to live, who you had to live for, giving up wasn't an option, and that was so scary.

"I love you both", Joel whispered after some time. You brushed his last tears away, smiling at him. "Well, I also love you, but you better start talking about your emotions, or I'll eat your pancakes", Ellie warned him, nuzzling into his chest. Joel let out a chuckle, "You're starting to sound like Y/N". You gasped slightly, shifting closer to them both, "You'll lose your space in the bed too, not just pancakes".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

TLOU taglist: @theslytherinwriter @daddysfavoritesexkitten @randomstory56 @woofgocows @ohthemisssery

#joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal x reader

297 notes · View notes