Something Bad
Kinktober Day 20: Corruption
Tags: Joel Miller x Reader, afab!fem!reader, blowjob, face-fucking (do NOT look at me rn), corruption, slightly innocent!reader, age gap mention, Joel is simply not prepared for how filthy his girl is (w/c: 1.4K)
A/N: I believe in filthy old man Joel and younger even filthier girl okay!!! This may have gotten a little out of hand but idk I can't help but ramble about sucking Joel's dick alright?? (I have been using these prompts by flightlessangelwings for Kinktober!)
Joel Miller is a bad man. A bad fuckin’ man.
He knows it, has known it for years. He has too much blood on his hands, too many skeletons in his closet, to be a good man.
But fuck, this has got to be the worst.
You’re supposed to be off-limits, the pretty little nurse that floats around Jackson, tending to the sick and injured. You, the sweet little thing who's never seen the outside of the town walls, who wears pretty dresses you make yourself and brings fucking baked goods to the patrol groups after they get back.
You, who asks him how he’s been, who traces a gentle hand down his forearm, sending goosebumps across his body. You, thirty fuckin’ years younger than him, and so angelic you practically glow.
You, on your knees on his kitchen floor, sucking his dick like you’re fucking starving for it.
You’d started off so delicate, so innocent, when he’d started this... thing with you. This dirty, nasty secret he has to keep from his own brother, from the entire town.
It had started with a gentle kiss when you’d patched him up after a patrol gone wrong. You’d fashioned a bandage over his chest, and God, when you looked up at him with those pretty doe eyes, he was a fuckin’ goner. He wasn’t sure who moved first, you or him, all he had known was that your lips against his were soft. So soft, softer than anything he’d experienced in twenty fucking years.
“Don’t know how to do this,” you’d breathed against his mouth, your fingers clutching into his shirt, “just know that I want you.”
Joel pulled back, looking down at you with a hard gaze, ready to pull back, tell you this was a mistake, “Darlin’-”
“I know you want me too, Joel,” you’d said, firmer than he’d ever thought you could be. “I just need-” you’d stuttered, and leaned your forehead against his as you collected yourself, “I just need you to teach me.”
It had spiraled from there.
He’d tried to be gentle with you, but fuck, it’s so hard when you’re so soft beneath him, whining his name and tangling your fingers in his hair. You’d been so nervous the first few times you’d done this, nervous enough that Joel had pulled back, night after night, just to make sure you were still alright with him seeing you like this.
“You can say no anytime you want, sweet girl,” he’d mutter, “I won’t mind.”
But you’d always shake your head, eager to learn, eager to please. And fuck, Joel can’t help it when he fucks his fingers into you a little too hard, treats you a little too rough. He’d a bad fuckin’ man, God, he shouldn’t even be near you.
When you’d both started this, you’d been quiet and uncertain about what you wanted, leaving Joel to ease it out of you with soft touches across your body and licks of his tongue into your mouth.
Now, though. Now Joel thinks he’s made a fuckin’ monster.
You crave him in ways he’d never thought you capable of, dragging him to your bedroom when he gets home and stripping him down before he’s had a chance to say hello. You beg him to fuck you, use you, anytime he wants.
“Need it Joel,” you’ll whisper, pulling him with you. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about it all day.”
You don’t even make it to the bedroom today. No, you corner him while he’s making dinner for you both, turning him until his back is pressed against the counter. You look at him with those pretty, pretty eyes, warm and gorgeous and calling to him like a goddamn siren, as you sink to your knees.
“Sweetheart, you can’t-” he stutters over his words like a virgin, and all you do is look up at him as you unbutton his jeans, pull his fly open and free his cock. It’s fucking sinful, the way it looks huge next to your pretty little mouth, the way you press it against your cheek, looking up at him with all of the fucking innocence he’s taken from you.
“What Joel?” You coo, pressing gentle kisses up his shaft before sucking the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it for one horrible, maddening moment, before pulling back again. “You don’t want me to suck your cock?”
Joel is going to fucking die here, in this kitchen, if you keep talking like that, keep licking at his cock and looking at him like that from the floor. “Darlin’, fuck ‘course I want you, but fuck, not here. We can go to bed-”
“Too far,” you whine, and Joel doesn’t have a chance to fucking breathe before you’re sucking his cock into your mouth, bobbing down as far as you can before he hits the back of your throat, and motherfucking Christ, that’s it, he’s going to die.
You suck his cock like a goddamn pro, like you hadn’t just learned to do this a few months ago. And Joel should feel bad, he should feel some modicum of guilt for making this pretty, innocent nurse into such a filthy little thing, but he can’t bring himself to when it feels so good. So fucking hot and wet, and your fingers digging into his thighs over his jeans.
“God damn it, baby,” he grunts when you hollow your cheeks, making it that much tighter and his head is spinning, fuck, he must be losing it. You fucking smile around his cock, bobbing deeper, pumping the part of his cock that can’t fit in your mouth with a slick hand. “Suckin’ me so good, that’s so fuckin’ perfect, shit-”
His hips twitch uncontrollably, shoving his cock far, too far down your throat. You choke, pulling off of him immediately, pumping him in your hand as you gasp for breath. And Joel fears he’ll pass out when a line of spit connects the tip of his cock to your bottom lip. “Shit, sorry, sweetheart-” he grunts, but you only smile up at him, pumping him quick and so overwhelmingly perfect. Joel’s knees threaten to start shaking.
“You can fuck my mouth, Joel,” you say, blinking up at him slowly, sweetly. “I promise I don’t mind.”
Joel’s vision blurs at the edges, and he sucks in a labored breath through clenched teeth as you suck him into your mouth all over again. Your hands wrap around his wrists, tugging his hands into your hair, and fuck, how can Joel resist you? He’s never been able to, and damn it, he probably never will.
He curls his hands into your hair, pumping his hips up into your mouth as far as you can take him, before pulling out again. Fuck, what would people say if they knew Joel Miller had the little nurse, with the baked goods and kind smile, on her knees in his kitchen, fucking her mouth like she’s no more than a filthy fucking whore.
His cock throbs in your mouth as he drags his hips in and out, in and out. You make obscene, sinful fucking sounds, little whines when he pulls out, loud, wet sucking noises when he pushes back in. You just kneel and fucking take it, letting him pull your mouth onto his cock with his fist gripped in your hair.
From the corner of his eye, Joel can see your hand move, subtle and silent. He nearly chokes when that pretty, delicate hand disappears between your thighs, rubbing at your clit through your pants as Joel fucks into your mouth like a goddamn madman. The sight nearly makes him black out.
His orgasm rushes into him without warning, and he can barely choke out a rough, “Fuck, gonna cum-” before he’s shooting his cum down your throat. You moan around him like you love it, the vibrations reverberating up his fucking spine.
Joel Miller is a bad fuckin’ man, but he thinks this might be what heaven feels like. It's probably as close to heaven as he's gonna get.
When he finally releases his grip on your hair, you lean back, letting his sticky cock slip from your mouth, and Joel watches as you stick your tongue out, showing him that you swallowed every drop. Joel’s spent cock twitches between his thighs.
“Take your fuckin’ clothes off,” he mutters, dark and deep and every bit the bad man everyone thinks he is. “Right now.”
You smile softly, standing up off the floor and pressing yourself against him. “Why don’t we go to bed, Joel?” you murmur in his ear, and Joel growls.
He spins you both around until you’re bent over the counter, ass out for him.
“Too far,” he murmurs, and wrenches your pants down your thighs.
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so ready: l.hamilton.
pairing: lewis hamilton x pt fem!black reader
summary: you’re his trainer, he’s him, the chemistry is undeniable.
warning: 18+ mdni, EXTREME SEXUAL CONTENT, pwp, fast paced, teasing, dirty talk, degradation kink?, unprotected sex, guys, I’m a slut - we sucking and fucking over here.
notes: I put a break on working on endless melodies, this picture called for my attention and here we are 😩. I also don’t know where the 3.5K words came from 😭 this was meant to be short.
w.c: 3.5K
tags: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @hersinsarescarlet @emjayewrites @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @felicity-x0 @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy
buy me a kofi.
You sighed as you walked through the underground garage of the building. You were mentally preparing yourself to be in your client’s presence. You wish you could have rejected his contract but it was such good money to resist - a resource that you needed at the time - and he was a good man. Refusing to train him would have not made sense outside of the biggest con being that you were attracted to him.
Deeply attracted to him.
Every session was a fighting battle and today would be no different.
It had been seven months since you started working with him. Lewis was very serious about his physical health but he was so flirtatious and it made it hard to concentrate on your job. But today, you promised yourself that you would be serious and not give into his little games.
On the elevator ride up to his penthouse, you trained your mind to block his advances and not give into his charm. However, whether you intended to or not, your outfit choice for the session was along the lines of cute and practical. The grey headband keeping your hair away from your face was matching the gym shorts that you were wearing. Your physique was on display without it coming off as a little desperate. It’s not like you needed to put in any type of effort anyway, you were beautiful enough on your own but the outfit was just a greater temptation for Lewis.
Even though you lied to yourself that you didn’t enjoy the game of teasing that you played with him.
“Lewis! I’m here!” You yelled as you walked through the lobby of his penthouse. The patters of Roscoe’s feet against the marbled floor rang through to your ears. The aging dog ran towards you and it brought a smile to your face. You bent down and grabbed the pup’s face into your hands and caressed the deep folds of his cheeks.
“Hi boy!” You spoke with a high pitch to your voice. “You’ve been good for your Dads when I’ve been away?” He licked the palms of your hands as he wiggled his tail.
“Yeah! Because you’re a good boy aren’t you? It’s your Dad that’s the trouble maker.” You said to Roscoe before standing up straight.
“Oh I’m a trouble maker now?” His voice was the first thing that you heard before you saw him. As you walked to the kitchen to wash your hands, you caught sight of him leaning against the living room area wall as he watched you.
Dressed in a dark grey fitted t-shirt and matching grey shorts with black thermals beneath. His locs were braided away from his face, forcing you to bare witness to his beauty.
“You’ve always been one, don’t act so surprised now.” You replied as you watched your hands. You may not be able to see him but you could feel his eyes on your back. You bit your lip as you wiped your hands and then turned around. Your hands were on either side of your body on the counter as you looked at him.
“When have I ever caused trouble for you darling?” He asked as he stood to his full height and moved closer to you in the kitchen area, stopping by the island and leaning fowards against it.
“Do you really want me to answer that question? Because I have a list of examples.”
He laughed at your response instead of answering. He knew exactly what you were talking about.
“Anyway. Are you ready for our session today? I don’t want any problems this time around. You have somewhere to be and so do I. So no funny games.” You stressed the last part of your statement - more to yourself than to him.
Lewis’s eyes were drooped low, his long lashes nearly touching the apple of his cheeks as they hung low before he trailed them from the exposed skin of your thighs to your flushed cheeks as you held in your breath. His teeth trapped the flesh of his bottom lip to restrict his smile from spreading as he stood up straight.
“I’ll be on my good behaviour. I promise.” His voice was an octave deep and laced with temptation. You knew then, that this training session would be anything but smooth sailing.
.
.
A good sparring session was a great way to end a productive session. Lewis stayed true to his word for most of the time but he’d throw in a flirtatious jab here and there that had you flustered. As much as you tried to hate it, you revelled in the way that those comments made you feel.
One last sparring session and you won’t have to see him for another three days.
You needed that breather.
“Come on baby girl. You can give it to me harder than that.” He teased as he bounced on his feet as he moved away from you. You rolled your eyes as you flexed your arms.
“I’m your trainer Lewis. I’m not supposed to be harder on you.”
“I can take it.” He shrugged. “That’s something you’re supposed to be saying in the right circumstances.”
“You’re a cocky little shit!” You stressed as your fingers flexed in the punching mitts before you began to run after him.
“There we gooo. Give me that fire, show me what you got baby.” He smirked at you. You fumed as you stopped chasing him and took off your punching mitts.
“Beating your ass would give me the greatest pleasure.” You said as you threw the mitts down before pulling the bandage wrap out of your open bag.
“I can do many things that can bring you pleasure that don’t involve us boxing.”
“Prove it.” You spat at him.
Before things moved forward, Lewis did the one thing that he knew would disrupt your focus.
He took his shirt off and kicked it close to the edge of the floor to ceiling mirror. All of the witty comments dried in your throat as you took him in. The defined muscles of his abs, the deep pelvis lines, the rich tan contrasting his tattoos and most of all, the budding chest hair.
Involuntarily, your thighs clenched at the sight.
He licked his lips as he watched you struggle for words. He could see the fight in your eyes as you were determined to not fall into the trap of your attraction but your body was failing tremendously.
Fine. You thought. Two can play that game.
Without warning, you grabbed the edge of your top and pulled it over your head. If Lewis thought his naked chest would disrupt you then you could pull the same card. Left in just your padded sports bra, you watched as Lewis became as speechless as you had been.
You were not going to make this easy for him.
Lewis finished wrapping his hands. “I’m ready.”
The both of you put up a good fight. Physically and mentally. Every hit, every jab, felt like a victory in the war of desire. Both of your bodies damp from sweat with how much energy you exerted during this ‘friendly’ sparring session.
You were winning. He asked for your all and you gave it. This was something just to prove to yourself that you could resist him. That you could withstand his charm and that your attraction didn’t lead you blind.
Then he grabbed your wrists and pulled younclose to his body. You gasped as he tightly held your hands behind your back trapping them by his torso as his other arm wrapped around your waist.
“Aren’t you tired of playing this game sweetheart?” He whispered in your ear.
“You started it. Of everyone, you should know how crucial professionalism should be.” You hissed back as you struggled to get out of his hold.
“How could I focus on staying professional when every part of me wants to explore every inch on you. And don’t try to deny it either. I see the way you look at me, the way you desire me in a way that would disgrace the gods.”
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he spoke. His words were the apple from the tree of knowledge and his voice was the serpent in the garden of Eden.
“I can’t pretend anymore.” He confessed. “I want you YN. I want you so fucking much.”
“Now you admit it.” You say as you squirmed. Lewis held onto you tighter.
“I never denied it darling.” He chuckled in your ear. “You did. We wouldn’t be having this back and forth if you had just admitted that you were into me the way I was into you.”
“That wouldn’t change the fact that I was compromising a client-employer relationship and my reputation just for some dick.”
“This dick would change your life baby.”
“You’re so fucking annoying!”
“Turn around and say that to my face.”
He spun you in his arms before another word could be uttered. You stared at each other with no words spoken as your eyes ventured from their eyes to their lips. The action causing you to lick your lips.
“Cat got your tongue?” He teased as his hands dropped to your waist and pulled you closer. The smile on his face held the promise of everything that he had teased and taunted you about. Wicked and sinful things that had your mouth watering at the mere thought of them.
Body to body like this, the wall that you had been building in your mind had come crumbling down. Not that you had put up that big of a fight anyway but the effort that had been exerted up to now was too much and you were giving it up.
You were ready. You were more than ready.
“You’ve been trying your hardest to break me. And for a while I forgot that I too can play this game very well.” You said as you hooked a finger around the strap of your bra and brought it down your arm.
“I want you Lewis, I do.” You finally admitted. “But you want me just as much, if not more.” You unhooked your bra and flung it across the room. He fought to push the bandages away from his knuckles before embracing you with his big hands running up and down your back.
“If you had just given me the chance, I would loved on you the second I knew that you felt the same.” He whispered as his hands trailed down your back and settled on your ass. He kneaded the flesh of your ass cheeks, drawing you closer so that you could feel his breath on the top of your lip.
You leaned forward and kissed him with all of your might. All of the pent up desire you had been holding at bay for the last seven months burst out of you. You pushed your body into his as he moved his lips roughly over yours, opening your mouth for the sweet intrusion of his tongue as he deepened the kiss. Your nails dug into his back as you wrapped a leg around his waist as you felt the lower part of his body pressing into you.
Lewis moved his hand from your ass, trailing it up your spine before cupping the back of your neck and pulling you inwards. You gasped as he nibbled on your bottom lip, pulling the lip into his mouth. Your pussy creamed at the realisation at just how hard his dick was as it rested against you.
“Let me taste you.” You said as you pulled your lips away. “Please.”
“Do you think you deserve it? After the way you made me feel for wanting you? You think you deserve my touch?”
“Lewis … please.”
“Take these off.” He growled as he tugged at your grey shorts. You made light work of them before stepping back into his embrace. Your small cotton panties were digging into the flesh of your hips but Lewis quickly tugged at the material and shoved them down the length of her legs.
His eyes focused back on your face as he felt your hands move down the back of his head and edge him closer to your core. He pushed your legs further apart as his fingers teased your hot skin. His eyes soaking in every reaction that he drew out of you.
“You have spend the last seven months playing hard to get but here you are, ready to crumble at the touch of my fingers.” Lewis whispered as he pressed kisses onto your stomach.
“You’re talking entirely too much for someone who has pussy staring them in their face.”
“And this pussy is glorious, believe me. But I need you to suffer a little bit.”
He gave you an inch by running his fingers teased along your slit but did not settle his fingers where you needed him the most. Instead of shoving his digits into your cunt like he wanted, he brought them to his lips and licked them clean.
“So good.” He said and then stood straight and buried his face into the crook of your neck. He licked at your flesh before sinking in his teeth. The way he drew your skin into his mouth caused you to moan.
“Lew, please. Please.” You begged before he claimed your mouth yet again. He kissed you hard with his tongue lashing against yours before his teeth sunk into your bottom lip causing the sweetest pain to shoot up your spine. You pushed your body against him as far as your standing position would allow.
He wrapped his hands in your sweated out hair which was reverting back to its natural curl pattern. He pulled away from your lips and stared down at you with the darkest look of arousal tainting his beautiful eyes.
You watched as a cocky smirk etched on his face. You knew Lewis had you. Once your inhibitions were shut down, it was very easy for you to turn to your desires. And that lust had you falling to your knees as you looked up at him as his cock swelled in the confines of his thermals.
You pushed the fabric further down his thick thighs until his cock was revealed and … holy shit.
You knew that Lewis had the inches and the girth to work with but you weren’t expecting it to be so … heavy? His dick was so big and thick but it was nothing you couldn’t work with. Especially with the smugness glazing his eyes, you took it as a challenge.
His legs were spread, standing tall and proud as his dick bobbed in front of you. Heavy, leaking and begging for your oral attention.
“Open your mouth.” He said as he held his cock by the base and pointed it towards your plump lips.
Your mouth quickly hung open and your tongue darted out to lick his tip. You swirled your tongue around the head before you slid most of his dick into your mouth and sucked. You were extra as fuck as you licked and slurped, wanting him to understand the sloppy, messy head that awaited him. That you had been fantasising about this moment for a long time and now you were going to show to show him what you were about.
“Sucking this dick so fucking good.” He groaned as he held your head and tipped it back before moving his hips so that his tip was brushing back against the back of your throat.
“This is what you needed huh? My dick in your mouth to turn you into a little slut for me.” You moaned around him as you stretched your hands out on his torso, feeling his chest hairs prickle against your palm.
You don’t answer him as you continue working your head up and down his length. He felt so good in your mouth. The muskiness of his scent was all that you could think off as your saliva pooled in your mouth the more he worked his hips, fucking your mouth.
You were so eager to suck his dick. You pushed your head down further, taking him deeper down your throat which caused his knees to buckle.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Lewis groaned as he fisted your hair tighter, looking down at you as you moved your head fast, spit bubbles building as your nose brushed against his pelvis before your hand came up to fondle with his balls.
“Just like that. Keep sucking me just like that baby.” He gasped as you continued sucking on him as if you were trying to take his soul. Sure, Lewis had brought you down to your knees but you were making him regret ever thinking that he held all of the cards. There were no words to describe just how good you were sucking his dick. Your hands cradling his balls, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat - this was more than otherworldly.
When you pulled your lips away from him, Lewis felt like he could breathe as you moved your hand around his length in tight, circular motions.
“If I didn’t want to come inside of you, I would have come all over your beautiful face.” He spoke with a hoarseness to his voice before he manoeuvered you underneath him. The gym mats were harsh against your skin but you were past the point of caring.
“Fuck me.” You whispered as Lewis shifted your legs into the crooks of his arms as his dick rubbed against your opening. You reached up and claimed his mouth. His saltiness lingered between each entanglement of your lips. You tasted the remnants of your sweetness in his mouth the longer you greedily moved your mouth against his.
You didn’t care for the way the hard mats were biting into your skin. All you cared about what the surge of lust that burst through you as Lewis rubbed his cock against your cunt. His hand travelled up to your throat and squeezed as he positioned himself in between your legs. Every single gasp and little cry that he pulled out of you pushed him closer to the edge. His lips sought your earlobe as he raised your leg to his shoulder before he finally sunk into your pussy.
You were so soft. So sweet. So tight. So wet. You accepted him like you’d been waiting for him all this time and then clenched onto him so hard that Lewis so felt lightheaded before he could complete his stroke.
Lewis needed to regain his composure but you were a withering mess beneath him. Your scent like a cocoon around the both of you, he couldn’t find his bearings as he found a rhythm to his strokes.
Slow and deep as you arched your back and dug your nails into the skin of his back.
Your lips parted as you struggled to catch your breath with the sexy sounds of your pleasure reverberating through the room, bouncing off the equipment back into his ears.
Lewis let your legs fall back to his waist as he dropped to his forearms so that his body, slick with sweat, pressed against yours. You immediately wrapped both of your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper into you as he resumed his slow, deep thrusts coupled with circular motions that always pulled a sharp, little cry from you beneath him.
For months he had dreamt you like this. Underneath him, begging and crying for him as he deprived your body of pleasure.
Your nipples grazed his chest as he moved. You trailed your fingernails down the length of his back as you pulled him in for frantic kisses as the both of you moved towards the inevitable conclusion.
Lewis pressed his forehead against yours as your pussy started clenching rapidly around him.
“That’s it, baby,” he demanded through his teeth. “Cum all over this dick.”
You screamed his name and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. He covered your mouth with his, swallowing your cries of pleasure, thrusting hard and fast into you as he chased the orgasm building in him.
You scratched at his back, gripped the sheets and bit into the pillow even as you started moving your hips up to meet his dick.
“Lewis!” You yelled as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your orgasm plummeting through your body.
“That’s it sweetheart. Come all over this dick.” He growled into your ear as he bucked his hips hard and fast before the force of his climax had him tensing and twitching in between your legs.
You hummed softly as Lewis returned to himself once his muscles had stopped twitching. All that pent up energy had finally been released and the both of you were butt naked in his private gym.
So many lines had been crossed tonight but either of you cared. Especially when he kissed you senseless and promised you more orgasms than you were ready to give.
London fashion week be damned ….
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Little Gift- Scramble
Pairing: Adult Dark Neteyam x Human Fem Reader
Previous Part
Masterlist AO3
Gorgeous Adult Neteyam pic by @cinetrix2
Summary: It's time for you to understand the gravity of your situation.
Warnings: dubcon/non con, dark material read at your own risk MDNI, oral, explicit, alien x human, kidnapping, aged up Neteyam, aged up Lo'ak, slight degradation, angst, bondage, etc. (not exhaustive)
A/N: Can't thank you all enough for the support and buzz that this little series has gotten! Love you, pookies<3 Enjoy!
“Don’t look down. Don’t look down.” You whisper shakily.
Heights have never been your forte and neither has climbing but you are mere feet away from reaching where Neteyam has tied the knot to your leash. You can’t give up now. Your legs tremble and arms shake as you clamp around the tree trunk.
It’s ok. Everything is ok. Worst case scenario you fall down and land back in the kelku.
That is, if you fall to the right.
The left on the other hand…
You make the mistake of glancing down to see the vast distance between you and the forest floor. It doesn’t help that the thick forest canopy obscures your vision, letting your imagination run wild in guessing how far down the ground really is. You rest your forehead against the trunk and shut your eyes.
Breath in.
Breathe out.
One move at a time. That’s all that matters.
Finally wrangling the courage to climb further once more you carefully reach for the next branch and scoot yourself upwards. The thick bark scuffs your smooth skin and your hands are sure to already have blisters and slivers, but you are so close.
“Out of curiosity, if you somehow do manage to get that thing untied. What is your next move?”
You gasp, branch almost slipping from your grip in wake of being startled.
“You’ve been alone for what? Thirty minutes? And you still haven’t made it up a few meters. How do you expect to scale down several stories before Neteyam returns?” Lo’ak crosses his arms, hip popped and eyebrows raised.
“I…I was just…”
“No need to waste my time trying to suggest otherwise. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Neteyam did say you are quite the handful.” He sprawls across the kelku floor, arms folded back to keep him sitting upright while his legs spread leisurely. “Lucky me.”
“You…you are staying?” You voice quivers as a cramp starts to tighten one calf. This idea is looking more ridiculous by the second.
“Neteyam is convinced you need someone to check up on you while he is away. Hate to admit when he is right but then again here you are swinging over death in under an hour.”
Your arms begin to shake as every muscle locks frozen in place. Lo’ak lounges as your head spins in every which direction.
Instinct takes over before you can stop it and suddenly you are racing to reach for the next branch. Body practically flinging itself upwards, your ascent is messy and frantic. Your adrenaline is powered by one fact: you are running out of time. The RDA return home within a few days and Neteyam seldom leaves you alone.
So what if he sends his little brother to play babysitter?
It’s better odds than being smothered in the Olo’eyktan’s embrace all day.
A small branch snaps beneath your right foot. Stomach lurching to your throat you prepare for the massive fall ahead. You catch only a few feet of air before crashing into a hard chest. Lo’ak chuckles at your shrieks as he tucks you under his arm and easily scales down the tree.
He may have saved your life but you shoot him with a scathing look as he sets you down on the the woven floor.
“You’re welcome.” He snorts, returning to his lounged position.
The irony taste of blood erupts over your tongue when your teeth finally break skin.
You want to hate him. You do hate him. He laughs and watches your nightmare with a half amused grin ,but you need to be smart.
“Thank you.” You whisper. He simply shrugs and waves it off. “I’ve just been so scared.” This time you purposefully bite your bottom lip, looking up at him through thick lashes. It’s easy to let tears create a cloud over your eyes. “I want to go home.”
His reaction is far from the one you hope.
A harsh laugh rumbles in his chest as he shakes his head.
“Oh yes it must be so hard to be away from those comforting steel walls and mushy frozen meals.” He scoffs as if it is the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard. It hurts and for some reason you feel the need to defend your desires.
“I wasn’t talking about Bridgehead, asshole! Or have you forgotten they are returning to Earth within the week?”
“Cause that is so much better.” Lo’ak sneers.
“You don’t know what you are talking about-”
“No you don’t know what you are talking about. What do you think is back on that dying planet? Maybe they’ve shown you some shiny pictures back in your steel cage but the reveal is deeply disappointing.” He rolls his eyes, hands reaching back to tie his hair.
“How would you know? You’ve never been!”
“Yes and neither have you but unlike you I have reliable witnesses.”
Your nails create half moons in your palm as they ball into fists. The heat from your cheeks has now traveled to the tips of your ears. Screw the size difference, you are ready to knock him on his ass.
You can’t though and not just because your strength is no match for his own. Getting riled up by your captor’s brother is a waste of time and Neteyam never said when he would be back. Forcing your features to soften you left out a shaky sigh.
“I don’t need you to understand but…what would it hurt to help me? You could tell him you found the kelku empty. That’s all I’m asking.” You shuffle onto your knees, swallowing your pride as you prepare to beg.
“What would it hurt? A lot actually. Every minute he spends with you is another that I get him off my ass. Besides, when Neteyam isn’t happy no one is happy.”
“He is Olo’eyktan! Half of the women in your village must be chasing him down. His fascination with me is sure to be replaced by another within the week.” You argue, fidgeting with the pink ribbon Neteyam had tied around your neck. The knot of the bow is extra tight this time, no doubt a ploy to get you to stop ripping it off.
“Oh yes, six months of obsession gone in a week.”
Your mouth runs dry.
“Six months?”
For the first time Lo’ak’s interest is peaked. His tail stills and large ears fold forward.
“Oh, you have no idea what you have gotten yourself into, do you?” He shakes his head, tongue clicking softly. “You poor thing,” he says but the words are anything but sympathetic.
“Six months, how…. But I didn’t even….”
“Did you think that the RDA picked you from a lineup and Neteyam just happily handed over that unobtanium?”
It sounds ridiculous coming from Lo’ak’s mouth now but what else were you meant to believe? You’ve never met Neteyam before. The entire situation has bizarre written all over it. What is one more offbeat detail?
“He’s been talking about you for months, tawtute. Been driving me crazy actually.”
Unease sinks its claws into you.
“From what I understand, he had your schedule down. Those little nature walks you take daily just outside the base? Did you really think a defenseless human like you would have survived Pandora’s forest for that long without a protector?”
“He’s been watching me.” The thought slips from your lips without permission but Lo’ak nods anyways.
The past few months replay in your mind’s eyes. All those times you had been ecstatic to have some time alone in the fresh air. Every little conversation you had with yourself as you walked, running through checklists and even giving yourself reassuring words after a hard day. How many of those times had he been there?
Oh God, all those times the heat had been too much and you had gone skinny dipping!
Was that time ever sacred? Had he truly been watching from the sidelines this whole time with you none the wiser? And yet, that is the scariest realization.
You had no idea.
It brings into focus the horrible juxtaposition between you two.
He had watched you through the greenery easily while you had not a single inkling of being in another’s presence. And if Lo’ak’s words are anything to go off of, you too had been oblivious as he kept other predators at bay.
No wonder he talks to you like a naive child.
Your lungs seize, squeezing the air from them until it’s difficult to breathe. For a moment you look around for your mask, panicked as you assume that the serum for the day has somehow run out early. However one shaky breath in shows that this has nothing to do with carbon dioxide levels and everything to do with the panic that holds you hostage.
Six months.
Six months!
What had he seen? Was it only your walks through the forest or had there been more? How did you spark his interest in the first place? Among hundreds of soldiers and scientists you had never stood out as anyone extraordinary. Having been born on this planet has put you in the strained position of having little to no role, and yet you’ve somehow drawn the attention of the one person that has the power to turn your life inside out.
How much does he know about you?
Lo’ak clears his throat, snapping you out of your spiral.
“You’re not going to faint are you? Cause I really don’t want to be blamed for that one.”
Sweat beads at your temple and your body trembles as your knees tuck to your chin. You can’t necessarily blame Lo’ak for being concerned, not when your entire world is spinning around you.
“Look, I’m going to give you some advice simply because you look like you need it.” He says, propping one knee up. “Stop fighting it. Forget about that hell hole you lived in. Forget about that damned planet and take advantage of what you have here. Save yourself some time and start listening to my brother. If you’re waiting for him to give out, you’ll be waiting forever.”
You don’t answer. There are too many things to say. Too many things to turn over in your head, enough to bloom a pounding headache.
Horns sound through the forest, followed by distant Na’vi calls in response.
Neteyam’s back.
Lo’ak gently pats your leg like you’re old friends. “Good talk.” He says before standing up. You stop him before he leaves though.
“Wait you….you aren’t going to tell him though, right? About…earlier?”
A wide grin spreads across his face.
“Neteyam’s right, you are adorable.”
And with that, Lo’ak is gone.
“I’m sorry!” You whine, legs shaking over Neteyam’s shoulders.
Pleasure shoots through you like lightning but as orgasm after orgasm is pulled from your weeping pussy, his flicking tongue brings a sharp edge. You’ve lost count at this point of how many times your climax has spread over his smirking lips. If this continues any longer you are sure your body will give out.
“Hold still.” He firmly rasps against your clit.
Although those muscular arms are wrapped around your thighs, you know he could hold them tighter. But instead Neteyam gives just enough space for you to wiggle and squirm desperately. It’s clear he enjoys the struggle.
“No more!” You screech, roughly pushing at the top of his head. He doesn’t so much as flinch. Instead, his tongue travels down to gently tease at your opening. When it pushes inside of your clenching pussy the stretch is enough to make you gasp. It’s not the first time and you know it won’t be the last but over the past few days he has at least let you catch a reprieve between rounds.
He pulls back, catching his breath with a dopey grin.
“So sweet, little gift.” He wastes no time in diving back in, but there is little that can be done about it as you are pushed up against the wall and sat on his shoulders. Your fingers tangle into his braids, holding on for dear life. Nine feet suddenly feels so much higher than you remember.
He attacks your overstimulated cunt ferociously, giving no heed to your shaking body or wild pleas. His mouth opens to encompass your entire pussy, lips creating a seal around the area as he sucks harshly. It’s beyond anything you have ever experienced with human men and there are no resources in your arsenal to prepare you for the intense feeling.
“I can’t I can’t IcanticantIcant.” The words flow from your lips into a tangled mess and Neteyam’s tongue juts out to tap that bundle of nerves rapidly. The sound that comes from you is one you do not recognize. His ears perk up in response, tail lashing back and forth.
If anything your sounds egg him on, tongue thrashing desperately and massaging every crevice of sensitive area between your folds. The heat is so much that you feel as if your body will ricket apart into pieces and yet the desire never wains. Although the sensory overload is painful, you can’t stop your hips from thrusting back against his soaked lips.
Delight dances in his wide golden orbs as he sneaks a glance up at you.
You shut them tight in response.
It’s the way he looks at you that feels more intimate than anything else.
Even more personal than the hands that explore your body freely or the toned Na’vi form that presses you into the hammock at night.
His gaze is also the one thing you can semi avoid, at least for now.
When his nails reach back to dig into your plush cheeks and his tongue enters you once more another climax rockets through you. Neteyam’s flat nose nudges at your clit fiercely while he continues to stretch you out. The pain and pleasure bleed into one another but all you know is that it’s overwhelming.
Blood pounding so hard at your ears you barely make out those pathetic sounds coming from your lips.
Neteyam doesn’t stop until you are yanking at his hair and tears stream down your cheeks.
He leans back to admire his handy work, chin shimmering with your sweet juices. Thumb gently sliding down your puffy lips he hums in satisfaction. You’re absolutely debauched. You know that. There is no need to look down in order to know that between your thighs is a sticky mess.
“That will do, I think.” He murmurs and your head leans back against the wall to catch your breath.
Relief is cut short however when you are suddenly slid down his body and manhandled to have your legs wrapped around his narrow waist. He smiles at your little shriek and the way you cling to his shoulders.
“Mawey, tiyawn.”
“Teyam, I’m tired.”
“I know, but a good pet takes her punishment first.”
Your heart lurches.
“But I thought-”
The words morph into a gasp when one long finger probes at your entrance. Collecting the leaking slick and cum there, Neteyam uses that to glide into your still overstimulated pussy. Bucking to get out or range only causes you to hit the kelku post and incidentally sink that finger in deeper. You cry out at the stretch, even with the preparation it feels like so much more than you could imagine one finger to be.
“That’s it, little gift. Just relax. Take it all.” And by some insane miracle you manage to take him down to the last knuckle.
“I was planning on letting you adjust to just my tongue for a while but after this morning’s…events, I think we need to quicken your training. Don’t you think, pet?”
Nothing but a silent scream comes from your parted lips. And you most definitely fail to give a response when that digit curls to find its target easily. Neteyam doesn’t seem to mind.
“Although, I admit I am partly to blame. I should’ve known better than to leave you alone. Should’ve known my little gift would miss me.” He purrs, craning his neck down to run his nose along your shoulder and throat.
That slippery digit pulls out but only to have the tip of another join it at your entrance. On instinct you brace yourself but Netyeam whispers sweet nothings into your ear, promising a reward if you just relax for him. Before you know it he is using both to scissor you open.
“It's a learning process for both of us.” Neteyam casually sighs, as if he doesn’t have two fingers tearing you apart from inside as your brain cells fry to ash. At this point he may as well be talking to himself.
His tail slinks around your waist as he adds a third finger slowly.
“But don’t worry, pet.” They massage at your sweet spot sinfully until you are shaking like a leaf. “I’d never give up on you.” And those are surely the scariest words Neteyam has ever said and yet their full magnitude can’t hit you now with the state you’re in.
He kisses your cheek softly before starting a steady pace in and out of your tight pussy.
“T-tey tey ah Teyam.” You stutter out, not sure how or what you are asking for but feeling like you need to at least try.
“Mawey, pet.” He says simply, eyes trained on where his slick fingers disappear into your heat.
The stretch and pleasure coalesce together along with your trembling nerves until you can not differentiate clearly between the various sensations. Your cheeks are wet with tears and eyes staring in a daze up at him as little whimpers rise occasionally.
“Fuck, this tiny pussy is squeezing my fingers so well.”
You collapse against him, cheek pressed against his collarbone as he continues to hold your weight with one arm.
“Stay awake, oeyӓ tiyawn.”
You hardly listen as you’re carried to the hammock and laid down. Painfully slow, his fingers dip from your tight cunt and your body sags at the loss.
“Almost done.”
That catches your attention, intuition sparking as you lazily watch Neteyam riffle through a bag.
“Got something special for your training. To start it at least.”
The plastic strange object looks small in his big hands but when he brings it to rest on your stomach the size makes your eyes bulge.
You’re wide awake now.
“Neteyam no, please! I don’t think I can I-I”
“It’s just a small one, little gift. Have to get you stretched out somehow if you ever hope to take me.” He smirks, squeezing your right thigh for comfort.
“No no but I-I can’t because….because I-I…..I’ve never used toys before.” The lie is a knee jerk reaction and one not elegantly delivered.
It earns you a dark look, the Olo’eyktan’s lips turning downward. Suddenly your face is caught in his hand, cheeks squishing beneath his fingers.
“Oh really? And what would you call that pink toy you love so much?”
Oh God. When did he see that?
How did he see that?
How much of your life has been observed by this man?
“I don’t appreciate being lied to. I also don’t appreciate coming home to have my brother tell me my tiyawn almost killed herself falling out of a tree today. Or seeing how your misbehavior has marked up my property.” He gestures to the scuffs and scrapes along your inner thighs. “Should we really be adding another infraction to the list today?”
Your head is shaking before he even finishes.
“I didn’t think so.” He sighs. “Now be a good girl and spread those pretty legs.” You obey as he pulls you to the edge of the hammock, legs dangling over the side.
With some time and patience the toy slowly slips inside of you inch by inch. In some ways it's smaller than Neteyam’s three fingers but it’s also plastic and cold. Not nearly as pleasurable as his warmth.
“There we go.” He praises once it is seated all the way inside. “So pretty.” He kisses right over your filled pussy and you shiver.
Settling into bed is more difficult than usual. It’s expected to have his larger body completely wrapped around you, making sure there is no room for escape but now every time you squirm to get comfortable the toy shifts inside of you.
“Stop moving, tiyawn. It’s been a long day.” He throws one leg over your hips for good measure. “Be a good girl and I’ll let you sleep with it off.”
Off?
You crane your neck to face him and see that there is a tiny remote grasped between his fingers. Your eyes widen, movements ceasing immediately. Neteyam smiles into your hair whispering sweet nothings until his voice starts to become lazy with sleep.
Eventually his breaths deepen while you pout silently in the dark. The toy is pressing at that bundle of nerves again but when you shuffle slightly the Olo’eyktan lets out a deep groan and pulls you flush against him.
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More of Little Gift to come;)
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Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist
April 2016
“Thank you for meeting me.”
Y/n settled into the seat across from Harry. Her hands curled tightly around her mug, apprehension seeping into her bones. “Of course.”
She had been surprised when Harry called her, asking to meet at the Beachwood Cafe. She hadn’t heard from him in months, not one call or text, not even an email. Not that Y/n really expected much when One Direction finally went on hiatus, but after zero communication, she wasn’t quite sure why he’d called her all these months later.
“How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages,” Harry asked.
Y/n’s eyebrows raised a bit, but she answered him anyway after taking a sip of her coffee. “Fine, I guess. You?”
“Good!” Harry said excitedly. “Taking a break the last few months has been…I don’t know. Peaceful, but odd, you know? I’ve never had so much time to myself before.”
“Must be nice,” Y/n said, trying to hide the irritation in her voice.
“Yeah, but I realized that I kind of miss it,” he said. “I knew once we decided on the hiatus that I wanted to do my own thing, but I thought I would take a longer break, but I feel like I’m…itching to get back to work.”
That definitely seemed like Harry. Y/n had worked for him for years, and even when there were breaks between tours, he was hard at work—writing, going to Fashion Week, collaborating with other artists, vocal training, even trying new recipes in his state-of-the-art kitchen, which led to a phone call at one in the morning where Harry asked Y/n to come over and see if his macrons tasted "fluffy enough." It seemed only right that he rested for mere months before starting a new project. She could practically picture him at either of his homes in LA or London, scribbling in his leatherbound journal or playing new melodies on his guitar or piano (and the occasional late-night pastry party). As long as she’d known him, Harry had been a hard worker through and through. A little on the wild side when he had some tequila in him, but when it came down to his career, he was focused, determined.
“Good for you,” Y/n said, meaning it. She always thought he was capable of more. “So what comes next for you? Have you recorded songs already?”
“Not quite. I’m planning a trip to Jamaica to write and record there. It’s remote, serene, a good place to get away. So we’ll have to start booking flights and places to stay and—”
“I’m sorry, ‘We?’” Y/n asked, her brow furrowing with confusion.
Harry matched her look of confusion with one of his own. “Yeah, I mean—I need you. I can’t do this without you.”
The sentiment warmed Y/n’s heart for a moment, but his immediate assumption that she would drop everything just because he asked her to brought the irritation swarming back. “Mr. Sty—Harry, you know I don’t work for you anymore, right?”
“What do you mean? Are you talking about the hiatus? I just thought we could all use some time off, but…I guess I just thought—”
Harry didn’t finish his thought, but his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Y/n would’ve found it cute if he hadn’t been so dense. Resentment still circled around her like a fog, and she wouldn’t let it go so easily, she couldn’t.
“I was employed by your management, Harry. To be an assistant to a member of One Direction,” Y/n explained. “I was let go. I had to quickly find another job doing something else.”
“Oh.”
Y/n supposed she should’ve anticipated being fired, but she didn’t. There was a lot of information that she was privy to that most people weren’t, secrets that were tightly bound by an NDA when she was first hired, but talks of the hiatus was very hushed. She knew to suspect that somewhere down the line the boys would finally take a break, but it came a lot sooner than she was prepared for, and she was left jobless before she had the chance to line something else up. Y/n thought that Harry would give her the courtesy of a warning, but he said nothing about it to her, didn’t offer much except a side hug after One Direction’s last performance.
So yeah, she was a little bitter.
“I’m—I’m really sorry, Y/n. I know it doesn’t make up for…all of this and everything you went through, but I am truly sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Y/n believed him, believed that he was sorry for everything that went down, but it still hurt to know she wasn’t someone he was close enough to talk to about all of this at the time. She was Harry’s assistant, she knew that, but they’d been through a lot together. But he was ever the professional it seemed, and it was her job to remember that, not his.
When she realized her coffee was finished, Y/n stood up. “Well, it was good seeing you, Harry. Good luck on your next project. I’m sure it’ll be great.”
“Wait, but—you’re not—you‘re leaving?”
“I have to run a couple errands before work," Y/n explained. She rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “But really, no hard feelings. I wish you all the best.”
She left Harry at the table, heading for the front of the cafe and toward the busy street beyond. Her heart felt heavy as she walked away, but she tried to shake the feeling that she was walking away from more than just her boss. Former boss. Like her mother always reminded her, she couldn’t be a personal assistant forever.
“Wait!”
Y/n turned on instinct, eyes widening as Harry jogged after her, his little bun bouncing with each step. He skidded to a stop in front of her, green eyes wide and searching. For what, she wasn’t sure, but the heat of his gaze was enough to make butterflies stir in her stomach.
Putting on her best front, she raised her eyebrows, waiting for Harry to say whatever he needed to.
“I wasn’t kidding earlier. I need you, Y/n,” he said. “I—You’re the only one who really knows me, who I know will have my back no matter what. I need a familiar face in my corner.”
I need you, Y/n. Those words were her kryptonite. Year after year, Y/n heard Harry's voice over the phone as he roused her from sleep, read the text messages while she was getting her nails done or watched TV in her hotel room, or on the rare occasion she went on a date. But she had to hold strong. Y/n had been devastated by her sudden layoff, but now she had a life, and she didn't want to get sucked back into Harry's very alluring web of charming smiles, cheesy jokes, and endless adventure. That was his life, not hers.
“I have a job, Harry. I can’t just drop everything and quit because you suddenly want me to—”
“What are they paying you?”
Y/n’s brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”
Harry pushed on. “What are they paying you? I’ll double it.”
Scoffing in disbelief, she said, “It’s not about the money—”
“Triple,” he countered. Harry took her hand in his and squeezed it. He looks desperate, Y/n thought.
“I can’t just quit my job because you remembered I existed,” Y/n said quietly, pulling her hand out of his. She clung to her resolve, hoping Harry would make this easy and just let it go, let her go. “I—I deserve more.”
More of what, she wasn’t sure, but Y/n knew it was true. Harry only reached out because he needed something from her, and that hurt more than she cared to admit.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Harry said, looking down at his shoes. A pair of scuffed Chelsea boots he wore practically everywhere. Y/n had bought him a pair of Vans one year, an attempt to switch up his wardrobe, but he still chose the boots nine times out of ten. “Just—At least think about coming to Jamaica. Please?”
“Harry—”
“Not as my assistant. As a guest. A friend,” Harry amended. “We’re planning on staying at a huge villa, and I want to make up for being an idiot. Just—Just think about it. Please.”
Despite everything, Y/n found herself wanting to say yes. It was that magnetic pull she felt toward Harry that had kept her working for him for so long. He was an important person in her life, and up until he’d all but ghosted her after the hiatus, she thought she was important to him too. In spite of his misgivings, Y/n still wanted to believe that she was.
It was so stupid, but it felt good to be wanted by him. She was an idiot, she knew that. But her friendship with Harry was legitimate, he'd just acted like a complete idiot. She'd known him long enough to know he was very capable of acting like an idiot. So even though she shouldn’t, even though she had carefully lined up her reasons not to in a little line, she started to cave.
But she couldn’t make the decision now. Not when Harry was looking at her with pleading green eyes and his sad little puppy dog face, his cologne dizzyingly lovely. No, she owed it to herself to really think about what she wanted. If getting sucked back into that whirlwind was worth it. Worth getting her heart properly broken when she knew he would never feel the same about her.
"I'll show up at work, you know," Harry said. "I'm not above it. You might think I am, but I'm not."
Y/n had no doubt in her mind that he would. Along with being an idiot, Harry was very stubborn, and very persistent. She had years with him to know that. Did she really need Harry Styles showing up at her place of work?
“Fine, I’ll think about it,” she finally said, trying to pretend like her heart was screaming to just agree. But her heart was an impulsive little shit that was bound to get her in trouble.
Harry’s face broke out into a wide grin, one that displayed those famous dimples and lit up his entire face. It was hard to feel like he didn't think she was the only person on earth to exist when he looked like that, like he was convinced she’d already said yes. “I’ll take it.”
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hits different
cowboy like me chapter twelve
oh, my, love is a lie!
are we all ready? do we have our coping strategies in place? have we prepared ourselves for impending doom? then gather round, my dear children, for i’ve a tale to tell. and it’s a SORE one
pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader
summary: still reeling from your fight with joel, you seek out an effective way to deal with it: a night of sambuca shots and no second thoughts
warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) alcohol + drug consumption (reader gets hammered), heartache, angst, unwanted touching, intended sexual assault, drink spiking, descriptions of blood and bruising, protective!joel gets into a quick barfight, more discussion of cheating(?), joel won't admit feelings, pain pain and more pain, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing
word count: 10.9k
series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist
Joel takes a beat to answer. Like he’s waiting for your voice to fill the space, the way it usually would. What’s up, old man? How hard is it to copy an address right? Lois not as good at typing as she is at sucking your –
“You, uh…you got it. Call me if there’s anythin’ you need. I’m home all night.”
The call cuts before your dad gets the chance to say goodbye. Which doesn’t really matter, because he wasn’t talking to your dad. You know it, ‘n Joel knows it.
Of course he went to see Lois. He’s probably been seeing her for some time now. A nice lady, his own age, his line of work. You’re pretty sure she has a son, too. And your dad would love her, would love to think Joel was shacking up with some plant hire receptionist. She could turn your life around, son, he’d said. They fit together like a couple of jigsaw pieces. What the fuck would he have ever seen in you, past some young, tight thing for him to fuck? Just a placeholder. Just a time-waster.
A twenty-three-year-old; enough energy to keep him on his toes, cure his boredom. Fill his summer with something to do. And close enough to him, too, that he reeled you in with minimum effort. One stupid look at you – one stupid, stupid glance and you were hooked. High as a kite on him. All the touching, all the whispering. That fucking – the fucking bottle. The video. All of it, every second he ever spent near you – it all makes you cringe now.
And then, once the embarrassment of being played by your dad’s best friend passes, there’s the hurt. The aching. Fuck, the aching. The way your chest swells, feels like it might rip at the seams and burst open. The sting behind your eyes anytime you picture his smile, the way he’d look at you. The feeling of your throat closing up whenever you go to speak, windpipe constricting around any words that aren’t his name, and using them to choke you.
And it’s not like you can talk to anyone about it. Can’t have a heart-to-heart with your dad, have him make you a tea and sit him down by your window, ask for advice on heartbreak and getting over his best friend. You’ve been excusing your reclusiveness by telling him you’re on your period. That’s why you haven’t left your bed in four days.
It was just all so fucking believable, wasn’t it? So good, you thought you were dreaming the entire time.
And here he’d just proven you right. You dreamt it all up.
Has he fucked her yet? Lois. Is she one of the ten he told you about the other night? Has she touched him the way you have? Has he touched her, the way he did you?
Does she know how he sounds when he comes undone? How he looks? How he feels? Does she do it for him the way you do it? And what does he call her? Baby? Darlin’? Or something different entirely?
Now you’re wondering when he started seeing her, and then, if they have slept together, when the first time was. Whether or not you cross over with her. Maybe he went and fucked her after you argued. Let off some steam over at her place, while you sat in his house, smelling his shirts and reading his stupid fucking Alcatraz books. While you paced around, practicing the words you’d say to him when he came back.
All you wanted was for him to come back. You wanted him to come find you upstairs, take the book from your hands and lean his head down on your chest, mumble an apology into the material of your shirt and then kiss you, and kiss you again while he pulled the clothes from your body, and kiss you while you were naked underneath him, and kiss you while he rocked his hips into yours.
Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
You think you hate her. You don’t even know her. Don’t know what she looks like, only heard her voice. She’s probably gorgeous. Probably a really sweet woman, helps out on the PTA, the type that stops to read missing dog posters so she can keep an eye out for them. Probably knows Joel well enough that she writes Sarah a birthday card every year. Just a real nice, Southern lady.
And you fucking hate her.
That’s not fair, though, and you know it. She didn’t do anything wrong. Joel’s the one who screwed you over – screwed you both over. Really, you and Lois are one and the same.
Except that she’s taken away the only thing to put a real smile on your face since you got home, and for that, you fucking hate her.
What had he said again? That night he drove you home from Sal’s, the night your dad asked him to stay for pizza. …said she’d like to go for a drink. I said maybe sometime. Maybe he’d organized that drink, in the midst of whatever you two had been doing. Thought nothing of it – you said it yourself: you were just messing around. Said it, like, three times to him. Good fucking job.
And that adds to the hurt. That neither of you seemed to care enough to call it anything more. Because now, sitting alone in your room, desperately checking your phone for a missed call or a text message from him, ears pricking at every sound your dad makes downstairs in case he’s answering a call from Joel or welcoming him in through the front door – you wish you had called it something.
Wish you had just fucking said it. Told him outright about the feelings you had. You were thinking about them enough – the thought circled your mind any time there was a moment’s silence between you.
Sometimes, the way he’d glance over to you, the way his hand would brush against yours, the way he’d say your name…he felt like…
Yours. He was yours. He was so fucking close to being yours.
You almost said it, once. Almost admitted it to him. Couple times you saw it flash behind his eyes, too. And it’s a damn good thing neither of you did say it, because it would’ve been a mistake. Would’ve been lies.
You don’t love him. You never did. You were in some fantasy, built by Joel. There ain’t no love between you. None from your side. And definitely none from him.
Definitely – none – from –
him.
----------
Anna’s been at you all week. She text you on Monday night, but you were about four layers of blanket deep in your bed, weeping into a box of dry cereal and listening to some sad girl playlist on repeat. You fished your cell out from under your mattress the next morning. Your dad had to call it to help you find it.
Anna: Frank’s again on Friday? Rodeo night round 2!!!
Tuesday, it was Please?? It was so fun on Sat. Cmon, Kara’s coming again. Sam’s working but that means free shots so.
On Wednesday, she tried a new approach. I’ll cover any shift you want.
Any two shifts……
Ok three????
Thursday, she started to get desperate. I’ll spill all your secrets to my dad if you don’t come. And you know he’ll tell them all to your dad lol
By Friday morning, though, she’d decided you had no say in the matter: you were going, and you’d be happy about it. And you didn’t have it in you to fight back.
She’s standing at the side of the mirror, scanning you from head to two.
“All black? Again?”
“I look good in black.”
“You look good in anything,” she agrees, turning to sift through your closet, “so why don’t we go for…?”
“No,” you clip, holding a finger up to the red dress in her hands. “No.”
“What’s wrong with it? It’s hot. C’mon.”
“Why do I gotta be hot?”
“I mean…is Mr. Miller gonna be pickin’ you up again, or…?”
You lob a previously discarded dress at her and she snorts, turning to slip it back onto a hanger.
Even his fucking surname sends a pang of pain through your body. Your heart jumps at the sound of it, like its hopes had risen for a second, but then it plummets with the realization that it’s not really Joel, and he’s still really gone.
You’re in a plain black slip dress, black denim jacket slung over your shoulders. Black lace-up boots, too. It’s like rodeo night, except without the fun and excitement of Joel waiting for you at the end of the night. It’s basically rodeo night’s funeral. And good fucking riddance.
Anna – always glittering, always in some sparkly getup – leads you out of your bedroom and down the stairs. Your dad agreed to drop you guys off, seeing as he’s out working later on.
He’s sat in his armchair, glasses on the tip of his nose, squinting down at the instruction booklet to that fucking Garmin he’s still wrestling with. He looks up and claps his hands once.
“Ready, girls?”
Anna nods eagerly and you lift your eyebrows, thinking about how Joel would laugh at the sight of his buddy still fighting a very obviously lost battle to a GPS. Then you think about how he’d tell you quietly, You look beautiful, darlin’, and ask you to text him when you got home safe.
And finally, you think about how much of an ass he is, and you blink the tears from your eyes before following the two blurry figures out to the car.
Anna snaps a couple selfies as the car winds out of the neighborhood, angling her phone to pull you into shot. The sun setting over the roofs of the houses dazzles your eyes. She tuts, tells you to Look like you actually wanna be goin’ out, and sends them to Kara, letting her know you’re on your way.
You’re watching her reply to a text from some boy she’s seeing when your dad’s ringtone echoes throughout the car, the name on the tiny digital screen the very last name you want to see right now.
Or maybe the very name you’ve been waiting all week to see. Just, on your screen instead of your dad’s.
“Hey, Joel,” your dad calls, and your body instinctively leans in to listen better. Drawn in like a magnet to just the sound of his voice.
“Hey, bud,” he replies. It’s like a punch to your chest. Hands around your throat. Salt behind your eyes. “I just got off the phone with Clark’s, they just dropped that equipment off at the site. Said there wasn’t nobody around to sign for it, so they just left it at the gate.”
“It’s a manned site, what do they mean there wasn’t–?”
“No idea,” Joel says, cutting across him. “Just said there wasn’t anybody to take the delivery.”
Anna’s head slowly turns in your direction, likely to take another dumb selfie or to ask some random question about your outfit, but you turn away, refusing to meet her hazel-eyed stare. Refusing to let her take your attention away from this phone call. From Joel.
Your dad sighs, runs a hand down his cheek. “I hope it’s still there when I get to it. Sure you gave ‘em the right address on Monday?”
“I wrote it down exactly how you text me it.”
Joel’s voice sounds flatter than normal. Less trademark Joel grumbly and more tired, deflated. A little irritated. It bruises your heart hearing him and not chiming in, not teasing him for potentially getting the street name wrong or something. Not letting him know you’re here.
Your dad does that anyway, though.
“Well,” he sighs again, hitting the turn signal, “I’m on my way to Frank’s – girls are havin’ another one of their wild nights out. I’ll head straight from there to the site ‘n make sure everything’s in place. Thanks, Joel.”
Joel takes a beat to answer. Like he’s waiting for your voice to fill the space, the way it usually would. What’s up, old man? How hard is it to copy an address right? Lois not as good at typing as she is at sucking your –
“You, uh…you got it. Call me if there’s anythin’ you need. I’m home all night.”
The call cuts before your dad gets the chance to say goodbye. Which doesn’t really matter, because he wasn’t talking to your dad. You know it, ‘n Joel knows it.
No. He was talking to you. He knew you’d be listening. Knew that conversation would mean much more to you than it ever could to your dad. And he knew you’d be hanging on to every word he spoke.
He’s home all night, which translates to: he’s only ever fifteen minutes away if you wind up needing him. If you end up wanting him.
You’ve spent the last four days purposefully stopping yourself from wanting him. Your thumb has hovered over his name in your contacts more times than you’d care to admit. Mostly at night, when your dad goes to bed and there’s eight hours of quiet – quiet you’d usually fill by annoying Joel, striking up a conversation at midnight when he’s about to sleep.
What the fuck would you even say if he did pick up? Would you be mad? Would you yell? Or would you just break down, sob a few incoherent sentences down the line to him and pray that he doesn’t hang up?
But then – would he even pick up? It’s not a thought you want to entertain much. That sound of ringing and ringing, and no gruff, Hey, baby, at the other end.
Your chest hurts. You take a gulp of air.
You’d happily have him never touch you again if he’d just come the fuck back.
Anna slaps your arm and Joel’s face is wiped clean from your mind. “C’mon,” she chirps, and nods out of your window.
You turn to see the faded blue brick walls of Frank’s, clusters of people outside clutching cigarettes and glasses, holding hands up to shield their eyes from the sunlight and tipping their heads back in laughter at one another. Kara stands among them, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. She waves when you catch her eye, stumbling out of the car in a daze.
Anna’s arm links through yours, almost violently, and she skips along the sidewalk to Kara, who joins your chain. The three of you stroll into the bar together and over to Sam, who smiles genially in welcome.
“Hello, ladies,” he sings, leaning in. “What can I do ya for?”
“Get us drunk, Sam!” Anna exclaims, rapping her knuckles on the bar top, and, for the first time tonight, you find yourself nodding in agreement with her.
Get me –
fucking –
hammered.
----------
You get your wish. Sam hands you a cold beer, and within twenty minutes you’re ordering a second. Anna and Kara opt for cocktails, some bright pink concoction that you don’t even bother to ask the name of, you just lean over the bar and tell Sam to make up a third.
And then there are the shots, two each, which are a hysterically terrible idea. You know it as you tip your head back, sickly taste of sambuca spilling down your throat and taking with it the very last of your good sense, apparently.
All the while, that phone call rattles through your head. Joel’s voice swings between your ears like a pendulum. His dry tone, the borderline contempt he spoke to your dad with. The thought of who he’s been with and what he’s been doing either side of that call burns like the drink in your belly, and forces you back up to the bar for another to wash him away with.
You rock against the dark wood, sticky with alcohol, and hoist yourself up onto a stool. “One peer, blease, sir,” you garble to Sam, one finger in the air. “Oh, wait…”
You throw your hand down onto the bar with a roar of laughter and lean back, forgetting there’s no back to your chair. It tilts back, and your hands fumble to grab the edge of the bar, but it’s too far, too late, and you land on the solid floor with a clatter – metal leg of the stool digging into your own.
“Fuck,” you hiss, dragging yourself back to your feet. A thin line of dark red blood cuts from halfway down your calf, streaming down into your boot.
“Are you okay?” Sam yells, stood frozen with the beer and bottle opener still in his hands.
“I’m fine,” you grumble, clambering to your feet. You don’t even convince yourself.
Sam doesn’t let go of the bottle when your fingers curve around it. He looks you dead in the eye and asks, “What’s goin’ on?” and you know he won’t let go until you answer him.
“Nothin’. I’m fine.”
Until you answer him truthfully, that is.
“I’m…It’s just…I got a lot goin’ on up here.” Your shaky finger draws a circle against your temple, and your eyes flutter closed.
“I can see that. Is this really a good ide–”
“Well, howdy, clumsy!”
The owner of whatever fucking annoying voice just shrieked through your ears slaps his hand down on your shoulder, almost toppling you for the second time in five minutes, and you twist around to find a pair of red, blotchy cheeks and almost equally red hair to match, stood before you.
“Hi…?” You squint your eyes to get a better look, the figure swaying with the room behind him.
“Hi.” He’s still smiling. Two huge front teeth, like a pair of overgrown Tic Tacs. “You have no idea who I am, do you? That’s…embarrassing for me.”
“Zack!” another voice screams over the bassline of the music. “Are you fucking coming or not, dude?”
A pale, jittery guy with a dark green t-shirt hanging off of his lean frame barges into the red-haired boy’s side, and a few seconds after his mouth stops moving, you register what he’s said.
“No – f-fucking – way,” you breathe, staring him up and down. His red flannel is tucked into his jeans, sealed by a brown leather belt. There’s a longhorn head on the buckle. “Zack? From Costco? What the fuck’d you do, stalk me?”
He laughs awkwardly, looking from you to over your shoulder, where Sam’s still holding your beer.
“Sorry–” you mutter, shaking your head. “I’m not at my best right now.”
“It’s cool,” he replies, grinning. “You look like you’re having a good night. I’m out with my buddies. This is Eric.”
Eric gives you a nod – his blond fringe jumps, and he jerks his head to sweep it back out of his eyes. “Nice to meet you,” he says, before rounding again on Zack. “Seriously, bro, he says he’s not waitin’ around this time. C’mon!”
“We were gonna head to the rooftop if you wanted to come?” Zack raises his eyebrows, pointing a thumb over his shoulder as Eric and another two figures make off for the stairs at the other end of the bar.
“Sure.” You blindly reach for your beer and Sam relents, letting it slip from his grasp. He calls your name as you trot off, and you turn for one second to give his worried stare a thumbs up, before swirling back toward the stairs. No second thought.
This isn’t the night for second thoughts.
The rooftop is quieter, less crowded. Background noise made up of passing cars, a siren in the distance, and the muffled music from downstairs. You wander over to where Zack stands with Eric and a couple others: a short guy with wireframe glasses, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, and someone you think you almost recognize.
His black V-neck looks like it might burst at the seams around his chest, swollen with muscle. Thick neck, holding up a square jawline, and a face heavy with features which mirror the broad body below.
And a thick smell of marijuana which follows his every move.
Zack shuffles to the side to let you into the circle. You shimmy in between him and Eric.
V-neck pulls a small metal case from his back pocket and fishes a cigarette out of it. Eyes start to shift around the group, the boys glancing over shoulders to check who’s watching.
“Are we…? Is that weed?” you blurt out.
“Shut the fuck up!” Eric hisses, jabbing his elbow into your ribcage.
V-neck eyes you down quickly. It’s the first he looks at you, and it puts a sickly feeling through your body. Sends the alcohol hurtling over itself in your stomach.
You raise your eyebrows and wrap your arms around yourself, your beer bottle against your lips. “Sorry, jeez…”
“This is Knox,” Zack mutters, as Knox lights the cigarette.
He takes one hit, inhaling deeply with his chin in the air, and passes it to the boy in the hoodie. Another cloud of smoke joins Knox’s, slowly dispersing above your heads, and then it’s Eric’s turn. With a cough, his fist against his lips, he passes it to Zack. Soon, the air around you is thick and white, and Zack’s handing you the joint.
You lift it to your lips and inhale. The feeling hits you instantly; your body feels light, your face warm, your eyes blink in and out of focus, watching as a blurry shadow begins to follow your hand when you pass the joint back to Knox.
A couple more circuits, and the roach is pressed into the ground by Knox’s boot. The group separates; Zack and his friends fall into some metal chairs around a table, sparking up a debate on the best Lord of the Rings film, and you float around nearby.
“You a friend of Zack’s?” Knox asks, downing what’s left of his whiskey.
“Hm…Not really. We met at Costco, ‘cause I was there to get some party stuff for my dad’s friend’s daughter’s– Well, she’s my friend, too, and she wanted this garden party, and my dad’s friend was like, What the fuck is a garden party? you know, so I had to go help ‘im get stuff for it, with my dad, who was kinda a buzzkill, but anyway…Z-Zack helped me lift some sodas into my cart.”
Knox nods once. Fingers locked tight around his empty glass. He’s staring you down like you’re fresh meat.
You purse your lips and stare back, but quickly get bored when he doesn’t speak, and you miss Anna and her selfies and her sambuca shots. As you’re about to wander back to the door, though, Knox steps in front of you.
“So, you’re here often, then?”
Your shoulder knocks into his. “Huh?”
“Saw you last week. You were pretty spaced, don’t know if you remember.”
The memory whips past your eyes quicker than you can catch it, frames lingering only long enough for you to see Knox’s thick arm linked with yours outside Frank’s, the smell of weed in your nostrils, and the bright lights of Joel’s truck. And then it’s gone, before you can get a good grip of it.
“I’m…I remember now. Yeah. No, I’m not here much, I just…Rough week.”
He nods again, and you suspect he hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said since he got you alone. “You want another drink?”
The way he’s looking at you makes you feel more and more nauseous. Makes you want to turn and run back downstairs, slot in beside Anna and Kara, bury yourself between their shoulders and stay there until they decide they want to go home.
It makes you feel the way it felt last week, when he halted you outside the bar on your way to Joel. And suddenly the memory is soaring in front of your eyes again.
Your hand on Joel’s elbow. The frown on his face. Whitened knuckles around the steering wheel. ‘s go, pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl.
“Yeah,” you tell Knox. “Yeah, I do.”
You follow him downstairs where he nods to Sam at the bar.
Sam ignores him, instead glares at you. “Can we talk…?” he asks, but Knox cuts across him.
“Beer, right?” he checks with you, and you nod. “And another whiskey.”
Your friend hesitantly grabs the drinks, glancing up at you every five seconds in a question. You respond by nodding slowly, feeling your head bounce each time you do.
You lazily scan the room for Anna and Kara, who you spot in a booth over by the window. The spotlights overhead reflect in the sparkles of Anna’s dress; Kara’s holding the straw of her drink between her lips, bobbing her head to the music. You saunter over, twirling on your way.
“Where have you been, baby?” Anna calls, giggling when you fall against the booth, palms flat on the wooden table.
“Upstairs,” you mumble, and then feel a tap on your back.
“Forgot this,” Knox says, pushing the beer into your hand. “You wanna go dance?”
Anna’s face twists into one of worry, and you give her an apologetic smile and spin off, following the wide frame to a dark corner of the bar where he takes your wrist and pulls your body against his.
He’s not doing much dancing, rather, he’s just keeping a solid grip on your waist, watching as you rock side to side, taking a couple shallow sips of your drink. You pull on his arm, Fucking move, dude, but he only leans further back, until he’s shrouded in shadows and pulling you into them with him.
When he leans into your space and snakes a drunken arm tight around your neck, you don’t retreat. You lean in, too, and plant your lips on his.
It’s messy, it’s a little gross. He tastes sour, weed and alcohol on his tongue, and it makes you wish you’d never started kissing him. Still, you take it further. You open your mouth more, letting more of him in, soak your own tongue, wet your lips. You barely even feel it when his hands move south and cup your ass, and it’s only when he squeezes that you wriggle out of his grip.
“Sorry,” you mumble, taking hold of his sleeve to steady yourself. “Sorry.”
He shakes his head, says something short that you don’t hear, and you lean back against him, wrapping your arms around his neck.
He’s smaller, much shorter than Joel. Your shoulders almost match the height of his. But he’s more built, he’s bulkier, in an uncomfortable way. Like trying to put your arms around a giant balloon or something. There’s no softness, no enclosing feeling when your weight presses against his. Just the huge surface of his chest, the hollow feeling of two mismatched bodies unwillingly pushed together.
Not strong. Not safe. Not secure. Not him.
But you’re kissing him again, because it’s the first time in five days you’ve felt something other than your aching chest and heavy head. You’re kissing him because you feel unwanted and unloved and, even though he seems almost as hammered as you are, it feels good to have someone want to be on you.
You’re kissing him because you’re trying to pretend it’s Joel.
Only he tastes…well, disgusting, and he smells different. He’s sweating from the heat in the bar, and his arms aren’t placed somewhere to make you feel wrapped in his grasp, they’re placed anywhere that he can pinch, squeeze, or otherwise fondle.
Joel’s face swims in and out of your head; a smile as he pulls you in for a kiss, a smirk when he’s telling you off, soft eyes when he’s listening to you talk. It makes you want to throw up.
That might just be the drinks.
Someone taps you furiously on the shoulder, and you push Knox off your body.
When your eyes fail to meet Sam’s, he takes your wrist and drags you behind the bar, ripping the beer bottle from your grasp and almost launching it into the sink. It smashes, and the liquid pours down the drain.
“Hey, what the f–?”
“I’m gonna call your dad,” he yells, deafening to your numb ears.
“Do not fucking call my dad,” you slur, laughing a little. “I’m fine! I’m having fun.”
“You’re fucking wasted. And that guy – he’s bad news.”
“Does it matter?”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “Who even are–? What the fuck is up with you right now? Yes, it fucking matters!”
“Not my dad,” you repeat as you back away, staggering over to the booth where your friends sit.
Anna storms over to meet you, slipping her wrist around yours and bringing you to a halt. “Did Sam find you?” she asks. Her hands plant on your shoulders, and she dips her head until you’re eye to eye.
She’s blurry. She’s nothing but shapes, and movements, and noises. And she’s fucking pissing you off.
“Can everyone just – get the fuck off of me?” you groan, stumbling backwards, and Anna links her hands with yours to stop you from collapsing.
She pulls you back upright, leaning in close. Her head shakes, you can see that much. But her expression is cloudy, and her hands don’t let go of yours so easily when you try to pull away. The orb-like shapes in front of you mutter your name, only it’s not Anna’s voice, it’s his.
Anna’s babbling, panicked tone drives through your skull. “She’s been drinking, like, a lot, and I think she might’ve had some weed upstairs. But Sam said he saw –”
“C’mon, kid,” his voice says again, and there’s a heavy arm pulling you off to the door.
“Get – off – of – me.” You struggle in his grasp, pushing his body away from yours, fingers expecting to find the V-neck collar of a black shirt and instead finding –
Buttons. The edges of a green flannel shirt. And a soft cotton tee underneath. And then his scent washes over you: warm, sweet, earthy. Grounding.
“Joel…” you whisper, thick with fear and intoxication and need.
His jaw angles down, you catch one fleeting glimpse of his chin, graying beard, tight lips hidden beneath it, and then you’re shoving his chest again, attempting to push him as far away from your own body as he’ll go.
Only he doesn’t move.
“Fuck off,” you seethe, palms flat on his pecs. “Get the fuck away from me.”
He says your name in a hazy blur, says, “We’re goin’ home,” and you almost laugh in his face.
“I don’t f-fucking think so.”
“Yeah? Well, I do. Thanks, Anna, I got her.”
“Hey,” a fourth voice joins the chorus, “hey, you know this guy?”
Knox pushes past Joel’s arm, unlinking your fingers from his, and takes your shoulder with one rough hand. All your anger, all your rage at Joel, and yet, the second you’re separated from him, the only thing on your mind is having his hand back around yours.
Joel’s upper lip twitches, he stares at the back of Knox’s head and then scoffs, reaches by him again to take your wrist. You let him have it. “Come on,” he says.
Knox is rounding on him, holding Joel back with a palm flat to his chest. “I ain’t too comfortable lettin’ her head outta here with some random old man, dude…”
Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut the –
Joel’s jaw ticks. His expression falls blank, narrowed eyes looking up and down Knox’s frame as you tremble behind it, Anna’s steady arm around your shoulders.
“Take your hand off of me, and move aside,” he snarls, voice dangerous. You can hear the threat, and at the same time, the desperate attempt from within himself to hold off.
“Hey,” Anna reaches forward, tapping Knox’s shoulder three times with a glittery nail, “she knows him. It’s fine. He’s fine.”
“Nah, man,” Knox hisses back, “who the fuck even are you? You ain’t takin’ her anywhere.”
You step forward, putting yourself between the two of them, hands clumsily landing on each of their shoulders. “He’s a f…my dad’s friend,” you slur, eyes unfocused.
Knox isn’t listening. He hasn’t listened the entire fucking night. His eyes are set on Joel’s as he wraps a tight fist around your free arm, trying to pull you closer to him. Only he’s hurting you, and your fingers struggle to pry yourself free, so you look up at Joel.
You couldn’t see Anna’s expression. Couldn’t make out the worry on her face that her voice clued you in on. You could barely even see Sam, when he dragged you out of the dark corner of the bar.
But you can see Joel. See the shadow his brows cast over his glower, see his thin lips, see the tightening of his jaw. See the rage inside him like it’s an alarm beacon, flashing red from behind his eyes.
Knox tugs angrily on your wrist. “You just gonna let this asshole ruin your night?”
“Let go of m-me,” you murmur, suddenly feeling the bar’s eyes on you. Your face reddens with heat from the alcohol, doubled by your embarrassment.
When he hears you, Joel’s face contorts into one you’ve never seen on his face in your life. Fury, disgust and fury, twisting his lip and tugging on his brows. He leans in and rips yours and Knox’s hands apart, pulling you free and shifting you behind his body with as much effort as it’d take him to click his fingers. Your weak hand reaches out to take a fistful of his shirt, holding onto him at his spine.
The men square up to one another, Joel at least four inches taller and, despite Knox’s built form, far broader. Knox takes a step forward and Joel matches.
“Joel…” you whisper, catching Anna’s gaping stare over his shoulder.
“Hey, uh, Mr. Miller?” Sam edges in from behind Knox. “I’m gonna have to ask that you…don’t…do this, but if you have to, can y’all maybe move it out to the street?”
“Do I gotta do somethin’?” Joel asks Knox. You pull in closer to his back, trying to hide your face from the spotlight cast on you by what feels like thousands of drunken eyes staring directly at you.
Knox thinks it over for a moment. You can see Zack watching like a deer in the headlights from behind his buddy. He’s seen Joel before, and you know from the way his eyes stick on him that he recognizes him. Remembers how briskly he swept you out of the soft drinks section, how blunt he was about it.
The V-neck swells with the deep inhale its wearer takes, and then he shakes his head, sighing. Smug smirk thick across his lips.
“Nah, man. I didn’t think she was gonna be worth the fuck anyways, so.”
Joel clicks his teeth, gives his head one quick shake, mutters a resigned, “Alright,” then reaches back, and nudges you gently by the stomach until you’re safely out of reach.
And then he swings.
Once, catching Knox across the corner of his jaw, sending his face skyward. The crowd around the three of you gasps. Knox’s burly chest twists, and he staggers backward. His hands come up to clutch his face before Joel’s taking the collar of his shirt in his fist, reeling him in and holding him steady.
“Joel!” you yell, but he doesn’t fucking hear you.
His second blow lands square on Knox’s nose with a crack loud enough even for your numb ears to hear over the thudding music. Blood sprays from his nostrils and floods down into his mouth, smearing across his cheek as Joel’s knuckles ricochet off the square face. The crimson pours down his chin, spattering onto his shirt, bright and shocking against the stretched black material.
Joel lets him drop and he collapses onto all fours, coughing blood and spit and whatever the fuck else onto the dark floor.
“Fuck!” Knox screams, fingers trembling over his burst nose – thick, dark droplets running down his hands. “You motherfucker, you broke my fucking nose!”
Joel stoops down, takes the back of Knox’s shirt in two rough hands and hauls him up until he’s limp on his knees.
“I ever see you around here again,” he growls, “I ever find out you’ve been anywhere near her, as much as looked in the same fuckin’ direction as her, I’ll do worse ‘n break your Goddamn nose. You hear me?”
Knox whimpers, more blood dribbles from between his lips, and Joel throws him down. He turns back to you, massaging his knuckles with his thumb, and grabs your hand.
Your voice is weak with shock. “What the f-uck was that?”
“Just – come on,” he says, dragging you out of Frank’s without another word.
He leads your wobbly form down the street, past chattering crowds toward his black truck, opening the door for you and helping your unsteady limbs up into the passenger side, before he closes the door over and strides around to the driver’s side.
When he shuts his door – more of a slam – he sighs, head leaning back. His hand clenches and then relaxes, loosening his knuckles, hissing anytime the quickly-darkening skin stretches.
“Sorry,” you mutter.
“What you sorry for?”
You shrug. Your mouth trips over words. “…gettin’ you into a barfight.”
He doesn’t look over at you. Just Hms and switches the ignition on, pulling away from the busy curb.
“Where’s m-my dad?” you slur.
“Work. Site inspection, remember?”
You nod, turning back to the road when you start to feel motion sick. Your eyes feel like they’re spinning in their sockets, your stomach flips with the slightest turn. “He get that delivery?” you ask, letting Joel know you heard the phone call earlier.
His jaw turns in your direction. Letting you know he knows you heard it. “Yeah. He’ll be home in a couple hours.”
“Did Sam c-call him?”
“No. Why?”
You lean your head against the passenger window, the cold distracting your brain from the ache in your head. The streetlights sail by in a blur. The engine rattles through the glass.
“Asked ‘im not to.”
“Yeah? ‘n why’s that?”
Your head rolls back onto the headrest as you decide on an answer. I didn’t want him seeing me drunk and high. I don’t care about you seeing me drunk and high. I just wanted to see you.
“’s never seen me drunk.”
“Or high?”
You snort. “I’m not…”
When your head slants to the left to look at Joel, his face turns from yours. He was just looking at you, and you missed it. Probably had that look on his face, that Nice try, kid expression.
“Okay…” you admit, spiritless, “a little high, then.”
“Anna was the one who called,” Joel says. “Said you were hammered, some guy was all over you, ‘n Sam watched him put somethin’ in your drink. They couldn’t find you anywhere. She was fuckin’ hysterical.”
Your head bobs with the moving truck. “When’d he put someth…?”
Joel shrugs. “I dunno. But I believe it.”
So do I, you think. Knox was on you from the minute he saw you. Tight grip around your waist, your wrist, drawing you into him with beer and weed and whatever else he had in his pockets. The comment that had warranted him two bone-breaking punches from Joel all but confirmed the intentions he had in mind. And now you feel fucking stupid.
“I didn’t really…I only had a couple sips of it,” you hear yourself saying, head heating with embarrassment – an attempt to convince him, or maybe more yourself, that you’re not as dumb as leaving your drink to be roofied.
Your voice sounds pathetic, though, and Joel doesn’t say anything to make you feel better. Doesn’t say anything to make you feel worse, either – the silence does that by itself.
You bring your knees up to your chin, nestling a little into the seat. It could almost feel like nothing’s happened, nothing’s changed, except you’re intoxicated, and Joel’s hands are firmly by his person. Not on your thigh, or tangled between your fingers like they usually would be.
You study him. Stare at every part of him like it’s the last time you’ll ever get to see it, until the gentle curve of his nose and the glint of his watch face are burned into the back of your eyelids when you close them over. Face lit red from the brake lights in front, right hand sitting idly on his thigh.
He looks like your Joel. Almost. Just a little closed off. Distant.
But he came to get you, right? Damn near punched Knox’s lights out, took you by the hand, led you back to the safety of his truck. He came straight to Frank’s as soon as Anna called. And he’s taking you home. He’s looking out for you.
So why doesn’t he feel like your Joel?
Well. You can wager a pretty solid guess. It starts with L and ends with comma, Receptionist at Clark’s Plant Hire.
The dark silhouette of your house looms overhead as Joel pulls into your drive. Sure enough, your dad’s not home.
The engine cuts and your head drops, eyes fixing on your hands clasped in your lap. You know Joel’s watching you. What the fuck is he thinking about?
Fuck that. Don’t think about that. Let’s not dive into that pool of imagination.
“Well, thanks.” You do your best to smile, without really looking at him. Your fingers find the door handle and you tug on it, pushing it open and spilling out onto your driveway.
You hear Joel sniff behind you. “Need a hand?”
“I’m good,” you call back, only just managing to stay on your feet.
The cold air helps a little to waken you up, sharpen your senses, but the world around you is still a whir of dull color and shapelessness, and you wobble across to the house in a route of zig-zags, boots almost tripping over thin air as you go. When you reach your front door, you hear his truck lock and the shadow of him appears by your side.
“I said I’m good.”
“I ain’t leaving you, kid. You’re hammered.”
You roll your eyes and open your mouth to protest, but then he’s taking the keys out of your hand and unlocking the door himself, hand on your back as he ushers you into your own house.
“I’m f-fine,” you repeat, tripping over the doorway.
“Look it.”
You meander over to the stairs, and when your foot manages to find the first step, Joel says your name. Your gaze sweeps across the floor until it meets his boots, travels up his legs, and finally rests on his outstretched hand.
“Water,” he tells you.
“I’m fine,” you say, the word losing meaning the more you utter it. “I wanna go – to bed.”
He shakes his head, and then tilts it in the direction of the kitchen.
You groan, mumble something about him being such an asshole, and walk straight by his hand.
Joel doesn’t react. Just follows you and hits the lights, which burn your eyes when they flicker to life. You wince and point up to them.
“Off,” you bluntly order, and he grunts, stepping back to oblige. You’re plunged straight back into darkness.
You’re holding yourself unsteadily against the edge of the kitchen island, whole body swaying. The room is fucking spinning, the lights out back swirling with it in a blur of white motion before your eyes. You swallow dryly and turn around to focus on Joel.
He’s filling a glass over the sink. “What happened to your leg?” he asks over his shoulder.
You turn your knee, examining the dent in your calf where the stool leg cut into you. The dry burgundy stain like a backwards seam line on your skin, emerging from a bright red bruise slowly fading to deep purple.
“Fell off a stool,” you mutter, angling it in the moonlight streaming in through the window.
Joel Hms again. “You got anything to cover it?”
You shrug, having lost any and all energy to barter back with him. He slides the glass across the countertop to you, followed by a bottle of painkillers, then turns back to the open drawer he pulled them from and begins rummaging for a band-aid.
Your shaky hand lifts the glass to your lips. It’s cold and slippery in your grasp, drops of condensation running over your fingers like the blood from Knox’s nose had run over his. The more you tighten your grip, the harder it becomes to hold, until it’s sliding from your clutch.
“Easy,” Joel murmurs, appearing at the side of you and placing his hands over yours, holding the glass still.
“Your knuckles are bleeding,” you say, eyes focusing and then unfocusing on the marks at the base of his fingers, the dabs of dark red where the skin has burst.
He slowly lowers your hands until the glass is safely back on the counter, and then pulls away from you, drawing his swollen knuckles in to his body.
“They’re bleedin’,” you repeat, looking up at him.
“I know they’re bleedin’.”
“Let me see,” you step forward, “Joel. Let me–”
He catches your hands in his. Pushes them back down. Stares at the counter, sighs instead of replying.
Your eyes sting, filling with tears that crowd your already-blurred vision. The punch you feel to your gut brings you to your senses as if it drains you of every substance in your system all at once.
It’s like he’s broken up with you all over again. And it pisses you the fuck off.
“Fuck you,” you whisper into the dark, and he doesn’t move. Doesn’t lift his eyes, doesn’t even flinch. “Fuck you, so much.”
You’re staring him down, what little you can see of him in the pale light cascaded onto him through the shades. The crease between his brows, more prominent with the frown on his face; the line his lips form with the tight clench of his jaw.
Fucking look at me, you think. He can say something back – anything. You can stand and hiss horrible words at one another, yell at each other if that’s what he wants to do. Argue until you’re blue in the face, until the alcohol’s all dried up and the moonlight on his chest is replaced by sunlight. Just fucking look at me.
“You’re an asshole and a liar, you know that?”
“Yeah?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.
“Yeah,” you decide. “Just stringing me along this whole time.”
You blink away the tears before they can fall, making room for more. They’re forming rapidly, each time heavier, and thicker, and angrier. But fuck it, right? This is over. He’s done, and you’re done. Just ignore the pain of it, stick your finger in the wound and keep pushing until you hit bone.
“That guy you punched? He was all over me. All fucking night.”
Joel’s voice is toneless. He’s already over the conversation before it’s begun. “I know he was, kid.”
“We kissed.”
“I know that, too.”
“Had his hands all over me. ‘n if it hadn’t been him, it woulda been literally any other guy in there.”
The words are starting to bleed into one another in your inebriated state. Anger turning to rage turning to fear turning to shame turning to hurt turning back into anger.
“Woulda kissed any one of ‘em. Mighta let them take me home, mighta let them fuck me.”
His head gives an involuntary shake and he blinks. Like he’s trying to wash the thought away. The image of you under someone else, moaning someone else’s name, pulling someone else into your body.
“That piss you off? It make you hate me?”
And then he looks up. Finally, his gaze locks with yours. And his eyes are just as glassy, just as fucking full of tears as yours. He replies with the worst thing he could possibly come up with. It forces the breath from your lungs in a painful exhale.
“There ain’t a thing in this world that you could do that would make me hate you, you know that.”
And then your tears start to fall. Your façade breaks. Stone crumbles. Dam bursts. They fall onto your cheeks, searing on your heated skin, rolling down onto the front of your dress in dark splatter marks.
Through a sob, you choke out another, “Fuck you, Joel,” and then, when you catch your breath, “you don’t get to – to sleep with someone else, and make me feel like the idiot for it.”
He looks up at you with a dark expression, lips locked tight like he’s refusing to let something slip. He shakes his head, and then says, “Can we not have this conversation right now?”
You scoff. A drunken, angry scoff. “You don’t wanna talk about her? When’s a good fuckin’ time, then? When suits you and f-fuckin’ – Lois?”
He falls quiet. Presses his fingers into his eyes. Sighs. “Baby,” he says into his palms.
“’m not your fucking baby,” you whisper between your teeth.
“Baby.” He drops his hands. Looks you dead in the eye. “I did not sleep with Lois.”
You’re frozen to the spot. Your lips fall apart, coated in salty tears. You’re holding your breath, though you’re not sure what for. The room stops spinning for all of ten seconds until he speaks again.
“I didn’t. I know what that message sounded like. Know how you musta heard it. But nothin’ happened, nothin’ has ever happened. Nothin’ would ever happen,” he says, a little more animated, tossing his hands in the air.
You stare between his eyes. He’s still enough that your fucked brain can focus on them, can see plain as day – even in the dark kitchen, even through your cloudy tears and all of the poison in your blood – that he’s telling the truth.
“Ex-plain,” you say dryly, looking down to his lips.
Joel sighs again. “I told you I had work to do. Had to head over to Clark’s to order that stuff for your dad. Saw her there, said hi. ‘n that’s all.”
Your eyes slowly close over, wet lashes on hot, dehydrated skin. Your ears are ringing, your body aching. You breathe a sigh as what he says sinks into your slow, throbbing brain, and then lull to one side, slumping against the counter.
“You didn’t…you didn’t think this was worth tellin’ me on Monday?”
“Tried, baby. You were gone. You were so angry; thought it’d be better if I let you cool off.”
“You’re – a fucking – idiot,” you seethe, shaking your head. It’s starting to pound again, sharp pain right behind your eyes like they’re being tugged backwards.
“Well, tonight, I guess that makes two of us.”
You grimace at him. “Lettin’ me go for four fuckin’ days thinking that –”
“– thinkin’ that I would actually cheat on ya? ‘s that what you think a’ me?”
“What did you ex-pect? You didn’t exactly try to – c-clear it up.” You step back, lifting a hand to cup your forehead with a groan. A mix of frustration, pain, and exhaustion in the form of a slow-moving ache hauls its way from one temple to the other.
“Baby, I gotta get you to bed,” Joel says, stepping forward. “We can talk about this when you’re able to see straight.”
“I’m fine,” you whimper, but it’s the least convincing you’ve sounded all night.
“Kid–”
“Don’t fucking call me kid. Like it’s some pet name, like you give a damn about me–”
“You think I don’t give a damn about you? You think I don’t care?”
Your head wobbles in response. It sends the room hurtling again, Joel’s figure swimming in and out of your vision. You grab the countertop again in attempt to freeze him in place.
He tuts and turns his jaw. “You know how much sleep I’ve had these last few days? Not a fuckin’ minute. I ain’t slept a single night, worryin’ about you ‘n what’s goin’ through your head. Like I give a damn about you. I wish I didn’t give a damn about you, baby. Make my life a whole lot easier.”
“Then, show me. Fucking prove it to me.”
“Prove it to you how? Break some asshole’s nose in a bar? Take you home when you’re wasted?”
Yeah. And also, no. Not just that.
You seethe. “You know what the fuck I mean. Do something about it.”
“I can’t,” he says, raising his voice. “Can’t take you out on dates, can’t put my arm around you, can’t kiss you ‘less there ain’t nobody watchin’. I can’t do none of what I wanna do. This is – it’s fuckin’…”
“…impossible,” you breathe, thick and slurred.
Joel lifts his head then, sees the look in your eye. He sniffs. “’s pretty damn hard, yeah.”
You tip your head back, feel the weight of your tears and your eyes and your brain slap against the back of your skull, a nauseating pull at the nape of your neck. You’re defeated. Nothing left in you to argue, talk, even so much as breathe.
Your words drag between one another, each one beginning with the remnants of the one before it.
“Just - take me to bed.”
He’s standing inches from you, hands hovering over your own, hesitant or unwilling or fucking afraid to touch you.
You ball your fists against his chest and give him one tiny, ineffective shove. But he’s bigger, stronger, sober. He doesn’t budge. Accepting defeat, you breathe one last, “Fuck you,” and brush past him, staggering out of the kitchen.
Joel – water and painkillers in hand – watches you like a hawk going upstairs, arms braced for you to lean on anytime you begin to tumble backward. When you do, his hand brushes your elbow, and you whip it out of his reach and reel it back in to your body.
He settles you on the bed just like he did six days ago, after your rodeo night. Only he doesn’t kneel, doesn’t take your boots off. Just walks away, grabs a tee from your chest of drawers and hands it to you to slip into by yourself.
You don’t even have to open your eyes. You know which one he’s given you. Can tell from the feel of the material, the cracked lettering on the chest, that it’s his Rangers shirt, the same one he put on you the first night you slept together. Smells more like you than it does him these days, but feels just like he always does. And as he waits a safe two-feet from you for you to change, no hands reaching out to help, to fix your hair, to stroke your cheek – you think the shirt will just have to do.
Everything he does is close enough for you to recognize him as Joel, and yet distant enough for him to be someone totally different. Every move he makes is pre-determined, all outcomes already analyzed and mapped, all risks carefully averted. It’s like he’s walking a minefield.
He hands you a couple of pills and helps with lifting the water to your lips. Then he sits at the end of your bed and applies the band-aid while you drag a makeup wipe clumsily over your face.
His thumbs linger on your fucked leg, rubbing over the padded dressing a few times after it’s stuck on, gentle and slow. Eyes never leaving the spot your skin broke open. And then, when you’re done with it, he takes the makeup wipe and quickly runs it down your calf, cleaning the dry blood from your skin.
Touch as delicate as though he were holding a rose – fingers brushing over your body like you might tear or fall apart at the slightest movement. When he’s done, he makes his way around to the opposite side of the bed.
“There’s a sleeping bag in the hall closet if you’d rather take the floor,” you tell him, rolling back and pulling your knees to your chin.
“Nah,” Joel says with the groan of a near-fifty-year-old man, kicking his boots off and propping his pillows up. “We’re close enough by now.”
He pulls the flannel from his shoulders and tosses it to the end of the bed, then slips in under the covers beside you, clasping his hands on his chest. His entire body a perfectly polite distance away.
Your wrist lifts, weak and limp, and your fingers ghost across his red wine knuckles. He winces a little, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he watches as you trace the curves of his hands, surfing the valleys where the bone drops, then back up to the peaks where the blood breaks from his skin.
“You didn’t have to…” you whisper. “He was just some dirtbag.”
He sniffs. Replies to you in his head, translated through the look in his eye. Wasn’t all about the dirtbag.
And you know it. Knox was just an asshole who took the hit for the last four days. Sure, he deserved it. But his big, ugly face and the uglier words which happened to tumble out of it were simply a punchbag full of sand; Joel’s fist hammering into it was as much about defending you as it was about punishing someone, anyone, the first fucker who wound up on the wrong side of him, for everything that had happened.
He's angry. At himself and at you and at this entire fucking mess. And you’re angry. At yourself and at him and at the very same thing. The two of you lie side by side in the dark, both broken and bruised and bleeding. You let out a small, pathetic sigh, and Joel echoes it.
His eyes close over and you stare at him. Stare at the faint lines on his face that slowly fade as he relaxes more, falls closer and closer to sleeping. Watch his chest slowly rising and falling, and his hands moving up and down with it. His entire body is still. Like it’s the first calm he’s had in a while. The first time he’s been able to settle.
And you stare at him. For hours, feels like. You stare at him until sleep, or alcohol, or something stronger coats over your vision and sweeps him out of focus.
----------
The wall opposite your window is lit with a single stripe of bright, nauseating orange, the sunrise staring in between your drapes. There are birds screaming outside. Your head is still throbbing and your throat feels like splintered wood and the other side of your bed is empty.
He can’t have left long ago. The mattress is still warm under the sheets he’s folded back over. His shirt is sat folded on the pillowcase.
You grab it and haul yourself out of bed – head still spinning, you trip out of your room.
He’s gotta be in the kitchen. He’ll be standing at the counter drinking a coffee, he’ll mumble a Mornin’, then pull you in and kiss the top of your head. He’ll ask how you’re feeling and if you want some breakfast. He’ll be Joel again.
“Joel…?” you call, rounding the bottom of the stairs toward the kitchen. No response.
The clock on the oven reads 5:57. The kitchen is deserted. When you loop around the island – as if he’d be crouched behind it or something – you notice an empty mug sitting in the sink, trails of black coffee at the bottom.
Your shaking hands cup around the ceramic. It’s cooling, but it’s warm.
He’s been in here.
“Joel!” you yell. Come out, now, this ain’t funny anymore.
You hear the squeak of wheels rolling to a stop outside and flee over to the living room windows, daybreak burning your eyes when you peer through the shades.
You’re frantically searching, going blind with the bright rays singeing your corneas, pacing back and forth between each window to get an angle on the street that will show you his truck. Show you him.
You don’t even notice the sound of keys in the door, or the rattle it makes as it pushes open.
“Hey, kiddo.”
You whip around. The owner of the voice lifts a hand to his puffy eyes and rubs them, yawning.
“H-hi, Dad.”
You look fucking insane. Hair all over the place, makeup haphazardly removed, Joel’s flannel shirt hanging from your fist. Wearing nothing but a long tee, a blood-seeped band-aid on your calf.
“Good night?” he says with a sleepy chuckle. “I am pooped. You want anythin’ before I head up to bed?”
You shake your head, but he’s not looking. Rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.
“Alright, I’m gonn–”
“Where’s Joel?”
Your desperation has reached a new high. Your pride, a new low. You just want him back, don’t care who knows or thinks or suspects what. Just come back.
“Huh?”
“Joel? He brought me home and I woke up and he’s gone.”
“He – Well, I…I suppose he’ll be at work, hon. He can’t stick around here all day.” He smiles weakly, and then swivels on his heels.
“He text you?”
He sighs, his back still turned. “What has gotten into…? Here.”
Your dad twists and throws his phone toward you. It lands on the carpet at your feet. Then he turns back and begins climbing the stairs.
“See ya in a few hours.”
When he turns the corner on the landing and his footsteps fade out of earshot, you bend and your fingers clutch his phone.
He has one unread text from Joel.
You unlock the phone with a click and open up the message thread. Your half-drunk, half-sleepy eyes flit across the screen, leaning back against the arm of the couch to read every word he ever sent your dad.
Joel: She’s in bed. Sat with her for a bit to make sure she didn’t roll onto her back. She’s a little worse for wear. I got a job up in Waco I need to be at in an hour, so I gotta head.
You scroll further back.
Joel: She okay?
Joel: Sarah says she hasn’t heard from her in a few days. We can come over for dinner tonight if you reckon that might help?
Further back still.
Joel: Sure, not doing anything anyway. Sarah in Nashville. Tell her to text me when she’s ready to be picked up. Hope she enjoys her rodeo night 🤠
Joel: Table booked for 6. Get you both at 5:45. Looking forward to it.
You scroll until your eyes hurt.
Joel: No answer. She’ll be home soon I bet.
Joel: You ever seen Grey’s Anatomy? Pretty good TV
Joel: Your daughter available tonight to help me put up stuff for Sarah coming home? I fear what might happen if I attempt it myself
You read the final message, the first thing he sent your dad after you got home. Six days in. He’d driven you home from work.
Joel: No problem, wouldn’t have her walking home in the rain. Was nice to see her again. She’s a sweetheart.
You’re laid back across the couch, your legs hanging over the armrest. You drop the phone to your chest and stare up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling a lot more sober.
She’s a sweetheart.
Your throat tightens around a sob. Like a fist clenching around your neck, crushing your breath to nothing. Your eyes well, tears slowly flood across your vision and then spill over, running rapidly down to your ears and seeping into the fabric of the couch. You’re still silent. Still unable to open your mouth.
You’re doing everything you can to hold back. To stop it from happening. But your chest feels like it could burst, and your eyes are screwing shut tighter and tighter, and your body curls up like an animal succumbing to a mortal wound, and then –
Then, you break.
It forces its way from your throat, hammering against the sides of your mouth before it’s escaping, tearing away from your lips and hurtling skyward. A deep, violent exhale. Broken, and painful, and heavy.
There’s no one to hold back for. Just you, sat in your living room, clutching the flannel of a man who doesn’t want you anymore.
Your breath stammers, shudders against the palms of your hands as your fingertips massage your eyes. You’re crying like a little kid, and it’s not making you feel any better, but no matter what you do, it won’t stop.
And you don’t know why. You tell yourself that: I don’t know why I’m crying. Almost laugh when you think it through to yourself: sobbing at 6AM over someone you were sleeping with, for all of, what, four weeks? I don’t know why the fuck I’m crying.
Except – you do. You do. And you’re totally, completely, undeniably fucked.
You sigh and close your eyes.
You are – fucked.
----------
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January poll story
NSFW - Barbatos x MC - Nightbringer AU + monsterfucker + breeding + ovipositor kink
(Barbatos x gn!MC)
(NSFW) (plot heavy) (dom!top!Barbatos / bottom!sub!MC) (monsterfucker; breeding; ovipos/eggs; slight degredation and humiliation; but mostly praise; oral - receiving; penetration - receiving; two dicks; aphrodisiac-like effects; overstimulation; slight dacryphillia/tears; slight dubcon at the beginning; cheating adjacent?; mentions of aftercare) (no body specification for MC, and yes I made it work so he can breed any body) (Barbatos as Nightbringer + AU) (kinda fucked up plot)
Word Count: +5,000 (new longest single character fic. Sorry? Why does this happen when I write monster Barbs)
A bittersweet pang struck your chest when you received an invitation to the Demon Lord’s castle directly from Barbatos. Even the way he had phrased the invite was reminiscent of future Barbatos – the demon who adored you. When you were sent back to the past, your relationship began anew, and you were forced to face him while craving the loving affection you had worked so hard to earn. Deep in the pit of your stomach, a nagging guilt bit at you every time you were around this past Barbatos, wishing for an unbecomingly familiar show of affection. You knew you would return to the future someday, and you were certain you wouldn’t be able to make him fall in love with you before you left. Was it so awful to want him to pull you into a quiet hall and kiss you to breathlessness before returning to his duties? Were you really as monstrous as your guilt believed for wishing this version of Barbatos would need you so desperately that he milked every second he could spare just to sate his desire for you?
All the lust and love that you had quelled came back, overflowing, when your D.D.D. buzzed last night while you were preparing dinner. Solomon had been so kind as to leave the kitchen and allow you to cook in peace. Barbatos’s name, accompanied affectionately – and delusionally – by a green heart, appeared on the screen.
Barbatos: Good evening, MC. I was wondering if you would do me the honor of visiting the castle tomorrow. The Young Master is set to attend an overnight party hosted by the House of Lords. I was not permitted to accompany him this time. He’ll be gone for nearly three days with the travel. It’s been ages since I’ve been apart from him for so long. The thought of it makes me anxious. Your presence seems to put me at ease. As such, I would appreciate your company if you could spare some time for me. I eagerly await your response.
Your heart swelled as you stared down at your phone. He wanted to see you. It almost sounded romantic. Your gushing was interrupted by the hiss of evaporating liquid; your pot boiled over.
“Shit!” You shoved your phone into your pocket and rushed to the stove. Everything was fine, but you sighed at the mess you were going to have to clean – and you couldn’t do that until you changed burners and allowed the dirty one to cool.
It wasn’t until you had finished cooking and went to message Solomon that dinner was ready, unlocking your D.D.D. only to see your chat with Barbatos, that you remembered: you never replied! Solomon could wait the one minute it took for you to respond to Barbatos.
MC: Sorry! I had some kitchen trouble, but it’s fine now. I would love to see you.
Barbatos: Excellent. I will see the Young Master off at 7am. You are welcome to come by any time after that. I look forward to it.
You arrived at the castle that afternoon, anxiously wondering how you would interact with Barbatos. You hadn’t spent much time alone with him, and you weren’t as close as you were in the future. Maybe this version of Barbatos was slightly different than the one you knew, and you wouldn’t mind getting to know him better, but to him, you were practically a stranger. Every intimate detail you had shared was resting in his mind, millennia from now. Still, you wanted to be around him, so you were determined to find some way to enjoy your day. Maybe you could bake together like old – well, future – times.
“Good afternoon. I’m so pleased you could make it,” Barbatos greeted you at the door with a grin, stepping aside to let you in. “I apologize for the late notice. I didn’t interrupt any plans, did I?”
“Not at all. My day was clear – and even if it wasn’t I –” you stopped yourself short. You wanted to tell him that you would have cleared it just for him, but that seemed far too intimate for your current relationship.
“If it wasn’t?” Barbatos urged you to continue.
“I –” you tried again, “It isn’t often that I get invited to the castle. I would have made the time.”
“How kind of you.” Barbatos chuckled, covering his smile in that shy manner you had come to adore. “Would you be so kind as to follow me as I finish up my rounds? I’d like to ensure everything is in order before I can devote my full attention to you.”
His words made your heart race, reviving some long-deceased hope that he would fall for you in this timeline. Perhaps the future had a much stronger impact on the past than you expected it to. Your face felt warm as you nodded.
Barbatos walked along side you at a leisurely pace, only taking a step ahead to guide you in one direction or the other and to open doors for you. He maintained polite chatter, mostly asking about your week. You hadn’t been walking very long before you realized you were heading deeper into the castle – namely towards the labyrinth. Even in the future, you rarely went near it, so as you got closer, the castle looked increasingly unfamiliar. You wondered if the rumors about the torture chamber below the castle had formed already or if those claims would come later. It felt eerie to head towards them now, but you figured it was part of Barbatos’s duty to check them during his rounds.
You continued through dark, stony halls – lit only by the dim candlelight from the sconces lining the walls. It seemed that the flames gradually appeared as you walked ahead. Had you bothered to look back, you would have also seen them fade behind you, leaving the dim corridor in pitch-black darkness. The creepy atmosphere was getting to you, and you inched closer to Barbatos. His smile widened slightly, but he didn’t comment.
“Do you go down here every day?” you asked him nervously.
“No, not usually, but I haven’t checked the labyrinth in a while. It’s necessary to monitor the candle levels and keep an eye out for leaks or potential . . . pests. I figured now was as good of a time as any. It can be a boring walk by myself.”
A large iron door stood at the end of the hall – one which seemed to require magic from Barbatos before it would open. He ushered you into a room, lined with iron-barred cells. As he shut the door behind him, you scanned your surroundings. There were no other visible doors – no clear point of exit. You turned back to look at Barbatos, confused.
“Why did you close the door?”
Before you could get an answer, Barbatos pushed you against the cool stone wall, holding you still from behind. One gloved hand grabbed your wrist while the other snaked up your neck seductively. The sensation reminded you of when Barbatos would get desperate for your body – how his greed would take over until his hands were wandering over you like some horrifying colonial effort, ready to claim you no matter the cost. Had you not loved him, or he not loved you, that greed might have terrified you.
“I know why you’re here,” Barbatos whispered in your ear.
You were confused and suddenly afraid. The realization hit you again: this was not your Barbatos. He might be suspicious of you, and that made him dangerous. Although you had seemingly gotten along well with him so far, especially during the preparations for RAD’s opening, there was a chance that he harbored doubts about your presence in the Devildom. This version of Barbatos could kill you.
“Please,” you whispered, afraid – although you weren’t certain what you were asking of him. He shifted into his demon form, still holding you firm in his hands. His breath burned on your neck. Your fear eased as you felt his tail slither up one of your legs and caress between them, leaving a slick trail over your clothes, but the confusion remained.
Did he want you? If so, he was so much harder to charm in the future. Was this what you had been hoping for? He was rougher than the Barbatos you knew – that much was evident in the tight grip he had around your wrist.
“We’ve met in the future, darling. And from what I’ve deduced, you’re so important to me that you could make me want for more,” Barbatos spoke, letting the words tingle on your skin. You shivered and turned your head slightly to meet his gaze. His hand slid away from your neck, and he bit his glove, tugging it off before discarding it on the cobblestone floor. That warm, bare hand slipped under your shirt, feeling your heart pound in your chest as his tail continued to tease you through your clothes. With a chuckle, Barbatos licked up your neck, flicking your earlobe with his tongue before pulling away. It felt hotter than usual, and your skin burned where his saliva began to dry. You moaned, earning a satisfied hum from Barbatos. “It feels good, doesn’t it? He gave us a century before my decision – how generous. It seems I learned to calm my urges a good deal over the years, but he forgets himself – myself,that is. I’m not the patient man you know. I don’t need a century to decide to claim you.”
“I don’t understand,” you spoke through gritted teeth, trying to hold back your moans. Nothing he said made sense, and it took every bit of restraint to focus on him instead of the pleasure he inflicted upon you.
“About a century from now, I secretly cemented my commitment to Lord Diavolo. I made it so nothing in the world could take my attention from my master. It seems that you, my dear, have convinced me that was a misstep. You see, a century after the brothers fell, I learned a spell that could permanently sterilize anyone – even a being as powerful as myself,” Barbatos explained, still unnecessarily close to your ear. “I wanted my service to Diavolo to guide the rest of my life, but then I met you. The Barbatos you know couldn’t let that stand. He wants to make you his in every way possible.”
“Wh-what are you saying?” Your words gave way to another moan as you tried to unravel the information through a haze of lust. All you could understand was that Barbatos – the one you knew – loved you more than he anticipated, and that was, somehow, related to why this version of him was touching you, rubbing your thighs and between your legs with the perfect pressure.
“Nightbringer offered you ‘the path to happiness . . . a place that will bring you more joy than any other.’” The words sent a chill up your spine. How did he know the exact words Nightbringer had told you? Barbatos slid his hand down to your stomach and pulled you flush against his body until you could feel him, hard and pressing into you. Somehow his touch – which should have distressed you – put you at ease. The familiarity of his body was a comfort in the confounding fear. Barbatos kissed your neck so tenderly that tears welled in your eyes. “Your happiness is his, my dear.”
“Barbatos, please,” you begged sweetly – almost whimpering for him. This time you were certain: you were begging for his touch. As long as he kept touching you like this – the way your Barbatos might, you could handle whatever he was trying to tell you.
“You can call me by my other name: Nightbringer. I – the version of me you know – sent you here to push you towards a blissful life with him, where he has given you every part of himself. In other words, darling,” Barbatos brought his lips up to your ear, “I brought you here to breed you.”
Barbatos licked up your neck again. Every touch filled you with dizzying ecstasy. There was a familiarity in the way his lips and tongue teased you, how his fingertips grazed your skin, and the way his tail toyed with you; but you had never felt this good before. Something like guilt joined your pleasure to push fresh tears to the corners of your eyes. This was Barbatos – in another epoch; he was yours in a way, and somehow still not the demon you had fallen in love with. It seemed wrong that a version of him who had yet to fall for you would make you feel so much better than the one you knew – not that you had ever found sex with Barbatos lacking, but he felt like another demon entirely. You didn’t understand why you felt this way. Could your weeks of unresolved desire have made you this sensitive to his every touch? Your legs were already trembling.
As if he had read your mind, Barbatos added with a chuckle, “And as for why your body reacts so well for me: without the sterilization spell, my pheromones haven’t been slowly dulled over millennia.”
“You mean. . .” you wanted to finish your thought or at least sigh in relief, but all you could do was gasp and moan as his tail squeezed your thigh.
“I mean that my body can bring you more pleasure now than you have ever had. Poor MC, you had the misfortune of meeting me too late. But in this time, something as simple as a bit of my saliva can make you shake and whine like some desperate slut.” Barbatos relished the way you clenched your jaw and shut your eyes. You looked humiliated yet so aroused that the embarrassment almost didn’t matter. He snaked his hand back up your chest and neck. With a single, forceful finger, he tilted your jaw until you faced him and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss. His tongue teased you, leaving you breathless and panting. Your head spun and your mind went blank. When he finally pulled back, you followed his movements with a needy whimper. You wanted more. He smirked. “There. As cute as you look when you’re embarrassed, I’d much rather see that need burning in your eyes. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. He wanted this for you.”
There was a protest somewhere, drowning and gasping for air in your mind. This Barbatos had never seen you unravel at the edge of orgasm. He had never seen you blissed out. Hell. He had never even seen you in your underwear before. It was like having your first time with him all over again. You had every right to be embarrassed – especially when you were already in love with Barbatos. This version hardly knew you. You were at the mercy of a demon whose desire could never match yours; it was mortifying.
“And, my dear, if it’s any consolation,” he added, “my pheromones would have no effect if you were not such an arousing little human. I want this, too.”
Barbatos turned you around, pushing your back to the wall, and kneeled before you. His eyes were dark, and you couldn’t help but notice the pale pink blush on his cheeks as he pulled your clothes down and exposed you. He wrapped his tail around one of your ankles and pulled your leg over his shoulder.
“May I?” he asked with an obscene politeness, as if your chest wasn’t heaving and you weren’t a mess for him.
Your face burned as you nodded, too ashamed to speak the words – and too aroused to hold back your lecherous noises had you opened your mouth. With your permission, he brought his mouth to your entrance, licking you hungrily. His bare hand rubbed you gently – adding to the stimulation one slow stroke at a time – while his other hand dug into the flesh of your outer thigh. With a low growl, Barbatos plunged his tongue inside of you. He sounded so sexy. Everything burned, and all you could think to do was cover your mouth to dam the flood of moans as you came at the mercy of his tongue and hands.
Barbatos gave you a soft lick before pulling back and staring up at you. He was panting and flushed, and his eyes had a familiar amorous glint. “You’re reacting so cutely. I’ll admit, I was drawn to you before, but if you keep showing me those lewd faces, I’ll never want to let you go.”
His words warmed your pounding heart. Perhaps it was wrong, but if you could have found the strength to speak, you would have begged him not to let you go. Of course, you knew, that was your lust-drunk mind speaking, but you would have said it, nonetheless.
Barbatos let your leg go and reached up to take your arm, tugging you down and cushioning your fall as you straddled him. He shifted so that you were sitting in his lap. Your flustered face brought a grin to his lips and sent a wicked shiver up his spine.
“Take my shirt off,” he instructed. You stared at him, further embarrassed by the realization that you were the only one completely exposed. Barbatos waited for your compliance, but with an untrained patience, he sighed. “If you want me to fuck you, do it.”
Your fingers moved quickly to unbutton his collar, trembling and fumbling with the top button. Each button of his shirt and coat got easier. You could feel his heartbeat pounding through his clothes – and even more frustrating, you could feel him throbbing in his pants right between your legs.
“So good,” he praised you sweetly, staring at you with half-lidded eyes, once his clothes fell to the floor. “Pants now, darling.”
You went to unbutton his pants, grazing the bulge with your fingertips. Barbatos growled and rolled his hips up into you, making you whine.
“Careful,” he warned you playfully, tapping his fingers up your thigh to squeeze your ass. You bit your lip and tried to refocus your attention on the task at hand – or rather, under your hand. When you finally got his pants and underwear down, you ogled at a sight you had never seen before. Barbatos chuckled mischievously. “Oh dear, from the look on your face, it seems I forgot to mention something. That’s another side effect of the sterilization spell. His never comes out. Such a shame.”
You were speechless, staring at his two dicks beneath you. You had never seen the second, longer, thicker cock below the other. It was less human, too, and had the same shimmering glean – with the same teal lightning veins running along it – as his tail. Your mouth felt dry. Your lower lip was trembling.
“You seem to like what you see. No wonder I fell so hard for you,” Barbatos teased. He pulled you closer, guiding your body until he had aligned his first cock up with your hole. You felt him rub against you, smearing his precum on you. It sent a jolt of pleasure into you that spread out every which way through your body. Barbatos leaned in, sucking at the base of your neck, and riling you up even more. Your moans filled the room. This was agony – a beautiful, enticing torture. Content with his mark on your neck and your response, he pulled back just enough to whisper in your ear. “Now sit.”
Your legs shook as you lowered yourself on his first cock, feeling the second one rubbing against the curve of your ass. It felt so good that you were eager to take him all the way. Without him even asking, you started bouncing on his cock in slow, deep thrusts, savoring the way he filled you up. If your body had the strength, you would have been quicker. It wasn’t long before the pleasure was too much for you. You clung to his shoulders and tilted your head back in ecstasy.
“Barbatos,” you moaned his name as you came. Your legs gave out beneath you, and you fell flush against his lap, pushing him deep inside of you.
Barbatos clicked his tongue, “I suppose that was cruel of me to expect you to do all the work. Please allow me to help you.”
Wrapping his tail around your waist, Barbatos rolled you onto your back gently so that he was leaning over you. He pushed your legs up towards your chest as he bent down to kiss you. There was a sentimental sweetness to it that clouded your head further. Barbatos began to slowly rock his hips in and out of you. Every thrust had you whining against his lips. Even Barbatos found it difficult to hold in his voice, moaning into your mouth. He picked up his pace.
Suddenly, his tail’s grip around your waist tightened, and Barbatos began to move your body for you like you were his personal toy. You felt too good to be ashamed by it anymore as your moans mixed with the harsh slapping of skin. He twitched inside of you and broke the kiss to stare at you. The sight of your writhing beneath him pushed Barbatos over the edge. He pulled you against his hips with one final slap before he filled you with cum.
It drove you mad; his cum felt like an aphrodisiac pumped directly into you, leaving you trembling and whining. Barbatos gave you a soft, tender smile as he pulled out. His cum began to leak out of you, but Barbatos used his tail to lift your hips higher so he could lick it up, allowing it to pool on his tongue. He pulled you close enough to kiss you and slip his cum-coated tongue into your mouth; it was a shame to waste it, after all. You swallowed, feeling the warmth flush your face and spread through your body. Desperation flooded the pit of your stomach – aching for a break and for more simultaneously.
Barbatos admired the look on your face. He had never seen you lose control like this before. To say he was enamored would have been an understatement. Cool fingertips slid down from the base of your neck to just above your navel – as if he was trying to feel the way your body tensed with the threat of another orgasm. You moaned and begged through ragged panting, “Please, Barbatos. I can’t. I can’t take anymore.”
“Oh?” Barbatos asked, amused. He used his tail to flip you over so that your chest was pressed against the stone floor. His tail loosened its grip around your waist, only to take hold of your hips and raise your ass higher. Barbatos laughed with a darkness that struck you with fear, especially when he bent over to lick behind your ear. He could feel you shiver against his chest, which only excited him further. He cooed, “But we’re not done yet, darling. That was just preparation, I’m afraid. I told you I was going to breed you, didn’t I? Have you forgotten? I’m part serpent; I still need to fill you with my eggs. I need you to be good and take a bit more for me.”
“Eggs?” The word caught your ear. Did everything with him have to be so new?
“Yes, you heard me.” Barbatos curled his tail around your thigh and pulled your legs farther apart. He rubbed you sweetly while he continued to explain, “You see, not only does my sperm fill you with ecstasy, but it also prepares your body so that my eggs can absorb your DNA through their membranes. It’ll take parts from both of us – we’ll make a hybrid.”
Even through your exhausted, cum-drunk fog, you tried to break down his words. You could really have a baby with him? The thought had never seriously crossed your mind – you had always assumed it wasn’t possible. You’d never heard of a hybrid before. Something about the thought of having children with Barbatos frightened and thrilled you all at once.
“You’ve been so good for me, so I’ll do all the work. You just have to lay there and take it, alright, darling?” Barbatos whispered into your ear as he aligned his second cock with your hole.
His first thrust was slow and tender. You squirmed and stretched your arms out in front of you, grasping for something to anchor you. All you could do was claw at cobblestone as pleasure pushed you to tears. He was so big. It might have hurt if your body wasn’t overcome with a euphoria that numbed every other sensation. He could have clawed your thighs apart and made you bleed, and you were certain you wouldn’t have felt so much as a sting. Barbatos picked up his pace, pushing you over the edge again. You tightened around him, causing him to groan.
“You feel so good,” Barbatos panted and moaned in a ubiquitous tone. You were unravelling him. He throbbed inside of you. With another pleased groan and a few more bucks of his hips, you were filled with a new sensation. As Barbatos pulled out, an egg pumped into you. Your pleasure at the feeling almost sickened you. Why did he have to make you feel so good?
“Barbatos –” Your thoughts were interrupted by a wave of pleasure as Barbatos rubbed his second dick against your entrance again.
“Not yet,” he panted. Barbatos leaned in to capture your lips in a feverish kiss. Slowly, you felt him thrust back inside of you, pushing the egg deeper. It pressed against your walls, clouding your head. When Barbatos broke the kiss, he laughed sweetly – almost innocently in your ear. “Wouldn’t twins be cute, my love?”
“I –” you tried to form the words: you were going to cum again. But Barbatos hushed you affectionately.
“They’re soft-shelled eggs, you can clench as much as you want, and I can pound into you as rough as I want, it’ll be fine. Don’t think. Just cum for me.” You couldn’t tell if you hated him or loved him for being able to read your mind. When it was your Barbatos, you had always loved it – even when he flustered you. You let go and let another wave of pleasure overcome you with a loud moan; you were going to drown in this feeling. Barbatos’s adoring voice broke through your afterglow. “You sound so lovely when I make you cum.”
Barbatos drew noise after noise from your lips as he continued to fuck you. One of his hands slipped between your legs to rub you as he filled you with another egg. He didn’t pull out until he felt you clenching down on him, on the cusp of another orgasm.
“Don’t fight it,” he whispered. Barbatos continued to rub you with his hand and slipped the tip of his tail inside of you, swirling the forked ends.
The faint glow of magic – more specifically, a summoning spell – lit up your dim corner of the room. Barbatos produced a plug. He removed his tail before pushing it inside of you. As he rubbed a gentle circle around the surface of the plug, it glowed, lighting up the palm of his hand in a pale teal color.
“Why?” you forced the ill-formed question out weakly.
Barbatos crawled around your shaking body so he could look at your face. Tears streamed down your cheeks from a mix of pleasure and panic. He brushed a stream of tears away with his thumb. “Don’t be afraid. I needed to magically seal you up until my eggs have had a chance to soak up your essence. They should be fertilized within two days. Then, we can take them out. They can mature in any warm environment after that until they’re ready to hatch. I’ll take good care of them, darling, and I’ll take good care of you, too.”
The tears continued to flow. With his help, you got to your knees. Barbatos took advantage of your position to lean in and kiss you. This kiss was more tender than before, as if it had been filled with all the affection of your beloved Barbatos. His fingertips ran up your arms and shoulders, causing you to shiver. Everything felt new and terrifying; every touch consumed you.
“Relax, my love. I’ll take such good care of you,” Barbatos cooed and kissed your cheek before standing up. He began to gather his clothes and redress himself. It didn’t escape your unfocused attention that he was still hard as he pulled his underwear on. While he got dressed, he asked you, “Now, will you be good and let me carry you up to my room? Or do I have to keep you locked up down here until you’re ready to return to the demon who sent you here? And before you answer, just know, I would much rather run you a bath, wash every inch of that precious body, serve you something delicious to eat, and spend the rest of our time alone serving you in other ways.”
You were afraid to be left alone, still hazy, and weak from pleasure. Desperate for comfort from the demon you loved, you nodded and took Barbatos’s extended hand. He pulled you into his arms and embraced your naked body tightly. His touch still burned and excited you. He whispered into the crook of your neck, “Thank you. He – the future me – requested that I thank you for giving us this gift, but I want to thank you on my behalf as well. I’ll be so good to you. I swear it – and you know I do not take promises lightly.”
“I know,” you whispered. Your arms reached up to hold him back. Even if the Barbatos you adored could be wicked and cruel sometimes – even if all you had in this time was a crude likeness that had bred you, the love coursed through your body. This was alright. You could handle this if it was for him. His happiness was yours.
A/N: I tried really hard on this one, so I hope y'all like it. I still don't know how I feel about it. I've never written ovipos before. Also, would you say it warranted an 8 in the depravity ranking after reading it? Anyway, there will be a new poll for February up in less than an hour (Feb. 1 - 12am PST) That will be up for a week. Have fun. And again, hope this did something for y'all.
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First time Iris stays over the whole night with Jake, and he’s trying to figure out all the ways to make it happen again. Maybe he brings her breakfast in bed?
I feel like Jake & Iris experience a lot of first together. But especially the whole next morning after the first full night together after they become ‘exclusive’ I.R.I.S Masterlist Here.
Warnings: Smut! Jake Seresin x F!mitchell!reader. Undisclosed age gap.
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After about a two hour debate, a solid rebuttal and a flawless conclusion as to why you should be let into the TopGun program again, Beau Simpson ultimately caved and gave you one final shot. He gave you one chance to prove that you could keep a lid on your temper, you’d admit that you knew you had to work on that. Guess hot headed egos ran in the family. But you made sure not to leave until you’d heard that Cyclone would take back the command he’d given to have your points pulled. He did, internal investigation be damned.
“The only reason I mouthed off in the first place was because you held a gun to my back, sir—“ You explained as Cyclone looked at you with an expressionless face. “You know I’m better than those guys, who my dad is shouldn’t mean shit—it’s not like he helped me get here?” You couldn’t have said anything more perfect, Cyclone raised a single brow your way, you were right. Pete Mitchell had never offered you a helping hand your entire career. “Fuck Bradshaw got more of a handout than I did! He’s a gold star! That’s nepotism too and Goose isn’t even around!” It was a dog shot, but in your case you needed every ounce of leverage.
“Okay, okay—I hear what you're saying, Lieutenant, I’ll expunge the record.” Tickled pink, you beamed, ecstatic you’d been able to plead your case and enter back into the program. “You Mitchell’s age me ten years every month I swear—“
“I still don’t think I should have to suppress myself because of what those idiots think of me. You would survive through this knowing one day your rage would truly be witnessed by the men who poisoned you with it in the first place. “But I’ll do it if that’ll appease them—“
“They’re a sensitive bunch I’ve noticed.” Cyclone smirked for a millisecond of time as you sat across from him at his desk—looking all kinds of like your father. Just a little scarier and a lot more unpredictable. “But it’s more to keep you in check than anything else, I’ll scratch your back and keep any allegations of nepotism off your back if you scratch mine and keep your nose clean and out of trouble, understood?”
It was game time. You were back in business and you were heading back to Jakes to celebrate such a victorious moment. Because fucking a superior officer didn’t correlate with keeping your nose clean and out of trouble did it?
“In abundance, Sir, you have my word.” But first? It was off to the Hard Deck.
***~***~***~***~***~***~
“I’mnothometonight—“ You practically said it without so much as a second in between words. It all came out against your dads cheek in one single moment as you kissed him goodbye and headed towards the front door with a bag full of stuff slung over your shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
“Woah woah?” Pete frowned as he looked up from his book, perched on his favourite recliner enjoying a good cup of tea. He was in full relaxation mode. “Where are you off to?” You’d prepared for this moment, you knew there was a chance Mav would ask you where you were going. So you’d already come up with a cover story to get you out of the house.
“My friends in town, Lily? She got a hotel room up at the gorge.”
“You didn’t tell her she could just stay here?”
“What? And have you all up in my business?” You groaned. “I’m not sixteen anymore dad, I’m an adult—I’ve got my work gear with me so I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Pete just looked at you over the top of his reading glasses, something was up, something was incredibly up here and he knew better than to trust your word. Why? Because you were his damn daughter.
“Alright well just don’t go crazy, you fly a multi million dollar fighter jet for a living—keep your wits about yourself on a Wednesday night, kid.” You couldn’t have rolled your eyes harder if you wanted to as you grabbed your keys from the key bowl near the front door.
“Bye dad, love ya guts.” You chuckled to yourself as you left, did you feel bad about lying to Mav? Not entirely. It was for his own good. The poor guy would have a heart attack if he knew what you were up to and who you were doing.
But did you feel any ounce of regret? No—because Jake Seresin was the perfect amount of thrill, the perfect high, the perfect rush to any thrill seeker. And you were addicted.
***~***~***~***~***~***~
Jake knew you were coming over so he did his best to freshen up the place. That’s not to say his house wasn't clean–because it was. But he lit a candle and fluffed the pillows on the lounge and spent a little longer than he would ever like to admit researching what was the correct way for toilet paper to roll. Over and under he still didn't know. He went under.
“I parked down the street–” You made sure to tell Jake as he opened the door for you. “Mav grilled me pretty hard when I told him I was heading out for the night so I thought it was probably a good idea.”
“Hi to you too Iris.” Jake chuckled as you walked on it.
“Hi Hangman–” You cooed. Turning on your heels as you dropped your bag off your shoulder.” You look. Good.”
“Oh I am good Iris–” Jake smirked wildly as he backed you up against the wall in the entryway. Leaning on the cream painted dividing wall with his hands on either side of you, trapping you there against him. “I'm very good, but I'm even better now that you’re here.” Jake maintained his gaze as you drank in the sight of him, dropping your hands to play at the waistband of his sweatpants. Exposing the elastic band of his boxer briefs. “It's good to see you.” It was a nod to Jake's declaration that he was officially seeing someone, Hangman was off the market and very much invested in the entanglement he had going on with none other than Pete Mitchell's incredibly hot headed and beautiful daughter.
“You just saw me when I demolished you at pool.”
“Ah, ah, correct yourself there Iris, you mean when I let you demolish me at pool.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night there deadman–” Jake was the one who leaned in first, connecting his lips with yours in a fever dream kiss. His hands made quick work to cup your cheeks, spreading your legs further apart with his foot against yours. “Jake–” You moaned into his mouth as one of his hands came down to find its way into your sweat pants. Both wearing grey, just in different fonts.
“I wanna try something, but you gotta trust me.” Jake had a wicked glare in his eyes as he ducked his hand into your pants. The gentle motion he used to spread your lips apart and find the sweet, sweet spot that needed all his attention made you forget how to breathe. “Do you trust me Iris?” Jake asked as he slowly but surely worked the pads of two of his digits against your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Come on baby, tell me you trust me?”
“I trust you–” You sighed out, rolling your hips as Jake used his fingers to expertly guide you towards your first orgasm. You weren't there yet, you weren't even close. But you were going to be very soon if Jake kept going exactly how he was. “Fuck, yes, I trust you–”
It was all Jake needed as he pulled his hand out from your pants and scooped you up. With a gasp you wrapped your legs around Jake's waist as he connected his lips to your once more and walked you to the living room. His bedroom was too far away, he needed you now and the lounge would just have to do. As he dropped you down carefully, Jake stood over you. He said one word that made you soak your panties right through, but it wasn't like you were going to need them anyway.
“Strip–” You didn’t hesitate as you saluted your Lieutenant Commander almost seductively.
“Yes sir.”
In a needy and almost giddy fashion, both you and Jake stripped down, articles of clothing were discarded in not so respectable piles on the floor before Jake was hovering over you, his forearms on either side of your head as he kissed up and down the expanse of your next, leading down to your exposed chest to take you nipples in his mouth one by one.
“God your tits are perfect, you’re perfect baby.” Jake mumbled as he looked up at you looking down at him with your tit in his mouth. It was truly a sight that made you feral. “Now I'm usually one for foreplay, you know me, but we’re gonna do things a little differently tonight.” Jake stated a matter of factly as he sat back and pumped himself a few times, just thinking about what he was about to do. He needed to confirm his suspicion because the unknown was killing him. “I know you're ready for me though–” It was true, you were, and as Jake jerked himself off, you reached out to help guide him down between your legs.
“Need you, now.” Slowly, inch by inch, Jake buried himself inside you. Watching as your jaw slacked and your eye rolled as you stretched and welcomed him to the hilt. “Ohh yess–”
“Fuck you’re so perfect, such a perfect cunt Iris.'' Jake made sure to kiss the pulse point at the juncture of your neck as he throbbed away inside you. Staying still for a second before he began to rock his hips. “Holy shit so good–”
“Love your cock so fucking much–ahh!” It felt so good to be so full, but this wasn't what Jake needed to do. He needed to call someone, he needed to fuck you while he called someone to see if he had really formulated a connection, if the idea of really loosing every he had got him off to a new extreme. Jake had called it the Mitchell effect, and he was as deep inside it as he could get. “What are you doing?”
Jake reached out to the coffee table, not once slowly his thrust as he grabbed his phone.
“Shhh–” Jake manoeuvred the two of you into a different position, he made it all look so easy with strong arms encapsulating you and putting you wherever he wanted, wherever he needed you. Where he wanted you was on his lap, warming his cock as you slowly rode his shaft, still with a curious expression on your face as Jake pressed the name in his phone that sent your blood pressure skyrocketing when he turned the phone around to show you who he was calling.
Maverick:
“Oh my god! Jake no what are you—!” Within seconds of your heart sinking into your stomach Jake sat forward to press a palm against your mouth. With wide eyes and a soft moan you looked at him as if he were crazy. He was, he was crazy because he was with you.
“Shhh, don’t let daddy know you're riding me baby.” Jake's phone rang once, twice, three times on loud speaker. “You wouldn’t want Mav finding out his daughter is a little whore now would you?” It made your core tighten around Jake's cock as he thrust into you. Keeping a hand over your mouth and squishing your nose. “Would you?” Jake was waiting for you to give him a response, you nodded softly as the fourth ring rang out and your dads voice came through the phone.
“Hangman—“ Pete’s voice was gruff as he answered the phone. “What’s up man? Is everything okay?”
“Hey Mav—“ Jake replied as casually as he could as he fucked up into your tight little pussy, your arousal dripping down his shaft like to tomorrow as he kept a palm pressed harshly over your mouth. “Yeah nah everything’s good, I was just ringing to see if Iris had any luck with Cyclone today?” It was a question Jake could have asked you, it was a question he could have asked you at the Hard Deck even—or asked Pete! But he wanted to wait, wait until you were riding his cock. “I didn’t get a chance to catch you.”
Jake placed his phone down beside him on the lounge as he pulled you forward against his chest, reminding you to keep quiet before he pulled his hand away from your mouth. Mouthing a silent ‘keep quiet’ your way before he took your arms and wrapped them behind your back.
“Yeah, yeah she said he’s gonna give her another chance, so long as she keeps a lid on your attitude and doesn’t get into any mischief.” Mav laughed to himself all the while Jake placed his feet firmly on the ground as he held your hip with your hand and your forearms behind your back with the other and fucked up into you. Deep and harsh.
“Oh yeah that’s real good isn’t it.” Jake smirked as he buried himself inside you. “She’s a good kid man, didn’t deserve that—“
Against Jake shoulder you sunk your teeth into golden skin to stop yourself from singing out in utter euphoria. This was wrong, so fucking wrong yet you felt like every nerve ending in your body had been set alight. Jake could feel you tightening around him, your velvet walls took him in without mercy and threatened to keep his length hostage.
“She is, just do me a favour and don’t give her any special treatment?” Mav added. “People know you’re like family, just like Rooster, if she slips up you pull her up no questions no hesitation.”
“You have my word Mav, no special treatment for little miss Mitchell.” Jake could feel his orgasm barreling towards him as he let go of your arms and let you sit up. Gripping your hips as tight as he could as he lifted his own and fucked harder and deeper and faster into you as you threw your head back and cupped at your own mouth to stop yourself from screaming. “Anyway, I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, Seeya tomorrow Jake, have a good night.” Mav signed off as Jake hung up with the single press of a button. The moment you knew the call was over you cried out into the heavens above.
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!!” You hissed as you and Jake toppled from the lounge to the floor. “Ahh god I’m gonna cum, fuck!!!” You cried as Jake fell on top of you. Wrapping you in his arms as he continued to fuck you with force. He was so close.
Damn—his suspension was true. He had formed a connection. Fuck.
“I’m so fucking close, I’m gonna fill this little cunt of yours baby.” Jake babbled to himself as he reached between the two of you, rubbing small circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves. “Cum for me Iris, cum with me, cum on my cock beautiful I know you want to.”
“Jake! Fuck yes yes don’t stop!” It was nearly overwhelming but you were there. You got there in the end and with a moan that could have only escaped from God's golden gates, you came as hard as you ever had as Jake spilled himself inside you. “Ahhhh god yes!!”
“Fuck my life I’m screwed—“ Jake sighed and he buried his head in your chest. Kissing along the curves of your swollen breasts. “I’m so fucking done for.”
“Jake?” You sighed, both panting heavily as you came down from your respective highs.
“Yeah babe?” Jake looked at you, with golden hair clinging to his forehead and sweat coating his body, making him glistening in the dim light of his living room.
“You have three seconds to get off me before I fucking kill you for that.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~
When you woke up in Jake’s bed to see he wasn't there, wrapped in the mess of tangled sheets next to you. Your heart sank for a brief second. The slight nervousness was quickly replaced by reassurance and the smell of bacon and eggs and what could only be the undeniable notes of burnt raisin toast. You weren't alone–Jake was just in the kitchen, cooking breakfast.
He’d never cooked breakfast for anyone the morning after, because you were the first woman he’d ever wanted to cook breakfast for the morning after and he wanted to do it over and over and over again.
“Mornin–” You mumbled as you rubbed your eyes and padded into the kitchen. One of Jake's crew neck jumpers had become your attire of choice. It smelt like him in all the best ways. Notes of creamy vanilla and aged bourbon from his time at the Hard Deck, fresh ripe pear and hints of beautiful freesia coated the fibres of the navy crew–his scent of choice for cologne.
“Hi–” Jake sent you a smile when he caught sight of you. Bed hair looking all kinds of messed up and unruly, no makeup–although you never really wore much to begin with. His jumper adorning your body just barely covering your ass. The sleeves were a little long on you which made it even easier for the fabric to just encompass you. “You sleep well?”
“You run hot like a furnace.'' Jake chuckled softly as you came to wrap your arms around his mid second from behind, pressing your cheek into the warmth of his exposed back. “But I quite liked it.” A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as the sound of bacon sizzling away in the frying pan babbled away. “You make enough for two?”
“I didn't know how you liked your eggs so I just guessed.” There was a soft hume creeping across the apples of Jake's cheeks as he felt you unwrap your arms from his mid second. “Hope over easy is alright, and there's coffee in the pot.”
“Man of my dreams.” You sighed as you padded over to the coffee pot, working to pour yourself some liquid energy into the mug Jake had gotten out for you. “You treat all hookups with this kinda bed and breakfast service?” There had been a definite shift in your dynamic with Jake recently. Things were becoming real, serious, all consuming and suddenly it wasn't just sex. There were feelings here, real and raw emotions the two of you didn't exactly know how to navigate.
But there was no harm in being honest.
“Uh, no–actually.” Jake turned to face you, a pair of tongs in his hand as the other came up to rub the back of his head nervously. “I actually haven't cooked breakfast for someone before, you know, after–”
“Oh.” You caught what Jake was trying to imply. “I'm uh, honoured then, I guess.” As you took a sip of the coffee you'd just poured yourself and held the warm mug in the palms of your hands. You sauntered back over to where Jake stood with his low hanging sweatpants and his morning wood bulging through. “I'm very honoured actually, so much so I might just go back to bed with this amazing coffee and settle back in and wait–”
“Wait for what exactly?” Jake questioned as he dipped down to take your lips hostage with his for a fleeting moment. Pulling you closer by the small of your back.
“For you to bring me breakfast in bed.” You smirked, walking two of your fingers up the expanse of Jake's chest. “I'm still a little tired from last night, Lieutenant Commander–” Jake felt his heart skip a beat as you kissed him, he felt his whole world shift when you swiped your tongue across his lip to gain access to his mouth. He let you in with ease as he followed your lead and deepened the kiss. Only to feel you pull away seconds later. “Breakfast in bed, you me?” It was an open invite for Jake to join you, the corners of his lips curled into a cheshire cat grin as he nodded.
You really had become someone of import to Jake. Your weren’t just Mavs daughter anymore. You weren’t just Mavs daughter that Jake was messing around with. You were exclusive, dating, you were officially unofficial because no one knew. So as you smiled up at Jake, wearing his crew neck in his kitchen drinking coffee from his mug? He thought maybe you were worth all the risks that came along with being with you.
Because being with you made Jake Seresin feel more alive than flying ever had.
“Give me five minutes and it's a date.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~
“Good Morning aviators, this is your captain speaking–” Maverick had somewhat coined this Basic fighter manoeuvres speech since he'd first done it with the dagger squad who were all now his friends and respected colleagues, some as it would turn out, were a hell of a lot closer to family than he thought. “Welcome to basic fighter manoeuvres–as briefed earlier, today's exercise is dogfighting.” If there was one thing about your dad you did admire, it was his ability to seamlessly and effortlessly get under your skin without even trying. “Guns only–no missiles.” He knew you were out for blood, he knew you were set on seeking revenge and this was his way of promptly and professionally telling you to pull your head in before he smacked it off your shoulders. “We do not go below the hard deck of five thousand feet, working as a team, you have to shoot me and Lieutenant Commander Seresin down, or else.”
“Or else what, Sir?” P:E smirked into the comms as you rolled your eyes. You knew, it was kinda a drag that you knew your dad like the back of your own hand. You were one in the same. You knew because well, if it was you in Pete Mitchell's shoes you'd be just as cocky, if not worse.
“Or else we shoot back–” Jake's voice came in hot and strong through the comms and the thought of taking him down a peg in such an exercise that could see you back in the game if you did had your whole pussy throbbing as your grip tightened around your throttle. “If we shoot either one of you down, you both lose.” Putting Jake Seresin in his place in the sky was your number one priority, especially after the stunt he pulled last night calling your dad.
“This guy needs an ego check.” Back on land in the rec room, Bradley Bradshaw had never experienced a case of deja vu harder in his life as Rebound rolled his eyes and puffed his chest. “We’ll see to that, won’t we boys?”
“Hangman, for a while there fellas, was the only aviator on active duty with a confirmed air to air kill.” Rooster didn't even look up from the written assessments he was grading on what it means to be a good TopGun pilot. He could tell right from the get go whose response he was reading before he even looked at the name. “He’ll be sure to make you work for it today, you can count on that.”
“Did anyone notice Iris was back in Normex this morning?” Lieutenant Davie ‘Trash’ White asked as he stuffed his face with a protein bar he’d just brought from the vending machine, he always needed something in his stomach before a flight. Something small and light and that would keep him full for a while because he wasn't gonna wanna eat for some time after landing. “Didn't take daddy dearest long at all to step in and pull the ‘But she's my daughter’ card on Cyclone.” Bradley's ears grew hot as he tried to mind his business. He couldn't help but to listen as the guys who all sat around waiting for their turn ragged on you. All taking turns obliterating your self worth, your value. “The fucks that about? I thought she quit the program after Hangman dragged her into Cyclones office for a double-teamed spanking?”
“She's wasting her time, as if the Admirals would allow a Mitchell to take TopGun, they barely let Mav himself back on sight after his stint.” Coen ‘Rebound” Rhodes smirked to himself as he flipped through one of the old aviation textbooks on the bookshelf. “I would've just taken the spanking.” Rooster, as professional as he was, was a prankster, a grade A shit stirrer just like his dad had been. He’d brought the nerf gun to piss of Coyote but in all honesty, the childrens toy that say in the bottom drawer of the study desk he was currently sitting at came in handy right about now as he pulled it out, loaded it silently and sent a single bullet flying into the middle of Coens big ass forehead. “Aye! What was that for?”
“I found out how you got your callsign the other day, just how the hell you ended up here really makes me question the state of the US Navy.” The group of aviators all chuckled and laughed at Braldey Bradshaw's comment that made Rebound go silent. “I’m sure you’re all aware of what Iris stands for, don't let her out of your sight because the second you do it's over for you lot and me and all the other guys around here don't need your poor performances to prove that she's already a shoo in for this, despite your ugly ass tactics to get her to bail on herself.”
“You know. I don’t think I like what you're insinuating there Rooster—“ Coen snarked as he stood his ground with his arms crossed over his chest. Fanboy was only just now coming in to gather the next group ready for preflight. “Sounds an awful lot like you're defending someone who you see as a sister to me?” Everyone went silent as Rebound thought he’d gained the upper hand, he hadn’t. There was an awful lot Bradley Bradshaw could put up with in life, but listening to people degrade his family, the small select few he had left, was not something he could tolerate in a professional or personal environment.
“You won’t like the foot that’ll go up your ass in three point five seconds if you don’t act your rank, Lieutenant.” Bradley fired another nerf bullet Rebounds way as he smirked and watched the sorry excuse of an aviator duck for cover. “Sit down and shut up before I report you for misconduct.”
“Ill take him off your hands, Rooster–” Mickey chuckled. “You too krod.” Spell it backwards and you'll understand why Levi ‘Krod’ Henderson was such a huge dork. “Up in twenty, on my time so move it or lose it lads.” Mickey sent Rooster a nod that asked if he was good. Bradley nodded back, explaining in a single motion that he was in fact, okay.
Just don't ask him to tell you that he knew for a fact Pete had pulled your name from the TopGun poll of potential candidates on at least three separate occasions because he knew that you'd get coined as the nepotism baby like no other person. Did Rooster agree with Mavs tactics, no– he didn't. But much like his own struggles with Mav pulling his papers for the Naval Academy, he grew to understand the motive behind his actions.
He just wanted to protect his daughter.
“What was that about?” Mickey asked as he walked over to where Bradley sat, watching as he stretched his arms above his head and let out a groan. Dropping his weapon in the process.
“Oh I don’t even know at this point, Iris has me all kinds of worked up as of late.” Bradley tried to shrug it off. “She doesn’t make it easy to defend her when she’s fucking around with Hangman and mouthing off to admrials and—“
“Woah woah woah, back up, Iris and Jake?” Mickey leaned over the desk Bradley was sitting at. “The hell are you talking about Rooster?” Bradley hadn’t even noticed what he’d said before it was too late to take it back. He looked at Fanboy like a deer caught in headlights.
Fuck.
“Fanboy you can’t tell a soul!” Rooster hissed as he stood, looking around the now empty rec room as he ran his hands through his hair. “Fucking hell and for the love of everything that’s good in this world don’t tell Mav!”
“Tell Mav what!? I don’t even know what you mean by Iris and Jake!” Mickey shouted through gritted teeth, he could already feel himself burning up. His Abuela would kill him if she knew he was harbouring secret scandals like this. “Are they sleeping together?”
“Worse—“ Bradley sighed. “They’re dating.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**
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Secret Sorrows || 3 -B.Barnes
Summary: Former special ops, Bucky, seeks solace in a cold refuge to escape his past. However, his haunted history catches up, unraveling mysteries that persist relentlessly.
Series Masterlist
Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.
Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi
It had been several days since the elder of the Astons had visited Van Alen's residence. Bucky found himself continuing his duty as a bodyguard for Ethan Van Alen, the sole heir of both conglomerate families.
If someone had said that Bucky would protect his ex-girlfriend's son, he would have laughed. But life worked in impossible ways. Here, he was doing just that.
While Bucky was on duty, he couldn't shake the need for answers about Y/N Aston. Despite learning that Iris and Y/N were identical twins, he still found it hard to believe. It was Iris, who had been with him back when they were young.
Yet, why did Y/N's actions mirror Iris's so closely?
If Y/N were more approachable, perhaps Bucky could find the answers. She might even tell him he was crazy. But with her busy schedule, stepping in for Ethan's father and managing both family businesses, she seemed almost impossible to talk to.
Y/N didn’t have time to comfort her only nephew. Since Bucky had to guard Ethan 24/7, he knew the kid wanted to talk to his relative. Both aunt and nephew lived in the same house, yet they rarely spent time together.
Bucky remembered Ethan's words, "My aunt is married to her job."
He thought it was a shame. Y/N was beautiful. With her status, she could have any man.
Wait, was she still single?
He shook his head, realizing how absurd it was to even entertain such thoughts considering Y/N was his employer.
Clearing his throat, Bucky walked towards Ethan's room, glancing at the kid's schedule. There were so many classes: foreign language, investment, fencing, public speaking, IT, swimming, and more.
Ethan was only 7 years old; he didn’t have time to play, especially since it was only a week after his parents' funeral.
Bucky knocked on Ethan’s door.
“Come in,” Ethan called out.
Bucky entered to find Ethan practicing the violin. Though classical music wasn't his preference, Ethan's skill didn't sound like that of a beginner.
Ethan stopped playing and placed the violin back in its case. “What class do I have next?”
“Swimming class,” Bucky replied.
Ethan sighed. “Can you teach me instead?”
Bucky hesitated. “If you want, but you know everything has to go through protocol.”
Ethan pouted. “At least, today, you have to accompany me.”
Bucky's instincts told him something didn't seem right. “Alright.”
Ethan went to his wardrobe; even at his young age, he had already been taught to pack his things. Bucky still found himself in awe of the kid's wardrobe room; it was bigger than his own bedroom in Antarctica.
While Ethan searched for his swimming goggles, he asked, “Has my aunt already left?”
Bucky replied, “Yes,” noticing Ethan's shoulders slump at the confirmation. He asked gently, “Do you want to talk to her?”
Ethan shook his head. “No, she’s busy. I don’t want to bother her.” Having prepared everything, he added, “Let’s go.”
When Bucky arrived at the swimming pool, he saw an athletic man. From the first impression, Bucky could already read him: overly proud and cocky.
“Bucky, right? I’ve been informed you’ll be the new guard. I’m alright if you want to join us,” the coach said.
Bucky gave a slight nod, glancing at Ethan. “Ethan, I’ll be standing here, okay?”
For a brief moment, Ethan's face brightened. Bucky wondered what made Ethan seem to not enjoy the class.
Ethan and the teacher did warm-ups before getting into the pool.
The coach instructed, “We will start with the freestyle and work on improving your lap times.”
When the teacher blew the whistle, Ethan began swimming to the other side. Bucky was impressed; for a kid his age, he was quite fast.
The coach checked his stopwatch. “1:50. You could do better than that.”
Bucky couldn't understand why the coach expected the little kid to go faster in a 100m freestyle.
"Again," the coach commanded.
"Again."
"You're getting slower."
Bucky held back his emotions when he noticed Ethan looking drained.
The coach looked down at Ethan and shook his head. "Your father would be disappointed with the result, Ethan."
Seeing Ethan sniffle and wipe his eyes, Bucky couldn't take it anymore.
He kicked the coach back and pushed him into the pool. The coach wasn't prepared and struggled to resurface before gasping for breath. Bucky held him under the water again.
“Can’t you see the boy is already breathless and exhausted?” Bucky questioned sharply.
The coach sputtered, "Wait… wait…"
"Do it again. I want to see how long you can hold your breath."
"Ugh."
Peter couldn’t believe what he saw. He rushed over from watching the CCTV to stop Bucky. "Bucky, what happened—"
Bucky shot Peter a warning look. "Get Ethan out of here. I need to talk to this guy."
Peter hurriedly escorted Ethan away, wondering why Bucky was so furious with the swimming coach.
Once they were gone, Bucky removed his black suit and throw it.
He pulled the coach from the pool like a fish. The coach coughed and caught his breath. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"A moment ago? Yes," Bucky admitted bluntly.
The coach's eyes widened. Never in his life had someone admitted to wanting to kill him straight to his face.
"I have a question: will Ethan enter the Olympics?" Bucky asked.
The coach shook his head. "No."
"Then why do you have to make him suffer like that? If that boy could talk, he would ask you to stop. But he can’t. As a teacher, you should know your students' capabilities."
"I only do what my employer asks me," the coach defended himself.
"Who? Miss Y/N Aston?" Bucky questioned.
"No! The Van Alen family," the coach confessed.
Bucky's grip on him loosened. This information was shocking. Why did the Van Alen family treat Ethan like this?
"Get up, gather your things, and never set foot in this place again," Bucky commanded.
The coach protested, "You have no—"
"Miss Aston hired me to protect her nephew. It’s better if you resign before you lose your teaching license. You know what I’m capable of," Bucky warned.
The coach ran away, leaving Bucky to ponder the situation.
On the other side, Y/N had just returned from the company. Spotting Peter and Ethan, her nephew walking with a towel draped around him, she observed Ethan's eagerness as he ran toward her, wrapping her in a tight hug.
Y/N asked Peter for an explanation, her expression remaining stoic as she listened to the summarized account.
Her heart ached hearing about her nephew's ordeal. Despite her typically reserved demeanor, a flicker of concern flashed in her eyes. She instructed Peter, "Tell Mr. Barnes to meet me at my office," her voice firm yet tinged with an underlying worry, before walking away.
Concerned, Ethan tugged at Peter's clothes. "Is Bucky in trouble because of me?" His voice carried a hint of apprehension.
Peter patted Ethan's back reassuringly, his tone gentle. "I'm sure he'll be alright. Don't worry." He tried to offer comfort to the young boy, knowing the weight of responsibility could be heavy on his small shoulders.
In Y/N's office, she was signing documents while Bucky stood before her, his presence commanding attention. She remained so engrossed in her work that she didn’t even lift her head when she spoke, "You want to explain why a half-naked man in a speedo ran away screaming from my house?"
Bucky answered casually, "Well, yeah, since I threatened him." His tone was nonchalant, but there was a hint of underlying tension in his voice.
Y/N looked up, her expression unreadable, a mix of surprise and curiosity flickering in her eyes.
Bucky still wasn’t accustomed to looking directly into her eyes; there was something pulling at him that he couldn’t quite describe. "The way I do my job may be different from anyone here, but I can't let the person I'm protecting feel unsafe. Do you know Ethan's swimming coach did it on purpose, and it was ordered by the Van Alen family?" His voice carried a note of frustration, a rare glimpse of emotion from the typically stoic man.
Y/N didn't respond immediately; it seemed like she already knew.
Gritting his teeth, Bucky wondered what was wrong with wealthy people. She had everything, so why didn’t she want to mend her relationship with Ethan? His frustration simmered beneath the surface, evident in the tenseness of his jaw.
Bucky said firmly, his voice tinged with determination, "If you have at least 5 minutes, I suggest you talk to Ethan." With that, he left the room, his footsteps echoing with purpose.
Y/N's secretary clicked her tongue, then turned to her boss, her expression reflecting concern. "Do you want to fire him?" There was a note of uncertainty in her voice, wary of the potential repercussions.
Y/N's gaze remained fixed on the closed door, "No, just fire the swimming coach." Her tone was decisive, yet there was a hint of resignation in her voice. She looked at her secretary, her gaze unwavering. "Cancel the rest of my schedule today."
“But, ma’am, you have an important call this evening." The secretary's voice held a hint of concern, recognizing the significance of the upcoming call.
"I will call them tomorrow. Send a formal apology letter," Y/N ordered, her tone final, a sense of determination underlying her words.
*********
Y/N went to Ethan's bedroom, her footsteps echoing softly in the hallway.
Ethan, who was playing blocks with Bucky, was surprised to see his aunt, his expression a mix of curiosity and anticipation. As she entered the room, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a sense of tension dissipating.
“Auntie,” Ethan greeted her, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Looking nervous, he turned to Bucky, who gave him a reassuring nod, his silent support evident in his expression.
Approaching Y/N, Ethan said, “Aunt, can I change my swimming coach?” His words were hesitant, a mixture of hope and apprehension lacing his tone.
Y/N replied, her voice calm yet distant, “Sure, I’ll call the Olympic coach.”
Ethan hesitated, his gaze flickering between Y/N and Bucky. “No, can Bucky teach me?” His voice held a note of pleading, a silent plea for connection.
Y/N responded, her tone neutral, “I don’t mind. You should ask him.” Her words were measured, a reflection of her reserved nature.
Ethan turned to Bucky, his eyes wide with anticipation. “Bro Bucky already agreed, I just wanted to ask for your permission first.” There was a hint of excitement in his voice, a spark of hope igniting within him.
Bucky felt relieved that they were finally communicating, his expression softening with understanding.
Ethan continued, his words tumbling out in a rush of excitement. “And can I ask you another favor?” His voice was eager, his eyes shining with anticipation.
Y/N encouraged him to speak, her expression remaining impassive, yet there was a flicker of something in her eyes, a hint of warmth beneath the surface.
“For foreign language class, can I just study German and Korean? German engineering is great, and South Korea has good products, it's good for my future. For investment class, can I learn how to trade with real money? And can I study martial arts with Bucky instead of fencing?” Ethan's words poured out in a rush, his enthusiasm palpable.
Bucky couldn’t believe what he was hearing, his surprise evident in his expression. These weren’t typical requests from a 7-year-old, yet there was a sense of determination in Ethan's voice, a silent plea for understanding.
Glancing at Y/N, who didn’t seem surprised, he realized both aunt and nephew shared the same traits, a sense of resilience amidst adversity.
Y/N asked, her tone measured, “Anything else?” Her words were neutral, yet there was a hint of something in her voice, a subtle shift in her demeanor.
Ethan shook his head, his excitement palpable. “That’s everything.”
Y/N assured him, her voice distant yet tinged with a hint of warmth, “I’ll instruct my secretary to change your teachers, and give you the money for you to invest.” before leaving the room, her footsteps echoing softly in the hallway.
Bucky couldn’t shake off the feeling of Y/N being distant from her nephew, his concern is evident in his expression. He thought Ethan felt abandoned again, but it seemed he was mistaken.
Ethan ran to him, his eyes excitedly shining, exclaiming, “Bucky, did you see that? My aunt smiled today.” There was a sense of joy in his voice, a silent celebration of a small victory.
Confused, Bucky probably needed to get his eyes checked, as he hadn’t seen her smile at all. But as long as Ethan was happy, he would agree to anything.
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It’s Inertia
Steve/Eddie • Rated M • No UD, childhood friends, idiots to lovers, misunderstandings, pining • cw: underaged drinking and some fooling around • read on ao3
@stcreators event 5: tropes
@steddiesongfics Inertia - AJR
A box on my bingo square c/o @lucassinclaer
“Promise we’ll be best buds forever?”
Steve looked up from the mud pie he was squishing in his hand, finding Eddie stationed at a fallen log to ‘bake’ their pies. They’d been playing together like this all summer, since Eddie had moved to town. He was a few years older than Steve but scrawnier, ‘gangly’ his mom would call it, so he looked younger than his age.
They’d quickly bonded over shared horror stories of their parents, both getting left home too young. Eddie’s stories had put a lot of his own to shame though. But now he was with his Uncle Wayne and he seemed to be doing better. Gaining weight and his eyes weren’t as sunken in as they were earlier in the summer.
“What do you mean? Of course we will.” Steve walked over to plop his pie into the line of them on the log. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
“School starts soon… and I don’t know anyone. We’ll be in different classes and stuff.” Steve watched as Eddie drew in on himself, making himself even smaller in his crouch by the log. Steve hated it. “Kids don’t usually like me. Even when I went before- I mean, I’ve always been the weird kid.”
“It’s Hawkins,” Steve shrugged. “Everyone’s weird. You’ll make friends. And even if you don’t, we’ll still hang out. We’re going to be best friends forever.” Steve felt better when Eddie’s shoulders dropped and he smiled at him. “Who else is going to make world famous pies with me?”
They laughed and Eddie wrote their initials into the mud pie he made, adorning it with leaves and rocks. Eddie put twig candles on it and they both pretended to blow them out, making wishes.
Steve closed his eyes, wishing hard that they would be best friends forever. He’d never had a friend like Eddie before.
“It’s just me.”
Steve started as cold hands pulled his blanket from him before relaxing, not even bothering to open his eyes. Eddie frequently scaled his trellis and crawled in his window, claiming nightmares or weird sounds in the trailer park were keeping him up.
If his parents were in town, in the mornings Eddie would quietly get ready with Steve and sneak to the front door and they’d both wait for the bus outside. More often, they got the run of the house, giggling at each other over burnt toast in the kitchen.
They got through middle school this way, Steve trying his best to look out for him at school but always seemed to turn the corner too late, Eddie’s nose bleeding or hunched over from a gut check. Eddie always waved him off afterwards.
“It is what it is, Stevie. Maybe a few more broken noses will make me pretty,” he joked as they walked to the trailer.
It was on the tip of his tongue to say that he already was, but he just laughed along instead.
“For I never saw true beauty til this night.”
Stepping backstage to a mild applause and a lot more snickering, Steve blinked into the darkness and came face to face with Eddie. He was clapping slowly but loudly with a teasing look on his face.
“Nice job, Romeo. All the practicing really paid off.” Eddie had jumped right into helping him prepare for this torture when Steve’s English teacher had suggested he perform the monologue at their eighth grade talent show to earn enough points to pass.
Steve rolled his eyes at him. “I missed an entire line. But thanks. You’re up.”
They exchanged a sardonic grin as Eddie shouldered his guitar and walked past him onto the brightly lit stage.
He was transfixed as he watched Eddie immediately take over the stage, singing and jumping around and meticulously hitting the chords. He’d similarly watched Eddie practice this song unendingly, but seeing it now live and in front of a crowd was astonishing.
The song came to an end and Steve clapped extra loud and whooped, earning a huge grin from his friend as he ran towards him for a hug.
He thought maybe Shakespeare had actually known a thing or two.
“Oh, oh!”
He was having a good dream. A very good dream. Then suddenly he was cold, and a hand was shaking his shoulder.
“Wha-? Eds?” He croaked.
“You, uh, it’s okay Steve. Um, I think I’m gunna go. I-it’s, uh, yeah-“
Steve shook his head and tried to reach out for him. They’d always slept all curled up together. It was fine. But once he was finally able to focus on Eddie’s face, he felt like he’d been dunked under in his freezing cold pool. He looked terrified.
“Hey, what?” Steve tried again, finally sitting up and realizing the issue. “Oh fuck,” he gasped.
“It’s fine, Steve. I-it’s normal and everything, you know. But,” Eddie blinked at him from practically across the room, jumping into his jeans. “I’ll see you later.”
He was gone before Steve would fully wake up.
He sat there glaring at his awkward boner until it finally went away. Eddie would probably never want to talk to him again. He pulled the pillow over his head and tried to force himself to go back to sleep.
His dream had been about sharp hip bones and dark curly hair.
“Ah, how the mighty have fallen. Tussling with Buns of Steel didn’t seem to go very well for you, huh?”
He moved the bag of ice he was holding to his face to peer through his good eye (well, better than the swollen shut one, but it was still pretty blurry) to find Eddie propped against the doorway. He had Steve’s pile of books and notebooks tucked under an arm. Eddie must have saved them from the hallway.
Steve sighed. “That’s what I get for sticking up for our kids, huh?” Billy always seemed to have a problem with Lucas and by extension the rest of the party, but now that Max had finally told him they were dating, he seemed to be even worse. Steve had finally had enough and thrown the first punch, but as Henderson usually reminded him, he didn’t win fights.
Eddie nodded shortly before coming over to help him stand. “Let’s ditch the rest of the day, man. You’ve earned it and you need a chauffeur.”
Back in his empty house, Eddie procured him some mystery pills to take (he hadn’t asked questions), and they cuddled up on the sofa.
As the pills started to kick in, his body started reacting to Eddie’s close proximity and the muscle memory of what seemed to keep happening when they got high or drunk together. It had started the first summer after Eddie hadn’t graduated on time. Just blowing off some steam and making his friend feel better. That’s all it was.
But now Eddie was sober, laughing lightly at the dumb movie they’d put on, rumbling Steve’s body with it since they were pressed so close.
Steve sunk his hand into Eddie’s hair and something in his chest relaxed when Eddie hummed at him and settled impossibly closer, laying his head on Steve’s chest.
Somehow their legs shifted and Eddie’s was between his. There was a small gasp from one of them before their mouths met and he had a lap full of Eddie.
He smiled into the kiss, feeling better than he had in a long while. Maybe since the last time he’d been drunk and this had happened.
Waking up on the couch the next morning, Eddie still wrapped around him, he realized he never felt this light or content with any of the girls he had fooled around with.
He mentally shrugged and made himself try to go back to sleep, it was probably just because he had known Eddie for so long.
“Chug chug chug!”
He finished shotgunning his beer and tossed the empty at Tommy who let it drop to the floor, laughing hysterically at him.
Steve had thrown a huge house party again because Eddie had told him he could charge everyone triple rates and he needed a new guitar.
But now as he watched him laugh and lean into Chrissy Cunningham from his perch in the dining room, Steve’s stomach clenched. He tried to blame it on the shit beer he’d just downed.
“Steve!”
He spun at the sound of Eddie’s voice a while later, a zing going up his spine.
“I’m gunna, uh, take Chris home. Jason’s been all over her and she needs a ride. Sorry I can’t help clean up.”
Steve tried to make his face remain neutral. He knew that was Eddie’s covert way of saying he wasn’t coming back. Every other party he had thrown, Eddie stayed. He just nodded and Eddie sent him a wary smile.
Ignoring all the garbage and spilled cups, he lined up shots in his empty kitchen. Hopefully that would be enough to let him pass out so he could sleep in his big bed all alone tonight.
He tried not to let himself think about the real reason he’d thrown the party, or what Eddie and Chrissy were getting up to.
“Where are you gunna go?”
Eddie was packing. Decided today was it. Called Steve to come help. Steve’s throat hurt, like there was glass stuck it in. There must’ve been some in his chest, too.
“Probably Indy, maybe Chicago if the van will make it. I gotta get to a bigger city and start playing at bigger clubs, where someone important will actually hear. Could try to save up some money and record a demo.”
Steve knew Eddie’s dream of being a rockstar had been steadfast but unattainable in their small town. He knew that. But seeing it now, right in front of him like this was different.
“There’s nothing here for me.”
It felt like a physical punch to the gut and he almost sunk to the floor, instead allowing the doorframe to hold more of his weight as his knees threatened to give out. “Oh.”
They hadn’t been spending as much time together since Steve had graduated and Eddie hadn’t (again). Steve was dating Nancy, working at the dumb mall with his dumb ice cream outfit. Had met Robin and spent the summer irritating Eddie and Nancy with their dumb antics. But he still made sure Eddie was included, Robin and Nancy helping him with studying and essays. Steve hadn’t been able to get into college with his grades so he wasn’t a great candidate for that, but he was there for moral support.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded. Swallowing past the shard of glass in his throat and nodded, helped Eddie load the boxes and garbage bags into the van. They stopped for a quick tight hug before Eddie got in and drove away.
He didn’t let himself cry until he was alone in his bed.
“You’re really marrying her?”
The abrupt question sunk in his stomach like a heavy stone. Steve wasn’t sure who had told him. They’d stayed in touch over the years, Eddie sending postcards from his travels and calling when he could. Steve knew he spoke to the kids from time to time. It must’ve been one of them who spilled the beans.
“That’s the plan. She’s the niece of the Wallace Investments’ CEO. It’ll, um, open a lot of doors for me. And for dad’s businesses.” An ultimatum from his dad. It was the story he didn’t really want circulating, but it was the truth. He could never lie to Eddie about anything. Well, anything except for one big thing.
“You make it sound more like a business merger than a marriage,” Eddie scoffed.
“That’s because it pretty much is.”
Steve quickly changed the subject to his new album and a new tour starting. They exchanged some more small talk before someone was shouting at Eddie and he had to go.
“Good talking to you, Stevie. I’ll send you a postcard from the next place.” It sounded exactly like the write off Steve knew was coming sooner or later.
He brushed off the questions from his friends and new fiancée as he shut himself off the next few weeks, only breaking out of the fog to check his mailbox.
If his Corroded Coffin cassette got extra attention in his car for only his ears, that was neither here nor there.
“What the fuck?”
Steve looked around at all of his friends, then turned back to Robin when his eyes landed on Eddie across the room.
“This is an intervention, Steve. We’re all tired of you both moping. You’re staying in this room until you work it out-“
“Or you kill each other.” Dustin piped in. There were some muffled laughs from around the room.
“Hopefully it doesn’t come to that, but yes. Sort out your shit, dinguses.”
Something she said finally processed in his brain. “Wait… both?” But no one was listening to him as they all filed out.
Jonathan and Jeff patted him on the shoulder as they passed.
Once they were alone, Eddie threw himself into a folding chair with a sigh.
“You didn’t send any postcards,” Steve found himself saying. Of all the things he wanted to say to Eddie now, he wasn’t sure why that had stung the most.
Eddie shrugged. “I couldn’t.”
Frowning, he approached him. “Why not?”
Eddie watched him sink into his own folding chair. He assumed they’d both been tricked into thinking this was just dinner. But they’d been lead back into this private room instead.
“I didn’t think you’d want me to, really. And I sort of fell into a pit of despair after you told me…” he swallowed hard like he couldn’t say the words.
Steve clenched his jaw. He couldn’t be upset over that. Really.
“It’s, um, off. You know, the wedding. The marriage. We, uh, I- I guess everyone involved sort of saw it wasn’t going to pan out.”
“What?”
Eddie looked hopeful now, and Steve stopped to actually take in his appearance. He looked terrible. Big dark circles on the bags under his eyes. He was paler than he’d ever been and his hair somehow looked both greasier and drier than he’d ever seen it.
“It’s not happening. I think-“ he chuckled dryly. “Well, I sort of fell into my own pit of despair. And my dad and my fiancée let me off the hook.”
“Steve.” Eddie’s eyes were wild.
“Yeah?”
“You’re not getting married?” He asked like it meant everything.
Steve shook his head and suddenly Eddie was very close, standing between his legs with his hands on his shoulders.
“You’re not getting married?” Eddie repeated.
He cleared his throat, looking up into Eddie’s bewildered face. “No, Eds. I’m not getting married.”
They blinked at each other for a long moment before Eddie’s hands came up to cradle his head and he looked deep into his eyes for a moment.
“Can I kiss you?”
Steve gasped but nodded and before he could close his eyes, his mouth was overtaken by Eddie. Kissing him when they were both sober and after all the years spent apart was earth shaking.
Finally, when his brain caught up, he pulled back.
Eddie’s face closed off and he moved away so he was no longer touching him. Steve couldn’t have that, so he reached out for his belt loop and pulled him hard so he fell into his lap.
“Eds, I- I’m just, what is happening?”
Eddie took a deep breath before cupping his face again. “It’s you. It’s always been you for me. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”
“Forgiven,” Steve sighed before capturing his lips again.
He wasn’t going to let him go now that he finally had him.
“Well I think they figured it out,” Jeff quietly chuckled from the doorway.
“Thank fuck, they’ve been driving me more insane than usual.” Robin grinned at him. She held her hand up and Jeff high-fived her. “We make a great team. C’mon, you’re buying dinner for everyone, hot shot. And we’ll have to work out a visitation schedule, this doesn’t mean I get zero Steve time.”
Jeff rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but laugh as they walked back down the hall together. “You got it, Buckley.”
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Unwanted: Chapter 12, Unlucky - 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, minor mention of sex.
Word Count: 412
Previously On...: You and Bucky had a heart-to-heart in the bathroom at Gino's where you admitted you've been putting up an emotional wall between the two of you. Tony decided it was time for another game of 'What the 'F' Was It?' (thanks for the inspo for that, weed!), and when you and Bucky went to leave to go back to the Tower for some... quality time, Jade was not pleased. It was, therefore, a pleasant surprise to watch Bucky rebuff her.
A/N: Very, very short part today, friends. I am going to fully confess that I am lulling you into a false sense of security in these next two parts before I start lobbing shit at the fan with a rocket launcher.
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: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @doublejeon @pattiemac1
With Jade away in Malaysia, things between you and Bucky finally felt like they were going back to normal. Yes, you had your hands full making final preparations for your board presentation, but Bucky was constantly by your side, bringing you lunch, cheering you on, making sure you took appropriate breaks and ending your workday at an appropriate time so you weren’t wearing yourself too thin.
And the sex? Yeah, that was right back on track.
Before you knew it, the day of your presentation had arrived. You were a nervous wreck. In the lab, you were confident, willing to take chances, assert your authority with ease and confidence, but presenting in front of a group of stuffy, predominantly middle-aged white men? All of that went right out the window.
“You’ve got this, sweets,” Bucky said as you both stood outside the board room.
“What if they hate it, Buck?” you murmured, trying to stop your hands from shaking. “What if the presentation’s terrible?”
“Hey,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders to hold you still, “I have more faith in you than I’ve ever had in anyone. You’ve worked so hard on this, and you know it works. It’s gonna save so many lives. You’ve practiced this presentation inside and out; I bet you could do it in your sleep. I’m so fucking proud of you, doll.”
You managed a weak smile. “Do you want me to come in with you?” he asked gently. “That way, you get nervous with all those stodgy old men in front of you, you can just look at this old man and pretend it’s just you and me. Just like we’re practicing up in our room.”
You nodded eagerly. “Yes! Oh god, yes, please! Thank you so much, Buck.” You kissed him quickly on the lips, the idea of being able to stare into his ocean-blue eyes as you went through your presentation instantly calming you and filling you with a sense of security. “I love you.”
He chuckled and squeezed your shoulders. “I love you, too, doll. And this is the least I can do for you, after everything you’ve done for me.”
The door to the board room opened before you could say more to one another. A secretary smiled when she saw you. “Ms. (Y/L/N),” she said, “they’re ready for you now.”
You took a deep breath. “Here we go,” you said before taking Bucky’s hand and walking inside.
<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->
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♛- PLAY-HARD IV
1st part / 2nd part/ 3rd part / 4th part
Series Masterlist ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
➸ INTERESTS; - olo'eyktan!jake x fem! omatikayan reader
➸ BACKGROUND; - working alongside Moat has helped you and your family in various ways, as a way to repay her for your free working she pairs you along side Toruk Makto to aid him in small departments he needs assistance in, but more importantly to find a Tsahik suitable for the Olo'eyktan, but he isn't always cooperative. Thankfully things have turned out for the better, Jake and you being close, but what does that mean for the future of the omatikayan people?
➸ WARNINGS; - wc. 3.4k, slight age gap (25 & 21), takes place after the great war, slow burn, arguing, angst, fighting, confessions, crying/tears, mentions of abandonment, screaming, fluff, jake being crazy kinda and y/n being a dick a little, make-up, bruises, injuries⭐️, romantic tension, small kisses.
➸a.i; - had enough fluff and smut i’m an angst kinda lover so i’m gonna hurt all of u guys with this 🙇🏾♂️ do not hate me for this i’ll make it up in the next chapter😭 (NOT PROOF READ, i’m literally dead rn i’ll edit more tmrw if anything’s wrong, currently working on chapter 5 and a neteyam drabble so i’ll be updating way more this week).
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
*na’vi translation will be provided*
“Someone seems cheery” Mo’at spoke, upon your arrival to her tent where multiple other women were, either helping injured warriors or practicing their own form of medicine from herbs you originally would use alongside Mo’at. You smiled and greeted her softly, asking her what she meant by her statement.
“Nga tíran nemfa syura txantan na aylahe tsawke” [You walk in, energy brighter than the sun] She rolled her tongue, to which your tail swished slightly, grinning even larger. Understanding what she meant, you practically seemed in a good mood, and more than usual, as if you’ve been spending all morning helping the children in the village, which you’d usually do to start off your day before visiting her (if ewya let you from the late hours you’d wake up).
She just chuckled to herself and saved a seat beside her for you to begin helping her with other warriors and younger women learning the ways and traditions of the tsahik.
Soon after everyone left you stayed afterwards, as always. Already eating another meal and having chats with Mo’at, catching up with one another.
“Have you found someone for the olo’ektyan?” She asked, standing up slowly to begin cleaning the small messes left behind from the previous na’vi inside. You hesitated before answering, not knowing exactly to say. “He’s very difficult, but no I haven’t-“
“No? From the way you’re glowing and the left over evidence of what you two have done are you SURE you haven’t found someone for him?” She laughed, quickly getting a reaction out of you, quickly placing your hands on the side of your neck and collarbone, to which he had left love-bites on.
“We haven’t done anything. He hasn’t done anything, we both remain unmated” You stated, turning your head the other way, not really wanting to get into this type of conversation. “If you do end up mating it must be soon, the clan is in need of a Tsahik, I won’t always be here forever.” She stated sharply, turning to look at you and grabbing a nearby broom, cleaning slowly. “You know better than anyone I’m not prepared to be Tsahik, there are thousands of other na’vi women that could take my place-“
“I’ve raised you for nearly 13 years of your life and taught you all I know, if you aren’t ready now when will you ever be ready?” She asked, quickly cutting you off, you sighed and quickly tied your hair back, beginning to collect the bowls and left over remedies around, knowing she was right. It wasn’t your fault you were scared, you were young and had over 100 years until you’d die from old age and part of you didn’t believe you’d be able to. Maybe you’d let down your clan rather than helping them from the goodness of your heart, you weren’t as strong-hearted and wise as Mo’at, nor as smart and powerful as Jake. Sure you were a skilled shooter, whether with archery or with the earth weapons, Jake himself made sure of that, but fear consumed you. “Maybe it is not the placement of Tsahik you fear, maybe it’s the placement that comes with it..” She pondered, pausing and turning to you, to which you slowly glanced up at her, sighing softly.
“I can serve my people.” You stated, she nodded as if she was waiting for you to repeat those words. “But can you serve your olo’ektyan?” She asked quickly, watching you pause and sit there, your ears lowering slowly as you stood up in front of her, a small pout on your lips. Without a doubt even if you couldn’t always please your people you’d be able to support and help to your best ability, especially in the healing specifics, but things between you and Jake would change, which is something you COULDN’T risk. She finished sweeping and took you into a soft hug, as if she understood the situation you were in and how your mind was. For some reason it’s so much easier to fixate and plan out someone’s life for him on the sidelines, but on the front lines things seemed horrible, especially stress, that was something your simply couldn’t handle.
“You love your people, and you’ve done nothing but love what i’ve taught you and new people that have come into your life, do not be afraid of failure and don’t be afraid of change, be open to i-“
“Is the Tsahik still here? Oe tìkin srung si” [I need help] You heard a hoarse voice ask, quickly de-attaching from Mo’at to turn towards the back and collect a bowl with the herbs and bandages from before, ready to help whoever it was that was injured at the door. “Wha-“ You stopped dead in your tracks, dropping the bandages in your hand and nearly dropping the bowl as well out of shock.
It was, “Za’yukto, you seem as if you were attacked by a Palulukan” Mo’at joked, not realizing the shock that overtook your body. You weren’t sure what shocked you most, the fact that Za’yukto was here or the fact he was here injured so badly after seeing the bandage around his head, the injury you inflicted. You slowly picked up the bandage and tightened your grip on the bowl filled with herbs, making your way over to Mo’at quickly and setting them to her side, where she made Za’yukto sit. “Y/n can you please help with the bruises inflicted on his back?” She asked, it barely even being a question, quickly pushing you to his backside to which you tensed up. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, swallowing your feelings and putting your work first, soon finishing quickly, as Mo’at soon finished afterwards.
You payed close attention to the injuries he had gotten, knowing well he was obviously attacked, but not by any animal, by a person obviously. Thankfully for you both there weren’t any open wounds, just bruises, which you took note on. The entire time he did nothing but place his head down, in a sense of shame you would’ve guessed, making you more curious, when Mo’at had finished with him however and moved away he began apologizing to you numerous amount of times for what he did and what had happened and asked how your injuries were, you only nodded and showed him your injuries, in the process of healing and if anything doing better than his now, not really wanting to spark conversation with him, thankfully he was smart enough to realize that and spent the rest of the moment in silence.
Soon after you finished and Za’yukto departed, Mo’at sent you on your way,, but not without making sure you took her advice to heart.
Most of it did most of it didn’t, knowing she could tell you as much as she wanted but it wouldn’t really truly leave you, you’d have to deal with your own problems alone, whether present or future, and honestly you prayed that time wouldn’t ever come.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
You soon arrived back to Jake’s hut, greeting him and smiling. He soon asked how your meeting with Mo’at was, you ignored the question not wanting to get into the previous conversation you had just had with your god-mother, asking him how he was and what had happened after you left, to which he didn’t want to respond to your question as well, leaving you puzzled.
“C’mere” He said, motioning towards his lap, to which you smiled and obliged, sitting promptly. Soon you guys continued your conversation, sharing short laughs and flirts back and forth, until Jake went up to hold your hand to which you saw his hands bruised and his knuckles busted and dry with blood. “What’s this? What happened to you?” You asked, now turned fully to him, searching in his eyes for an answer, which quickly darted away as he licked his bottom lip. “T‘s nothin, I just had an accident” He lied, his eyes still looking away, scanning the room. You frowned, taking his other hand to see the exact same marks and discoloration of his skin, “Why didn’t you ask me to help you! Let me get some-“
“No, it’s fine i’m okay” He said, gesturing he was fine, flexing his hands, balling them into fists, and wiggling his fingers around to show he was okay, which you didn’t believe. “You were fine this morning when I….” You paused.
He was fine when you left, and so was Za’yukto, you completely forgot you both crossed paths before leaving this morning. All of a sudden you come home and he refuses to talk about what happened when you left, and was lying to your face right now. What didn’t help his case was the fact that bruises were found all over Za’yukto and yet Jake remained untouched, the only bruises being on his hands, the same hands that he must’ve used to inflict the wounds on Za’yu. You weren’t wrong with your hypothetical thinking earlier, whatever had harmed Za’yukto was obviously someone, just not who you expected.
You quickly let go of Jake’s hand, standing up slowly and dusting yourself off, “Za’yukto came by to Mo’at’s hut this morning, asking for assistance.” You stated sharply, looking dead at Jake to which he looked up at you then down to his feet, his tail flicking quickly while his ears lowered softly. “He had so many injuries inflicted into his skin I was scared it would’ve battered his soul. Oeng Tsahik keng hangvur fyape hoan te’ekon ni a palulukan” [Our Tsahik even joked how he was attacked by a palulukan] You clicked quickly, watching Jake’s lips shift, pursing slowly. “Did it feel good? Beating on him like th-“
“Don’t do that.” He cut you off, stating harshly and he hunched over a little, his elbows resting on the plump of his thighs, as he looked up at you, now clearly upset. “Don’t do what Jake? Don’t tell you what you did was wrong? Because it was, and I didn’t ask you to do it, you did it on your own account to make you feel better about yourself.” You spat, pointing at him, he stood up abruptly hands on his hips as he huffed. “I’m suprised he was even able to walk into the ten-“
“I did it for you!” He shouted, throwing his hands in a fuss to which you quickly scoffed at. “You missed the part where I told you I didn’t ask you to-“
“Oh for fuck’s sake y/n, you came into my home sobbing and hardly even speaking to me out of fear, you know better than anyone else that I wouldn’t have just let him get away with i-“
“Oh yeah? Well I had it handled, if you were paying close attention he already had a bandage on his head, from my inflicting, as I told you!” You shouted back, slowly taking a step back when hearing his tone. “I’m not some damsel in distress I can protect myself and deal with my own issues, I’ve been doing it long enough.” You said, placing a hand on your hip to see Jake’s irritated expression. You heard him mumble something under his breath, and to which you quickly asked what he said, and for him to say it loud with his chest, thinking it was some sort of insult.
“I did it because I love you, I’m in love with you y/n, I don’t want to see you hurt, you don’t understand how much it hurts me to see you hurt, trust me kid if I knew this would’ve hurt you I never would’ve called him here in the first place.” He confessed, slowly stepping up to you with his hands out, attempting to take his hand into yours, to which you kept back, refusing.
“Was that supposed to get me to jump back into your arms and act like all is normal?” You asked him, upset at his confession, he furrowed his brows at you taken aback. “What’s that supposed to mean? That my love for you is fake? You got some damn nerve talking about how I feel when I don’t even know how you feel, I could be standing hear arguing with you for no goddamn reason, you probably don’t even love me, hell even like me!” He shouted pointing at you, hissing momentarily and baring his fangs, you bit down on your bottom lip softly, staying silent.
You did love Jake, that you were sure of, even Mo’at was sure of it, and you were sure that you’d expressed it in every way possible to him. He wasn’t wrong however, you never really told him, everything just happened so quickly you didn’t know what to do or say, you couldn’t say anything. Your mouth quite literally stayed agape until you kissed him, which you had hoped closed things up, but it obviously didn’t. Being apart of Jake’s everyday life in the future didn’t scare you, you already had played the role well as his assistant and honestly you enjoyed it, but playing the role as the Tsahik? His wife? Completely different, you couldn’t see yourself fitting into the shoes of your adopted mother and especially not the man you loved, you were mortified. All you could do was look at your feet, a huge lump in your throat and tears prickling the corners of your eyes, you tried to open your mouth, only slightly gasping for air, afraid your words would only do more harm, cursing yourself internally.
“Nga yawne lu oer.” You said softly, but loud enough for Jake to hear, pausing before watching as he came closer to you, now standing directly in front of you. “Doesn’t sound like you mean it.” He deadpanned, searching for some sort of anger to trigger, which he did.
“I have had eyes for you since the first day you landed with Toruk into our sanctuary and pleaded your oath to my mother and to Tsu’tey. My heart has yearned for you ever since I laughed at your complaints to her in the healers tent, since the first day I’ve worked for you, since the first time you ever hugged me or caressed me. I love you Tsyeyk Te Suli.” You said harshly, whipping your head up at him and jabbing him in his chest, clearly taken a back by your confession slowly raising his hand to place over yours, the tears now burning your eyes before falling, heating your cheeks up.
“I would give up so much for you, I owe you so much y/n, I am of your creation, patience, time, care, and love. I wouldn’t be the man I am today, I wouldn’t be the ruler I am today if it wasn’t for you, but I cannot do this alone, I need every piece of y-
“I cannot be by your side, I am not fit to be.” You quickly stated, cutting him off briefly, still not looking up to him, to which changed shortly after he placed his hand under your chin, guiding your head up slightly so you could look at him. He had tears in his eyes. “I cannot be the wife you need me to be and I cannot be the Tsahik our people need, those places are meant to be filled, but they cannot be filled by me.” You cried, now watching as Jake’s ears down-poured, and a tear rolled down his cheek, which he didn’t bother wiping away. “You say you cannot be the wife I need when the wife I need is you, you’re all I need y/n. You aren’t alone and you don’t ever have to be, whatever it is that you’re scared of don’t be, I’ve seen how you’ve interacted with the children and elderly here, how much they adorn you and constantly ask for your assistance, you’d make a wonderful Tsahik, you’re mother has preached it millions of times and has honored you as if you’re gold, calls you ewya’s daughter. I will always be here waiting for you, I will not have another woman, I will not settle for anyone else who is not you. I will not rest until I do have you, you are all I want, all I need, all I have, please.” He begged softly, cupping your face to which you cried more, slowly resting your head on his chest, staining his skin with your tears.
“I’m sorry” You mumbled into his chest, to which he smiled softly, your mumbles tickling him slightly, he kissed your now dry hair and massaged your back slowly, nodding and apologizing as well. “It’s a large responsibility you know? I get why you’re scared, but you can’t possibly do a worse job than me.” Jake joked, earning a faint laugh from you which made him chuckle, thankfully lightening the mood.
Soon after you two made up with one another you remained in physical contact, wiping each others tears and holding hands or hugging constantly, blabbering small nonsense to one another about your relationship and your young undying love, what the future held for you and how you would announce everything afterwards towards the clan and Mo’at, not wanting to let the other go. You helped Jake with his knuckles and to which he thanked you, brushing his hands against yours softly, just to interlock them.
“I wanna take you somewhere, it’ll help you get outta all this.” He said, tapping the side of your head lightly, tightening his grasp, you blinked several times before smiling, asking him where. To your surprise he remained discrete, saying it was a secret and he wanted to make up for the argument that erupted earlier, you just obliged. “As long as I don’t die” You kidded, earning a soft hum in response from him as he grinned at you, kissing your forehead, encouraging it would be the complete opposite of that.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Jake soon after had you trailing behind him, his hand interlocked with yours as he guided you through the forest, giving you heads up of whether to jump or duck or turn since he had blindfolded you. Being raised within the forests your whole life didn’t help, unfamiliar of the path he was taking you on all you could do was giggle in response, until coming to an abrupt stop.
“We’re here pretty” He said, indicating you to remove your blindfold, which you did eagerly before looking up, the pink and purple luminescent lights quickly indicating where you were, “Vitraya Ramunong” [The Tree Of Souls] You muttered in disbelief, quickly placing your hand up to your lips to hide your large smile.
It had been so long since you’ve been here, you missed it entirely, the feeling, the melodies, the connections and joy it brought you. You quickly thanked Jake, jumping into his arms giddily, to which he wrapped his arms around you, laughing in response.
“Most of the time when I would go to Mo’at for assistance with Olo’ektyan duties she would send me here, to connect with the past one’s or even the past Toruk Makto’s to create a connection with them and ask for advice, t’s helped me a lot.” He said, quickly dragging his fingers between the tendrils and branches of the tree that hung to the blue mossy floors. You smiled at him intently, doing the same and frolicking around, to which he followed you like a small child. You soon decided to follow his advice, making your way to gently grab one of the tendrils while reaching behind you, gently taking your kuru and bringing it up towards the branch and watching as the tendrils of your kuru make the bond with the tree, gasping softly.
Jake just stood there, watching you in awe, the way your skin glowed underneath the lights, and the small smile on your face. The way in particular of how you held your queue, and how your tendrils practically danced towards the branches, creating an effortless bond, smiling softly and standing beside you, repeating your actions and then exhaling softly.
Mo’at was right, the arguments and obstacles that have been placed between you and Jake were meant to make you stronger, inseparable maybe.
This night would prove that for sure.
⭐️🕷️Taglist 🕷️⭐️
@igotmajordaddyissues @dani111 @call-me-doll-face @shadowmoonlight0604 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @taleiak @bunniparadise @ellabellabus07 @anangelwhodidntfall
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on the battlefield
“you just think about the life you’ll have together after the war.”
every single breath felt like a gold medal, branded with the same meaning: one more second alive, another moment lived. in this day and age, there is no greater privilege.
since the risk of an outbreak lurked at every corner, you took it upon yourself at a very early age to prepare as much as possible. to fight, to die, you didn’t know what. you just wanted to prepare. and you took the lessons very seriously. whether it be archery training, basic healing, or strategic planning, you try to excel as much as possible.
you weren’t the best, though, and you weren’t really bothered by it. there were many women in the clan who spent their entire lives devoted to just one practice, and while you honored them for it, you always prided yourself on being a “jack of all trades.” after all, you wanted to prepare for any possible situation. a situation, like right now.
being stranded on the border between the forest and the plains with neteyam of all na’vi wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when you started training. you always thought you’d die a more heroic death, not with toruk makto’s eldest son, the future olo’eyktan. making it out alive suddenly became a bigger obligation than it would have been if it were just you.
nonetheless, alone or not, it was a dangerous situation to be in, so it was time to put your skills to good use.
after the initial shock of losing your direhorses, being kidnapped by RDA forces, killing said RDA forces, and falling hundreds of feet through the air off of a burning tawtute vessel, you and neteyam began to organize yourselves as much as possible.
“this looks like the southside of the forest, judging by the undergrowth.” he hummed, tracing a few markings in a tree and seemingly unbothered by your circumstances. “it’ll take days to reach homebase, unless someone notices we’re gone.”
as he continued to scout your nearby surroundings, you eyed him warily. you were never really close to neteyam, besides training with him on several occasions. after all, you two were in different circles, and you had no intentions of changing that by any means. he’s hard to read and never lets go of that princely facade.
that doesn’t mean you admire him any less, though.
“you don’t seem too worried.” you responded coolly. “why can’t we call on our ikrans?”
neteyam shook his head. “we’re too far from the rookery. they won’t hear us no matter how hard we try. if we start walking in this direction, we might make it there before tomorrow comes around.” after coming to a consensus, you began the journey back into the forest with him in the lead.
at first, it was awkward. unbearably so. if it weren’t for the sound of leaves rustling beneath your feet, you would’ve surely lost it. you tried to train your focus somewhere that wasn’t the wide expanse of his back or his braided, beaded locs, but it was nearly impossible. you were with one of the most important people in the clan for ewya’s sake! you had to keep an eye on him as much as possible.
it was a responsibility at this point. you didn’t even want to think about the consequences if he was injured upon your return.
“what have you been up to nowadays?” neteyam suddenly broke the silence, reeling you back into reality with the sound of his voice right next to you. when you turned to look up at him, you realized that he had slowed his steps to walk by your side. he smiled kindly, waiting for a response.
“not much.” you sighed. “i’ve just been working on my weaving skills back home. my mom injured herself recently, so she can’t make any of the hammocks or tarps she promised our neighbors. i’m taking her spot for the time being. what about you?”
“nothing new, just training with my father. he’s been breathing down my neck like crazy!” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but join him.
it continued like this for a few hours, exchanging stories and catching up like old friends. it still felt odd and a little weird but you didn’t complain. as the sun came down, you noticed that the princely facade began to chip away piece by piece, and neteyam began to look more and more like any other na’vi. a na’vi with fears and problems and dreams of their own.
when the moon finally settled, you two followed suit. neteyam was in charge of building a small fire while you went out to look for food to eat. this arrangement was for the better, considering that he nearly ate a fruit from a tree he didn’t recognize. luckily, you did, and you quickly pulled him away when you remembered the nasty consequences that came with digesting them.
as you sat side-by-side near the fire, satisfied with the meal you conjured, you decided to tease him a little. “i thought they would’ve at least taught you the basics about foraging.”
neteyam rolled his eyes playfully, swatting you away. “ha ha, very funny. honestly, i’m not into that kind of stuff. my sister kiri loves learning about plants, though, and she’s really smart.”
“you should learn a thing or two from her then.” you snickered.
“as if. she’s a horrible teacher.” he snorted. “i should learn from you instead. what got you interested in plants anyway?”
ignoring his previous statement and its implications, you simply shrugged. when you thought he’d drop the subject, he just waited for you patiently. it was a common theme with him, you realized. he never pushed or prodded, instead lending you the reins to the conversation so you can steer it in any direction.
“i’m not really interested in plants.” you finally admitted, looking away from him. “i just thought it’d be useful to learn more about them.”
“talk about being resourceful. i’ll have you promoted to ‘chief forager’ one day.” when you didn’t quip back, neteyam’s smile dropped slightly. he studied you for a bit while you were lost in thought, carefully choosing his next few words. “do you feel this way with all the other stuff too?”
“sometimes. ever since i was younger, i had this feeling that i had to prepare for something. whatever i learned and perfected didn’t feel like enough to me, so i kept practicing and practicing new things i didn’t really like. it was exhausting, but it’s the only way for me to get rid of that feeling.”
whoever said that admitting the truth out loud would make you feel lighter was a liar, and you had this moment to prove it. to you, the silence was awkward and uncomfortable, but to neteyam, it was anything but such.
“you keep saying ‘prepared.’” he said slowly. “but i think it’s just your mind tricking you into feeling safe.”
you looked up and found a strange look twinkling in the depths of his eyes.
neteyam continued. “i feel the same way everyday, always pushing myself to train and train for days on end, preparing for a war that might never happen. i lose all sense of who i am, and all i think about is what i’m for, to the point where living feels like an obligation.”
“but it isn’t.” you finished quietly, reaching a newfound conclusion. once he realized you had caught on, he left you to ponder your thoughts, self-satisfied with his efforts to extend his peace.
“neteyam?”
he hummed back, urging you to continue.
“what do you plan to do after the war, if we ever have one?” it was your turn to stare at him, and you were taken aback at how pleasantly the fire illuminated his face.
“i don’t know. what about you?”
again, you shrugged. you couldn’t hold back the uncontrollable laughter bubbling in your throat, to which neteyam found contagious. “i guess we’ll figure it out together.”
(masterlist)
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Crush Too Much - Part 20
RotTMNT Donatello x GN!Reader
Warnings: Longing, Angst, Fluff, Embarrassment, Overbearing Siblings, Aged-up Turtles
Synopsis: So you met a customer three times at work and that made a pretty big impression on you? That’s nothing to necessarily get worked up over, but when you’re all prepared to ask for his number the next time you see him and his brother gets involved instead, you might be in for something more than you bargained for.
FIRST 💜 PREVIOUS
“So…?”
“Need I remind you that you called me?” Donatello huffed. Glancing up, he watched as the last orange hues of the sky were swallowed up by inky purple.
“Oh, I know.” April’s snarky snap crackled through the receiver
“And…?” He mimed her earlier drawl.
“Come on now, I know you know what I’m getting at!”
“That you are calling dangerously close to my meeting time with Y/N to inquire if I am going through with your seemingly bland idea of a walk? Then, yes. I am currently waiting at the Southeast entrance of Central Park. I could send you my coordinates if you are so inclined.” Finally dragging his eyes away from the sky, Donatello perused the gaggle of people milling about.
“That would be very helpful-No, fool! I’m trying to find out how the last few weeks have been!”
Though he’d never tell her, he always secretly marveled at how April’s tone could shift wildly between words.
“Satisfactory! I recently moved into beta with a new bouncy compound I’ve been working on with Mikey-”
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” April’s voice cut through with a sigh.
“I absolutely am.” He gave a satisfied smile to himself.
“Tell. Me. How. It’s. Going. With. Y/N!” He could hear what he identified as a pen in her hand being clicked with each choppy line.
He debated continuing his petty teasing, but instead turned away from the proverbial crowd. He lingered there, staring into the darkenrd tree line before speaking. “It’s been… good, I believe.”
“Yeah?” Her voice softened as well. He also enjoyed how she could usually read subtle tone. They had always understood each other better than the rest.
“While I’m still unsure of your methods, I see what you meant about enjoying one’s love.”
“Is it fading?”
He paused.
He’d had a million and one thoughts on the matter. They jumbled into a roiling mess that was drowned out by the white noise and sheer elation when he thought of you.
“I would say there hasn’t been an increase or decrease.”
She made a little noise of understanding and for a moment they were both silent.
“Are you happy?”
He didn’t need time to process that one. “Very much so.”
“Good.” April clicked her pen once more and then a shifting squeak of a rolling chair followed. “You deserve that, D.”
“I suppose…” He tilted into the phone.
“Suppose nothing!” She griped. “Did Mikey style you like I asked?”
Shifting on the new line of thinking, he looked down. His typical winter coat was unzipped which seemed terribly inefficient for its functionality. Underneath it, a cashmere black v-neck sweater could be seen beneath the open strip of coat. His trapper hat had been exchanged for a pale purple beanie, but the rest of his winter attire remained unchanged. “Yes, but I don’t see the necessity when a child could have done this.”
“And after I spent my hard earned money on that sweater…” April trailed off in a feigned forlorn manner.
“You bought this?” Donatello reached up and ran a finger over the fabric.
“A little early gift for completing all our tasks.”
“I do enjoy a fine fabric.” He hummed contentedly.
“Good, sounds like your mentally and physically ready for the final battle then.”
“I doubt it will be anything like that.” He clicked his tongue and turned back to survey his surroundings just in case.
“I think you’ll find everything has been leading up until this moment.” She practically sang the sentence.
“You are the cause for concern at this point.”
“Uh huh, don’t want to keep you longer! Oh, is that my boss? What? There’s a fire at the water factory-!” She rambled out quickly and he could visualize her pulling the phone away to end the call.
“Before you contend with your impossibilities, I have one question.”
“Shoot?” The way her voice came back to the receiver meant his deduction was correct.
“There won’t be any interference on any of your parts, will there?” He narrowed his eyes and scanned the crowd with excruciating care.
“No, Donnie. It’s all you tonight.” Her voice was so earnest, he stopped dead in his sweep.
“I see.” He said lamely.
“Good luck and text me how it went!”
“I’ll queue up ‘we walked and it was fine’ now to save myself the trouble.” He tucked his free hand into his pocket.
“We’ll see how that confidence holds up, bye!” She strung out the last syllable all the way through her voice fading and hanging up.
Donatello rolled his eyes as he watched her contact information time out. Swiping over the time, he then stuffed both his phone and other hand into their respective pocket and continued to survey the crowd. It wasn’t as if the newness to meeting you had worn off, but instead his confidence in not imploding everything had leveled out. It was especially bolstered by his save during the ice rink debacle. He was almost willing to trust his instincts once again. It left his mind free of the usual clutter and, in turn, he felt as though he would enjoy this evening to the fullest. Falling in line with the thought, he spied you coming up off the road.
You were hunkered down into a chunky scarf that was wrapped around your neck and you weren’t looking where you were going. He watched with a itch of anxiety as you narrowly dodged a speed walking pedestrian with your eyes glued to your phone. He was about to call out when he felt his phone ping. A lopsided grin came to his lips as he assumed what the message could be. Unearthing the device he glimpsed the preview from you commenting on your attendance and how many people were around. The smile broadened as he replaced the device and headed straight for you.
You greeted him with a glimpse of your nose poking out above the wrap. “Vigilant as always.”
“It’s part of the job description.” He hummed with appreciation. “You look cozy.”
“We’re gonna be outside for awhile. I had to dress accordingly.” You held out your arms to make the bouncing of your shoulders more prominent. The tightly coiled scarf shuffled, but otherwise didn’t budge. “Speaking of…”
Maybe there had been some necessity.
You reached out and passed him a glance. He nodded amicably and you felt the fabric over his chest.
“That’s nice.” You mused.
“It’s cashmere.” He gave a little flourish and gestured down the path.
“I didn’t realize this was such a luxe occasion.” You tittered, falling in time with his steps.
“It was a gift for celebrating what will hopefully be deemed a job well done.” Through closed eyes, he opened one at you as if it were a sly hint and not a outright statement of his intent.
“We’ll see.” For a moment your genial attitude dropped, but was quickly eclipsed by a bounce in your step.
Figuring it a blunder, he was glad he wasn’t the only one in a jovial mood.
“So, what’s the plan of attack tonight?”
He evaluated the statement, steering towards Center Drive. He debated a litany of responses before settling on the simplest one. “We walk.”
“That’s…” You seemed to turn the simple sentence over. “…it? No crazy surprise? No cake or light show?”
“Yes well, I did fail to mention the mariachi band I hired to follow us along. Unfortunately, they got hung up.” He tilted his head towards you in amusement.
“Dang, Volver Volver would have been a bittersweet match for all this too.” You pulled your hands out of your pocket just long enough to snap before burying them back into warmth.
“Alas.” Donnie murmured.
The two of you walked in comfortable silence, taking in deposits of light bubbled from rows of lamps. There were others out, strolling and running, but otherwise keeping to themselves. Donatello would sneak a glance at your every so often and frequently found you gazing softly at your surroundings. You caught his eye at one point and your smile forced his away. It was like enjoying the best version of a classic; when done right, it’s better than anything you can imagine. The only thing, he decided, that could make the perfect evening better was if he were able to hold your hand. He hadn’t considered himself one to do so for long periods of time as the prolonged connection seemed awkward, but if it were now, he could walk the entire perimeter of Central Park without a care in the world.
“We’re not doing the Loop…” You suddenly spoke as if reading his mind.
“Observant.” He responded dryly.
You shot him a rueful glare. “Did you have a route in mind?”
“We’re heading towards The Mall currently.”
You bobbed with an idea. “It’s gonna be almost empty, isn’t it?”
“I’m certainly not going to tell you before we get there.” He swayed to the side, but kept his feet on course.
“It’s so peaceful.” You sighed comfortably.
He nodded with agreement and the stroll continued. You both watched in amusement as a jogger almost stepped on a rat and stumbled a fair amount of feet without ever falling over. Further down the way, an elderly couple got up from one bench only to shuffle down to sit on the next. Tilting on a curve a group of teenagers belted by in some sort of race out of the park. Closing in on The Mall, a crow, seemingly unaware of the hour, stood in the middle of the walkway and cawed angrily at the passersby.
Hitting the destination proper, Donatello was the next to break the silence. “Not to rush you, but you should have enough information to rate your experience…”
“Can’t go by your usual scale.” You chuckled.
“I don’t see why not.” He feigned a cold shoulder.
You shook your head. “Satisfied or dissatisfied with something like this…” Your steps hitched and then you ran forward, spinning around on the near empty Mall. “It’s not that simple!”
“Indulge me.” He smiled, coming to stop and watching you take large steps in a space that rarely allowed such a move.
“Because our… relationship is so much bigger than just this past month.” You shifted, locking your hands behind your back and walking purposefully forward.
He trailed behind and kept his eyes to you.
“You broke my heart. You confused me to no end. You acted so selfishly at times that I almost hate thinking about it…” You slowed and he mirrored your movements. “You also made me happier than I’ve ever been. You’ve made me laugh harder than I ever have and you’ve shown me things I don’t think I would ever see if I lived this lifetime a hundred times without you.”
He watched as your head tipped back and looked skyward.
The shift hadn't come swiftly, but a gentle dread washed at his feet.
“Did you make it up to me?” You let the question ride the night air.
He stared with bated breath.
“Definition?” You asked another question to the sky, but he could sense it was more pointed.
“To reconcile differences after a fight and become friendly again.” His reply sounded thin to his ears.
“Friendly…” You spoke more softly, but the quiet evening made it easy to hear. “Can I guess who recommended what event first?”
He wasn’t moving, but it felt like every one of his muscles were vibrating. His body was caught by the conufsion of whether any of this strange conversation was cause for concern. “Yes.”
“Can you lay them out for me or should I guess that too?”
He swallowed hard. “Win a gift, geology, crush them, and take a walk.”
You turned incrementally, but not enough for him to see your face. “The skating contest at the rink was the actual plan?”
“Technically, yes.”
“Leo.” You said simply, shaking your head.
“Correct.”
“Jerk.” There seemed a little reprieve to your otherwise somber demeanor. “Unless…”
“He guessed I would lose.”
“Jerk!” You repeated with more fervor.
Despite himself, he smiled.
“I’m gonna stick Mikey with Geology.”
“Is it because he pops up and scares you?”
“You noticed?” You almost turned, but seemed to stop yourself. “Do you know if he does that on purpose?”
“I truly don’t.”
“Was I right?”
“Two for two.”
You gave a puff of satisfaction. “Who are the last two?”
“April and Raph.”
You looked down at your feet thoughtfully. “I never did get to meet April.”
The sense of finality to your statement nearly choked him. “I didn’t realize you wanted to.”
“You didn’t? But…” You trailed off and quieted. “I didn’t tell you.”
He couldn’t help but wonder who you had.
“It’s tough because Raph could go either way and he’s the only one I have a read on…”
The simple guessing game felt like it was closing in around him.
You started walking again so he did as well.
“I’m… gonna guess Raph was for winning a prize…?” You seemed unsure.
“Which leaves…?” He urged you to lock in your answer in an attempt to end whatever was happening.
“April decided tonight.” He watched the way your coat moved around your legs as you walked.
“You got them all.”
“I was right?”
“Yes.”
“Wow.”
Silence stretched out in the distance between you both. The soft padding of shoes on pavement was the only sound to be heard.
Exiting The Mall into a grid of planters, you finally slowed and turned to him. “You went above and beyond making up.”
He stilled. The content of the statement should have been a positive, but the tone of your voice said the opposite. From where it had settled in his throat, his heart bottomed out. Any confidence he’d approved earlier in the evening seemed brittle and shattered through his fingertips. Where had he gone wrong again?
“It’s just the problem is-” You swept your eyes up to him and stopped.
For a moment he thought he’d simply fallen through some sort of pocket in space and time.
“Do you hear that?” You swiveled your head past the end of The Mall where the stonework marked the street to Bethesda Terrace.
His ninja training kicked in and he became painfully aware at how small his pocket of awareness was. The sphere of self expanded rapidly as he took extrasensory note of everything in the radius. It oddly included the soft plucks of string.
“Where…?” You trailed off, seemingly entranced and started walking again.
On guard, he glued himself to your side and searched wildly for a threat. Crossing the road, the tip of the fountain and lake came into sight. Feeling particularly vulnerable, Donatello slid a hand into his coat and grasped his telescoped tech-bō.
Reaching the top of the steps, you both halted and looked down at a small ensemble of violinists. Though they were turned toward the fountain, they finished their warm-up and starting playing as if on cue. A sweet melody rose from them and several people milling about slowed to a halt.
“What are they doing this late?” You wondered aloud, your hands gently laying atop the stone fence.
He scanned those who stopped. From the thinned smattering of people dotted around the fountain, he surmised that this wasn’t a planned show. Instead, based on their clothes, it almost seemed as if members of the Philharmonic had randomly gathered. “They’re playing.”
Softening as there seemed to be no perceived threat, he turned his head incrementally to watch you. There wasn’t a trace of worry on your face. Instead, he found a small smile on your lips and a quality of sadness to your eyes. The music seemed to caress him and wind around his arm. He brought it up on command until one of his fingertips just grazed your cheek. You didn’t jolt at the touch, but instead slowly turned into it. His fingers rotated with the action until he was cupping the side of your face. You stared up at him unguarded, but there was still that gloom in your irises. He wanted to wipe it away. He wanted to know what the problem was. He wanted to make everything right.
The music crested and soared.
“Donnie?”
He watched as you blinked and he reflexively traced his thumb over your cheek bone. When your lashes ascended there was molten quality of tenderness in your eyes. His heart stuttered at it. He wanted to examine it further, but almost as soon as it appeared, the look disappeared under that dejected veneer.
He couldn’t figure it out.
He dipped down, coming eye level with you and narrowed his gaze. There had to be a clue. Somewhere. Anywhere.
“You said I went above and beyond?” His voice felt thick as it emerged.
“Too good…” You whispered. There was a flash of that heated look again. Why wouldn't you let it stay?
“Then what could possibly be the problem?” He was on to something. He just knew it.
“Donnie…” It wasn’t really a protest, but you brought your hands up as if you were going to push him away. He readied himself to let go, but your fingers instead hit the cashmere of his sweater and tangled up in the fabric impulsively.
“Can I guess first?” He'd let you go if he just knew.
Your eyes widened.
“It’s because I messed up.” He continued without waiting for your reply.
“Messed up?” Your voice was barely legible amongst the music.
“I said we could be friends.” That was what he agreed upon. That was what he’d resigned himself to. It was also not what he'd meant to say. If only his mouth would just stop moving. If only the ensemble would stop playing. He could still reign it in. He still had the shred of a chance at salvaging this.
“We can’t.” It wasn't a question. So you knew it as well. Then your gaze went and shifted again. He couldn’t quite identify the look, but it seemed to undulate between hope and despair.
Even if he misdiagnosed the emotions, the fact that it nearly mirrored his own is what pushed his lips over the edge. “I think I love you too much to.” Impulsivity was its own form of evil. All he could do was hope the moments suffering from this single decision weren’t as great as his previous had been.
As soon as the words hit your ears, he watched as your breath was stolen away. He swore he could see a thousand fireworks go off in the colored core around your iris. Everything felt bathed in a dreamy faded filter. He dipped in closer, mesmerized by your gaze. Then it happened; the moment he ran from in what felt like a lifetime ago. It might have been unconsciously, but your eyes drifted shut. He watched as your tongue darted out to wet your lips and your head tilted incrementally to the side.
He’d dreamed of having another opportunity.
He'd sworn to not waste it again.
Closing the distance, he captured your lips with his own.
A/N: and with that dear readers, we have only two chapters left 💞
NEXT
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Lamentable is the Autumn Picker Content with Plums - Chapter 4, "A Sprout Breaking Through"
Pairing: Astarion/Halsin
Rating: Mature (FINALLY, y'all made it to a little smut!)
Tags/warnings: n/a for this chapter but this is a WIP. Contains spoilers up to late act 1
Word count: 3,000
Note: This is the fourth chapter of first ever fanfiction! I’ve also posted this on AO3. Fic under the cut.
It seemed like hours before the Tieflings finally departed, but Astarion’s lantern hadn’t used more than an hour’s worth of oil. Even so, the wait to feed was agonizing, made doubly torturous because he’d be feeding on the confusing, but ruggedly handsome, druid Halsin.
Astarion banished his anxiety through preening to prepare for his delectable date. Despite not being able to see his reflection, he had learned how to doll himself up sans mirror through 200 years of practice. The vampire plucked a bejeweled stopper from an angular glass vial; the aroma of bergamot and rosemary escaped the container. The slight sweetness of aged brandy joined the other scents in the air as Astarion tipped the open vial onto his wrists. He dabbed oil behind his ears and slid his fingers down his trousers to leave a touch of the lingering scent on his hips. That should do the trick, whatever may happen, he thought, snapping the vial shut with a satisfying click placing it in his knapsack.
His elven ears were sensitive enough to know that the others had also retreated to their tents. Although, with how loudly Gale snores, I could be half-deaf and still know the wizard was asleep. Astarion lifted the flap of his tent peeked out. Indeed, everyone had retreated for rest; they had a full morning ahead, and Halsin had promised to share his findings on ceremorphosis early the next morning.
A shame I’m keeping him up, but he did ask for this, Astarion thought as he sauntered to Halsin’s tent, his soft-soled leather shoes crunching against the pebble stone of the ground. The dying fire shed little light upon the campsite, so the vampire’s shadow was barely perceptible against his neighbors’ tent walls.
And yet, Halsin had somehow expected him right at the moment; upon lifting the tent flap, Astarion found the druid actively closing a book he had been reading by candlelight. Halsin was seated on the ground at a slight incline, his well-muscled back against a log he must have dragged into the tent. Druids, the vampire thought with a slight shake of his head, one can’t take the druid out of nature nor the nature out of the druid.
Halsin had freed his locks from its ponytail; his auburn hair fell in front of his ears, framing his face. It added a softness to his visage and took away the hardness granted by the druid’s scars and facial tattoos. His hazel-green gaze met Astarion’s, and a wide smile graced the Arch Druid’s lips. The druid didn’t move upon Astarion’s arrival, nor did he speak.
The vampire tilted his head to the side. “Are.. you quite alright, Halsin?” he asked, letting the tent flap close behind him. He took a step forward as the thick canvas unexpectedly slapped his behind.
The druid blinked several times and smiled wider, “Forgive me, Astarion. Sometimes I forget myself, gazing on the beauty of nature’s creations.”
Ah, so he shows his true colors. It is a kink, for him, Astarion mulled. So be it; a protector is a protector..
“At least you acknowledge my beauty,” Astarion purred, raising his hand to run it through his hair, “Not enough people mention it.” He’d always told himself that empty praise was still praise, and he would take what he could get.
Halsin replied with a soft chuckle and patted the bedroll beside him. “I suppose we should get started?” he asked, his voice just above a husky whisper, “your friends will have many questions for me. I’ve shared details with you that I have not yet told them.”
“Ooh, how delicious darling, choosing me to be privy to the details?” Astarion said with well-practiced mirth. “I’m oh-so flattered you could confide in me.” Halsin’s eyebrow shot up at Astarion’s words. The vampire brushed it off as curiosity and settled himself beside Halsin on the bedroll. “And just as flattered that you want to share that delicious neck of yours,” he continued, leaning his torso against Halsin’s. He crawled his slender hand up the druid’s thick forearm, his biceps, and up to his shoulder.
Halsin’s brows furrowed, and he studied the vampire with an expression that Astarion couldn’t read. It wasn’t sexual desire, Astarion knew that look well. Nor was it anger. The closest Astarion could equate it to was confusion. What is going on in this druid’s head?
-*-*-*-
Halsin was perplexed by how aloof the vampire seemed to act. Earlier in the evening they shared what had seemed like a heartfelt conversation, despite Halsin catching Astarion off-guard. They had shared snippets of their past with sincerity, despite not going into depth.
But in this moment, Astarion seemed to play a mummer’s role. He strutted in front of Halsin like a peacock displaying for the peahen. Perhaps it is his hunger, the druid considered, that has him acting so. I too have had times where the beast in me hungered for many things, and my behavior has changed..
“So.. how does this work,” Halsin asked, shaking himself from his thoughts. The druid braced his hands on ground; his arms, thick as tree branches, were spread out to his sides. “Shall I sit up, or lie down? And I suppose I shall stop you if I begin to feel it’s too much?”
The vampire tutted at his questions, peering up at him from behind pale eyelashes. “Don’t worry so much, my musclebound friend,” Astarion assured, tucking strands of long brown hair behind Halsin’s ear and putting both palms on the druid’s chest. He could feel the curls of chest hair through the druid’s linen tunic. “Why don’t you lay down darling. Get more... comfortable,” The vampire’s eyes seemed to glitter with hunger. “You’re doing such a kindness, I can’t have you inconvenienced.”
Halsin nodded and gave a sheepish smile to the vampire, who was now only inches from his face. Astarion was stunningly beautiful. His white hair curling about his pointed ears. The handsome laugh-lines on either side of his mouth. And Oak Father help him, Halsin could hardly hold himself back from touching those rosy, plump lips which disguised Astarion’s sharp fangs. The pale elf’s hands on his chest surely felt Halsin’s heartbeat, thundering underneath his tunic like a stampede of deep rothé beasts.
Astarion lifted his hands from Halsin’s chest and perched on his knees, eyes wide with delight and hunger. The Arch Druid lowered himself to the bedroll with unexpected grace for such a large elf. Halsin flushed furiously and swallowed a lump in his throat. Why was it he felt so exposed? He could not recall the last time he felt so vulnerable. I believe I’d be more comfortable if I stripped bare as nature intended, and danced through the middle of the camp, than I am right now, he pondered.
“I think I am ready, Astarion,” he said, betraying only a twinge of nervousness, “I must admit, I am a little nervous. Others have bitten me in… similar situations. But not to the point of blood-drawing. Be gentle, if you can.” A small smile crossed his face, and he reached for the vampire’s delicate hand.
-*-*-*-
The vampire felt a lump form in his throat as Halsin touched his hand. How delicately the druid’s fingers caressed his own; the druid’s grip was gentle, but firm. The large elf’s tender touch was undeniably endearing. Nervousness is rather adorable on this big oaf, Astarion thought. He met Halsin’s nervous smile with a toothy grin of his own.
“Of course, darling, and it will be over before you know it. You can trust me…” he drawled, lowering himself to place his torso on top of the druid’s, “And you can also trust that I’ll leave you wanting more.” The flippant empty promises poured so easily from Astarion’s lips. He hadn’t forgotten a thing about how to effortlessly enchant someone, after all.
He felt the pounding of the druid’s heart through both their tunics. The body heat from the larger man seeped into Astarion’s skin, and he fought back a shiver to maintain his facade.
“Is.. this position appropriate?” Halsin asked, shrugging his large shoulders. The movement jostled the smaller elf atop his large frame, and he raised his hands to hover above Astarion’s body, in case the vampire lost his balance.
“Oh my dear sweet druid,” Astarion replied, “I would take you in any position you wished, but it would be anything but appropriate.” He crawled one hand up Halsin’s torso, and ran a finger around the neck of his linen tunic, tugging it slightly lower and to the side.
Astarion’s heart leaped into his throat as he watched Halsin flush. The tips of the druid’s ears turned such a deep red that it rivaled that of his facial tattoos. “Perhaps another time,” the druid replied with a kind smile and another flush, “But it grows late, and I’m sure our companions will demand answers as soon as the sun rises. Go on, Astarion.”
Hearing his name fall from the Arch Druid’s lips in such an intimate position caught Astarion by surprise, and he fought falling from Halsin’s barrel chest. He played it off as intentional, as though he intended to brace himself. The pale elf placed his forearm on Halsin’s thick pectoral muscle, the druid’s curly chest hair tickling him even through the linen. His other hand cupped the back of Halsin’s head, fingertips combing through his thick auburn hair. Astarion nearly had to straddle the druid to reach across him comfortably. Gods above, this man is a bear even in elven form, he thought.
He gently made a fist in Halsin’s locks, eliciting a slight grunt from the druid. Astarion felt his breath catch in his throat at the sound; he hadn’t even touched Halsin’s throat with his lips yet. Astarion turned his wrist, angling Halsin’s head to have a wider view of his neck.
“Little bite, my sweet bear,” he cooed, and brought his lips to the druid’s sun-tanned throat. He lapped at the skin with his tongue and felt Halsin’s throat vibrate with another guttural sound. He then bared his fangs and stabbed them into the druid’s neck, biting down hard before lifting his teeth back out to permit blood flow.
Halsin jerked at the pain and the sensation of the vampire’s cool mouth with a groan, lifting one large hand to settle on the vampire’s waist. The druid squeezed gently, his thumb rubbing on the crest of v-shaped muscle above Astarion’s hip. Gods, if he put both his hands on me he’d almost be able to touch his own fingers, mulled Astarion, before sucking at the two open divots.
Halsin’s viscous, warm blood poured over his tongue. Astarion stifled a moan as he swallowed his first mouthful of the life-giving liquid. Wine-red eyes fluttered shut as he was overcome with invigorating ecstasy. Stars blossomed behind his eyelids as the warmth coated his palate and throat.
Goosebumps rose on his pale skin, forming first at his stomach before spreading down each arm and leg, downward still to each finger and toe. The heat spread to his chest and his head, and Astarion felt even the tips of his ears burn with warmth.
Finally, the heat spread to his groin. Oh dear, thought the vampire, his eyelids popping back up as he felt his cock swell. He’d never had that reaction before when feeding. But then again, he’d never fed on the blood of any thinking creature.
Astarion dared not remove his mouth from Halsin’s neck yet for fear the druid would ask him to stop, and he lapped his tongue at the pinprick holes to encourage the flow of blood. He groaned into Halsin’s throat as his arousal strained against his trousers, painfully engorged with fresh blood. The vampire’s ears flushed a deeper red as he felt his length press into Halsin’s stomach. If Halsin had noticed it, he had said nothing yet.
-*-*-*-
Halsin had held himself back when Astarion finally pierced his flesh. He had wanted to sit up straight at the feeling of ice water pouring into his veins. It felt at first like a mage had cast Ice Knife at his throat until the sensation grew instead to a throbbing numbness. Between the ice in his veins and the rosemary and bergamot in his nostrils, Halsin felt like he was floating in a dream.
He had held onto Astarion’s hips firmly, both as assurance that the vampire wouldn’t fall, and also as a solid grip to pull him away if Astarion drank more than his fill. He had felt Astarion’s throat bob with the first mouthful of his lifeblood.
And one heartbeat later, Halsin had sworn he felt a stiff bulge against his belly. Is he.. aroused, Halsin had asked himself silently. His suspicions were confirmed when he felt Astarion moan against his throat with a second swallow and moved his hips just so.
Oak Father help me, thought the large elf, as he felt blood rush to his groin, help me not lose control. I cannot take what I desire from this man, not yet. Despite his internal plea, Halsin’s hands disobeyed, pulling the pale elf’s hips up his stomach; Astarion’s thigh dragged across Halsin’s throbbing bulge.
Astarion released a guttural growl and took one last mouthful of Halsin’s blood, before raising up for a breath.
Halsin met his gaze, mouth agape and gasping for air, although the pale elf did not come close to crushing his chest. “Are you okay, Astarion?” he asked with concern, releasing his tight grip on the vampire’s hips.
“Oh yes, darling, more than okay,” Astarion purred, licking his lips with a blood-stained tongue. “In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever been better.” He dropped his mouth back to Halsin’s throat, lapping eagerly at the smear of blood on his skin. He practiced tongue was delicate, intentional; he did not want to disturb the puncture marks that had begun to clot closed.
Halsin fought back another moan at the sensation of Astarion’s eager tongue and resisted bucking his hips into Astarion’s leather-clad thigh. He allowed the vampire to finish his clean-up efforts, and let his hands fall as the pale elf placed his palms on Halsin’s chest to raise himself up.
-*-*-*-
Astarion felt alive, his skin flush and rosy with fresh new blood. His muscles felt relaxed, but ready to strike, like that of a panther waiting in ambush. His mind, crystal clear, without the fog of hunger to cloud his senses. He could hear Halsin’s heartbeat, not pounding anymore, And against his thigh, he felt the pulse of Halsin’s blood throbbing in the druid’s thick bulge.
“I’m not one for prayer,” Astarion started, with a smack of his lips, “but I believe your Oak Father may hear thanks from me this night.” He was half-earnest in his declaration. “You know, dear Halsin…” the vampire continued, grasping a handful of Halsin’s tunic in his fist and pushing himself down, then up the druid’s body. His movement was intentional. Calculated. It provided agonizing, exhilarating friction on both of their arousals. “You’ve given me a wonderful gift. It’s really only fair I return the favor..”
Halsin peered up at Astarion with his thick brows furrowed, before pulling himself to an inclined position and scooting backward. He leaned against the tree stump, holding Astarion’s waist as he moved so the smaller elf wouldn’t be thrown from his perch. “What do you mean, Astarion? I require nothing from you,” he panted. The druid did not buck against Astarion’s leg, but the vampire knew enough of lust that it was clear the druid was aching to do so.
An airy giggle escaped the vampire’s lips. “Well, for one, we could take an evening to ourselves,” he said, reaching his hand down to the druid’s bulging linen trousers. Halsin’s arousal jerked in his palm as Astarion rubbed gently.
Astarion peered at the druid beneath his eyelashes. “You know, enjoy some privacy… we could both use a little fun,” he cooed.
Halsin cleared his throat and moved a hand to cover Astarion’s, giving it a gentle squeeze before pulling it away from his aching erection. “Please do not take what I am about to say as a lack of interest,” the druid assured, and moved his free hand to cradle the side of the vampire’s face. With his other, Halsin interlaced their fingers together. “You are breathtakingly beautiful, Astarion. Nature did wonders when she created you. You tempt me to ruin, as you noticed.”
Astarion’s eyelids shot back up as he searched Halsin’s face for an explanation. Did I do something wrong? He’s obviously aching for me. What did I do? He squeezed Halsin’s hand tightly, as if clinging to hope.
The druid squeezed Astarion’s hand back, with gentleness, and held the firmer grip. “But I give this to you. Freely. With no conditions,” Halsin explained, and tucked a white curl behind Astarion’s ear.
Why does this feel like rejection, then? Astarion’s mind raced, and his lips parted slightly in confusion.
“You do not owe me anything for this, Astarion. Please do not feel you must reciprocate with some gift, be it false praise. Or your body. Or some… facade of what you think I want,” Halsin repeated, gently and slowly. He slid his hand behind Astarion’s neck and rubbed at the muscles at the base of the vampire’s skull.
Astarion sat mute for a moment, staring into Halsin’s eyes. He searched for answers and found none. Only kindness behind those hazel eyes. Only softness behind the druid’s upturned lips. The vampire’s eyebrows knit together, in a concentrated search for any other motive the larger man might possess.
This noble godsdamned fool.
Astarion nodded slowly and pulled himself from Halsin’s grip reluctantly. The druid still held to his fingertips, sitting straight up with his arm outreached to the standing vampire.
“This… is indeed a gift, then,” Astarion said, gazing down into Halsin’s gentle smile. The pale elf turned on his heel and looked at the ground. He inhaled sharply and looked over his shoulder at Halsin, who sat stock-still and straight up. “Thank you. I won’t forget it.”
The pale elf disappeared as the tent flap fell behind him.
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hi :) so i’m a 25yo femme lesbian and i’ve never had sex (has to do with growing up closeted in a strict over controlling environment) im only just now starting to have more independence and control over my life and i want to have sex. and i dont want to wait until i find something serious with someone cuz that could take a while and also i want to have experience for when i actually have a serious relationship with someone so i can be a good lover for them. tho i admit i do find it a bit scary i’m considering downloading dating apps to find people to have casual sex with next time i’m out of town. but i don’t really know how to go about it… i feel like no one is gonna want to fuck me because i don’t have any experience like how weird would it be if i’m in someone’s dms like hey i’m a 25yo virgin are u still dtf? lol .. so yeah if u have any thoughts or advice or if people reading this have advice please let me know cuz i’m a little nervous but i really want to do this..
hi lovely 💕 it sounds like you’ve had a very tough go of it and i’m so glad to hear you’re now able to have independence and control over your own life, that’s incredible ☺️
first, there is nothing weird about being a virgin at any age and no one who’s worth your time will fault you for it. i would happily have sex with someone who has no experience and there are a lot of people out there who feel the same!
i gently urge you to let go of the idea that you need to have a certain amount of real-life sexual experience before you start dating for a relationship. being a good lover is simply about communication, trust and curiosity about the other person. i’ve said this before and i’ll say it again: anytime someone is with a new partner, no matter how much sex they’ve had, they’re inexperienced because that particular person’s body and pleasure is brand-new to them. we are all “virgins” the first time we have sex with someone new. your future partners will be learning you at the same time that you’re learning them, and it’s beautiful and messy and real and very sexy, trust me.
in my opinion, all the experience you really need can be acquired on your own, by reading about sex (erotica, sex education, sexual health sources, etc.), watching porn that you enjoy, and by fantasizing and exploring your body by yourself. masturbation absolutely teaches you so much and is a valid form of experience. especially if you’re coming from a background of sexual repression and being closeted (i can super relate) just getting yourself comfortable with your sexuality and being horny is a whole process. but doing that will help you have better, safer and more grounded sex.
all that being said, casual sex can be great and fun and there’s nothing wrong with pursuing that, too!! a few thoughts under the readmore bc this is getting long:
always have an open convo about STIs and any other health considerations beforehand. if it feels like you can’t have that convo for whatever reason then you probably shouldn’t have sex with that person. i am guilty of being reckless with this and although i’ve been lucky so far it’s not worth the anxiety lol
be prepared to speak up!! you have to be honest about what feels good and what doesn’t, or you’re probably not going to enjoy it. people can’t read minds. it’s hard to speak up with someone you don’t know very well. our ‘niceness’ programming kicks in. you have to override it.
be very clear-eyed about expectations going in. if you’re just looking for fun, and the other person is trying to date you, that can lead to messiness and hurt. it needs to be casual for both parties.
standard safety practices apply: tell a friend where you’re going, agree on a time to check in and a protocol for if shit goes awry. trust your gut. if something doesn’t feel right, leave.
sex is a huge endorphin high, and that usually means there’ll be a crash afterward. the next day you might feel like shit and regret everything, even if in the moment you were super into it and having fun. this is normal, it’s chemicals in your brain and not a reflection on what actually happened. (unless this feeling persists or you feel icky abt something specific that went down, then talk to a trusted friend or a mental health professional if you can.) if you have a good line of communication with the person you hooked up with, just reaching out and saying “hey, i had fun the other night, i really liked it when you did _____” and letting them give you some reassurance in return can go a long way to soothe the hook-up hangover
i hope some of this helps 💗 and no matter what, going at your own pace and taking your sweet time will always feel better in the end, even though it can be tempting to rush and “make up for lost time” (speaking from experience as a late bloomer myself.) wishing you luck + lots of safe and amazing sex!! 😉
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a/n: hope you guys spot the homage to some lines from attack on titan because i couldn’t not incorporate them when it felt like it represented the villainess so whole-heartedly. homages aside, chapter 1 is now officially here after a week of anticipation and i’m really excited to have it out for you guys to read! i love villainess isekai stories and being able to write one for a series i like? 🤌🏾 the main inspo is def villains are destined to die but hopefully you spot other references while you read this series and may you all enjoy the ride
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chapter i; the luncheon
masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter
She’d only had her magic for a month but even at six, [First] was showing signs at being quite adept with it.
“Mama!” [First] waved her hands around as she skidded to a halt in her parents’ study where they mixed and ground herbs for the medicines they’d become. “The violet grass should blossom earlier now! I’ve been practicing!”
“What?” The matriarch of the house halted her movements in surprise. She exchanged a look with her husband. “Is that what you’ve been working on all this time? You just got your magic, swee-”
“But I have to learn!” [First] laid her fist on her chest, cheeks puffed in determination. “I’ll learn everything about herbs and magic and then you and papa can retire while I look over the shop!”
“Retirement?” [First]’s father looked at his daughter like she grew a third head. “And where on earth did you learn about concepts like retirement?”
“Mister Omari from the bakery told me that’s the duty of the first-born child,” [First] explained seriously. She had no siblings, but that merely meant she would have to work just as hard regardless. He also said it was a blessing for her magic to be so intrinsically connected to her parents’ chosen craft. Her father never had a knack for magic but Dendro flowed in her mother’s veins as it did her own. “I have to become a master as soon as possible!”
It was why she studied her parents notes as if they were picture books and would always watch them carefully prepare medicines as needed.
[First]’s father chuckled in disbelief, “I think that message might have been for his son, Sprout.” He jostled his daughter’s head around playfully, resting a hand atop her hair.
[First] blinked, face blank, before crossing her arms resolutely, “well I’ll still be the best apothecary ever so you can both retire!” The girl promised regardless.
“You have many leaves to grow before you have to worry about that,” her mother kissed her daughter’s forehead, hugging her tightly. The woman was always quick to remind her that she was still a bud, nowhere close to blooming. “You’ve earned a new leaf!” She clapped and [First] could barely stop herself from hopping with glee as her mother marked her height on the wall. Another leaf was added to the stock of the tall sunflower drawn on one of the walls of their home. Every birthday, a new line would be added and a green leaf drawn around it to mark. [First] couldn’t wait for the day that the wall would be completed on the birthday when she’d come of age and the leaves would reach the sunflower head at the top.
“Magic shouldn’t be used to make our garden grow faster unless we have to,” her mother held her daughter’s hand firmly but gently. [First] held an endless amount of pride that her mother’s magic was what she inherited. She’d grown up to her mother waving a hand and weaving cosmos blossoms into her hair, crafting countless flower crowns for games she’d play. When her magic came the day after her birthday and was revealed to be Dendro, it was a dream come true. “When there’s a rise of illness or an emergency, yes, but plants should be grown by our own efforts. That’s how we communicate with them.”
“Communicate?” [First] cocked her head curiously.
“Plants have a lot to say to us, most people just never stopped to listen,” her mother pointed to the kalpalata lotuses on the table. “Flora told me she was ready to become medicine,” her hands gestured at the beautiful potted purple celosia placed on the bookshelf. “Ruu likes to sing when sunlight begins filtering in the house.” [First]’s eyes grew wide at her mother’s explanation and her mother smiled in return. “If you don’t work to get to know them, you won’t be able to hear them when they talk.”
“Is that why our shop is so successful?” [First] asked in amazement.
[First]’s father suddenly grabbed his wife and daughter in a large embrace, grinning all the while. “If that’s what your mother says, then she must be right! This shop has the best plant whisperer in all Teyvat!”
“I’m always right,” his wife replied smoothly, not missing a beat.
“I wanna be a plant whisperer too!” The youngest member of their family declared. “I won’t use magic to make our garden grow faster anymore, I promise!”
[First]’s mother smiled in satisfaction, “only in emergencies.”
“Only in emergencies,” [First] repeated.
(But when one’s house was set ablaze, how could a child predict how to react in such an emergency when your magic would do nothing but add to the inferno.)
“Papa,” [First] coughed, eyes burning and back searing. “Mama’s still inside.”
She never knew her father to be one to get scared, but he was terrified in that moment as he patted her soothingly. “[First], listen to me,” he told her calmly but his fingers dug into her shoulders painfully. “I need to go back to get Mama, okay? So you wait right here for us to come out.”
Don’t go! Don’t leave me here! [First]’s vision blurred, shaking her head.
Her father smiled so reassuringly, she almost could believe that everything would be fine. “We’ll be right out before you know it, okay Sprout?” He hugged his daughter tightly and although the burns on her back hurt something fierce, [First] couldn’t bring herself to cry out in pain. “Everything will be just fine!”
He never came back out of that house, nor did her mother and it was all a neighbor could do to keep the child from running back into the blaze while she screamed her voice raw for her parents.
Just like that, the childhood home [First] loved was gone.
Her parents’ bodies were burned beyond recognition. Her mother had died first, according to the people who had come to record the damages and remove the bodies recovered. Her father, with no more strength to continue, died holding her in his arms. They both died from suffocation before the flames claimed the rest of them.
The doctor gave her the bare minimum treatment for her burns. There’d be no way for him to get paid, after all. There was no reason to waste precious supplies on a patient that couldn’t pay. It was promptly off to the streets with her, his practice far from where her parents’ shop had been located with no familiar adults or children in sight.
Where do I go now? [First] held herself fearfully. Passersby didn’t spare her a passing glance. Mama, Papa, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go.
Her original thought was that her parents sent the Duke to her. That her parents led him to wander the streets that day so he would find her alone eating mold-covered bread. He only wanted a copy of Imani, that [First] knew. But he said they could be family.
He paid for her burn treatments.
He dressed her in beautiful dresses.
She just had to follow one simple ruleー stay out of Imani’s room.
One simple rule and she could keep the life that the Duke gave her. One rule broken, not even by her own hand, and even though it hadn’t been taken away entirely, the Duke never again called her daughter and [First] never again called him Father.
Liar, he called her.
The only reason she hadn’t been cast out to the streets was because of her looks. She looked just enough like Imani to find some worth in keeping her around. Which was why in public her story was that she was ill until recently and that was why she was unable to attend the parties and events the Duke attended.
[First] might have grown to resent such occasions, but she’d always be thankful to some extent. It was because of that obligation that she was allowed to meet Diluc in the first place.
“Are you okay?” Diluc asked when he stumbled upon the girl, crying alone in the vineyard.
“Don’t worry, I know the way out,” the boy smiled without a care in the world as he held her hand. “Everything’ll be fine, just follow me.” He talked and talked as he led their way to where the rest of the guests were located, a stark contrast to the quiet man he would grow to become.
[First] laughed wetly, “you’re really nice.”
“A gentleman isn’t supposed to leave a lady crying alone, that’s what my father told me. So that’s why if you’re alone and upset, just find me!” He probably meant in regards to if [First] was ever on Ragnvindr grounds but she latched onto it.
She begged the Duke for an engagement to be placed between the two of them. How she managed to get him to relent was nothing short of a miracle. But Diluc was hers, a future of kindness was hers.
A new father is kind and friendly Crepus, the host of the party that was always smiling.
A new brother in Kaeya, Diluc’s shy but nice brother.
A relationship like Mama and Papa’s.
I can endure this.
“You’ve already awoken your magic?” [First] felt so much pride it might as well have been herself. “That’s wonderful, Master Diluc!”
The red-head smiled with pride of his own, “Father said that he never was able to awaken any ability no matter what he tried.” For a family as renowned as the Ragnvindrs, Crepus had endured many jabs and sneers in his time. It meant the world to him for his son not to be forced to endure the same fate. With a flex of his fingers, a ball of fire lit in the boy’s hands. “With this, he says I’ll lift the family to heights he couldn’t.
At the ball of fire flickering in his palm, [First]’s instinct screamed at her run. To push him away
Instead, [First] smiled gracefully, hiding how her hands fisted her dress shakily to ground herself. “I’m so happy for you, [Master Diluc],” she wanted to mean it with every fiber of her being. Pyro was one of the pinnacle abilities a noble could aspire to have and the gods looked upon Diluc favorably to give it to him. It was always a blessing when the gods granted the abilities of magic upon mortals and the moments should be celebrated as such her mother told her.
Especially if it was the one she was in love with.
Even if the element her fiancé had been given was the one that stole her parents.
I can endure anything.
“Pyro is a wonderful ability,” she praised once more, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the dancing flames. “I only wish our magic was more compatible.”
Anything.
The lack of acknowledgement from the Duke.
The painful combing from the maid that did her hair.
The cold meals she’d eat quietly in her room.
The spiteful snickers about her magic.
It was temporary.
Even if it means becoming the world’s enemy.
Nobility would never look upon her favorably even if she was the daughter of an important duke. The magic she inherited from her mother solidified that.
It was magic of the commoners, they said.
They’d curse the gods if they saw to it to insult them with a mockery of an element.
(Flower crown sitting upon her head, a princess, happily commanding her subjects.
Her mother, the most beautiful woman in the world, who always had flowers woven into her braids.
Her father who’d laugh and claim to be a monster who ate princesses even after his daughter accidentally hit him with a palmful of leaves after tripping with her hands aglow with a familiar bright green.
A family resting among flowers grown with hard work and love, staring at the stars as stories of the constellations slipped from a father’s tongue.)
[First] could never bring herself to curse the magic that only echoed love in every memory she had of it.
It was the world and its cruelty she cursed instead.
It was the world and its cruelty she vowed to only meet with equal animosity.
Let them hate her and let them hate her magic that she sneered at. No one would find it pitiful if she wrapped a thorny vine around some pitiful wretch’s neck who saw to it to insult Diluc.
Nor would she spare the same treatment if another member of her duchy’s staff thought to tamper with one of her plants.
It didn’t matter in the end.
Even if it means the whole world hates me.
“You needn’t expend energy on those who only hope to get a rise out of you,” Diluc reminded her softly. His words were
[First] was flustered but smiled nonetheless as her betrothed kissed her knuckles soothingly, “I might have been hasty but I can’t let someone like that slander my husband-to-be. What would that say about me as a wife?” They could say whatever they wanted about her. Slandering Diluc was the one thing she wouldn’t tolerate. “I’m on your side, Master Diluc.”
She never noticed how her beloved betrothed’s smile didn’t reach the ruby red eyes she loved dearly, “and I you.”
There’s someone who loves me that’s on my side.
All that did was just prove that Diluc wasn’t worth anything that the Villainess had to go through in Normal Mode. You could barely hold back a snort of contempt as the unskippable cutscene finished. ‘And I you’ my ass, you liar. You emotionally cheat on her for practically all of Normal Mode. You both loved and resented the cutscene that gained your resolute sympathy for one of the primary antagonists of Seraphim. On the one hand, it made you realize what crafted the girl into what she ultimately became. On the other hand, it was an absolute pain in the ass to see over and over again when you died in this event.
Why did I even come here? I can just ignore all the events in theory by staying home and never leaving my room. In Hard Mode, the original villainess is shoved to the side after nearly attacking another noblewoman with thorny vines and ends up breaking her neck on a table during the fall down. Ironic how she died trying to defend Diluc from disparaging comments when you doubt he’d do the same for you. At least the event is easy to survive now. It’s easy avoiding death if you just sit here ignoring everybody.
So there you were at the luncheon being hosted by the Ragnvindr family. Surrounded by many and yet thoroughly alone. Despite that, you knew it would likely be seen as strange if you hadn’t come to your fiancé’s luncheon.
You exchanged words once with him when you arrived before he set to tend to the other guests. Now you sat, ignoring the words being exchanged around you as you took in everything.
Nearly all of the love interests were here.
Alhaitham and Scaramouche tended to ignore such events unless there were obligations that couldn’t be ignored. Candace sat a long ways away, chatting jovially with the women in her company. Kind and temperate, she never tolerated bullying.
Kaeya could be spotted talking with a noblewoman. Probably complimenting her, if the blush painting her cheeks were anything to go by, as the man coyly smiled. Silver-tongued as he was, Kaeya’s charm point was how flustered he would become from genuine compliments and observations of his loneliness fueling his hard-working nature.
Then there was Zhongli, speaking with some other guests you couldn’t care less about. From how he held his cup, you made the educated guess he was discussing the origins of the china being used for the luncheon. His explanations in Normal Mode were always long-winded, often interrupted by Lumine’s train of thought on how talkative the man was for someone so seemingly quiet, but you always found it charming when you weren’t sleep-deprived practically button mashing your way past his dialogue. I guess I don’t have to worry about that now. You don’t see the Villainess in his route but I don’t think he was ever fond of her. For a god of his age, he likely found her childish and annoying at best.
As for Diluc, he entertained guests expertly.
I could always dump him and just stay in high society, you nearly smiled into your glass. All those ‘eat the rich’ tweets you supported could be dumped out the window. Money changes people and I’ve been reborn into high society. Technically.
Yet as quickly as the thought entered your mind, it was just as quickly dismissed. If I do that, I’m stuck in the duchy forever. Women are never high on the social ladder in these types of worlds, combine that with [First]’s paltry social standing and her magic type, it was a recipe of being a spinster forced to live with her father forever.
Fucking magic hierarchy, you scowled. Back in high school, the idea was intriguing and part of what made Seraphim so interesting as a game. Rather than just have magic be a mechanic, Seraphim painted the magic of Teyvat in a hierarchy. Dendro was nowhere near the top; it’s commoner magic and those with it are seen as such. Contrast to Light, a magic seen as mysterious. At most, Lumine faced speculative rumors about how a commoner could have such an ability. Of course we find out later that she’s actually a lost princess of the royal family.
Great for her, Lumine was a kind but firm protagonist who stuck up for what she believed in. Being a long lost princess was cliché but it was a cliché she deserved.
But being happy for Lumine wouldn’t change the fact that you were dealt a terrible magical hand.
Alhaitham had some Dendro troubles too though. In the main storyline, Alhaitham is seen as a waste of a man. His wealth and looks were spectacular, but his standoffish nature and abilities weren’t stellar but he still had marriage prospects from lesser nobles. In his backstory, his parents pushed him aside but because they died with no other heir, Alhaitham inherited everything. He was a tricky love interest who preferred intelligence to flowery words and he was more so interested in researching Lumine’s magical abilities to start. But he starts taking an interest in her after she defends him from gossiping nobles.
You stop yourself before your flight of nostalgia-tinted fancy could get carried away. Focus on the hierarchy, focus on the hierarchy, you remind yourself, thoughts turning to other Dendro-wielding characters.
For a character like Baizhu, whose roots weren’t in being wealthy, his magic type wasn’t a big deal. Dendro was expected of a doctor.
Were there any other characters with Dendro? You brain racked in frustration trying to recall memories of a game you hadn’t played
There was Kaveh, the royal architect.
There was also Tighnari, an employee at the Pardis Dhyaiー a botanical garden where you can have several dates with the love interests.
Neither of them were love interests despite their designs being popular with Seraphim’s fanbase. Nor could you remember any sorts of jabs at them from in-game characters because they weren’t nobility of any kind.
So it was only Alhaitham and [First] who were given the short end of the stick.
Geez what gardener hurt the developers when they were coming up with all this? Plants were resilient bastards of nature with beauty to boot and it got the bottom of the magical social pyramid? Fuck it, I’ll be Dorothea Millanaire then and my ‘Ray’ is someone I can actually blame for driving me to the brink of- you stop your rant with pursed lips. Never mind, I already died once. Don’t wanna do it again. Even if you did pick up a sword, everyone would laugh at the idea of a Dendro Knight. And with how low [First] is viewed, they wouldn’t let me join the royal army anyway. They’d probably be expecting me to get greedy and try becoming a tyrant.
The thought was nice while you were having it though.
Regardless, the fact of the matter was no one in high society respected wielders of Dendro.
You searched your memories of your previous life, remembering the countless series you’d read that you never thought you’d be experiencing. Yet here you were.
Lumine isn’t here for me to be a Melissa and basically keep shitty love interests away from her. Nor were the love interests of Seraphim nearly as bad as the assholes plaguing the novel Yuri was the heroine of.
Catarina would probably prepare for Lumine’s arrival, step out of the way and hope for the best.
Maybe I could be rebirthed Dorothea then. It might not have been of the otome isekai genre, but the protagonist was still the villainess of her original story. Given a second chance at life, she decided to live virtuously and in a form of atonement decided that she wouldn’t take or covet what was not hers.
You set down your wine, looking at the man who used to be your favorite love interest who seemed to be leaving. He always would retrieve the wine his family specialized in himself, a true gentleman and one of a kind despite being born a noble. In a begrudging way, you still couldn’t help the small part of you that believed he was the man best suited for Seraphim’s true protagonist. Diluc had his good points. But that part wasn’t enough for you to willingly allow yourself to be stuck witnessing their true love story blossoming in front of you and the whole of the kingdom to see.
But Dorothea actually had things to repent for. What the hell did [First] ever do?
You stood up half enjoying the flinches of those closest to you. The event was supposed to commence now, some random noble you barely remembered would start badmouthing Diluc and you were supposed to fling to his defense without being the violent ‘crazy bitch’ everyone knew [First] as.
The Penelope Eckhart method was the only option you found most palatable.
They can talk all the shit they want, I’m out of here. Without a word, you made your way to the garden’s exit. Lumine wouldn’t be able to complain if there was no villainess standing in her way, you sighed to yourself. I disappear and everyone gets to be happy, especially me.
….
This room really is heaven on earth, it’s impossible to be mad in it.
What was it about a room full of plants that made it so warm and inviting?
Oh my gosh she even has a calathea white fusion! You could tell from how the fern greens and whites seemed to be painted on each leaf in different shades. She called this one Nahida, you recalled from the memories. As big a fan as you were of calatheas, you could never bring yourself to go out and buy one. They were too high maintenance for you to handle. But if your magic is literally the element of plants, it’s basically a cheat sheet to handling any plant you have. Search as you did through [First]’s memories, though, she seldom used her magic on her collection of plants.
Maybe a touch of Dendro here and there if they looked under the weather, but each plant was maintained entirely through hard work otherwise.
“I hope Master Diluc won’t mind when I bring you all to the Ragnvindr Manor,” she’d giggle, imagining that her husband-to-be would be surprised by the collection she accumulated in her time at the [Surname] Duchy. But that surprise quickly subsided and despite his busy schedule, Diluc would be beside her tending to them when he could. “But if he doesn’t have a green thumb, he’d still be there to spend time with his wife.”
The Ragnvindr staff would be kind and respectful.
Dinners wouldn’t be lonely.
Everything would be perfect.
The memories felt more depressing by the second.
You sat at the foot of your bed. I don’t think there’s a place I could move into with all of these plants, not without spending all the money I could take from this place. Sad as it was, the plants would have to be left behind.
You weren’t sure where you’d go in the world of Seraphim; the game never focused on much beyond Teyvat and Khaenri’ah unless you went down Scaramouche and Candace’s routes. Even then, it’s generous to say they gave us a lot of information about them. Nor were any of the towns and cities of Teyvat ever truly shown or discussed.
That was fine when you were just a teen glued to your computer. Now that you were a resident of Seraphim, you cursed the lack of exploration in the game. Lumine never had much reason to explore the town after she was taken in by that duke. And we weren’t really shown much of the town when we were playing the chapter before her powers awakened.
You’d just have to figure things out while you tested your abilities. There was much to learn about magic now that you lived in a world with it. Wherever you went, you were going to be fully prepared.
They called it ‘commoner’s magic’ but that just means I have a job opportunity wherever I go. Surely there’d be something you could do. You could be a florist three towns over or live in a cottage in the woods, society all but dead to you.
You just had to find the perfect time to exit stage left. And I’ll break up with Mr. Perfect Gentleman while I’m at it.
next chapter; finding your roots
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