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theroguedragons · 1 year

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Drabble for @dragynfire

Daemon felt how it had become harder and harder for his queen to keep on living this lie. Of course they had managed over the years to deal with it somehow. They found ways to meet up secretly. The prince was somehow even able to raise their children from the back by training with them and teaching them high valyrian to control their dragons but all of it never changed that the eyes of his brother were always burning on their skin. While Daemon could deal with the fact of sharing her sometimes to keep their lie intact, Alicent was crumbling under her hard facade and there was nothing else he wanted more than finally releasing her from all this weight on her shoulders and protecting her from having her body used like other men wanted. His jealousy he could control, but he couldn’t bear to see her suffer. Since the beginning it was her who had to make so many sacrifices and having him every now and then was somehow the only thing she really owned and decided by herself. It wasn't enough though and therefore the prince had promised her to take care of it as he always did. “I'll find a way. I'll ask him to release you so I can take you as my wife.” It was a whisper he left in her ear during their last embrace and even if he noticed that Alicent wanted to believe him, she couldn't stop the scoff from her lips since she probably thought he was just trying to calm her like he always did. But Daemon wasn't a man of shallow promises. He was either all in or would let go of something when it wasn't worth his time, but his queen, the mother of his children was everything that truly mattered and he knew he had to at least try to make her as happy as he felt when he had her.

After asking for a hearing with the king, something that would be formal and official, Alicent and their kids joined them in the throne room where Rhaenyra and everyone from the kings council was already waiting. As Daemon had asked his brother for this Viserys just chuckled, saying “You do not need an audience to talk to your brother. What could be that important to bring it up in front of everyones noisy eyes and seek such an absolution for it?” but his brother convinced him to do it nevertheless even if he appreciated his support he knew would be tested on this day.

“What is it you came here to ask for, prince Daemon?” his brother asked, sitting on the throne with Alicent and their three kids standing close by on the stairs, watching him with constant fear glowing in her eyes. No matter how many times Daemon tried to convince her to trust him, he knew that sometimes love wasn't enough to trust someone that could act so reckless. Still he was calm himself and after a reassuring glare to his secret lover, his eyes wandered over to the princess before he kneeled down with a smirk. “I ask for the hand of princess Rhaenyra.”

A murmur went through the room and Daemon noticed the confusion and shock on Alicents face without even daring to look at her while Rhaenyras surprise turned into a pleased smile immediately. Viserys needed a moment until he suddenly scoffed, a reaction Daemon had hoped for secretly cause he knew what would follow. “You really think I would allow you to marry my daughter? The heir of the throne?” Daemon was aware that there was a secret fear in his brothers mind. That Daemon only ever wanted the throne no matter the cost and that's why his request would just play into that fear what got obvious in the way Viserys looked at him in full despise and anger. “My dear brother, we all mourn the loss of your beloved wife Rhea...” Words that only made Daemon silently scoff himself. “...and we all wish you happiness and a wife by your side, but I cannot give you my daughter. You must have known that and still you came here to ask?”

It was Rhaenyra who stepped forward, trying to adress her father while Daemons eyes were now focused on Alicent to assure her that everything went like he planned it. While his queen was still confused, he was glad that her grip around their daughter tightened to prevent any further reaction from their kids who probably didn't know what to think of this either. Viserys stopped his daughters words that tried to perceive him and looked back at his brother who now slowly raised to his feet again. “My answer is no, prince Daemon. But considering your bravery to step forward to ask for this, I will allow you something else. Someone else.” Now it was getting interesting and Daemon folded his hands in front of his hips to seem as innocent and surprised about his offer as he could. “Name someone else. And I will gladly accept any name you will come forward with.” Any. Exactly the word he had hoped for.

The smirk on Daemons face increased and now he knew that Alicent must've understood what he was really aiming for here: a compromise. When the king denies him something first, his kindness will make him offer something better. Something else. The prince created an impossible situation the king had to decline just to offer him something he couldn't say no to again. “I want Alicent.” The roaming that went through the room now was louder than before but then stopped as the king suddenly raised from his chair with fury written on his face he tried to suppress as good as he could, but Daemon knew anger when he saw it in his brother.

“How dare you?”

Daemon just shrugged and looked at his kids whose eyes were focused on him. “You said I can have anyone else. I want Alicent. I want to be with her and my kids.” Alicent shielded Helaena in her arms in that moment, but Aegon II just gasped and looked back to his mother in confusion. They had never told them the truth to protect them from the consequences, but they both knew that their smart girl would probably knew it through her dreams while Aemond had always looked at Daemon like a father figure already, that's why his expression probably didn't even shift at all.

“Everyone leaves the room.” the king declared with coldness in his voice and waited for everyone heading to the door besides Rhaenyra and Alicent with their kids. “You too.”

Neither the princess nor the queen wanted to leave, but they had no chance to disobey the kings command and slowly moved down the stairs to head to the door as well. “It’ll be fine.” Daemon whispered as Alicent passed him close enough to hear his words and lightly touched his fingers with her tips under strict glares of the king whose stare probably wanted to kill the prince right here. Just as the door closed Viserys approached his brother who lowered his head in respect, but the firm “look at me” forced him to raise his eyes again in the moment as Viserys fist hit him right to his face and brought him to his knees since he simply wanted him to have that moment of control when he was so close to losing it forever. “Your kids? How can you even dare of disrespecting your king like that, Daemon?”

Daemon needed a moment to recollect his thoughts but instead of getting up again he just spit out the blood in his mouth and looked up at his brother with full determination. “It is the truth. Or do you really think you’d be able to produce heirs at this point?” Another angry kick hit him right into his stomach, but this time it wasn’t something he didn’t expect to happen and could just laugh about. Pain was always a known thing for the prince, it pleased him in a way even cause it reminded him of how alive he truly was.

“This is my wife you’re talking about. My children.”

“A wife you never loved? A wife you only chose for her youth, for her beauty and name when it should have been me taking her.” Daemon wasn’t completely wrong in saying that even if he knew that Viserys probably had no other choice back then. The king had to remarry, but why did it have to be her? The only woman he truly ever wanted?

“And you love her?” Viserys spatted and reached down to Daemons collar to pull him back on his feet to face him. “Say it. Tell it to my face.”

The prince had many devious expressions, but in this moment the former evil smirk shifted into something soft just like his eyes that started to sparkle from the tears of awe he felt for the queen. “I love her. She’s beautiful and fierce and much smarter than both of us will ever be. She has gone through so much always with her head held high and you know what’s the only moment for her where she can be weak and let it all go to be herself? When she lays in my arms at night after I fucked her. I bet you’ve never seen her look at you the way she looks at me at night because she loves me, brother. She loves me and I love her and there’s nothing you can do about it. I love her like you only ever loved Aemma.”

It was too painful for the king to listen and Daemon respected that he saw at least some form of emotional reaction now that it was about the woman he adored so much and who never got anything from him as honest as the love Viserys had for Aemma. But the prince also knew in the moment that his brother let go of him in despise, that he would never give in to his request. Not even now. Instead he walked passed him and stopped with his back turned on the prince, eyes closing from the heaviness the realization brought that these kids indeed were never his. “Marry Rhaenyra then. But do it where I can’t see it. And never come back here or to my wife.”

Daemon couldn’t believe this, that even in this moment he would rather have him marry his daughter than to give up a woman he didn’t even love out of duty. “Even now you belittle your only daughter because of spite? Do you think she’ll ever forgive you that you favor a woman you don’t love to her? Give Alicent free, brother. End this madness for her, can’t you see your wife is suffering?” It didn’t seem that Viserys cared or maybe he was just too weak to settle this in another way that could make him lose his pride, but without another word he left the throne room to speak to Rhaenyra who waited outside.

Daemon shook his head in disbelief, angry about himself and his failed plan that he only could come outside with a lowered head, heavy from shame. It didn’t matter anymore. If he really had to leave kings landing for good, he didn’t care about any other consequences anymore and he should at least have the right to say goodbye to the love of his life, didn’t he? While the king was distracted by the argument with his daughter, Daemon approached Alicent with a defeated smile but before he could say something it was Helaena who released herself from her mothers embrace to wrap her tiny arms around the prince. “I always knew.” she murmured and left him no other choice than holding her, his hand caressing her long white locks which made all of this even more bittersweet.

“Why did you do that?” Alicent asked and knew that she probably was right, but still he could just shrug and murmured “I had to try. I promised you.” It was Aegon who was the only one still standing there with suspicions towards his real father, while Aemond just looked at him with respect and nodded. Even if he was the youngest and still too small to leave him behind, he often behaved like the most grown up and filled Daemons chest always with pride. Helaenas arms released from his waist and in the moment he approached Alicent to rest his hand on her cheek, Viserys head finally turned to sent them a last threatening look, but Daemon couldn’t care less anymore.

He was too busy with wiping away the tear that rolled down her cheek and leaned in to have their foreheads rested against each other. “Do not cry, my love. It’ll be worth it, time is on our side you have to believe in it.”

“Let me come with you.” Aemond suddenly said, his eyes firmly on his father who just shook his head.

“No, you have to stay with your mother. She needs you. All of you.”

“But Dragonstone might offer me a dragon. I might finally be able to…”

“I said no.” Daemon interrupted him with a commanding voice, his eyes now focusing on the small boy he kneeled down to now. “You can visit me. Visit me with your mother. For now I need you here. Help her to calm his mind. It is my fault that his blood is raging now, but it won’t be me who will be able to calm it. You will.”

The princess steps in their backs were the reason he got up again, a deep breath later allowing him to turn back to his queen so he could cup her face and lean in for a kiss to her cheek, her ear close enough to whisper in it. “Visit me. I’ll always wait for you.” Alicent nodded and what first just was meant as his goodbye, shifted now into an urge he couldn’t suppress and led him against her lips for a kiss of bittersweet devotion and a promise that even a marriage with the princess couldn’t break. “Find me.” he said to the family he had to leave behind before the king would behead him and even if Rhaenyra had witnessed the kiss with her former best friend it didn’t even seem to unsettle her. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him since her confidence was always her biggest strength.

“Let us leave, uncle. I have no interest in staying at a place where I’m constantly reminded that I’m worth less than anyone else to my father.” It was a reaction that was understandable and somehow Daemon felt regret for ruining her relationship to her father even more, but at least all truths were spoken now and hopefully everyone would know where they truly stood. Time would tell how it would solve itself, but for now Daemon couldn’t wait to mount his dragon and escape the mess he had created, even when the outcome wasn’t the one he hoped for and the woman by his side wasn’t the one he wanted to marry truly.

At least he tried. At least he made his promise come true that he would try and ask for her hand to prove her that she would always get anything from him no one else would ever offer her. That at least one person in her life would risk it all for her and that what they had was true. Not her father, not her husband. But him. There would never be anything he wouldn’t do for her, even if it caused a war or the final loss of the man he called his brother.

#it’s a long post I know 🙈#but sometimes I get these dreams of scenes and I have to write them down before I forget and they haunt me #drabble #daemon x alicent #dragynfire #v: fire & blood #I Hope you like it. if there’s anything you disagree on let me know ❤️#but I definitely wanted to bring their kids reactions to this 🥺

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kyoupann · 1 year

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How about Four and "nostalgia"?

theeenks for making me write my mans Bee! 💛

Drabble Requests open!

Please send one-word promt and a character.

Over the years “mature” became a word most people would use to describe him; along with some not-so-positive ones. He always found it ridiculous that they would use it to, well, talk about and to a proper adult. But he can’t blame them for what his body looks like; he knows they mean well, after all. Four wishes some of that maturity everyone talked about would find its way into the confines of his mind, the ones he keeps deeply in for himself to ignore only. Those moments that he keeps telling himself there is no point in keeping bringing life to; they are gone, long gone, and nothing is like it once was twice. But there is a childish denial unwilling to let go of yet. His mind focuses on memories of warm evenings and desultory touches while picking wildflowers; a gloved hand on top of his callused one. Life is so that it will make these small moments linger longer in us than we think they’re worth, and yet there is the need to keep them alive. So he will disguise that denial as nostalgia for as long as he needs to be at peace with it. That’s how the process of change goes; he will peek at these moments with fondness and then carefully tuck them away until the next time.

#Linked universe #LU Four #drabble requests #2 years later I finally write Four again #timeturner-jay #Jay #ask #anyways I just discovered that the 100 word count just isn't for me #these drabbles will be as long as they need to be #anyways I wrote this one this morning and I thought it had already posted but it was just queued sobs forever #me wondering why no one is giving attention to my mans #kyo writes #that's my writing tag if you want to check the rest of my stuff #I wrote a Hyrule one shot like 3 years ago and I haven't read it again #but I remember being v proud of it sdfsdf so please go read that one

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padfootastic · 1 year

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ok ok ok so i think i kinda completed my remus & sirius conversation…thing that i was writing in my messages app lol

i haven’t actually compiled all of it in one place yet so idk how it’ll read bc it’s so spaced out in terms of writing and stuff and i’ll almost definitely to edit and add some more bits and pieces but it’s so. different from what i usually write? like way more dream of consciousness and almost too flowery? and it feels—incomplete but i’m wrestling w the urge to pad it with unnecessary details lol

but yah. very very nervous and very excited.

#it’s like. that one scene i wanted all my life #(well not literally but ykno)#where remus apologises to sirius #but without those undercurrents of sirius being at fault #bc i hate it #also!!! imp!! it’s NOT remus bashing #atleast i’ve tried to not make it so #but idk how r fans will take it #this is one piece of writing i would appreciate feedback on actually #just so i know how other non-sirius-obsessed fans see it lol #it’s not exactly. a happy ending?#tbh it kind of ends on a very—dramatic statement lol #which leaves it a bit open for any future scenes #but yah.#it’s in my og notes app drabbles no punctuation style #which makes it kinda nostalgic and very fun #but i’ll have to capitalise and shit before pairing #posting*#anyway enough rambling i just got v excited lol #pen’s writing

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universestreasures · 1 year

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@blasterdiablo (Yet another Club drabble for an idea I had to get out that you do not have to respond to but tagging you anyway LOL)

Dreams were a weird thing. At times, you could wake up remembering every thing in vivid detail as if it really happened to you. Others, you could recall nothing at all what you saw. Though, surely the dream Asaka was having right now would fall into the former category, a dream that seemed so intense and real it was as if it was a memory.

The college student finds herself in an unfamiliar location, one where silver weapons decorated the walls and It was a dark space that's only light came from the few candles from fixtures on the walls. She shifts her head to further examine the place, quickly realizing she wasn't alone in this strange room. Yes, with her right now was...

"Ren...? What are you doing here? And where is here?" She questions, being unable to get a good look at him. Much of his body, other than his red locks, were being concealed by the darkness that surrounded them, after all. Slowly, she approaches him, being careful where she steps, but eventually stops once she makes it in front of him and is able to see him clearly as the room suddenly becomes brighter with the addition of more candles being lit.

And what she sees before her icey blue hues is an image she never wished to see. It was a sight that can only be best described as her worst fear brought to life. What she sees is her love, the person she most treasured in this world, covered in blood from head to toe. His eyes were wide, his body covered in bruises and slash marks that could be seen through unfamiliar clothes, and most shockingly of all, his stomach had been peirced with a black sword, one that resembled the one Ren had hung up over their bed in their bedroom.

Worst yet...that sword wasn't stuck in there. No, it was being held there by something. As soon as Asaka's gazes follows the end blade to the handle...she realizes just what or rather who was holding it. The one who had presumably stabbed Ren, who presumably caused him great suffering was...was...

Herself.

"W-What?! This...This can't...This can't be! I wouldn't...! I couldn't...! I'd never...!"

It's then that his body finally limps and falls on her, bringing both her and him down to the cold stone ground. His blood now stains her own body, both now covered in the red substance that to vampires symbolized life and to humans symbolized death. A hand is swiftly placed on his neck, checking it for the sign of a pulse. However, it just as quickly goes limp as soon as she feels nothing coming from it, a coldness now surging through her body like it had just been hit with a winter breeze.

Ren was...dead because of her.

Ren had been killed...because of her.

Ren had been killed...by her.

Just as she always feared might happen to him one day...

"No..."

"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Her cries of agony echo throughout the dark room and back in her shared dorm room with Ren. They were so loud that they were probably heard by those in the floors below them, such as Aichi and Kai. Her eyes then shoot open, sweat dropping down her face as she quickly sits up and breaths in and out heavily trying to process everything. Though, her concern quickly switched from her own well being to search around her room, looking for the person who she had just witnessed being killed by her own hands.

However, Ren wasn't...in the room with her. She checked the closet. She checked their balcony. She even checked under the bed to see if he was trying to prank her or something. He wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere she looked. And that fact...made her body start to shake, Asaka's knees buckling as she sinks to the floor in the center of their shared space.

Asaka had a reputation of being strong and beautiful, the person who knew how to hold it together and get things done. She was the one who started the Pale Moon Club in the first place. If it wasn't for her efforts, her kind wouldn't have a sanctuary in this human-run university. The club president she prided herself on being was far from the horrified woman who was on the floor now, the one who was slowly starting to cry as panic and worry took over regarding the current fate of her beloved human.

"Ren...Ren you can't be...You can't be...dead... All because of me...Because of a miserable creature like me...A creature who doesn't deserve you...or the love you've given me..."

#💎 Crystalized Hidden Gems (Drabble)#💎 Assassin Treasure (Asaka Narumi)#💎 King Of The Blasters Of Darkness (Blasterdiablo)#💎 Assassin's Hidden Sanctuary For The Cursed Crimson (Asaka Pale Moon Club AU)#tw long post #tw blood #tw vampire #tw death #tw dark imagery #tw killing #(A Chan getting Luquier dreams cause Kai Aichi and Ren cant have all the flashback fun #(MY HORT FOR POOR AH CHAN I CANNOT #(I ICONED HER FIGHT WITH REN IN V CAUSE THOSE EXPRESSIONS JUST FIT THIS WELL CAUSE OMG THE ANGST #(Like i said before you dont gotta respond to this if you don't want to its a drabble lol but if you want a asaren warmup here #(I FIGURE RENS LIKE GETTING A MIDNIGHT SNACK OR IS IN THE BATHROOM OR SOMETHING IS JUST GONNA COME BACK TO ASAKA A MESS #(WE HAVNT WRITTEN REN COMFORTING A CHAN YET SO THATS ANOTHER THING WE CAN DO HERE #(IF YOU WANNA RESPOND TO THIS

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almarantha · 1 year

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Aurum - A Post-Skyrim TES Drabble

“You really must take better care of yourself, child.”

Amara’s eyelids shot open at the foreign voice, sending her scrambling to get to her feet. She would forgive herself this moment of impropriety, of weakness. It was a startling thing, being spoken to when you were supposed to be dead. Reaching down, Amara placed a hand over her stomach, searching for a fresh wound that should’ve still been bleeding.

Granted, that wasn’t the only thing that seemed to no longer exist.

There was… nothing around her. No walls. No ceiling. No ground, for that matter. There was a floor beneath her, she could feel it, but actually discerning it was another matter entirely. Her surroundings were but a blank canvas. Filled with anticipation, but nothing had yet been put onto the page. No words had filled the empty void of white. No paint had given color, given life, to the environment.

“Yes, but think of the potential.” The voice mused once more, as if reading her mind.

Amara spun her head around so fast that she feared she might have snapped it. Could she even? She was already dead, right? As is, her lengthy wine-colored hair had likely slapped the owner of the voice in the face. To her left stood an Imperial man, hands calmly folded behind his back. He had a handsome look about him. Square, noble features and umber-hued hair cascaded down his neck. It was a face that could have belonged to a warrior, if not for how scholarly his posture was and how soft he wore his expression. The man smiled softly and tilted his head in acknowledgement, seemingly content to wait for her to measure him up.

His attire was familiar, although Amara couldn’t quite place where she’d seen it before. It was something an Imperial noble would wear, fittingly enough; that much was certain. Long indigo robes were rimmed with white, spotted fur. The robes covered an ornate scarlet doublet decorated with intricate gold patterns. On the whole, it looked inordinately expensive, but nothing more so than the jeweled necklace that the man was wearing. A ruby the size of her fist laid set in a gold casing, while several other, smaller, jewels of different colors rimmed the outside of the amulet.

The ensemble was gorgeous. Any Imperial worth anything would kill to be seen in such an outfit.

And yet it seemed horribly ill-fitting on such a man. Just by looking at him, Amara got the sense that he would have been far more comfortable in much simpler robes. He had that sort of priestly disposition about him. Yes, she could imagine him in a monk’s garb.

“…Who are you? Where am I?” Amara asked slowly, having become more or less acquainted with her surroundings. As much as a Dunmer in a completely foreign environment could, anyway.

The man pursed his lips, as if mulling over what sort of answer he should give. “Those are questions that won’t serve you well here. It would be more apt to ask when.”

It only now occurred to Amara that the man had never once opened his eyes to look at her. He faced her direction and seemed to know where she was, but those eyelids stayed shut. Was the Imperial blind? Amara furrowed her eyebrows at the roundabout answer. Riddles. She hated riddles. Especially riddles coming from mysterious strangers.

“When are we then?” She asked, her tone far more demanding than it used to be. Even a few years ago, that would have been unthinkable. But she’d grown up a lot these past few years. One of the first lessons she’d learned was to not take shit from people if you wanted any modicum of respect.

“Hmm…” The man hummed, contemplating her question. “The Middle Dawn, perhaps? Or maybe the Oblivion Crisis…” He lifted a hand to his chin, gazing upwards at what should be the sky. As it was though, he was staring at nothing. Or, technically, the back of his eyelids. “Ah, no. This is the Fourth Era. The Second Great War, I believe you call it. This is the fifteenth year of the conflict.”

Amara’s eye twitched. “…I knew that already.” She growled out in the most respectful way possible.

“So you did.” The stranger turned his attention, such as it was, back towards the Dunmer. “My apologies for the confusion. Such things come naturally to me, but precision can be difficult. What’s the phrase…? Ah, yes, like a needle in a haystack.” His smile never dimmed, but nor did it grow in intensity. Their entire encounter was marked by that soft, serene smile on his face. It made the stranger give off the impression of peace.

Or maybe he was just insane from being trapped in this strange void? That boded well for her.

Sighing, Amara pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her crimson eyes, attempting to compose herself. That was another lesson. Stay composed. Stay above it all. Never let others know they’re getting to you.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” The stranger’s voice came unbidden, surprising Amara out of her frustrations.

She blinked. The last thing she remembered…

“I was… someplace… where was I…?” It was hard to focus in this place, but she needed to remember… “There were gears… Not the Dwemer kind, not nearly so ancient, but modeled after them.” A stoic face flashed through her mind, violet braids matted with oil. “Zamana was excited. Someone advancing her people’s technology… She wanted to see it. So we went home-“

Wait. Was it her home? She’d visited Mournhold a handful of times, but had never lived there-

Amara snapped her fingers. “Right! The Clockwork City! Almalexia told me she knew a way in and-“

For the third time in a row, Amara cut herself off as a realization hit her. However, this one was far more frantic. It was quiet. Far too quiet. It had been quiet ever since she had arrived at… wherever this was. Amara couldn’t believe it had taken her this long to realize it! There was no prideful voice whispering in her ear. No voice giving out unwanted comments and opinions at every opportunity. No analysis of what was going on, no advice on how to handle this situation.

Almalexia was gone.

“Where is she?!” Amara cried out, aggressively grabbing the stranger’s robes and yanking him forward. “What did you do with her?!” Fury and terror in equal measures danced in her crimson eyes, tinged by the light of budding madness.

Best to head this off at the pass, the man thought.

The stranger carefully placed his hands on top of Amara’s own, his expression serious but not unkind.

Was he pitying her? How dare-!

However, her thought process was cut off as the stranger finally opened his eyes. Amara slumped forward, falling to her knees in abject awe.

Staring down at her were the slitted pupils of a reptile, encompassed by the purest gold that Amara had ever laid eyes on. They were ancient orbs, brimming with power and eternity.

How foolish was she to not see the signs…?

Amara fundamentally knew who she was speaking to now.

“I have done nothing with she who once called herself Ayem.” Akatosh intoned. The smile he had been handsomely wearing was gone, but neither did the dragon god of time look all too upset. “Yet, neither is she gone.”

Amara clutched at her chest, head bowed so the man, the god, before her couldn’t see the tears freely flowing down her face. Her frame shuddered as she breathed deeply. It was as if she was in the midst of a mighty battle, and yet the dragon’s words brought such relief to her! Almalexia wasn’t gone!

But then… where was she…?

Once more, the dragon god answered those thoughts on the surface of her mind. “What do you remember, child?” He repeated the question.

Again with this? What did that have to do with anything…? But it seemed she wouldn’t get anything else out of time itself, so she valiantly wracked her mind for the details. A feat not made easier by her admittedly volatile emotional state… Something that had been becoming more and more common recently.

“We were…” Amara’s voice cracked and shut stopped in her tracks, clearing her throat before continuing. “We were exploring. We found the main chamber. We found… we found the artificial heart. We… I… Oh, ancestors…” Her hand clasped over her mouth.

She’d died.

Rationally, she knew that. She’d known that since awakening in this place. But it was another thing entirely to replay the events in her mind, to hear the grinding gears of the automatons, to remember the cries of Zamana, the blade through her chest…

Daring to look up, she found the dragon god gazing… almost mournfully down at her. All he did was give her a slight nod, confirming her worst suspicions. She really was dead, huh? Amara had never been sure what fate awaited her once her mortal life was done. There wasn’t exactly an Ancestral Tomb waiting for her, and she doubted that House Redoran would look too kindly on allowing her one anyway… She’d burned a lot of bridges, making the roll of the dice and gambling that she would succeed in forging her grandfather’s empire anew… But it seemed that it was not meant to be. She had died too soon.

That still begged the question, however… What was to be her fate? Was this… “Is this the Dreamsleeve?” Amara asked the god.

Akatosh glanced around, observing the surroundings… or lack thereof. “No, I’m afraid not. This is a dream of sorts, but no, this is not the realm of rebirth. Your ultimate fate remains unknown, and it is not my place to speculate on matters of life and death. That is Arkay’s domain, not mine.”

Her ultimate fate…?

“Wait, what do you mean? Am I not dead? Should my soul not be bound for Aetherius or Oblivion?” Amara furrowed her eyebrows, squinting in blatant confusion. “You mention Arkay. I do not worship you Aedra, yet if one were to handle my death, it would be him. I am educated on that much. Yet here you stand, the dragon god of time… Why?”

Akatosh scratched at his clean-shaven chin. On anyone else, it would have looked almost sheepish, but surely the high and mighty Aedra had nothing to be embarrassed about, right?

Why he even had a chin to scratch was another question entirely. The humans depicted him as a dragon. The mer depicted him as a great golden eagle. Was this supposed to be a form she would be comfortable with? An avatar of his will? Amara had so many questions, but frankly, that was the least of them. So, she did not voice it, even though it was abundantly clear that Akatosh could read her mind.

“You have my blood.” The dragon god replied simply.

Amara blinked. What?

“You have my blood.” Akatosh repeated. “Your grandfather was dragonborn, surely you know this. The most famous dragonborn in Tamriel’s long history. The title is named as such for a reason. He was not mine in body, but in spirit... All dragonborn are my children. So in a way, I suppose that makes you my grandchild of sorts. Or great-grandchild. I care little for mortal semantics, however.”

She… okay, that was… wow, a lot to process. The metaphysics of it all… Yes, she had known that all of this was the official Imperial line, but… Well, she’d never exactly put much stock in it.

Akatosh glanced down at her and smiled that damnably soft smile once more, now looking almost, well… grandfatherly. Amara wasn’t convinced, however. Picking herself up off of the ground, she rubbed the dried tears away from her face. To say that she was wary was an understatement.

“And do you make a habit out of conversing with the descendants of dragonborn?” Amara asked dryly. She doubted that he even talked to actual dragonborn all that much, if at all.

The dragon-man shrugged, making the motion look far more dignified than it had any right to be. “Admittedly? No.”

“Then why me?” Amara shot back immediately. “Why are you here? In this… this dream, whatever this is?”

“You are mer.” Akatosh spoke softly. “A Dunmer who once worshipped the mortals who propped themselves up as gods. A Dunmer who does not worship the Three Good Daedra like the rest of your kind. A Dunmer who is unsure where she stands among Aedra and Daedra, and so devotes herself to worldly pursuits instead.”

The dragon god trailed off, looking down at the amulet which laid flat against his chest. Clutching it in his tanned and worn hands, Akatosh lifted it off of his neck and lifted it up so that it was level with his golden gaze.

“Despite all of that,” he continued, “you chose to follow not the path of any of your mer ancestors, noble and just and clever that they were, and instead chose the most difficult path of all. The path of your grandfather. You, Ra’athim Amara, a Dunmer of Resdayn, would restore the Septim Empire. A Cyrodiilic Empire. A human empire. Did you think that you wouldn’t catch our attention?”

Amara had remained silent as the avatar of Akatosh explained himself. And when he phrased it like that…

“People need help. Someone has to do something.” She whispered quietly, mostly to herself. She looked into those ageless eyes across from her ever so briefly, which beckoned her to continue. “Ever since I was a kid… Probably before that… Everything has been going to shit around me. You called me a Dunmer of Resdayn, of Morrowind, but I’m not. My father imparted as much of our culture onto me as he could, but I grew up in Falkreath. I grew up in Skyrim, surrounded by Nords. I’m an outlander, and I worked so hard for so long to erase that stain from myself… But it’ll always be true. It’s just who I am. A Dunmer who grew up outside the homeland, because my father was exiled after the Red Year.”

Amara sighed, only now realizing how exhausted she felt. She supposed she had the right. She was dead, after all.

“The Great War, the Skyrim Civil War, the return of the dragons, the Interregnum, the Falmer Raids, the Argonian Invasion, the Second Great War… It feels like we’re all trapped in a loop of pain and suffering. Everyone everywhere is hurting. And things didn’t used to be that way; dad was always fond of telling me. Father was never fond of the empire that his own father had established, but he was never afraid to admit… Things were just better when the Septims ruled the Empire. When all of Tamriel was more or less at peace. Sure, things weren’t perfect, but the world wasn’t almost ending every few years… There weren’t constant wars with… so much dead.

“I was a healer during the first Great War, you know that right?” Amara asked rhetorically. “Of course you know that. You’re the dragon god of time. But I saw… I saw so much death. So many died in my care, I couldn’t save them…” Her expression became unfocused, her crimson eyes haunted by memories best left buried. “I did my best, I really did. And it was more… it was more than my people as a whole did. They were just content to sit idly by and let others suffer. I can’t- I couldn’t... I could help. I could help so I had a responsibility to do so!”

Her fists clenched tightly and a fire roared in her stomach, determination rising up in her throat until she felt the urge to roar. For the first time, she met the dragon god’s gaze and kept at it, refusing to let the mere glance of a god bend her into submission.

“I am the granddaughter of Tiber Septim and Queen Barenziah. I am the Anticipation of Almalexia, with all of her wisdom and training at my side. I had the ability and the means to help Tamriel, so I decided to do it. And if you tell me the way out of here, I will continue to do it. I don’t care if I’m dead, someone has to do something!”

Amara was breathing heavily as she finished her speech. In a lot of ways, it felt like justifying it to herself more than to the dragon god. How often had she questioned herself? How often had she wondered if she was just letting Almalexia convince her to do things? Well, Almalexia wasn’t here right now. This was all her.

Akatosh remained silent for a long moment more, before finally nodding in satisfaction. He held the amulet out to Amara, letting it dangle off of his fingers. “Did you know…” He rumbled, sounding more like a dragon by the moment. Ancient and all powerful. “That it used to be that whenever an emperor was chosen, they had to hold this amulet and light the dragonfires? It was a symbol of my everlasting covenant with man, that so long as a dragonborn sat on the Ruby Throne, the gates of Oblivion would be shut.” He paused. “It was more than just a symbol, naturally. Since St. Alessia, no one could light the dragonfires without my approval or consent. It is I who judged each emperor worthy. If they weren’t… they didn't tend to last very long.”

The amulet dangling off of his fingers glistened, twirling slowly as the dragon god told his story.

“No one has worn this amulet or lit the dragonfires since the Oblivion Crisis. The amulet was destroyed. The last emperor of the Septim Dynasty, a righteous young man named Martin, sacrificed himself to seal the gates of Oblivion shut forever. The dragonfires no longer have any purpose, and it will remain that way. However… perhaps I have torn my gaze from the empire I claim to patron for too long. Perhaps it is time for the Amulet of Kings to be worn once more, as a symbol of my divine providence.”

Reaching forward, Akatosh lifted the amulet over Amara’s head and settled it on her shoulders. The giant ruby thrummed against her chest, and Amara couldn’t help but wonder if this is what the legendary Heart of Lorkhan felt like?

“I…” She tried to speak, but no words came out. Instead, Amara dropped to her knees, but in a far more orderly and dignified manner than her previous descent. She knelt before Akatosh, head bowed as if she were speaking to her liege lord. “I promise that I won’t let you down.”

“I very much suspect that you won’t.” Akatosh intoned his voice more of a growl than it ever was, yet somehow felt amused. Like he was chuckling to himself. “From this moment on, you are dragonborn much in the same way St. Alessia herself once was. The covenant is reborn. Now, my child, look up.”

Amara did as she was commanded, yet could not help her mouth dropping out from under her. For before her was no man. The mighty golden dragon of time stretched out before her, infinite in all of his glory. She saw him as he truly was, not merely stretched out before her in this plane, but across all of time as well. It was enough to render her blind. Or mad. Or dead. The fact that she was only one out of those three things was likely due to the grace of Akatosh himself… And the fact that she was already dead.

“At this point, I would normally send you off. However, there is… one more thing to attend to.” The dragon forced out. His voice was far deeper than it had once been. The voice before had felt borrowed, but this… This was the voice of time echoing throughout her very being. “Tell me, child, what do you remember?”

This again?

“I died.” Wasn’t that all there was to it?

“And, pray tell, how did you die?”

“I was run through by a blade.” Amara responded automatically. But that couldn’t be what he wanted to hear. The memory was fuzzy, there had to be more to it… Who had wielded the blade? Some sort of…

Oh.

“The Clockwork City, it was being run by… some sort of ghost. Except it wasn’t a ghost. I don’t know how to explain it, but… Sotha Sil, one of the Old Tribunal, was in the city itself. And he wanted revenge against Almalexia because she had killed his body centuries ago. Zamana and I fought through his machines… We reached the chamber where his mind was being held. He had made some sort of… dwarven metal body for himself. We fought. I killed the body, but the mind still persisted, we couldn’t kill it. Then… then he had reinforcements…”

She clutched her head, trying to remember.

“I remember Almalexia screaming… She was so angry… And so terrified. I could feel it all inside me. Another Dunmer walked into the room. Seht’s reinforcements. It was… It was the Neravarine.” Amara glanced up helplessly at Akatosh. “…The Neravarine killed me.”

The infinite dragon nodded. “And in so doing, completed the final piece of the puzzle. You must understand, my child… Ra’athim Amara Septim is dead. She cannot come back.”

Amara slumped, her assumption shattered. Akatosh had chosen her, but she could not return. Was all of this for nothing?

But, naturally, the dragon could read her thoughts. “You misunderstand, child. Ra’athim Amara is dead. But you are not Ra’athim Amara.”

…What?

Her disbelief must have shown on her face, because Akatosh continued. “Almalexia did not have your best interests in mind, child. Ever since she became attached to your soul those many years ago, she has lived in your shadow. Feeding off of you. Whispering in your ear. Plotting. It was her intention that you were to be her avenue to resurrection. So she influenced you to the best of her ability. She trained you. Molded you. Guided you. You, who was raised to worship her since you could walk, never thought to question it until it was far too late. She made you like her. She led you into the Clockwork City on purpose, having a good idea of what was down there. She needed you to follow the beats of her life so that you would understand her, and in that understanding…”

“She wanted me to mantle her…” Amara whispered.

Akatosh nodded, unsurprised that the Dunmer before him was aware of the concept. It was only natural, when she’d had a god whispering in her ear for years.

“Indeed. You asked me earlier if Almalexia is gone and where she went? Nowhere. She has gone nowhere and is not, in fact, gone. You are Almalexia. Almalexia is you.”

“I did it?” The woman formerly known as Amara asked, utterly dumbfounded. “I mantled Almalexia? But… I don’t feel like her. I still remember being me.”

“Have you? Do you not feel like her? To mantle her, you had to become so much like her that there ceased to be a functioning difference between the two of you. That the Aurbis itself could not tell the two of you apart. Do you not know things that you hadn’t before? Do you not have memories that Ra’athim Amara never experienced? You are ALM. But there is a caveat to that.”

“…Well what’s one more earth shattering realization, right?” She quipped, not knowing how else to cope by this point.

To his infinite credit, Akatosh took it in good humor, chuckling along with her. “The mantling did not occur as Almalexia had planned. She forgot to factor in one, crucial element…” He let the moment drag out. Imagine that, a god with a sense of dramatic timing. Then again, he was the god of time…

“The mortal element. For all that she spent millennia as a god and being worshipped as one. Almalexia forgot what it was like to be mortal. It drove her mad before her death, but when she had no choice but to endure it while her spirit was stuck to you… Almalexia went out of her way to influence you, however what she failed to realize was that you were influencing her in turn. Not intentionally, mind you, just simply by you being there. The bond the two of you shared was intimate by any metric. To put it in mortal terms… You rubbed off on her. She became more like you as you became more like her.”

“So we…” ALM began, trying to wrap her head around the idea. Former divine or not, it made her mind spin.

“Mantled each other.” Akatosh confirmed. “You are one.”

ALM couldn’t help but note that he looked insufferably smug about that. But then again, he would. The Tribunal had never had the best relationship with the Aedra. She lifted her hand to rub her temple in an attempt to alleviate the budding headache, but she noticed something.

“…My hand is gold.” ALM noted dully. Because of course it was. Almalexia’s skin had been gold, the last Chimer in existence, and now her skin was gold too. Because she was her. And yet was Amara too.

By the Ancestors, she was going to need a mirror later.

“The veil is lifted.” Akatosh rumbled. “You see yourself for what you truly are now. More than a mortal, less than a god. Somewhere in the middle. A soul retroactively made dragonborn and a soul that still held a spark of the divinity it carried for millennia. The two together… It is not unlike the ascension of Talos, although perhaps not as grand. Which is for the best. I require you on Nirn for the time being.”

“Right…” ALM muttered. “I need… to lie down. And I can’t very well do that here. Do you know the way out of here?”

“Indeed. Our time here grows short as is. I have spoken all that has need to be said, and your Dwemer companion will require your assistance if she is to survive the night. Although, I must warn you… The method of return will not be pleasant.”

“Whatever you have to do…” ALM sighed one last time, before giving the dragon god a soft smile to match the one he once wore. “And for what it’s worth… Thank you. This all… It really means a lot.”

Akatosh nodded, rumbling in confirmation. “You are worthy. Never forget that, even in your darkest days.”

Then, without any warning or pretense, Akatosh opened his maw and swallowed her whole.

Because being eaten by the dragon god of time in order to return to the land of the living just seemed logical after the day she’d had, she thought as she slid down the divine gullet.

Hmm. She was going to need a new name, wasn’t she? Amara and Almalexia were dead, yet lived. They were one.

Almarantha sounded pretty good.

#;drabble #almalexia #akatosh #dunmer oc #v; 4e216 #concept; mantling #concept; alessian dragonborn #technically a repost #but I updated the visuals and edited some parts of the text #and I couldn't edit the old post #so new post it was #in case it wasn't obvious #akatosh is using martin's body as a puppet #part of me wanted to rewrite the whole thing to be less expositiony #yes that's a technical term #but I decided against it for now

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duckduckngoose · 1 year

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Dang I'm rll brainrotting this au huh

#the duck quacks #idk if i posted ab it before #but bassicly; mechs au were all the albums survivors band toghether #(aka Lyffrasir Briar Rose and Arthur (Cinders and Deadelus might be added too but im unsure)#(mostly considering in the timeline of this fic. TBI and HNOC happened at the same time. while OUATIS happened 20-100 years ago)#time between UOATIS and the rest mostly depends on what route im taking #since im considering making everyone immortal (Lyf with bifrost BS. Briar doesnt age and is v resistant due to being build as the main #main war machine. Arthur *might* get mechanized eventually)#(i also have DTTM style final deaths for all of them except Briar (not sure if i want her death to mirror he time she spend as sleeping #beauty. or if its like roses death. or if it fits with the additional backstory shes gettinf with the time skip between UOATIS and the #other albums #Lyf has the most concrete death: they find a planet being threathened with a similait event to TBI and they manage to evacuate everyone.#but is the last one left behind and is consumed by the chaos #Arthur flings himself into the sun. the details aren't clear yet but i want that point)#anyways the fic is actually all of them slowly becoming a crew and traveling toghether (fhe deaths were just a drabble thing for today)#ive already written some of the fic and the current plot is #Lyf flees the bifrost while Arthur is send out of the lifepod > Lyf eventualyl (after a month or so) finds Arthur and brings him in >#they travel around toghether for a bit until they find Briar* (ill explain more ab her later) > she joins the crew aswell > bonding bonding #>the crew finds the mechanisms (either because they saw a concert for them on accidrnt. bc arthur is very wounded and they could save him #or a combo) > im not sure yet i didnt plan that far #*also for briar rose: her idea for leavijg is either that she actually stayed witb Cinders for a while. but she doesnt reallt age and #cinders succumbs to old age. so she doesnt really have a reason to stay anymore #or cinders and Briar break apart due to confusing feelings regarding shes sthe clons of the wife that died in cinders arms #OR Cinders and briar are still toghether. but after king coles war they dont really have anything to stay for anymorw consedring almost #everyone they cared ab is dead #(this will also make the timeskip between arcs change depending on which route i take)#so yeah #there is a fic for this in the works but im unsure abott posting jt (ifs more a for fun project than a quality project)#i might eventually make a tag for this and post more i dunno #i have lots of additional plotbits i didnt get into (me giving the entire crew alien traits. the crews relations to the Mechs etc etc)

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altrxisme · 1 year

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[ FIVE DEATHS ] ( for Jackson, I'd like to suffer pls <3 )

𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 ‘𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒’ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 // still accepting!! — [ FIVE DEATHS ] send for five times our muses almost died together and the one time the sender does.

i. Luna could tell from their eyes, the shameless glee in their eyes, as Jackson writhed and struggled for air on the floor after he'd been told to taste her food as one of his duties as her newly appointed retainer. They looked at them, disgusting amusement curled on the corners of their lips as they tried to hide it behind shocked expressions.

Their fun didn't last long, however, turning into sheer HORROR when the young girl took a bite of the same food that had made the young boy collapse. Screams and the clink of glass vials, antidotes, quickly opened for both of them.

They learned not to make such an attempt at the little retainer after that, lest they PROVOKE the Oracle-in-training.

ii. Being scolded by a distressed Ravus felt as if death itself had come for them. Jackson shut his eyes whenever the older boy was in his face, yelling about how he should be taking his role as a retainer more seriously and to stop putting his sister in dangerous situations. He hadn't meant to, he wanted to gather the flowers that grew off the cliffs so that she would SMILE more.

When Ravus turned around, the young retainer opened his eyes slightly to glance at Luna to see how she was doing.

The sadness on her expression was much worse than when the entire debacle first started and he felt a part of him die in GUILT.

Part of her grieved in knowing that she had someone in her life willing to risk their well-being for her HAPPINESS, despite the fate the Astrals had set out for her.

iii. Some retainer he was if he couldn't even prevent his liege from getting kidnapped of all things.

Jackson sped down the streets after Luna and her captors, jumping over carts and dodging people that were in his way. It was part of her responsibility to travel the continent and heal those affected by the Scourge. Certain groups of people though, believed her to be a sacrifice to the Astrals to rid Eos of it. While that was partially true, they took the SACRIFICE portion of it farther than what was acceptable in society.

Legs pumping from fear of what they had in store for her, Jackson decided to bite the bullet and drew his gun, aiming at the legs of the people he pursued, thankful that Luna was being carried to avoid hitting her. They were quick to fall, but the person that had snatched the princess was certainly picked for a reason.

As if that was going to stop him.

He set his aim higher, praying that he doesn't hit Luna as he repeatedly shot at the man's back. The two tumbled onto the ground and he pushed himself even further to drag his liege away from the man. He was successful in keeping her behind him but was pulled down to by the desperate zealot who laid punches on him with the intent to KILL. A shot to his face was what took him out.

It was one of the few instances Jackson got to see Luna in tears outside the comfort of their rooms.

iv. At least they learned to not separate the two of them. The problem was that the two of them were now better coordinated for hostage situations.

Although, neither of them expected to be left hanging above a pit of DAEMONS and slowly getting lowered into it while the zealots chanted tongues unfamiliar to either of them. The group was certainly giving the Lucians a run for their gil when it came to successfully kidnapping the Princess.

Any other time, they would both find some HUMOR to this.

"—How long before Ravus comes ta rescue us, Luna? My arms are gettin' numb."

v. The Astrals were cruel beings if they were the ones that continuously put Luna in the most dangerous situations.

Jackson knew that the treaty signing wasn't what it seemed, it was clear as day to those who knew the Empire well. What he hadn't expected was for General Glauca himself to take her away in the middle of the night. He was frantic when he approached the Glaive, Nyx Ulric, about his missing liege. He'd been almost dismissed by the man until something in his communicator made him think twice.

When she went to defend Nyx with only herself against Glauca, he didn't pull her away to leave the Glaive on his own or take her place. Jackson STOOD BY HER to take the first blow in hopes that she wouldn't get the worst of it.

He could never take away the goodness within her that could very well get her killed. It was a decision SHE made, not led by anyone or anything else.

ø. He had to be dragged away from the ruins, refusing to leave his closest friend in her watery grave. His hands bled, voice hoarse, vision blurred with tears as he tried to keep them from taking him to the train.

He couldn't leave her. He will not leave her. He will not let her be alone in DEATH, just as he did for her in LIFE.

#sylleblosscm #child abuse tw #abuse tw #[ some heavy stuff man ]#[ idk why but could totally see this being done to him and luna in this alt ver ;A; ]#[ this is such a long piece and i love it!! ]#[ idk why the concept of a cult came to mind but i could totally see them going after Luna owo ]#[ it takes years for Jackson to let it sink in that Luna's gonna do what she wants when she believes in it and all he can do is try #to keep her safe while doing it ]#[ he's a ride or die retainer ]#[ I was also running out of steam because oh man short drabbles and I really need to get to know each other better owo ]#; drabble #v: ffxv ; dulce et decorum est #alt: ffxv ; post tenebras spero lucem

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ensnchekov-a · 2 years

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DRABBLE ⸺ 1 / ?

Somebody always dies.

Sometimes, no matter how fast his fingers fly at the transporter controls, somebody does not make it off Vulcan. Sometimes it is Sulu’s beacon that disappears before he can even blink and Kirk is laying there on the transporter pad dazed but still alive, horror in the depths of his eyes.

Kirk says, “Sulu,” and his voice breaks and all Pavel can do is curse his own fingers, a misplaced decimal point in his hasty computation of gravitational pull, and subpar skill because clearly the fault must lie with him. If it didn’t, both men would be alive now, but only one has returned and so he waits for the inevitable backlash that is sure to follow.

Other times, Kirk is the one swallowed up by the singularity that is consuming Vulcan. Sulu materialises on the pad and Pavel’s heart stops because there’s only one and there should be two men, but he knows he’s hoping for an impossibility. He doesn’t know what happened as they fell, but Sulu looks in Pavel’s direction with a thousand-yard-stare and he feels the burn of accusation. “He lost his grip,” Sulu says, but what Pavel hears is “You couldn’t save him, kid. This is your fault.”

Pavel knows he’s right.

—

Tonight, he fails again to save Amanda Grayson. The red cliffs of Vulcan crumble and a woman screams and she is terrified, Pavel is sure of that, as she plummets dizzyingly fast toward her own grave. There is nothing he can do.

Five Vulcans make it aboard the Enterprise. One human does not.

—Я потерял ее, he whispers gravely, and the words repeat over and over in his head like a death sentence.

Four Vulcans maintain an air of cold impassivity on their faces that do not reach their eyes. There is anger in their eyes, unrestrained and unmasked, and Pavel feels the burn of their gaze searing right through his clothes, his skin, and he starts to believe—however foolishly—that looks can kill.

One allows his face to twist with a rage so thick he can feel it across the room. An apology forms in the back of Pavel’s throat, but he chokes on the words because an apology will not fix what he has done. It will not bring back the mother he failed to save, it will not make him less responsible, it will not absolve him of his failure.

—У меня получится! He hears his premature confidence echo in his head and never has he been so wrong.

His throat feels impossibly tight and he’s only semi-aware of the fact that he’s no longer sitting at the transporter controls. His back is firmly pressed against the wall and beyond the sound of his heart beating furiously in his chest, the room is deathly silent. He’s frozen still, not in control of his limbs. When he comes back to himself, Pavel sees it there in Spock’s eyes as his vision begins to fade: anger, betrayal, directed solely at him.

‘I trusted you to save her,’ Spock’s fury-darkened eyes say. Not a single soul moves to intervene. Pavel doesn’t remember how to speak, doesn’t think he’ll ever remember how to again.

—

Everything is still black when his eyes snap open and for a moment, nightmare is inseparably entangled with reality. He’s dead—Spock strangled him and he didn’t put up a fight now he is who-knows-where, there are no answers to what happens after death. But his heart is pumping like he has just finished a marathon—the hearts of dead men don’t beat—and he’s suddenly aware of the Starfleet issue blanket tangled around his midsection.

He is not dead. He is still on the Enterprise, startled awake by another nightmare. This is the fifth since they began their journey crawling back to Earth on impulse power and it will not be the last.

“Компьютер, свет на 20%.” His voice is far away and sleep-addled and it takes the computer a fraction of a second longer to obey when he mumbles in Russian, but the lights ease on. He digs his palms into his eyes and rubs away the exhaustion.

Almost any attempt at sleeping more than a few hours is thwarted by his subconscious—seventeen years is long enough to know how his body will react to certain things, and he has always suffered from nightmares in the wake of stress and trauma ever since he was young. They are defence mechanisms, he recalls reading in a journal when he was around ten years old, the subconscious mind’s way of working through difficult scenarios.

Some have suggested rewriting their nightmares and exerting a certain mastery over the dreamscape, but try as he might, this was never a skill he was able to achieve. Why, he can’t say—he knows what these nightmares are trying to tell him, so it should be simple to imagine a different outcome.

He finds this far more challenging than some of the courses at the Academy.

He’s tired—they all are, why should he complain?—but as long as he can continue to function as navigator and ensure their safe return home, he can endure the restless nights and Sulu’s constant enquiring after the faint dark circles under his eyes and the how are you? at the beginning of every shift. Sulu is a perceptive man. Pavel knows that he suspects something and that he does not really believe his smile and his automatic ‘I am fine, Mr. Sulu,” but he hasn’t pushed too far yet, and for that, he’s grateful.

He untangles himself from the covers and stands. His body wants to go back to sleep, but his mind and his heart are still racing. The chrono at his bedside reads 0229 hours and this may be a blessing in disguise. The Enterprise will be mostly asleep at this hour and he just wants to get out of this room, to wander the decks while he picks apart his thoughts and not have to worry about someone on the crew stopping to make small talk or smile ask how he is.

He’s fine. He just doesn’t want to smile right now.

Pavel snatches up the sweater he left hanging over the chair at his desk, tosses it on over his pyjamas, and slips out of his quarters in a pair of slippers.

Twenty-one steps takes him from his quarters to the turbolift and the only sounds in the corridor are his slippered feet tapping against the floor and the low humming breaths of the Enterprise. He mumbles, “Deck 2,” when the turbolift doors glide shut and steps out the moment they open about thirty-six seconds later.

He could spend some time on the Observation Deck and stare out into the black and let his mind wander. The stars have always been a comforting sight; something to focus on when his mind moved too fast for him to keep up. Tonight, he’d like to lose himself in plotting aimless courses and calculating within a minute the amount of time it would take them to reach home at this very moment.

Movement in the corridor in front of him momentarily makes him forget all that. He does not want company right now, but he quickly straightens his spine and attempts to muster up a cheerful smile. He’ll say hello, they’ll exchange small talk, and then he will be free to continue on.

It was a perfect plan had he run into anybody else on the crew. He should curse the universe for its cruelty.

“M-Mister Spock,” Pavel manages softly and forces his spine as straight as it can possibly go.

“Mister Chekov.” Spock tips his head a fraction of an inch and acknowledges him calmly. His voice sounds no different from the way he would address anyone else on the crew, but Pavel is still afraid to look him in the eye for too long and face what he’s seen in his nightmares.

Resentment. Blame. Anger.

“Is everything all right, Ensign?” Pavel swallows and forces himself to look up. It’s only now that he notices Spock is not in full uniform—he’s in black instead of science blue—and he looks perfectly relaxed with his hands clasped behind his back.

But he knows—it was a lie, then, just like his own. He remembers the mask of calm dissolving in the fire of explosive rage and how helpless the captain was when caught in it. He feels that same fury directed at him and he needs a minute to find his voice.

After a long pause, he answers, “You are not asleep. Sir.”

Spock lifts a brow. “No. Nor are you.” Pavel shakes his head and Spock continues, “You may join me if you do not have other arrangements. I am—amenable to the idea of company.”

He doesn’t elaborate any further. Pavel shuffles in place, momentarily stunned by the Commander’s easy invitation. He shouldn’t want anything to do with him. His guilt is written all over his face—the Commander should not want to spend time with the man responsible for the loss of his mother. It doesn’t add up.

The words he hasn’t said yet are eating a hole through his chest. In his nightmares, he never has the chance, but he can do it now, he can apologise, and he’ll understand if he blames him, he is well within his right t—

“Ensign.” Pavel’s thoughts come to a screeching halt. “Chekov.” Spock’s brows knit themselves together and a stone drops in Pavel’s stomach. Unless Spock used the telepathic abilities inherent to Vulcans to pick up on his thoughts, he hadn’t just thought all that—he said it out loud.

“Sir, I-I’m so sorry. I—”

“Come with me,” Spock says, less an invitation and more an order. “There are things we must discuss. Allow me to preface this with the following: I harbour no resentment towards you for what happened.”

#a;sldfkj alright so maybe it's a touch longer than i thought but still not very long #yes i'm not finishing the entire thing because i may do that in a separate post #i wanted to leave it there #also if you don't think pavel reprogrammed the computer in his quarters to handle commands given in russian you're dead wrong #hmmm. i don't have a tag for drabbles so i'll just slap the verse tag on it and call it a day #v | постоянная миссия

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polyo-nym-y · 15 days

Text

The Pushy Demon, a Drabble.

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Alastor x Female!Reader

[WARNINGS: Al fucks you in the elevator, you’re stubborn and put up a fight despite liking him, rough fuck, manhandling, dubcon??reader says stop but doesn’t really mean it, p in v sex etc etc MDNI!!!NSFW!!!!]

This is unedited so be warned !

I am once again posting a discord inspired prompt. This is for you guys ;3 I hope you enjoy it.

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Initially, you thought the Hazbin Hotel was God's last gift to you. You thought he might’ve taken pity on your poor sinful soul. That hopeful thinking died quickly on your very first day there.

Because this was Hell after all and every sinner was doomed to live eternity in agony. And agony is exactly how you’d describe your current situation.

It has been months now that you’ve suffered Alastors attacks. Since day one he seemed to target you as he actively sought you out. He relished every reaction he coaxed out of you with every tease and jab.

But it wasn’t his teasing that actually brought you agony. No, rather so it was the realization that you had grown quite fond of it. You used to groan at his jests and feel nothing but annoyance. But now? Now you felt a blush rising to your cheeks. His mere presence now seemed to wash waves of burning heat over you. You’d sooner double die than give him the satisfaction in knowing your fondness for him, though.

For a while this task was easy as the extermination date drew closer and closer. Alastor kept himself busy and a part of you felt upset that he wasn't making any effort to chase you. You felt like a silly child when your disappointment morphed into jealousy, eyes watching him pour his focus onto others. You knew it was ridiculous to feel envy as he showed more attention to the hotel. Which is exactly why you made an effort to avoid him completely now.

Alastor was perceptive, however, and your obvious avoidance didn't go unnoticed. At first he was amused by it as he watched you hurriedly run from him any time you saw him. But the game was getting old and he was growing bored. So when he heard from Charlie that you weren't feeling well and wouldn't be attending today's lesson, he was more than annoyed.

He sat in the foyer amongst the other residents, his eyes staring at Charlie and Vaggie. He pretended to listen as his talons tapped the arm of the chair rhythmically. He unfortunately found his mind wandering to you as he tuned out the lesson. Knowing well that you were not sick and that this was going to end tonight.

His ears twitched as he heard a faint shuffle across the lobby. His eyes didnt leave Charlie as his shadow looked for him. When he saw you peeking around a corner he had to fight the laugh that wanted to slip out. How cute.

You watched from a distance as they all attended that day's lesson. Your eyes lingered over Alastor as that stupid envy bubbled back up within you, upset that his eyes weren't on you. Disgusted with yourself you quickly turned on your heels and began walking back towards the elevator.

You didnt hear the lesson suddenly stop nor did you hear Alastor curtly excuse himself. You did however hear the familiar clacking of shoes trailing behind you. Instinctively you quickened your strides as you stared at the Elevator door just ahead of you. Surely it wasn't him, you thought, he didn't see you right?

You got your answer when you glanced over your shoulder. Alastors tall figure radiated annoyance as his long legs closed the distance at a terrifying rate. Without even thinking you broke into a sprint as you rushed forward. Your hands fighting against the metal lattice door as it got jammed. But once you finally opened it you stumbled into the brightly lit elevator, hands quickly trying to shove the still jammed door closed. A large black hand shot out as it stopped the cage door from closing, his dark gaze peering through the bars down at you.

“Going up? How perfect! So am I!” His smile widened as his eyes trailed down your throat, watching you swallow that delicious mix of fear and nervousness. He waited for you to drop your hands from the door before he slammed it open roughly. The act earned a flinch from you as you stepped back into the far corner.

Your arms crossed over your chest as you forced your nerves into annoyance. A glare being sent up to him as he cheerfully stepped inside and closed you both in. “I thought you were supposed to be attending today's lesson.”

“And I thought you were sick.”

“I was feeling better… but now I’m feeling worse.”

He pressed the top floor before glancing to his side, to you. You quirked your brow as you watched him look you up and down. “Hm, you do look terrible.”

Your eye twitched as you watched his shit eating grin grow. You bit back the remark you wanted to give him and chose to instead lean into the corner. Your eyes staring at the ground as you tried to ignore him.

The elevator rattled to life after a delay before it began to ascend. Alastor began to hum as he stepped closer to you. Your hands clutched around yourself tighter as you stepped away but Alastor only followed. With your shoulder now pressed against the cold metal wall Alastor made himself comfortable against your other shoulder. His larger body purposefully pressing against you.

Your heart began to race now that you couldn't stop yourself from thinking about him. Feeling the warmth of his body and the tingling static that hung in the air around him. You were contorting trying to avoid his touch, your face pressing into the wall. Alastors hum grew lower as he cocked his head, his deep gaze watching you carefully. With an annoyed groan you pushed yourself from the wall and away from him, shuffling to stand across from him. “UGH- this has to stop!”.

“You’re right, my dear, this does need to stop.”

“Wha-” Before you could even question what he meant the elevator began to stutter. The lights flickered above you as you reached your hands out trying to steady yourself. Suddenly the elevator came to a screeching halt as the lights went out completely, the only thing visible was Alastors glowing eyes.

A shiver ran down your spine when your eyes met his in the dark, the intense look had you frozen in place. He’d snap his fingers “Tch, looks like the elevator broke, how unfortunate.” A chuckle left him as you watched his eyes draw closer, his heels clicking as he took a single step forward. You sucked in a nervous breath as you stepped back, the metal cage rattling behind you.

“Alastor..” you warned as he took another slow step forward. “Turn it back on.”

“Turn what back on? You’re not insinuating that I have anything to do with this, are you?” He feigned offense. “I’m stuck in this predicament just as you are.”

You watched his eyes, the only thing you could see, as he continued to step forward. Stumbling, you felt your way along the wall as you side stepped him just before he caged you in. “Alastor, stay away from me-”.

A growl left him as he turned to follow your figure in the dark. “And why should I?” He hesitated for a moment before his grin widened. His eyes slipped closed and suddenly you were completely bathed in darkness. You swallowed nervously as you tried to make out where he was. The elevator creaked and suddenly you felt hot breath ghost against your ear “I know you’ve been avoiding me. But why is that, mon cher?”

Your hand flew out to smack him but you hit nothing but air. His voice now came from behind you as you felt sharp claws trail up your back and over your shoulders. “Missed me~” He'd laugh darkly as you opened your mouth to yell at him. But once again his actions silenced you as his large hands roughly pushed you forward.

Your hands flew out before you fell face first into the elevators wall, the force of your body had the elevator swaying and creaking. “FUCK- you wanna know why Im avoiding you?? Its because im fucking tired of playing your stupid games!”.

His hands were on you before you could turn around, a firm grip finding its way around your wrists. He pressed his chest against you as he pinned your body against the wall. You squirmed frantically as you tried wrenching your hands free but he only tightened his hold on you. Pressing you so harshly the cold metal began to sting your cheek. “Oh, darling, do you take me as a fool?” He dipped his head as he grazed his lips against your hair, inhaling your scent with a sigh. “You think I dont notice the red that blossoms on your cheeks? Or how your heart races- just as it is now.”

You gritted your teeth, still too stubborn to tell the truth. “Thats because your horrifying- a pushy demon who doesnt fucking know personal space!”

An unhinged laugh rumbled through his chest and into you. “You want to pretend its fear? Fine, then fear me. I’ll be that horrific demon for you.” Without another word he pressed his hips against the plushness of your ass, grinding into you slowly.

Your body tensed as you felt your stomach begin to flip. You tried to fight against him once more, your body thrashing against his. “AL-” Your words died in your throat as he kicked your legs apart, wedging his knee between your legs. One hand kept a tight hold on your left hand whilst his right arm snaked around your waist. He tugged you up onto his thigh and pressed his knee against the wall, your toes barely reaching the ground as he forced a pressure between your legs.

“Hm~?” He hummed a reply as his eyes slipped open once more. He felt your legs tremble and tense as you tried to lift up from his leg. His arm around your waist slithered back to settle on your hip as he grinded you down into him. “What is it, dear? You’ve gone awfully quiet. Too scared to speak?”

“S-Stop-” You choked on your words trying to bite back any moans that dared to slip out. As he grinded you against his thigh you felt the slickness that soaked your panties begin to seep onto his pants. Aimlessly you tried to push at him with your free hand. As if wanting to make a show of how weak you were he let your other hand go. Both of your hands now trying to grab at him from behind you.

“I wont. Plead all you want. I wont stop.” His left hand snaked under your shirt as he tore your bra to allow your breasts to spill out. Sharp talons scratched along sensitive flesh as he pinched and toyed with your hardening nipple. His hand at your hip stopped as it dipped under your waist band. Reaching to slide his fingers between your soaked lips just to bring them back out. “Especially not when you're this wet already.” He made a show of rubbing your fluids across your lips, knowing well you couldn't see how his fingers glistened in the dark. His talons wedged past your lips as he tried to pry your mouth open. When you refused he settled his mouth over the shell of your ear and gave it a bite. His fingers darted in as soon as you gasped, pressing against your tongue ensuring you thoroughly tasted yourself.

Your head began to grow foggy as you felt yourself beginning to relax into the pressure of his thigh. Hips twitching, desperately wanting that friction again. Instead, you bit down onto the fingers that invaded your mouth. A sharp hiss left Alastor as he fish hooked your cheek, yanking you back into his chest. His other hand came to wrap around your throat as he gave a warning squeeze. “HA! You want this to hurt, don't you?”

He continued yanking you back until your neck was craned, forcing you to look up into his glowing eyes. The dark amusement that swam in his red gaze sent a shock wave straight to your core as your thighs tightened around his. Despite every fiber of you screaming to submit, you refused. Your mouth struggling to suction closed with his fingers in your cheek. You tried to muster as much spit as you could as you sputtered up at him, messily spitting up at him and onto your own face.

He didn't say a word as his only reaction was his twitching eye. Slowly he took a deep breath before he removed his fingers from your mouth, knee suddenly slipping out from under you. “You are the most pathetically stubborn thing I have ever met.” With his hold on your throat still he threw you onto the ground like a ragdoll.

You winced at the impact before quickly trying to crawl away from him. “Wh- wait-AH-” his hand wrapped around your ankle and dragged you back to him as he settled on his knees. You held your breath as you stared into his eyes like a moth to a lamp, the sound of his zipper deafening in the small space. You felt him settle between your legs as his hands tore your underwear apart. “Al, wait-” when you tried to sit up his palm pushed you back down by your head as his fingers dug into your cheeks.

“You never listen do you, Mon cher?” he’d purr with a sweet tone that didnt match his rough hands. “You said it yourself. I'm a horrifying pushy demon who knows nothing about personal space, right?” you felt his swollen head swipe up between your lips before he quickly snapped his hips into you. You choked and gasped at the sudden intrusion as he bottomed out in one thrust. His cock twitched inside of you as your cunt fluttered around him. “To think I’m dizzy for a dame like you.” A forced laugh left him before he was pushing your legs open wider.

He was suddenly thrusting into you at a brutal pace as his hands gripped and clawed at your flesh. A desperate mewl left your throat as all of your fight left you, your shaking hips trying to push into each thrust. “A-Alastor- f-fuck-” you moaned out mumbled words. His hands settle on your hips to hold you still.

“Mm-mhm? Are you going to be honest now?” when your hips still tried to fight against him he pulled from you. Your limp body being flipped onto your stomach quickly before he buried himself back into you. One hand kept your hips up whilst his other tangled into your hair, pressing your face down to force your back into an arch.

You could only cry and moan into the floor as your spit pooled below you. Legs shaking as he fucked into your cunt like his afterlife depended on. Each thrust had his heavy balls smacking against your clit, a jolt of electricity sent through you each time as you felt that coil tighten quickly. You tried to nod but his hand against your head made it difficult, but you couldnt manage a real response right now. “Ah-h, theres my good fucking girl.” He’d coo down to you between pants. You swore if honesty was the cost for this? Youd never utter a lie ever again.

His claws dug into your flesh as he rutted into you. The burning pain mixed with your quickly approaching release and you felt like youd die again. Your shaky hand tried to cover your mouth to stifle the erotic sounds you were making. The elevator creaked with every deep thrust, his own movements getting sloppy as he felt you tightly clenching around him.

The lights began to flicker to life just as you began to reach your peak, eyes squeezing shut at the sudden brightness. His hand in your hair yanked your head up from the floor as you felt the elevator stutter before suddenly descending. You felt fear prickle every nerve as a scream ripped from your throat at the feeling of falling rapidly. Your orgasm didnt stop though as your fearful scream turned into a raspy moan, your cunt twitching around Als cock as he buried himself deep into you. A groan leaving him as he reached his own release, his seed spilling into you as he grinded it in deeper.

With a jolt the elevator stopped its sudden descent as the light fully turned on. The small space fell silent as he released his hold on you. Before he could even pull out his head snapped towards the lattice door.

A very shocked and disgusted Husk stood in front of the elevator door. Angel peaked over with a surprised grin. “Holy shit it reeks of sex. No fuckin’ way you and smiles just banged in the elevator!”

All you could do was groan into the ground.

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*Dizzy with a dame: 1920s slang ‘to be deeply in love with a woman’.

#alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #the radio demon #alastor x reader smut #alastor x reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut

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atticrissfinch · 3 months

Text

I’ve Got My Red Dress on Tonight | (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)

Part 5 of Meet Me in the Back

pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader summary: When your Valentine's Day date doesn't show, you decide there's one person who would be happy to see you. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] age gap (no specifics), drug use (marijuana), daddy!kink, fingering (vaginal and....anal!!!), v brief foot fetish, squirting, praise!kink and degradation!kink (use of slut/whore), unprotected PIV, creampie, some ~touching in public, smoking, taking pictures mid-coitus, really nasty gross fluff i'm sorry about it. lemme know if i forgot something i gotta go fast i wanna post word count: ~7.8k jesus christ | ao3a/n: much thanks for the anon who suggested a V Day fic for these two <3 Thank you to my love Iris @papipascalispunk for making sure my commas and em-dashes are where they're supposed to be. ALSO. Chloe, resident sleazy!joel expert, wrote a little drabble inspired by Joel in this fic!! Please check it out after you've read this chapter! The Sighting by ChloeAngelic <3 Divider by @saradika-graphics ❤️ Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic! Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi

The dress feels ungodly tight, but you had figured it would be worth it.

It wasn’t.

In fact, the dress hasn’t seen anything but the inside of your apartment.

Your hair was done just the way you love it, you pulled out all the stops with your makeup, and you had squeezed yourself into this glittery, red mini dress that makes your tits look stunning, which you bought just for this night.

You’d been out with Brent twice before, and even though you’d thought it was a little early in your “relationship” for a Valentine’s Day dinner, when he asked to “make it a special night” for you, you agreed. The last thing you wanted was to be alone on this godforsaken holiday.

Well, at least he’d had the courtesy to give you twenty minutes' notice that he was bailing on you instead of just leaving you waiting on your couch wondering if he would come at all.

Now you’re just waiting on your couch, wondering what the fuck to do.

You open your messages on your phone and swipe away from your broken plans. The next thread under it is Joel’s.

Joel: i swear 2 god i saw one tho

You: you did not see a UFO, Joel

Joel: yes i did!!! it was way the hell up there flashin its lights!!! saw it clear as day!!!

You: that was most definitely just a normal plane, old man. Turn off Ancient Aliens once in a while.

Joel: ur gonna be real sorry wen im FAMOUSS for findin the first REAL aliens 👽 🛸

You: I’m sure I will be

Joel: u can make it up 2 me by flashin me them headlights of urs again 😈

Joel: honk honk 😈

You: Bye 🙄 😒

Joel: 👅

A smile tugs at your lips as you read through the conversation from earlier this evening. You hadn’t told him about the date. Or dates, rather. If this one had gone well, you might have. If things wound up back at your place and actually moved a step toward something.

You deflate against the back of your couch. Because there’s nothing now. Just you, your suffocating dress, and your stupid heels. The vicious claws of insecurity start to scrape at the back of your neck.

Brent didn’t want you. You weren’t good enough. You’re not good enough for anyone.

Tears prick at your eyes and you dab them with the side of your finger to keep your mascara intact, following it up with some deep breaths and your head tipping back between your shoulders, forcing the tears back into your skull.

That’s not true, you recite to yourself. You know there’s always someone who’s happy to see you.

Another deep breath.

Someone who would be dead on his feet seeing you dressed like this.

On your next breath you’re already shimmying out of your panties and checking the mirror to make sure no one is getting a free show who doesn’t deserve it.

You scurry as quickly as you can to your car, shivering so fiercely it feels like your goddamn pussy has goosebumps from being exposed like this. You weather through it, chanting in your head some quote you heard about how hoes never get cold.

When you get to the gas station, you scamper from your car into the store, shuddering when the heat hits you once you open the door. You tug your dress down and glance around, not immediately seeing Joel anywhere. He’s not at his usual spot, parked behind the counter. You venture further into the shop, peering down the aisle.

“Evening,” someone says just behind you, and you jump, whirling around.

It’s not Joel. It’s some other schmuck with a scraggly, graying ginger beard and a crooked, lumpy nose. His smile is friendly enough, but it lacks that trademark sleaziness that typically oozes from the person you’re accustomed to seeing man the store. His name tag reads Walter.

“Evening,” you squeak out, cringing and clearing your throat when your voice spills out much higher pitched than you expected. You tug on your dress again.

“Help you with anything?” he asks, and you’re relieved to find his gaze holding steady on yours, not drifting elsewhere despite the swathes of skin on display in your chosen outfit.

Joel wouldn’t even be able to begin to know where to fucking look, your mind provides, and you find yourself trying to come to terms with the apparent fact that… Joel isn’t here.

He isn’t here – on Valentine’s Day.

“I’m, um…I’m actually looking for Joel?”

Walter’s eyebrows shoot up, then fall into a furrow. “He been hiring on the clock again? Goddamn it, I told him not to fucking do that anymore,” he mutters, shaking his head down at the floor before looking back up at you. “Miss, I’m real sorry, I know you’re doing honest work and all, but I can’t have that shit here.”

It takes a moment for you to fully register what he’s saying, but when you do, your eyes go wide. “Oh, sir, I’m not— you’ve got— no, no. I’m just a friend of Joel’s.”

“I'm sure you are, Miss, but I—”

“I’m not a prostitute,” you insist under your breath, glancing around to ensure no one is in the vicinity. “I swear to god, I just had a date tonight, or I was going on a date, and then I wasn’t, and— I swear, I’m just dressed for a date. A normal date.”

You’re not sure your frantic insistence has Walter very reassured, but he just nods, a skeptical look in his eye. “Well, in any case, he’s not here. He’s got the night off.”

“Got it. Okay, thank you,” you say, wincing a little at the palpable awkwardness. You rush past him to leave, your heels clicking loudly, and apparently, whorishly, across the floor.

“Stay safe out there, honey,” Walter calls after you.

Your car is blessedly still harboring warmth as you clamor back inside and start the engine. You catch your breath and mull over what to do next.

He wasn’t there. On Valentine’s Day. You feel like that can only mean one thing. Something squiggles and squirms in your belly at that thought.

You have one more shot, and you take it, speeding off toward the outskirts, hoping you can go fast enough to drown out the weird feeling in your stomach.

—

His truck is there. And it’s alone in the gravel next to his trailer.

You see light through his weeping blinds, a warm yellow glow accompanied by periodically flickering colors that you assume is his television. A good sign, you think.

The wind whips around your bare legs as you climb his steps carefully in your stilettos, staring up to admire the waxing gibbous moon shining absurdly bright against the speckled black sky. You lean against the dilapidated railing of his tiny porch in front of his door. The sky is never this bright where you live. It fills you with a sort of warmth. Comfort. You hear the distorted sound of voices on his television and the faint aroma of weed seeping out the frame of his door.

You don’t hear anyone else.

So you knock.

You hear a nasty cough from the other side of the door and the volume of the TV ticking down. The door swings open and you’re hit in the face two-fold—with a wall of smoke and a wall of bare-chested man.

Joel blinks and squints reddened eyes as he blocks the entire doorway, billows of haze attempting to escape around him to the fresh air. Then recognition glows in his eyes and his gaze drifts. Up and down. And his jaw goddamn drops.

Your arms clasp at your back as you rock on your teetering heels.

“Hi.”

Joel crams his eyes shut again, shaking his head like a dog like he’s trying to clear a fog over his vision. But he opens them again, and you’re still standing there, and he expels a long, narrow breath through his lips.

“Jesus fucking Christ. This is heaven, right? Or— jesus— fuckin’…hell, in that devil of a dress,” he shakes his head again, slower, more like disbelief, and a smile pushes at your mouth. “You just showin’ up on my doorstep? Dressed like that? I must be fuckin’ dead.”

You temper your broadening grin, reining in your utter delight at receiving exactly the reaction you were craving. “So, you’re saying me, weed, and…” you crane your head to peek at his television, “And SVU is your idea of heaven?”

“Damn near fuckin’ close,” he says, a reverence about his tone as he drinks you in gratuitously. He pulls himself out of his stupor and hurriedly gestures inside. “Jesus, sweetheart, come in. Gotta be freezin’ your gorgeous tits off out there.”

His hand falls to the small of your back as he ushers you inside, the sweet tang of his evening stress relief burning stronger in your nostrils in his living room.

Joel shuts the door behind you both and lets out a sharp whistle. “Sweet Mary Mother’a God. That fuckin’ ass,” he mutters under his breath.

You peer your head around your shoulder to take in the sight of him, just as he does you. One hand frozen against the door, soft belly poking out over the hem of his sweatpants, dark hair sweeping over the curve of it and up his chest. And, of course, that fucking tent at his crotch, growing larger by the second.

“Be still my fuckin’ heart – the hell are you doin’ here in that, darlin’ girl?”

Your cheeks begin to heat.

He’s never said it like that. Darlin’ girl. It’s usually some iteration of one or the other, but never together.

Darlin’ girl.

You fill in a blank for yourself — unintentionally, but so fucking naturally.

My darlin’ girl.

Where your stomach was squirming, it now flutters. You swallow it down. Pull your mind back. You just want to feel wanted. That’s why you’re here.

Then he’s at your back, pressing all of him against you. The softness of his torso, the scratch of his facial hair, the hardness of his cock. Planting feathery kisses along your neck with teasing bites.

A giggle bubbles up your chest and you free up more of your neck for him to devour. “I’m here to see the stupid aliens, you dumbass.”

His lips pause on your neck. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles against your skin.

“Yeah,” you laugh lightly, “Where’s your flying saucer? Your flashing lights?”

Joel’s hands sweep up your sides and cup your breasts through your dress, squeezing them tight in his grip. “Right fuckin’ here, baby,” he growls into the underside of your jaw, “Let me turn ‘em on for ya.”

You throw your head back with another easy laugh and you feel the shape of his smile against your cheek as he massages your covered tits.

“Mmmm,” he hums, rocking his hips against your ass, his massive length nestling and sliding between your cheeks over your dress. “Come smoke a bowl with me. ‘N then tell me why you’re dressed like living sin in my living room.”

“How about you just fuck me,” you sigh, tangling your fingers into Joel’s hair and holding his lips to your neck.

“‘Cause I wanna stare at you in this dress a little while longer ‘fore I rip it to fuckin’ shreds,” he says, his words increasingly muffled by the exposed skin of your spaghetti-strapped shoulder.

A shiver trembles down your spine and you take a steadying breath. “Okay. Then you better detach before all that shit goes out the window.”

Joel takes a deep breath and rolls his forehead over your shoulder with a moan. “Smart. You’re so goddamn smart. So goddamn pretty. Got my Peter pipin’ up a storm down there.”

You roll your eyes and will yourself forward, toppling onto his sagging couch with him trailing along behind and groaning as he sinks into it.

Your hands go to the straps on your heels and you begin to unfasten when you hear a definitive nuh-uh. You glance up and Joel’s eyes are fixated on your blood-red satin heels. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“Really?”

“Really. Those naughty fuckers stay on,” he orders, and you have no choice but to let your hands fall away.

“Okay, then.”

Joel’s tongue darts out to wet his lips briefly. “Shit. Alright. Where the fuck was I?”

Joel busies his hands – his focus – with topping off the contents in the bowl of his bong. He graciously offers it to you.

“Light it for me?”

Joel smirks and flicks his lighter as he holds the glass contraption steady.

Once you’ve taken a healthy puff, Joel sets the devices aside and crooks a finger under your chin, coaxing you forward. The burn curls in your throat as you hold the smoke. Joel’s nose traces a delicate line down your cheek before hovering his parted lips over your mouth and tracing his thumb over your painted red lip, smearing the color down your chin.

“Let it out,” he mutters, his heavy, rosey stare shimmering into yours.

The smoke cascades from between your lips into Joel’s waiting mouth where he inhales it with practiced ease, holding it for a moment before exhaling the remnants of it over your face with a lazy smile.

“So fuckin’ sweet spillin’ outta that mouth, little Sugarplum,” he croons, continuing to futz with the color on your lips.

You wrinkle your nose at him and laugh. “Dude, you’re so fucking high right now, my asshole would probably taste sweet.”

“It does,” Joel drawls, rolling your bottom lip down and watching it snap back up. “I got first-hand ‘xperience. Or…first…mouth…” Joel’s train of thought floats off from there as his eyes transfix on your lips.

“Another hit, please.”

That refocuses his attention and he nods, a little sluggish. You take the reins this time, lighting the bowl yourself and savoring your pull.

As you exhale again into the thick air of his trailer, Joel takes another, more modest puff to maintain his already achieved high.

“Shit, I needed this,” you groan, feeling more and more boneless as you melt into his couch. “That’s good shit.”

“I don’t skimp on what’s important,” Joel mumbles, slumping over until his curly mop plops into your lap.

You chuckle at him, stroking a hand through his hair and receiving a very pornographic moan in response when your nails scratch against his scalp.

“Fuckin’ Christ. You’re my fuckin’ angel. Angel in devil’s clothes.”

Cleverness begins to fail you as the cozy tendrils of the weed start to lighten your brain into something a little more relaxed. So you just sink into the couch, playing with his soft locks and humming to his lethargic babble.

When you’ve waded through the deepest of the haze, Joel sits back up, cradling his cheek in the crook of his arm as it balances on the back of his sofa. “So what are you doin’ here, Sugarplum? You get all dressed up for me? ‘Cause I somehow doubt that.”

You smirk at him in what you hope is playfully, but lands somewhere closer to dopey. “Why do you doubt that?”

He just fixes you with a telling look, and you concede.

“Okay. No, I um– I had a date tonight.”

Joel nods, a little exaggeratedly in his current state. “Pretty little thing had a date. ‘Course she did.”

“Well, I did,” you say, pulling your legs up onto the couch and folding them to your side, maintaining what seems like a silly level of modesty given your present company. “Until he canceled on me about twenty minutes before he was supposed to pick me up.”

The divots between his brows seem to grow impossibly deep at that. “You gotta be goddamn jokin’ me. No fucker in his right mind would stand up a thing like you.”

You dip your head down, picking at the fraying threads of his couch cushion. “Not so sure about that.”

“I am. I’m damn sure.”

You shrug, “I just didn’t want the dress to go to waste.”

“Sure as hell didn’t.”

You hum in response. Picking. Tugging. Picking. Tugging. Until you feel fingers pinching your chin and guiding your attention up. And his eyes are still watery, still tinged with red, but are so unwavering as they burrow into your own, brimming with wetness for a wholly different reason.

“Hey,” he utters, soft as anything, soft as his hair, soft as his belly, soft as his eyes. “It sure as hell didn’t,” he repeats, and waits for you to acknowledge it.

And you do, with a small nod and sniffle.

“Good girl.”

Your lip quivers at that, and the words tumble out. “Fuck me. Right now.”

Your back hits the seat cushions and his mouth is on yours, tasting sweet and a little bitter as his tongue strokes between your teeth. His noises pitch upward as you tug lightly at his hair, and his knee situates itself between your legs, providing you with delicious friction against your already dripping core.

Joel’s breath wafts hot over your ear as he rasps, “You take your panties off for him or for me?”

“For you,” you reply breathily, moaning as he nips and licks at your ear, his increased breath reverberating in your head so loud it makes your pussy throb with the influx of intimacy.

“All for me?” he asks, maneuvering a hand down to where you’re wet and begging for him, “Goin’ commando in this tight ‘n tiny little number, riskin’ givin’ anyone on the street a flash of your drippy little slit?”

Your moan bounces off the walls when he slips two fingers inside of you, pumping and curling them with a rehearsed accuracy that has pleasure fraying your edges as soon as he sets his pace.

“And you brought it here to me? Brought me this sexy, heart-shaped box of yours all wrapped up in a pretty package?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, wrapping a heel-clad foot around his waist to spread yourself open for him, “Brought it for you. All for you. Please.”

“You gonna come for me, you naughty little angel? Come on daddy’s fingers.”

You whimper as he strokes at you with those fingers, his other hand descending on your clit to rub circles with his thumb. Your hips buck into his hand on your clit and down onto his fingers pistoning inside you, and you feel yourself coming apart all at once, your voice breaking as you call out for him.

Joel showers you in praise as he fucks you through your release, resting his forehead on your temple. “Good fuckin’ girl. All that for daddy. Good girl. Squeeze daddy’s fingers, just like that, baby. Fuckin’ shit. So fuckin’ pretty.”

A whine kicks up in your throat as the overstimulation starts to throb in your clit, and you bump at his hand to stem the sensation. Joel’s fingers web through yours as he pins your hand above your head on the arm of the sofa, his two fingers slowing to a methodical crawl within your pussy.

“Love how you feel around my fuckin’ fingers, sweetheart. Love seein’ how tight you clench around ‘em, knowin’ I’m about to stretch you wide open on my cock and feel you just as tight.”

“Fucking love your cock, daddy,” you keen as your hips undulate in time with his continued ministrations inside you. “Wanna be filled with it right now.”

“You want daddy’s cock now?” he teases, the tips of his two fingers dragging delightfully against the most enticing spot of your inner walls, drawing a tender gasp from your lips.

“I really, really do,” you whimper, grinding onto his hand harder, “Need you to split me open, daddy.”

“Can I get a ‘please’ all pretty-like for me?”

You whine again and nod. “Please, daddy. Fill me with your cock.”

“You deserve it, don’t you, sexy girl?”

And the way he asks it, the way his eyes bore into yours when he does, you feel like he’s asking you to admit to more than you’d otherwise be willing to offer yourself.

Tell yourself that you deserve good things. You deserve this pleasure.

“I—” your breath hitches as his fingers crook inside you again, your nerve faltering at your lips.

Joel’s lips part as he keeps drawing your pleasure tighter again, and you feel your core building that pressure again. “Tell me. Tell daddy you deserve his cock.”

“I— I deserve it,” you force out through the mounting pleasure in your brain, gasping when his fingers pick up momentum. “Oh, god, that…it feels…”

“Yeah, pretty girl? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for daddy, I can feel it too. You deserve this, baby,” he coos, releasing your trapped hand to press firmly above your pulsing cunt. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn wet for me. Show me how wet you are for daddy, make your little hole gush for me.”

“Daddy, I…oh,” you squeak out as a wave of pleasure washes over you, pulsing out your limbs. And more than that, you feel a steady stream of liquid flow out of you, you hear the wet slap of Joel’s fingers, his palm, as it floods his hand.

“Oh fuck, that’s it, baby. That’s it, darlin’ girl. Soak my fuckin’ hand. Such a naughty little bitch. Squirtin’ out your filthy little snatch for daddy. That’s fuckin’ right,” he babbles as his palm smacks lewdly up against your cunt with a fresh wave of wetness.

Your hips jolt with the heightened sensation, and you can’t muster anything more than barely audible moans as Joel fucks you until you have nothing left for him to coax out.

“Fuckin’ shit, sweetheart. Messy fuckin’ girl,” he grunts as he wipes his dripping hand on his sweats before tucking both behind your knees and spreading your legs to admire your drenched, finger-fucked cunt. “So juicy for daddy, huh? Daddy’s gonna slide his big straw into that sloppy little juice box of yours. And when I’m done you can suck on his big straw like a good little girl. How’s that sound, sweetheart?”

“Can you please just fuck me?” you beg, slipping the straps of your dress off your shoulders to push your dress and strapless bra below your tits. Joel stares hungrily as you play with them for him.

“Fuck me. Yeah, your little box is ready to get stuffed, ain’t it?” he moans, tilting his head to the side to kiss up your calf and up to your ankle, still encased in your shoe. His teeth bite at the strap and buckle, skimming his lips wetly down the curve of your foot to the arch of it and sucking at the side of it he’s able to reach.

“Joel,” you whine helplessly, desperately as your pussy screams for that bulge in his pants to bury itself inside your body instead. “What the fuck are you doing.”

“Worshippin’ my slutty little goddess. You blessed me with this little dress, this tasty little puss, so I’m gonna show my appreciation,” he mutters into your foot.

And it shouldn’t feel good, but you’ve never had anyone put their lips on your feet before, and you’re so fucking horny for this man, you let yourself feel it. Your other heel drapes over his shoulder as his mouth drags over the slope of your foot and back up your ankle.

“Such a pretty outfit, so I’ve decided not to tear it apart. Nasty little whore, you made it easy to access whatever I want anyway,” he chuckles a bit, gliding his teeth up until he can bite at the skin under your knee.

You groan and press your head into the couch cushion, “Not the first person to accuse me of being a hooker tonight.”

Joel pauses for a second with a suspicious look. “Who was the first? Better not’ve been that shitty fucker who stood you up, or I’ll deck his lights out,” he says with a gentle aggression that has a rolling heat burgeoning in your stomach for a reason you can’t quite place.

“No, it was that old guy at your work tonight.”

Joel cocks his head. “Walter? Walter said you were a hooker?”

“I said I was looking for you and he just…assumed, I think. You hire hookers on the clock? ‘Cause he seems to think so.”

“Only a handful of times,” he mutters, his eyes going shifty, uneasy, almost…embarrassed. “I don’t wanna talk about that. Not with your slutty little hole winkin’ at me like that.”

“Fair enough,” you dismiss, tapping your heel against Joel’s back to spark his attention. “Stop making me fucking wait for what I came for.”

“Already came twice,” Joel says under his breath, but he uses the hand not gripping the back of your knee to work his cock out of its confines, springing out angry and red and as intimidating as ever. He leaves it bobbing free as he takes up his hands behind both of your knees to spread you wider. “Guide it where you want it, pretty girl. He’s all yours.”

You bite your lip at those words. He’s all yours. Your hand wraps around his girth before you let your mind race too far. You stroke him softly and revel in the way his chin droops down to his chest and a groan rumbles in his throat at the first real stimulation of his cock.

“Let me feel that red velvet pussy, baby.”

You finally notch the fat head of him at your entrance and wiggle your hips down the couch, gasping as it parts your opening with a dull sting. When you capture Joel’s gaze, you beg softly, “Fuck it, daddy. She’s all yours.”

His face caves into an expression so aroused it almost looks painful. And then he’s groaning to fill the hush of the room and spearing into your cunt with every inch of him at once.

You’ll never get used to the sounds that he pushes out of you when he fucks you full, when he enters you for the first time and smacks you in the face with how gigantic he is in comparison to the tight ring of your pussy. Like a wounded animal, like prey falling to a predator, like you’re irreversibly changed once he’s claimed you for his own.

His rhythm sets off harsh and frantic and consuming, keeping your legs spread to feast his eyes upon your ravaged flesh.

“Fuck, so goddamn perfect. Feel so perfect around my cock. Milkin’ daddy just right with this tight little hole, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, tweaking your hardened nipples between your fingers and massaging at your tits as his hips smack against yours, the drenched state of your pussy enhancing the sound.

Joel secures your legs over his shoulders and leans in over you, bracketing your head with his hands and snapping his hips into you as you cry out with the change in angle, pulling him deeper inside you.

“Yeah, daddy’s so fuckin’ deep, huh? You love this fuckin’ cock? You love daddy fuckin’ this dirty snatch so fuckin’ deep?”

“Yes,” you keen, flinging your hands back to dig your nails into the arm of his couch and using it as leverage to fuck yourself down onto his length as he shoves it in, falling into a blissful harmony.

“Fuck daddy’s cock, slutty girl. God, I fuckin’ love that. Suckin’ it right up your cunt like a pro. Pussy’s so tight I got it molded to my cock now, don’t I? Ain’t gonna fit right with no other cock, is it?”

“No, daddy,” you whine, plunging yourself down onto him again and again just to feel the tip of it dragging along your cervix in that way you have come to fucking crave. Joel’s cock fucks you open and curves up into that perfect spot inside of you in the most flawless rhythm, and it has you spiraling into another orgasm with no discernible warning. You pussy clenches and spills around his cock, soaking the both of you with what Joel had already primed you for with his fingers.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” Joel moans as he lets his cock slip out of you to watch you gush onto his thoroughly soiled couch. He fucks back into you in a single push and withdraws again, just to see more of it rush out. Joel fists his cock and slaps it down onto your spread folds in a series of heavy smacks, then rubs the head of it against your clit as the rivulets cascading from you subside. “Gushin’ like a fuckin’ jacuzzi. Where you been hidin’ this little party trick?”

“I don’t fucking know,” you pant out, trying to get a grip on your shaking thighs as Joel’s cock slides through your folds. “Fuck. I didn’t know…”

“Well if anyone was gonna teach you, it would be your big dick daddy, now wouldn’t it?” Joel brags, smacking the full length of him against your lips and lower belly.

You twitch with residual aftershocks as the weight of him jostles you, and Joel chuckles.

“You’re shaking like a leaf darlin’,” he says, tapping one of your quivering thighs. “Flip over for me. Daddy’s gonna dick you down real good.”

“Gonna?” you squeak out, staring at him incredulously, “What have you been doing so far?”

Joel presses his lips together to stifle a laugh and smacks at your thigh again. “Ego’s already big enough, darlin’. Don’t go pumpin’ it up for me now.”

“Can say that again,” you mutter with a small smile, but flip over until you’re flat on your stomach and resting your head in your arms. “Big dick, bigger ego.”

Joel grunts behind you as he settles on top of you, slipping his arm under and around your shoulder and nuzzling into your neck. He grinds his cock into the cleft of your ass before pulling back and aligning it at your entrance again with his hand. He hums in your ear and says with laughter in his voice, “Imagine if it was my ego I was shovin’ into this tiny cunt. You’d be fucked.”

Your reply is replaced with a gasping moan as he presses back into you at a different angle, this one rubbing intensely along the front wall of your pussy. The groan you release is embarrassing, abhorrent to your own ears, but Joel’s answering moan has all concern fluttering from your conscience.

“How’re you still so fuckin’ tight after I’ve fucked you open so many times, huh, Sugarplum?” he asks, voice clearly forced out through his teeth, like he’s fighting for his life not to spill his load inside of you in the next few seconds. But he bottoms out and fucks you slow, staying balls deep and making a home for himself there in the deepest part of you. “Jesus, need to dust off the ol’ cock ring. Wanna fuck you for hours, baby. Fuck you raw and stupid on this dick. Fuck you ‘til you fall asleep on it, you’re so goddamn tired. Fuck you ‘til you forget what it feels like to not be stuffed full of me.”

“Daddy,” you whimper into your arms, already overwhelmed by the sheer heft of this man making room for himself inside your body, not even giving your pussy an ounce of space to relax that isn’t around him, isn’t on his terms. “Feels so fucking good inside. So fucking big.”

“I know it, sweetheart. So good at takin’ this cock. That first time I thought you was gonna pass out on it. And look at you now – shakin’ and beggin’ for it like a bitch. You daddy’s bitch, nasty girl?”

“Yes,” you whine as Joel starts to slam his hips harder, faster into you, “Yes, I’m your bitch, daddy!” And you’re suddenly screaming it for him as his fingers dig into the back of your shoulder, holding you steady as he uses you.

“Fuck yeah,” he growls out, hoisting himself off you and hauling your hips into the air along with him. He fucks down deep into you as you moan into the couch, allowing him to take what he’s rightfully earned from you, simply by appreciating you, knowing how to make you scream, knowing how to make you come.

And you’re fairly dizzy with the experience, but you aren’t far gone enough to not feel the slippery thumb massaging circles against the tight ring of muscle he’s only ever explored before with his tongue.

A mewl escapes your lips as the tip of the digit teases your resolve.

“You gonna be my little slut, baby? Let daddy put his thumb in your ass. It’s real good for ya. It’ll be real good,” he speaks in breathy pants as his cock maintains its devastating tempo.

You let out a pitiful whimper, and you’re only partially surprised that the only answer in your head is yes, yes, yes.

It’s apparently also on your lips, because without even registering that you’ve said it aloud, Joel is rumbling out a deep and resonant, “That’s my darlin’ girl.” You swear you feel your eyes roll back in your head as the possessive praise inextricably clings itself to the sensation of his thick, meaty thumb gliding into your asshole up to the knuckle.

It shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t feel this good having his cock filling you to the brim and then even more of him filling your ass. You’ve never liked anal, you’ve never even been interested in it, but this fucking tornado of a man has everything spinning in your head, disorienting your thoughts, screaming at you that what you thought was wrong is so, so right.

“Lemme get a picture of this, sweetheart – of you all plugged up with me.”

“Okay,” you gasp, constricting your grip around his thumb as if needing to hammer into your head that there’s a finger in your ass. A thick finger. He can probably feel his own cock through the separating skin.

Joel groans as you flex around his finger. “Spread yourself for the camera, baby.”

Your hands move to your cheeks and you can’t bring yourself to feel shame for this. Not for shit like this, with him. Not anymore. He makes you feel dirty and sexy and beautiful and worth his time. Why the hell wouldn’t you want to document this?

“Fuckin’ hell. Just like that.” You hear a series of shutters, and then his thumb slides out of you and he uses it to pull at the small established gape he’s made of your asshole. A few more shutters and Joel is muttering perfect, fuckin’ perfect, as he tosses his phone aside.

The words flow through you like hot honey tea, even if you weren’t meant to hear them. How does a man like him make you feel so treasured when you’re with him? You don’t belong to him, but he treats you like you do, in the most respectful of ways. He drags you down with him into the depths of his depravity, and yet once you’re there, you’re pleasured like… like a goddess. Like his goddess.

Joel’s hips ramp up again, timing his thrusts with that of his thumb as he fucks you in both holes at once. “God, so fuckin’ beautiful like this. Wanna stretch this hole open until you can take this whole cock up your ass, baby. Spill my load in there, watch it drip down your cunt.”

And you had said unequivocally no. You had said, not tabling. Off the table. But, god, deep down you know he’d make it feel so good. Somehow, he’d make it worth it. And it’s fucking killing you. You can’t admit that to him, you can’t let him know that you’re convinced he could make anything feel good. That’s too close to something. And this isn’t something. This is I make you feel good, you make me feel good, and we go our separate ways.

So you just moan for him in response. A verbal confirmation is too much. Giving him too much power over you. And Joel seems too lost in the clutch of your body to parse the difference.

“Velvet fuckin’ pussy, darlin’,” he chants to the rhythm of his hips colliding with yours, and you’ve come to recognize the telltale signs of his impending orgasm. His sounds start to fluctuate in pitch, his hips more stuttered in their movement, his fingernails indent your skin as he frantically clings to the final moments of euphoric crescendo before the cymbal crash.

And crash it does, announced with an unabashed groan of sheer pleasure as he spills himself inside of you again, so many times now you’ve lost count, lost sense of the level of responsibility in your actions. Too feral, too dependent on the soothing, post-fuck tranquility of his come dripping from the deepest part of you. A balm to your stretched, aching wound that he caused, because you asked him to — keep asking him to — again and again. A reminder of where he’s been, what he’s done to you, what he’s done with you in all these private moments.

He slips himself free, and you feel the trickle of him, evidence of how much he’s pumped into you. Leaving you open and gaping, yet so fucking full of him, even after he’s gone. Pulled out and dripped free of your heat and hold.

Lazy kisses paint up your back where your dress has ridden up your spine, and then back down to bite more reminders of him into the flesh of your ass, until he guides your hips flush to the couch and blankets you with his weight.

Minutes of quiet breath-catching tick by, feeling the scratch of his hair where your bare skin meets along your bodies, until Joel breaks the silence to say, “Stupid bastard was out of his fuckin’ mind.”

And you’re not positive why, but you feel tears stinging your eyes again. You steel yourself, refuse to let them fall, force them to dry out before they betray you.

You clear your throat of any traitorous frogs before you speak again. “Sorry about your couch.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout,” he reassures, grunting quietly as he shifts himself off you and slips behind instead, pulling you into him, “Plus, Doreen’s got one of them special little steam cleaners she lets me borrow from time to time. Get it cleaned up real nice.”

“Doreen?”

“Little old lady ‘cross the way,” he says into your hair.

You do your best to turn slightly and look at him. “You’re friends with the little old lady across the way?”

“You doubt my charm?”

Your eyes search his face — the wide, dopey smile, the drooping eyelids, the dwindling glassy rose in his eyes from the weed — and you smile back.

“Maybe. Feel like you would be a kind old lady’s worst nightmare.”

“Nah, I’m a good boy. Just ask my mama,” he quips.

“Sure,” you joke, positioning yourself back into a proper little spoon.

You feel a kiss on the back of your head. “Gonna step out for some fresh air and a smoke. Keep me company?”

You grumble as Joel props himself upright on the couch and pulls his sweats back up. “‘S’cold outside,” you groan, watching him as he stands and slips on a shirt from where it was strewn onto the back of a chair.

Joel studies you where you lie, your dress a flimsy accordion with the top and bottom convening at your torso, leaving Joel’s favorite bits on display. And as much as you assume it probably pains him to have your body hidden from his view, he says, “You can wear my coat.”

Your eyes light up. “Yeah?”

Joel masks a grin and grabs the coat off the peg by the door, throwing it to you. You know this coat. You’ve worn it before. And although you don’t want to give yourself away by inhaling its scent too gratuitously, you don’t capture any hints of your perfume on the fabric in your covert sniffs. It’s been too long.

You push yourself onto only moderately shaky legs and work yourself back into your dress properly before slipping your arms through the coat and zipping it around you. You feel a bit like a giant marshmallow in the padded utility jacket, but when you look back up at Joel, there’s a shimmer of something in his eyes, on his face. And something like a twitch in his mouth, like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it.

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen Joel hold his tongue over anything, so it’s likely just a trick of the light, the lingering effects of your high.

Joel’s eyes only tear from you to swipe up his smokes and lighter from the coffee table and step into a pair of slides before he’s leading you out the door.

The cold is bitter, but Joel’s coat is warm enough. Your legs prick with the chill breeze as Joel sticks two cigarettes into his mouth and lights them both, handing one off to you. You rest on the railing with him side by side, taking reasonably synchronous puffs as you stare up at the moon, the stars.

A couple screams at each other a few lots down, their voices only muted by the distance and the persistent, humming buzz of Joel’s porch light.

“Right on cue,” Joel mumbles around his cig as he scratches his beard. “Kev can’t keep it in his fuckin’ pants for the life of ‘im.”

“Mmm. Sounds like someone I know.”

Joel’s sidelong glance is sprinkled with a sort of childlike mischievousness as the corners of his mouth lilt. “Maybe so. But I wouldn’t step out on my girl, though.”

His lingering gaze has the back of your neck growing hot. You hum in agreement as you take another drag, tapping the ash with fingers half-obscured by the length of Joel’s sleeves and watching as it falls to the gravel below.

Joel flicks the ash of his own smoke against the railing to plop down next to yours, and exhales a cloud as he stares off in the direction of the feuding couple’s trailer. “When I got a girl, that’s all I need. And it’s been a rare blue moon that my girl ever went and got it somewhere else.”

He takes in a steady, clean breath and shrugs with his head before continuing. “And whenever they did, they came crawlin’ right back. Always come to find that their daddy lays the best pipe. Ain’t never seen one of my girls spread ‘em open for no one else after they stepped out the first time. Not ‘til after it was over.”

Your focus catches on his lips as they wrap around his cigarette again, the barest concave of his cheeks as he sucks, the pout of him as he expels into the night air. And you ache to say something. You feel heavy with it.

The opening chords of a melodic ballad fall upon your ears, and you both swivel your heads in the opposite direction of the screaming pair. Instead, you’re graced with a couple coming together in an embrace, slowly rocking to the music floating from their porch.

A soft laugh escapes you as you watch them wistfully. “Now that is how a Valentine’s Day is supposed to end.”

Joel glances at you. He takes one last drag from his smoke and tamps it out on the wood before dropping it into a chipped mug on the railing, housing a dozen cigarette butts. He holds a hand out to you and tilts his head toward the pavement.

You stare at his outstretched hand, and your mind trips over itself to unravel the intent behind it. “What are—”

“Dance with me.”

Your eyes snap up to his, and you’re met with an easy smile on a disheveled, glassy-eyed, gorgeous man. Braving the cold in sweats, a wrinkly and hole-riddled Henley, and slides on tube-socked feet. Asking you to dance while clad in his coat and your stilettos.

You chew on your lip as you watch his fingers wiggle impatiently as your cigarette butt kisses Joel’s in the mug when you discard it. And then as your hand slides into his.

“Atta girl,” he praises you softly, tugging you down the steps with him and onto the pavement.

Joel isn’t fancy with it. He just pulls you close into him, wrapping his arms around your waist as you drape your head on his shoulder. He sways the two of you from side to side following the beat of the music. Your heels scrape the asphalt, your nails scratch the back of his neck, and his hands dip below the hem of his coat to tease at the round of your ass over your dress.

“Sure I ain’t said it enough, but you’re a goddamn knockout tonight,” he rumbles quietly into your ear, his fingers groping at the bottom curve of your cheeks to emphasize his point.

And after your date flaked on you, after you got dolled up for him, got your hopes up for a nice night, and had your plans disintegrate between your fingers, just for Joel to swoop in and illuminate your sky with stars, those words spear right through your heart.

And you know you should say something traditionally sweet back. Something like thank you or you too. But as those softer words rattle around your brain, you feel wetness trickling down your inner thigh, and you opt to whisper something more personalized. Something you know Joel would find sweetest of all to fall from your lips. “I can feel you dripping out of me.”

A groan vibrates up his chest and one hand slips between your bodies until you feel the cool press of his fingers at your cunt.

“Fuck me, darlin’,” he breathes, bringing up two thick fingers for you to see, glistening opalescent in the moonlight.

He doesn’t ask, you just drop your jaw and stick your tongue out for him, sucking your shared juices off his skin as your eyes lock. He pulls them free and replaces them with his mouth, tasting the two of you off your tongue. Joel’s hand nestles under your dress once more to cup your pussy. Not to slide inside, not to get you off. Just to hold you as close as he knows how. To catch where the two of you fall.

He nuzzles your nose with his and tucks your face into his neck with his other hand as he sways with you. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Sugarplum.”

You sigh into his neck and lay your hand over his beneath your dress.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, daddy.”

Read Chloe's Account of Joel's UFO sighting here!

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endlessthxxghts · 6 months

Text

Use Me

No outbreak!Joel Miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈1.2k

Summary: You tell Joel he can use you in an unconventional way. Will he take you up on your offer?

Content/Warnings: No physical description of reader besides clothing. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Somnophilia. P in V sex (unprotected). Creampie. Finger fucking. Sweet aftercare. A moment of insecure Joel, but you comfort him.

A/N: Literally no motive behind this drabble besides the fact that I couldn't stop thinking about Joel (more than normal LOLL) in the past 24 hours. So, enjoy my delulus. Also… this Joel is one with no outbreak…but for this particular scenario, I’m picturing him physically as post-outbreak…do with that what you will.🥴🥴🥴

MASTERLIST

Joel’s coffee nearly spilled through his nose with how off guard your question caught him. “You want me to what?”

“Well, I’m not saying like every night or something, I’m just saying. If you ever wake up in the middle of the night, hard and wanting, you can…” your gaze breaks from his. “You can use me.”

Joel usually doesn’t have middle-of-the-night erections that wake him up and force him to take care of the issue immediately. However, with your suggestion being a lingering thought in the back of his mind all damn day, he finds himself, in the middle of the night, hard and wanting.

Your usual sleep attire is a tiny shirt with no bottoms below, and tonight, lying on your stomach with your ass to the air, you’re looking particularly tempting with the way his cock pulses when his eyes meet your glistening cunt.

“Always so fuckin’ ready for me, ain’t ya?” He groans to himself, debating whether or not he’s actually going to take you up on your offer.

But just like the unintentional ironic little fox you are, you roll your hips and let out a little whimper as you go, your pussy on full display to him, even wetter than mere moments ago.

He sits up on his haunches, walking on his knees to settle himself behind you. He brings his fingers to your slick entrance, running along the entire seam and to your clit. He circles it a few times. Your hips twitch in response, a breathy sigh leaving your throat.

“Fuck,” he rasps. He removes his now wet fingers from your entrance to rub it all over his cock, pumping himself a few times before he scoots slightly closer to you and lines himself up.

He runs the head of his cock through your slick this time. His tip catches on your clit and pulls another moan out of you. You’re stirring now, but you’re not completely awake yet.

Unable to tease himself much longer, he grabs onto your hips and sinks into you in one sweet thrust, your warm, tight pussy pulling him faster to the finish line than he was anticipating.

You let out a moaning gasp — you’re definitely awake now — followed by an already blissed out call of his name. “Oh, fuck,” you cry, your hands curling its grip into the bedsheets below.

“Shit,” Joel moans, his hips fucking into you harder now but maintaining a steady pace. “This what you wanted, girl?” He grunts. “Wanted me to fuck this sweet pussy whenever I fuckin’ wanted?”

“Ohmygod,” you rush out in a near yell, “yes, Joel, yes! Just like that, baby, fuck-”

“So fuckin’ good to me, sweet girl, ohhh fuck-” he moans, his hips faltering in its rhythm. His hand moves around your waist and to the front of you, the pads of his fingers finding your clit and circling it — just the right amount of pressure to get you to your finish line before him.

You’re a babbling mess at this point — his name mixed with expletives the only vocabulary he’s reduced you down to. “‘M close,” you’re able to utter out.

“Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. He bends his body over you, his lips near your ear as he damn near snarls, “Soak my fuckin’ cock, baby, let me feel you.”

His ministrations on your clit don’t stop, but the desperations of his thrusts increase, harder with every pump. He bites down on your shoulder, trying to ground himself so he doesn’t finish before you, and the radiating pain and pleasure from the pressure sends you roaring to your climax — the room filled with nothing but the wet squelches of your slick and your high-pitched moans, loud enough to wake the neighbors.

Your sweet sounds sends him into a frenzy, his eyes rolling back at the way he’s literally slipping in and out of you now. “Gonna cum, baby?” you whine at him, nearing overstimulation but truly not wanting him to stop.

“So fuckin’ close, baby,” he tells you, he’s back up on his haunches, both his hands back at your waist, chasing his own impending orgasm.

You muster up some strength and lift your ass up to meet his hips, your back arching like a cat in the sun. You give him some pushback, meeting his every thrust as you make it a point to squeeze him each time.

“Atta girl, fuck-” he takes a shuddered breath, “‘M gonna fuckin’ cum, where do ya want it?” he grits out.

“Inside!” you blurt out, all your inhibitions and logical thinking gone from your brain as he fucks you into oblivion. “Inside me, please, baby, please, love feeling you inside of me- love having you drip out of me just for you to stuff it back inside-” you’re cut off mid ramble with a gasp, you feel his cock pulse as his warm release paints your walls, a rugged groan from Joel filling the air.

“Goddamn, baby,” Joel utters as he catches his breath, slipping out of you, but not going anywhere just yet. He watches your filled cunt, and in moments, his hot cum is leaking from your hole — his cock tries to jump at the sight of it. He takes his fingers, scoops up the residue, and pushes it back into your hole, fucking you slow with his fingers for a moment as your breathing picks back up, moans threatening to escape as your hips squirm against him.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he tells you. He helps flip you on your back, leaning down to kiss your tummy as he slips away for a few moments and returns with a warm cloth to clean you up.

He’s gentle with it, thoroughly wiping the outer areas while patting the more sensitive areas clean. You still whimper at the feeling, more so because having him touch you down there sends butterflies fluttering all throughout your body. “I got ya, darlin’,” he soothes.

“I know you do, baby,” you say as you reach your hand out for his face. He tosses the cloth into the hamper in the corner of the room as he leans into your hold. You pull him in for a sweet, lengthy kiss, your tongues tangling as Joel finds himself wrapped around you once more tonight.

You’re dozing off again when you feel Joel’s voice vibrate your chest. “Say that again, baby?” you mumble sleepily.

“Was this…was this okay?” he asks softly, sleep filling his voice but too much concern lacing it to allow himself to submit to his fatigue.

You grab his face again, lifting your head to meet his lips.

“It was perfect,” you smile at him. “Now go to bed, so I can wake you up in the morning.”

He gives you a smirk that heats your cheeks. “Goodnight, darlin’,” he mutters as his head rests on your chest again, dozing immediately.

My current brain capacity is telling me that I want to write, but I can't deal with really big storylines right now.. so. A bunch of stories on the shorter side it is - at least, for the time being🥰 I love you all, and thank you for the endless support. Also !!! Gif above is courtesy of @/nicolethered

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1uvtae · 3 months

Text

mistaken very much | jeon jungkook

★word count: 7.4k words!!

★genre: nothing but university romance fluff and very unfunny crack because i have the worst humor,,,look, there's this tennis classmate, and maybe....you've made a pretty big mistake by staring at his butt....? and somehow this turns into a 'crush' on the jeon jungkook that you have never even seen.

★summary/snippet: you don't think staring at his butt cuts straight to the conclusion that you, y/n y/l/n, has a crush on him....but whatever. it's not like you actually have a crush on him...right?

★kae chit chats: forget about motorcycle boy, let's invite tennis boy into the family!!!! this was meant to be posted on v day 2022 but i kind of messed up my sleep schedule and just completely gave up on finishing this lol...,,,nothing but a fluff fic :P and I picked this back up in 2024 lol

do you want to give me some feedback? request something fun? chit chat with me?!

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the feeling of being mistaken by someone is so fucking annoying.

especially when you have probably just been mistaken as a pervert…!

the boy in your tennis class (not to mention, very handsome.) was just squatting in front of you, playing with the school campus cat that you have also been taking care of for months. you were also heading to feed the cat when you had already found him there, squatting down, caressing the cat. he was wearing a white button-up and baggy ripped jeans, but you can’t help but notice that….half of his shirt wasn’t tucked in? and it just looks like it’s dangling out like seaweed…?

after staring at the white fabric for a few seconds, you look down at the bag of cat food, before putting it in your pocket, planning to feed the cat after he leaves. but when you lifted your head back up, your eyes met with the boy, there were no emotions in his eyes but you felt a hint of shyness rush to your head, and the idea that you were going to feed the cat floated away from your head as you immediately rushed back to your dorm.

nayeon listened patiently and childish complaint that there was also someone looking after your cat, and how he mistook that you were staring at his ass for a good few seconds, before commenting: “don’t you realize that…he might think you were there to stare at him…..and how you ran away when he saw you…that’s quite suspicious…?”

you freeze. “holy shit.”

nayeon giggled as she continued. “also last tennis session! you were zoning off at the back of his head, so when he turned, he gave you this weird look.”

“no freaking way. i didn’t notice that.”

“it was a funny look, not going to lie.”

“help, what if he actually thinks i have a crush on him cause i keep staring at him?!” you try to contain the racing thoughts, and contemplate if you should’ve just kept your eyes pierced on the ground and not on his ass, or the back of his head.

“i mean he’s pretty good-looking, it won’t be weird to have a crush on him.”

you roll your eyes at her comment. “i don’t get it, it doesn’t mean everyone has to have a crush on him just because he’s good-looking, nayeon.”

it was the next tennis lesson, and to avoid more unnecessary interactions, you avoided all eye contact with anyone, but that didn’t stop nayeon from squealing and reporting every small movement from the boy. “he’s facing your direction!” “oh my gosh he’s right behind you!” your hands start to clam up with sweat with every small comment from nayeon. “stop looking at him, gosh.” it was after the lesson that you realized how even more suspicious you looked trying to avoid any eye contact and how often nayeon reported his movements in small mutters and whispers, and how you most definitely looked shy enough for anyone to mistake that you like the ‘good-looking tennis classmate’.

the teacher checks names off the clipboard as she reads two names at once to put their tennis equipment away. “nayeon, y/n.” she looks up at the two of you and back to the heavy boxes of tennis rackets. “the boy in the back, the tall one, help them with the boxes, please.” you and nayeon turn your head back in sync, to see the familiar boy nod and walk towards the both of you. you let out a sigh as nayeon excitedly squishes your arm, another strike.

is this perhaps….hopelessness?

yup, not only the boy, but everyone in your tennis class probably thinks that you have this awfully obvious and big crush on this person who you don’t even know the name of.

he cuts in front of you two, the three of you in complete silence. you and nayeon follow him like two cautious cats. he stops at the heavy boxes, and you two walk up to help him, but before you know it, he has already picked up the boxes with one hand, the other hand reaching into his pocket to answer the buzzing phone. what the fuck. you two shared a glance in disbelief, not going to lie, that was very, very, attractive. “damn. pretty tough.” you mutter under your breath and feel the two people from either side look at you immediately, his hand still holding the buzzing phone and nayeon giving you a concerned glance.

the way back to the dorm was filled with your quietness and nayeon’s laugh. “he probably used to think you were just someone who had a crush on him, but now he thinks you are a literal weirdo who has a crush on him.” you run your hands through your hair in annoyance, how did the sentence even slip through your mouth? looks like you won’t be getting sleep tonight. and you sure didn’t, you kept rolling and shuffling in your bed to think of a tactic to this misunderstanding that you and the tennis boy had going on, and with your smart and very intelligent little brain, you figured out a plan.

“to not make him think that i have a huge fucking crush on him, i am going to pretend i have a crush on somebody else.” you take a sip of your coffee as nayeon nods. “hmm…who else is there to ‘like’?” you think hard before coming to the conclusion that there is no one in your tennis class that is worth ‘liking’. nayeon helps you to think for a good minute: “min yoongi from music…?” you shiver at the thought of your cold and savage music seatmate. “if you really want me to die, just say that.” nayeon chuckles at your comment before going back into the deep search for a suitable ‘crush’ for you. “i heard the tennis dude is in geography.”

“geo!” another friend of yours popped into the conversation. “they have so many hot guys there!”

you felt a rush of excitement: “recommend me some!”

“what’s your type?”

“maybe… a pretty quiet one, maybe shy even? not that popular so no one will care if i like him, you know?”

nayeon shakes her head. “you can’t expect someone to be good-looking and not popular, y/n.”

“i think jeon jungkook.” your other friend suggested. “he’s quiet but literally more than half the school likes him, but that won’t be as weird if you also ‘like’ him, cause everyone likes him.”

nayeon nods in agreement. “never seen him in my life, but i swear i hear his name mentioned on campus wayyy too often.”

hm. interesting.

the next week came by fast, before class you made your way to the disposal machine and picked up a can of coke, putting it in your backpack before heading to tennis class.

it was free time when you made your way to where the tennis boy was, he was practicing with the wall, he spared you a glance as you walked towards him, and back to practicing with the wall. you take a big breath as you walk towards him, the coke still in your backpack, expecting that when he drops the ball, you are going to pick it up and hand it to him, making it a perfect opportunity to start the ‘conversation’. you lean against the fence, waiting for him to drop the ball.

not even once has he dropped the ball in the 10 minutes you have been standing here. you feel your legs start to cramp up. finally, he decided to rest for a good while, catching the ball with his right hand as it bounced off the wall, he lazily walked to his bag. you immediately rush over with the can in your hand. he looked at the can in your hands, then backed up to you. you couldn’t help but take in his facial features. it was the middle of the day, and the sun was high up in the sky, warming everybody up, and it seemed to warm your cheeks up when you made simple eye contact with the boy.

he raised an eyebrow at you as if he was asking a rude and straight ‘what are you doing?’ with his facial expressions. you felt a small taste of regret that second, thinking that this boy definitely thinks you have an obsessed crush on him now, so the only thing you can do now is hope that the next few things you are going to say work out.

“i bought coke for you.” you mumble as he takes a big sip from his bottle of water. “i don’t need that.” he has a straight face and everything. you take another deep breath as you figure out what you are going to say next. maybe this can be a little fun.

“are you free right now? i have something i want to say…” you tried to act as natural as you could. “i'm gonna practice.” he replied coldly before taking his equipment back to the court, your hand found his arm quickly, then released it in a second when he stopped in his tracks. “it’s just a few sentences.” you used a pleading tone, hoping this would convince him that you were going to ‘confess your crush’ to him. he patiently stopped and looked at you. you start your act, stuttering and acting shy, everything you have seen in romance confessing scenes in films. “well. i’ve noticed you for a long time…” you take the can of coke to hide your face as if you were a blushing mess. “i don’t know if you noticed that…” the ‘obviously you have a crush on me’ expression never left his face. “haven’t noticed.”

you suppress an eye roll. “all i wanted to say was, i knew you’re in geography…i just wanted to ask if you know a jeon jungkook, i’ve had a crush on him for pretty long, can you help me to get his number?” you definitely want to give yourself a pat on the back, a round of applause even. you felt proud of yourself, proud that this ‘plot twist’ you have created for him, will deflate his ego and convince him that you never had your schoolgirl crush on him, but on this jeon jungkook that you have never met.

the tennis boy didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the comment, still calm as ever. “i don’t know him.”

it's even better that you don’t know him. you thought. all you wanted to know was to share the signal that you have a crush on someone who is not him., you didn’t even care to want jeon jungkook’s number, it was all an act to ‘spread the message’, you pretended to be extremely upset that he did not know this crush of yours, whining an ‘awe~’ and nodding slowly, “okay then…”, leaving him to walk away without sparing a glance at you.

you don’t know what’s wrong with you now.

before you and this tennis boy had this thing going on, you never seemed to be seeing him around campus. but now after the last interaction, you seemed to be seeing the person everywhere. seeing him in the supermarket, seeing him in the cafeteria, seeing him in the library, seeing him between classes.

and you know what’s more ironic? it’s always when you’re also with nayeon. you know nayeon’s dramatic acts are to notify you that ‘the boy that thinks you like him’ is over there, but from someone who doesn’t know this situation, it looks like she’s trying to tell you ‘there’s-the-boy-that-you-have-a-huge-mother-fucking-crush-on’.

and the weird thing is, although you had explained that you like jeon jungkook, he seemed to still have the attitude that you are obsessed with him. especially when you bump into him and are forced to mutter a ‘hi’ or ‘hey’. all he would do was a gentle hum in response, or just nod. and you made a keynote to yourself to never say hello to him ever again.

the main point was when you and nayeon saw him in a convenience store. you two quickly made your way out as soon as he and his friends walked in. but nayeon saw somebody she knew and immediately started chatting along as the social butterfly she was. you watched from your side-eye as he and his friend walked out of the door.

“isn’t the girl in the beige crew neck your little fangirl?” an unfamiliar voice came from the side, from a boy with soft blonde hair, walking next to the tennis boy.

and then you hear it.

you hear a “mhm” of confirmation from the tennis boy. you felt a rush of anger run to your head as you retained yourself to scream at them. and then you watch the blonde boy spot you and nayeon, awkwardly, he turns away quickly and walks off with the other. but the other did not awkwardly leave, turning back to glance at you without shame. and that boiled your blood even more.

on the road back all you did was scream and mutter some curse words dedicated to the unshameful tennis boy.

“don’t you think he might think that the whole jeon jungkook thing was an excuse you used to get closer to him?” nayeon spoke slowly after you had expressed all your anger. and you feel your mind pause.

yup, it sure is hopelessness now if it wasn’t already hopelessness before.

the second morning. you woke up early and the first thing you did was to check on the cat, but you were extremely cautious. you did not want to bump into you-know-who, so you woke up extremely early so you could avoid seeing him. but after squatting down for just a few minutes. the expected happened. there he was, but this time wearing a black silk button-up, the buttons halfway up and you couldn’t help but take a few seconds to stare at him. but it’s okay because you were here first, so that makes you the person he should be waiting to finish with the cat.

he stopped in his tracks when he saw you, standing in his spot, waiting for you to leave.

‘do you get it? do you get it!’ you want to scream this at him. ‘this scene seems familiar! because you were in his spot the other day! you were just simply waiting! you don’t have a crush on him!’ you want to shout this all, but you were busy with the cat.

but weirdly today, the cat doesn’t seem to like you. it didn’t even take a single bite from the tuna stick you were feeding it, and it avoided your pats and touch today.

well..that’s not a very good sign, is it?

“it doesn’t like being touched.” he walked closer, “it might scratch you.” you knit your brows at his speech, you know that. you were here taking care of the cat earlier than this tennis boy…yet he’s giving instructions on how to take care of the cat??

“i know this cat.” you explain. “it likes me a lot.”

you pause when you watch the cat move away from your touch after your sentence, the cat avoids your touch as it slowly trots over to nudge his leg instead. he squats down and caresses the cat gently, then lifting his head to look at you with a glance, a look that made your blood boil. the competitiveness in you starts burning up like fire, you wave at the white cat, gesturing for it to come back to you. “lulu, over here.”

the cat doesn't budge, instead, it gives you a lazy side-eye look and back to enjoy the boy's company. is this perhaps, favoritism?!

“don’t randomly give it names.” he speaks slowly and quietly behind you. “what’s your problem?” you snap back with a tone that does not sound very friendly, and he stays silent as you stomp away. “i’m leaving, lulu!” you yell back one more time, and the cat: still under his touch, eyes closed, relaxed and unbothered.

okay then…this was your first time fully understanding the meaning and the understanding of pretty privilege.

“gosh, i was so hurt by that cat.” you complain back in your dorm. “it isn’t supposed to be like this! normally if you give it food, it will love you…but today it was completely under that tennis boy’s control. this is rigged.” nayeon pats the sheet mask she had on her face. “you saw him again this morning?” you sigh. “yeah, unlucky isn’t it?”

“he probably also thinks he’s pretty unlucky too.”

“if i knew he was gonna be there, i wouldn’t wake up so early to avoid him.”

“i was thinking,” nayeon starts again with the tone that you do not like very much, knowing this would be another thing to worry about tonight. “what if he thinks you were there just to create this ‘oops i did not know you were going to be here’ scene? like you were waiting for him to come and see the cat too to create this awkward meeting.” nayeon’s guesses always feel like lightning that struck straight into your soul. “and you said the cat didn’t really seem to like you, doesn’t that look like as if you aren’t close with the cat, as if you were there for another reason…?

that night was one of the sleepless nights filled with overthinking and worry.

you were heading over to the cafeteria the second day with a friend. in the crowded and loud dining hall, you hear a loud shout of ‘jungkook!’ from one side to the other. hearing the familiar yet unfamiliar name, you turn your head back in curiosity, but instead, meeting eyes with the tennis boy.

he was sitting at a table with 4 other boys, including the one blonde boy you saw last time when they were walking out of the convenience store. you tap your friend’s shoulder. “hey, turn your head to the big table with the 5 guys, is jeon jungkook in there? don’t make it obvious, please.”

you watch her basically throw her head back aggressively for what seems like 2 minutes, then turn back and nod. “yeah, isn’t he fine?” “holy shit, can you be more obvious?!” but hearing that your ‘crush’ is also on that table, you slowly turn your head once more and scan the boys, then realizing that out of all the boys, the tennis boy is still the most attractive one for you. although you don’t know which one is jeon jungkook, none out of the 4 boys seem to be your type.

your shoulders drop a little without realizing, disappointed in your ‘crush’. in fact, will the tennis boy think you have bad taste?

wait, why would you even care about him in the first place…right…?

the second week of tennis class, also your second streak of buying a can of coke for him. but this time, he doesn’t seem as cold and weird as last time. when he saw that you were waiting for him by the side, he dropped his equipment and walked slowly to you. “what?” you feel yourself swallow out of nervousness. “i saw you guys eating lunch last friday.” his brows knit slightly. “who?”

“jeon jungkook.” you reply quickly as if the name burns your tongue. “you said you didn’t know him last week…” he used an unspeakable emotion to reply. “i think you have the wrong person.” you were confused at the comment, but continued once more. “just say if you know him or not.”

“it doesn’t matter if i know him or not.” he licks his lips and runs his hands through his dark brown hair, maintaining eye contact with you and you feel you slowly lose your breath at the intense eye contact. you clear your throat and hand the can of coke to him, before taking a plastic bag containing some snacks. “the coke is for you, and can you hand these snacks to him?” before he can refuse it, you add another sentence. “if he doesn’t want them, take them for yourself, don't return it back to me, i would feel very embarrassed if you did.”

he stayed silent for a few seconds, looking at the items in your two hands, then lifting his left hand to take both the cans of coke and the plastic bag. you let out a long breath. you hope this is obvious enough that you, y/n y/l/n, do not have a crush on him. or any liking. nothing.

you relax back into your chair, taking in your cup noodles as you listen to the gossip and events that happened today. there seems to be a geography boys vs gym boys basketball game that went on this afternoon, which turned out to be extremely intense and entertaining to watch. your ears perked up at the mention of geo boys.

you swallow your bite. “so who won?”

“duh, of course gym, they’re the professionals. how embarrassing would it be for them if they lost?!” your roommate answered, “geo lost because two of the best players got hurt throughout the last half of the game.” the thought of the tennis boy ran into your head, and you could not help but wonder if he got hurt too.

“oh yeah, the jeon jungkook you have a ‘crush’ on also got hurt. think he tripped and hurt his knee or something.” she continues. you nodded before turning to nayeon to ask;“what about the tennis dude? did he play today?”

“he played too, he was so good, i think i saw him also get hurt.” nayeon lets out a nosey ‘aww’. “you care about him quite much y/n….” you hesitate for a long time, putting yourself into deep thought. “nayeon…this is weird but, do you think that you somehow programmed my brain to take an attraction to him. because i don’t know why i’ve been thinking about and meeting him so much.”

nayeon knits her brows. “just say if you like him or not…anyways, there’s another game tomorrow, wanna go watch?”

you don’t know how you ended up here.

you thought you and nayeon were already early, but the court was still jammed with people. you tried your hardest to squeeze into the crowd, once you had finally worked your way to the front, your eyes caught him.

he stood in the corner, talking to his teammates, the red basketball jersey lazily overlaying a white tee, he ran his hand through his hair, and your eyes could not move away from him. a shout from a girl next to your side entered your ear. “jungkook looks so good?!” but you didn't have the attention for jeon jungkook, your eyes and mind was completely taken away by him instead.

the basketball game started, your eyes followed him as he took a sip from his water bottle, and high-fived his teammates before entering. a scream came from the two girls next to you. “go geo!!!” the scream caught his attention, causing him to turn towards your direction, spotting you standing next to the two girls. you make a good second of eye contact as you look away and cheer for jungkook instead.

after giving jeon jungkook a good shout, you turn back to him, but he is still looking at you. you did not know what to do, avoiding eye contact, you scanned the entire court with your eyes but just, not looking at him. he moved and looked away to get ready with his teammates, and you felt obligated to stare back at him. you watch him as he looks away, then lowers his head to suppress a small smirk.

and that smirk did a lot to you, you could not help but pinch nayeon’s arm.

the sharp whistle brought you back to life, the game has started. you did not understand basketball and didn't watch games in your spare time. so the entire time, you just kept your glance on the tennis boy.

and then you spot how his leg definitely got slightly injured during the last race, you could tell that his leg was a little uncomfortable when he was moving intensely.

but that leg did not stop him from aiming and playing perfectly, when he ran past the crowd, it felt like a swoosh of fresh wind. midgame, the ball has gone out of court. it rolls towards you and you watch as he comes jogging to pick the ball up, then accidentally stepping on your shoes. it was a light step but he immediately looked up at you and apologized. you frown playfully and he moves closer to you. “step on me and then we can be fair.” you bite your bottom lip to suppress a dumb grin, shaking your head and gesturing him to go back into the game.

you look to your right and see the group of girls rolling their eyes at you. …arent they obsessed with that jeon jungkook or something…?

without a doubt, geo had won the game. you watched the large crowd of girls rush to hand the players drinks and ask for their numbers. you dragged nayeon away from the crazy amount of students that had created a crowd circling the team of boys. and you two make your way towards the convenience store on the other side of the road.

you pause in front of the drink aisles, struggling badly to pick a drink. just as you were deciding, a hand reached out from behind you to grab two bottles of coke. “oh, sorry-” you turn your head to be faced with the familiar tennis boy. he walked slyly to the counter, paid for the drinks and handed one of the bottles to you. “sorry for stepping on you during the game.” you shake your head, mumbling that it was fine and takes the bottle with both hands carefully as if you were the one who did something wrong.

he pauses for a second and grabs the bottle back from you before opening the bottle cap for you naturally in a swift motion. “did you not go and offer your little crush a drink?” he said with a teasing tone. you answer convincingly: “there were too many people standing around, i couldn’t squeeze in.

”oh.” he cocks an eyebrow as he slowly takes his phone out of his pocket. “i was talking to jungkook, telling him that a girl in my tennis class is interested in him, and he agreed to…give you his number.” you freeze instantly. “you want it?” he waves his phone at you.

this is…a little awkward. to be extremely honest, you don’t want his number, but seeing his bright glassy eyes staring at you, it is a little hard to refuse to take the number. you nod slowly as you bring out your phone, and enter the number into your contacts.

on the way back to your dorm, your finger trembled to type something into the chat, all you managed to enter the chatbox was a subtle and small smiley face.

quite awkward considering the fact that you don’t even know what this jeon jungkook looks like..

he replied fast, with just a casual:

‘hey’

you told him that he played really well during the game.

jungkook thanked you and said that he had received the bag of snacks.

well, this is a great start. but you can't help but think about what if this jeon jungkook takes an interest in you.

when you don’t even know who he is in the first place.

the second week of tennis class, you watch the tennis boy walk onto the court with a box of gourmand chocolates. nayeon nudges you when she sees him walk towards you, and stop just in front of you.

he looked especially calm: “he asked me to hand you this.” you reach your hand out take the pink box of chocolates and thank him with a mumble.

after class, jungkook texted you to ask if you had received the gift, and you two had some small talk. conversations about how your classes went and about his day distracted you, almost bumping into a tree. nayeon laughs as she drags you to the side before that disaster, “might as well go for this jeon jungkook if he’s brightening your day so much, y/n.”

you lock your phone before linking arms with nayeon. you’ve never realised how often you and this jeon jungkook got along just simply by texting. this situation seems to be a little flirty since he knows that you “like” him.

“i don’t even know him!! this was just a misunderstanding, there’s no way will i go for him.” nayeon nods her head. “of course i know it’s a misunderstanding, but it seems like it is a good misunderstanding- wait, you’re not telling me that you actually like that tennis guy…right?”

you stop in your tracks, not saying a word. nayeon cleared the silence: “if you reckon you like the other guy, let jeon jungkook know that this was all a misunderstanding.”

“that's exactly what i wanted to do, see?” you unlock and show her the texts. “i asked him if he wanted to go out for boba, so i could explain this to him in person, but he rejected and said he has training.”

he rejected your offer that day, and the day after.

neyeon jumps up when you read the “sorry, i also can’t do today.” text out: “what the heck!!!! there’s no way he’s that busy?? oh my gosh- he’s a fuckboy!! he’s a literal f-boy that can’t make enough time for all his girls-”

excellent idea, nayeon.

you sigh and nayeon notices how your shoulders dropped slightly.

“y/n, how about you tell the tennis guy then, cause you also have some misunderstandings with him, clear the air with him, and he can let jeon jungkook know since he obviously doesn’t have time for you”

you walk into the dining hall, only searching for the silhouette of one specific person. and there he is, sitting alone, enjoying a burger. you walk to the seat across from him, “hey.” the pair of deer eyes lands on you, and he raises an eyebrow. “what?”

you move at the speed of a snail, taking a seat in front of him: “i have things to tell you.”

the tennis boy puts down his meal, and slowly squeezes a sentence out his mouth. “then tell me.”

“i was talking about you because you didn’t tuck in your shirt properly the other day.”

“........i wore it like that on purpose.”

“ i was feeding that cat ages ago, like, wayyyy before you did.”

he brought the burger to his mouth, took another bite: “yup. got it.”

“okay then,” you took a deep breath, “i don’t like jeon jungkook, it was all because you misunderstood me, and thought i had a crush on you- which i do not!” you hear a soft chuckle leave his mouth. dude? “what are you laughing about.”

he swallows his bite. “nothing, you go on.”

“i’m wondering if you can go explain this to jeon jungkook….for me?”

he looks up at you once again. “why should i go explain this to him? you should go yourself.” gosh, he is insufferable. “i really would love to! but i’ve asked to see him multiple times, but he says he is busy every single time!”

another light chuckle.

“don’t even laugh.” you feel humiliated, what is the matter? “i’m being deadly serious, can you literally take me seriously?”

“do you know why you can never seem to ask him out?” the boy stares into your eyes with a hinting glance that you don’t specifically like.

you’re so confused, “no, i don’t know. but that’s literally not the point.”

“well, here’s the point.” he sips his coke and swiftly reaches into his backpack to take out his id, handing it to you. you take the id into your hands and stare at it for a while. “huh?”

then is hits you, you don’t even know this guy's name. your eyes glance over the id, from the photo to his name..back to his id. his warm dark brown hair looking soft, his doe eyes are soft and very, very pretty. a mole at the tip of his nose, and one very visible mole perfectly under his pouty lips. did you mention he has a perfect smile?

you almost get sucked into the photo when you realise something. huh?

you unwillingly unglue your eyes from the id and place them onto the face that is currently in front of you. he has the same smile from the id on his face right now. “what does your id mean?” he runs a hand through his perfect locks, “you still don’t know my name?”

something in you clicked. “why are you also named jeon jungkook??” this time, he lets out an even bigger laugh. “i’m the jeon jungkook.” you feel slightly sick. “.....what.”

“who did you even think jeon jungkook was then?”

“i don’t know??? i told you i’m just pretending to like this jeon jungkook person…”

jungkook raises an eyebrow, “you’re not doing much background check before pretending to like them, huh?”

his eyes still fixed on you, now with a teasing tone:” actually you misunderstood in the first place, i never thought you even had a crush on me, until you came up to me and told me that you like this jeon jungkook guy. i was utterly confused, like i thought you were using some creative way to confess to me, get my attention or something.”

“oh my gosh i did not!” you feel so much embarrassment for yourself, even second-hand embarrassment at this point. jungkook continued: “and then i thought maybe you liked one of my friends, but just got the name wrong. but every single time when i bumped into you, you always seemed to be looking at me first, right?”

all the blood rushed from your body to your face, and you felt your cheeks flush up. “did not!!!”

“sure did, doll.”

“no! see! like it’s all a misunderstanding! you have mistaken me for liking you. it’s not that deep.” you realise you’re extremely loud, causing you to lower your voice to a more softer tone.

“yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” you huff in disagreement, then you realised that you’re not only here to get these words straight but to also admit that you do like him a tad bit….not deny it completely!

“then who’s number did you give me?”

“mine.”

“okay, so you’ve been playing me”

“hm?”

“you knew i must’ve gotten something muddled up, but you still text me every day? you’re still giving me snacks? you’re still flirting with me?”

“that’s me being polite,” he mumbled under his breath.

“okay so you do this with everyone.”

“i don’t normally take stuff from other people, or give my number or whatever?”

“then why me?”

“since you’re the one with the biggest crush on me, so i had to be quite courteous.”

“no. shut up.”

you can’t get yourself to be convinced that you don’t like him, just like how you couldn’t convince yourself that he doesn’t think you had a fat schoolgirl crush on him.

you don’t know what jeon jungkook wants from you!

after that conversation, it’s like he’s even more convinced that you are in love with him. every time you enter the lunch hall, he spots you instantly, raises an eyebrow gesturing for you to sit next to the empty seat next to him. (as if saying: “here’s your chance to sit next to me, babe.”) when you ran into him in the campus library, he would knit his brows and playfully ask something like “how did you know i was going to be here?”

as if you’re tracking his location or something!!

the next basketball game came very soon. the day of the basketball game you had received a text from him giving you the time of the game and what court it was going to be at bright and early. as if he was certain you were going to go, douche.

well…that afternoon you showed up with a baseball cap, trying to hide in the crowd. there were way more people this time, how is that even possible? when you got to lay your eyes on him, he was on his phone in the corner, while his teammates were warming up. a little delusional thought popped up in your head. he’s probably sending you a text message…? a notification sound ruined your thought. you feel the corners of your mouth slowly raise as you pulled out your phone from the butt pocket of your jeans.

“Hey! It’s Duolingo.

Make your screen time count. Take a quick Japanese lesson.”

what. you feel a little irritated as you lock your screen and before aggressively shoving your phone back into your pocket, you raise your head to search for jungkook when you meet eyes with him. you didn’t even have to search for him, he was already eyeing you. his eyes teasingly dart from you to your phone in your hand. dude.

you were fantasizing about yourself receiving a “where are you” text so you can hit him with a simple and petty “i’m not coming”!!!!

he went straight into warming up after that short exchanging looks with you, one shot and the crowd of girls starts cheering like there’s no tomorrow. try hard. attention seeker. show off. you think to yourself when you shoot him a dirty glance from the crowd. it’s like he catches that look instantly, jungkook hands the ball to his teammates, and goes back to sitting on the bench in silence. you smile to yourself.

the game finishes and you drag nayeon to sprint out of the court before the herd of people makes it extra difficult. this time, another notification.

jung fking kook : group dinner, u and ur friend wanna come?

you stop in your tracks and text back: nah, i dont even know your friends.

text sent. you and nayeon start walking back when footsteps of someone running up from behind distract you. a large hand grabs your arm and turns you around in a swift motion.

there he stood, still slightly glowy after the intense game. his eyes looked extra soft and bright under the road light. “let’s go together?”

how can you ever reject him?

you, nayeon and jungkook went to a hot pot eatery nearby, and you wondered the entire way there if would be so darn awkward when you saw his friends. but thank god, they were way too energetic, to the point they almost didn’t even see you three walk in. jungkook insisted on introducing you to his friends, making sure each and one of his friends greeted you. you leaned closer to him and muttered “how do you know my name?” he whispered back. “not everyone is like you y/n.”

that’s when you figured, maybe he did not tell his friends about the ridiculous things you’ve said and done, since all of them greeted you and nayeon with large smiles. that calmed you down a whole lot. except the blonde boy, park jimin. he seemed like he wanted to jokingly say something, but swallowed his words when jungkook gave him a good glance.

after dinner, nayeon made some excuses and said she had to leave early while shooting you many knowing looks and childish eyebrow raises. you stand outside of the restaurant while the boys pay the check. this night has never felt so calm on your skin before. you wanted to say bye to jungkook before leaving. but the second the boys came out of the restaurant, the same warm hand placed itself on your arm. “i’ll walk you back.”

okay. it’s only like 5 minutes but whatever.

there were more people than you expected on the road. usually, you will not pay any attention to the people passing by but maybe because you were walking with jungkook tonight, it seemed like every goddamn couple in the world was next to you two. and everyone recognised jeon jungkook. of course, they did.

he grabbed your hand gently and decided to walk into a dark alleyway. you’ve never realised how nice his hands felt wrapped around your own. in the darkness, you can hear his faint breathing next to you. “lulu used to hunt for mice here.” he broke the comfortable silence.

you never knew he started addressing her as lulu too.

“and she had a lover that lived in one of these houses, they used to hang out here,” you added.

“y/n, how do you even know that?”

“i told you i was feeding lulu way before you.” you comment, this is totally a competition now.

you hear him lightly laugh in the darkness.

the 5-minute walk took at least double the time to get there, some streetlights outside your dorm are old and broken, causing a dim-lit atmosphere. you spot a couple on the side of the street making out. if you walked even closer, you could probably even hear the sickening sounds. jungkook looked extra calm as if he could not hear anything, he walked you to the door and spoke. “you’re here.”

you don’t know what to reply to that.

“right. i’m home.”

and he turned and walked away.

???

“that’s it?”

“that’s fucking it?:”

nayeon just opened a bag of barbeque chips, getting ready to hear about everything that went down, preparing to be surprised. she sighed to herself. she didn’t even get to get comfortable on your bed!

“he didn’t say anything? you two didn’t even hug?”

you thought to yourself before answering, “we talked about lulu. and that's it.”

“oh my days.” nayeon shakes her head in disapproval “he introduced you to his friends, what is in that little head of his?!”

“i genuinely don’t know.” you feel a twinge of sadness growing in your chest, “maybe we overanalyzed this.”

if this is what it feels like to like somebody, you’d rather stay single for the rest of your life.

you decided to have a good, relaxing shower to get your mind off things. when getting into your bed, you receive a text.

jung fking kook: breakfast tmrw?

you did not feel like replying, leaving the message read.

jung fking kook: or lunch? both?

you felt so aggravated, your fingers moving so fast to type your thoughts out without thinking about what you wanted to say.

y/n: you’re so bloody confusing, are you currently demonstrating to me how a guy acts when they know a girl likes them or are you showing me what a guy does when they actually like someone? because this is getting so damn tiring for me, jungkook.

no emojis. you’re letting him know this is bloody serious.

the grey typing icon pops up from the bottom of the screen, then disappears.

audio message.

you almost jump off your bed to grab your earphones. popping the earbuds into your ears, you hear the familiar voice. before the voice could even warm your heart up, it felt like a cold splash of water in your face instead.

“hey, look im so sorry, i just- i just don’t know how to tell you this.”

rejection tastes great, doesn’t it!

another audio message followed up. you disconnected your earphones, you do not have time for this rejection anymore.

jung fking kook: listen to it.

y/n: i’m tired. goodnight.

after typing the “good night” message out, you felt your curiosity eating you up. you pop an earbud into your ear, and press play.

“you’re correct, this is exactly what i’m doing. what a guy does when they genuinely like somebody.” you gasp and before you could even reply, an incoming call from jungkook comes in.

“hi.”

“did you open it?”

you didn’t know how to respond. you panicked. are you going to say yeah i heard you just say you like me or are you going to play dumb like no bro what did u say haha

“yeah.”

“i knew it.”

“okay jungkook.”

“i’m downstairs.”

“you’re what?!”

“yeah. come down.”

jeon jungkook is going to be the death of you. (end)

here is my masterlist if you want to enjoy some more of my writing!

and until next time, kae.

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