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sunflowersteves · 1 month

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kinktober day 005 — thigh riding

pairing || joel miller x afab!f!reader

summary || you and joel liked to play games. how long can you last without him touching you?

author's note || wow so, I’m back! I know I dipped after one kinktober fic, but I was honestly forcing myself. I finally have the motivation and excitement for writing again <3

warnings || fluff, some soft!joel, SMUT, praise kink, thigh riding, dom x sub, [18+ only]

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kinktober masterlist

“Are you going to behave?”

It was such a simple question. It was one that Joel had asked quite often—especially to you.

There was something in the way that he said those five words. His eyebrows were always furrowed, and a frown was etched across his features. His gruff, rumble of a voice would send shivers down your spine. Your nails would dig into his flannel jacket—just so you would be able to stay calm.

It was always a game that you so dangerously played. Who breaks first?

You had been teasing him quite literally all night. You teased him before communal dinner by swaying your hips a bit extra while walking down stairs. You teased him during the dinner when your hand gracefully placed itself on top of his thigh. You slowly inched your way forward toward the thing you had been so desperately wanting.

Sure, you were the one teasing, but had he seen himself? He looked so handsome with his dark flannel shirt and navy jeans. The cuffs of his sleeves were folded up, nice and neat—which didn’t help the ache in your heart as you stared at his veiny forearms.

So, you didn’t say a word to him. You couldn’t.

His eyebrow gently lifted, as if to say “I’m not repeating myself.” The action alone made you swallow thickly.

“Yes.” You barely whisper. All he did was stare at you with his bright, brown hues—and yet he melted you right into a puddle.

He has you on the couch, gently splayed on his lap. Your chest was facing his own with your legs on either side of him and it was becoming increasingly harder to avoid his intense gaze. His breaths were slow and deep, but you could tell that there was something tingling coursing through his veins.

“You sure?” He gruffed out. “‘Cause by the way you’re actin’ right now, I’m not so sure I believe it.”

You knew you had thirty minutes until Ellie, Maria, and Tommy came over for the weekly game night. You knew that if you acted anything out of line, you were going to get it when they left. There was a part of you that grew excited from the chance of pissing off your sweet partner—it made you giddy.

Joel had other plans, though. Normally, when you were misbehaving like this—he would make you wait until the unbearable possible second and then you would snap. Tonight was different.

Joel wanted to give you exactly what you wanted. He didn’t want to play that game anymore—it was predictable.

“I’m sure, Joel.” Half of the sentence that spews out of your mouth was jumbled from the way that his hands settled down to your hips and squeezed.

He huffed, not believing a single word. He knew you—knew that no matter how much of Joel you seem to obtain, it never fulfills you enough. You’re always ready for him.

He was just so thick. The way his arms bulged out of his sleeves and his chest pushing against the buttons of his flannel. His thighs—god, his thighs—strung right against the thick jean material. How could anyone resist that?

“It’s okay, sweet thing. I know you just need a little somethin’.” You become confused and almost deranged when one of his hands leave your waist and start to casually unbuckle his belt.

“Joel—” You couldn’t even finish the question that was perched on top of your tongue. Your mouth clamped shut as he shuffled his jeans down his legs.

“Jus’ sit pretty, would you?” He almost rolls his eyes. After being so long with one another, one would think you would have gotten used to Joel caring for you. Old habits die hard.

“Let me take care of you, hmm?” He asked, the hum vibrating against his chest. No matter what, Joel always made sure to get a verbal response. The action alone made your heart skip a beat.

He maneuvers you over so he can skillfully take off your shorts and underwear. His breath hitches at the sight of your hairy mound and the slick peaking through your folds.

“Oh baby,” he coos once more, “bet you been aching like this all day.”

He moved your hips forward, creating the friction right against your clit. You gasped at the newfound feeling, pleasure sparking against your spine. “So fuckin’ pretty, sweet girl.”

You whimpered at the praise. The way his dark eyes stared straight into you, not letting himself miss a single moment churned something deep within your chest.

“J-Joel—” It sounded so pitiful when the sound left your lips. Joel couldn’t help but coo. His hand briefly left your hip

Joel starts to breathe heavily, his boxers feeling even more tight around his cock. “Good girl. Look at ya.” He huffed out.

Your hips rocked back and forth on his thigh, slick dripping from your core and onto his unclothed thigh. You moaned, head lulling to the side at the pure pleasure coursing through you.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl.”

You whimpered at his praises. Your hand wanted to desperately reach out and drag his lips onto yours, but you refrained. Just like he asked. Sit there and look pretty.

“Doin’ such a good job for me, aren’t ya?” He pauses, head tilted down to watch the way you drag your puffy clit against his meaty thigh. “Look at you, pretty girl. Fuck—”

He could feel the way his cock throbbed against his boxers. He almost could smell the way your slick rubbed against his skin. He let out a moan when he heard a beg from your lips.

“Please, Joel—please.”

You were drenched in wanton. Your eyes were glassy with each roll of your hips across his bulging thigh. “That’s my good girl. Just needed me so bad, yeah?”

You nodded, whining when he pressed his thumb against your clit. “So bad, Joel. I need—I need—”

“Sh, I know, pretty. I’ve got you.”

His thumb pressed deeper onto your sensitive nub. Just the pressure alone, and the pure agonizing pleasure was just enough to send you over.

Your chest arches into him as you say his name over and over. Your legs start to shake and give out, but Joel still rocks your hips back and forth. The pleasure spins through your core and to your head, sending you feeling fuzzy and euphoric.

He presses sweet kisses to your cheeks, whispering praises against your skin. “Let go, baby, yeah that’s it. So good for me. You did so good. I know you wanted that so bad. Such a good girl.”

Finally, your body goes slack against his broad chest. He lets out a chuckle at how spent you look. He knew that going on patrol would leave you a babbling mess.

You practically purred into him. You pressed your cheek against his chest and inhaled his deep woody scent. His arm wrapped around your form and pulled you in deeper. He let out a content sigh before kissing the tip of your nose.

You never get tired of nights like this.

halloween header by @saradika 🖤

#kinktober 2023 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #tlou hbo #joel miller #smut #joel miller smut

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miguelhugger2099 · 3 months

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Oh I love your writing so much! Ur really feeding us so much Miguel fic thank you for ur service 🫶❤️❤️❤️.

I'm just thinking about reader take Miguel to meet their mom and seeing Miguel n her bond with each other and maybe talk shit about his mom( I need Miguel to have a better mom like he deserve😭🙏🙏)

First Meeting

bro its so hard to find a gif of this man NOT frowning or beating miles up 😭 BUT thank u sm <3 hehe i try to feed yall and im glad im doing an okay job i love serving my community🫡 I really loved this request a little breather from smut lol but i hope i did okay! as always, i can write something different if you're not happy with it :'3

Miguel x Reader, Fluffy, A bit of angst, Word Count: 1,950

Miguel clutched your hand in his left hand, while his right gripped a small wrapped gift tightly. His eyes were glued to the front door and feet planted on the wooden floorboard of your mothers porch. He had stopped you just before ringing the doorbell by tugging on your hand. “Wait,” He breathed out. “Are…are we sure it’s today? Are you sure this gift is enough for her? Maybe I should’ve brought food instead…” He murmurs with a worried knit of his eyebrows making his stress lines appear deeper. You sigh through your nose with a soft smile. “You have nothing to worry about. Yes, it’s today and yes the gift is enough. My mom makes too much food anyway so it’s probably best if we didn’t have more.” You chuckle softly and cup his cheek. The warmth of your hand makes his eyes slip off the door and down towards your face. His eyes had softened but they still held worry in them. You knew about his own past, how he didn’t really have a positive parental role model–much less a mother. So, you believed all this worry came from the trauma of what she had done to him and now, he’s trying to seek the approval of another mom. He wants to be good enough and you’re one hundred percent sure he is. “She’ll love you.” You whisper gently, as if the idea itself would spook him. He sucks in a sharp breath and looks off to the side. “But what if she doesn’t?” He asks, looking down at the pretty red bow around the small box in his hand.

“She will,” You assure him. “You are so easy to love, Miggy. I know you’re afraid and that this is a big step for us, but just trust me.” Your thumb caresses his cheekbone. “I do trust you.” He mumbles and looks back down at you. “Good. Then you have nothing to worry about.” You lean up to kiss him and he meets you halfway, pecking your lips in a sweet and quick kiss. You pull away and smile up at him, his cheeks tinged a light hue of red at his vulnerability with you; he was still getting used to it. “Ready?” You ask him. He squeezes your hand tightly in his. “Yeah.” You squeeze his hand in return and then press the little button of your mothers doorbell. You hear the ringing from inside and you two wait patiently until your mom arrives. Miguel’s leg shakes nervously, his finger tapping the box. The door opens and Miguel stiffens into a straight posture. Your mother greets you two with a warm smile and a small cry of joy. “Oh my baby!” She yanks the open wide open and ushers you both inside. “Come in! Come in! It must be freezing!” You giggle and tug Miguel with you with him bending slightly so as to not bump his head coming in.

She turns to Miguel with a big smile after closing the door behind you. “And you must be Miguel! They’ve told me so much about you!” Miguel smiled wearily, unsure and a little terrified with how…welcoming she had been already. He pushes it aside and lets go of your hand to hold the box in his left hand to give your mother his right for a handshake. “Yes, Miguel O’Hara. It’s a pleasure to meet you, señora.” Your mother takes his hand and shakes it, her other hand on her cheek as she coos up at Miguel. “Oh, what a gentleman! Come, let me take your coat.” She holds out her hands as both you and Miguel slip your coats off your backs. Miguel shakes his head and politely declines. “Thank you but it’s alright. I can do it myself.” Your mother sputters and scoffs, waving away his concerns with her hand. “Nonsense! I insist. You’re in my home so you are a guest! Don’t be too gentlemanly.” She jokes at the end, taking his and your coat despite your protests. Miguel takes it harder than you, worrying that she might think he’s lazy and forcing her to be so kind but you loop your arm around his. “She’s like this. She likes doing this and I’ve tried to stop her.” You shrug with a knowing smile. “Don’t worry.” You remind him and kiss his cheek. “Well don’t just stand there! Dinner is just about done.” You hear her call from the kitchen. Miguel fiddles with the box, tossing it from hand to hand. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom really quick.” You tell Miguel, feeling him freeze subtly. You slip your arm from him and he stands awkwardly in the living room.

Miguel swallows the lump in his throat and sets the gift down by the table. He then walks over to the kitchen where your mom is and sees her collecting plates for all three of you. He walks beside her and taps her shoulder to not scare her, underestimating his giant footsteps. “I can help.” He shrinks his size as much as he can to not look as gigantic next to your mother. She brightens up at him. “Oh, you don’t have to but thank you.” She pats his muscular bicep.

“I know I don't, but I'd like to. You've done so much work tonight making a delicious dinner.” He says softly, taking two plates for you and him.

“Of course. I wanted to make a good impression on the man who captured my baby's heart. Especially when they're a real piece of work.” She tuts playfully, shaking her head and laughing to herself.

Miguel chuckles along with her, taking a spoon and scooping out some white rice for his plate. “They're not that bad.” He defends you with a small grin.

Your mother hoots out a laugh. “You weren't there in their teenage years!” She jams her own spoon into the rice cooker to scoop her own desired amount. “I love my children to death but oh, I could've used a break when they were fourteen. So many phases I couldn't keep up. I'm sure your own mother thought the same.”

Miguel smiles to himself, wondering and wishing he could've seen you during those years. He wonders if you two would have clicked. He thinks back to his own days as a teen. They weren't as nice as yours.

He remembers holding his baby brother rightly to his chest as his parents were fighting, making sure his ears were covered. He remembers the fights he had gotten into with his own mother and how he was always compared to his little brother. Everyday in that house was a screaming match–either with Miguel or between his parents.

He sighs heavily, the weight of the past pressing against his ribs. Your mother notices it instantly, growing worried she might have set something off.

You exit the bathroom after washing your hands and approach the kitchen after hearing their conversation. You stop and wait by the wall behind them when you hear Miguel talking again.

“Yeah, uh, my mother and I weren't really close so I wouldn't know.” He chuckles dryly, picking up some tongs and grabbing a bowl of pasta for you. He hopes he hasn't made it awkward.

Your mother stops making her plate and instead looks up at him with an expression he can't decipher. “Did you know her?” She asks.

Miguel nods, shrugging his shoulders up. “Yes, yeah, I did. She was–I just wasn't her favorite, is all.” He puts it lightly.

She juts her bottom lip out in a deep frown and huffs, already getting an idea of how his own mother treated him. “‘Favorites.’” She scoffs. “What bullshit. If you're a good parent, then there are no favorites.”

Miguel blinks at her sudden cursing before letting out a soft laugh. “I could've been better.” He says, feeling defensive strangely enough by blaming his mothers abuse on himself. “I mean she didn't go as far as hitting me yet but–”

Your mother loudly cuts through a large piece of steak, the pan slightly squeaking from the force of her knife moving to rip apart the meat. She mutters under her breath, anger simmering under her skin.

“I know I said teenage years were rough but none of that is ever your fault. Physical or not.” She picks up the slab of steak with a fork and places it on Miguel's plate. She knew he was a big eater via you.

“You were just a boy and anything that woman did to you doesn't deserve a moment of your thoughts.” She says firmly. “And if that woman is out of your life–is she out of your life?” She points a knife at him.

Miguel nods. “For the most part, yes ma'am.”

The older woman tsks and returns back to Miguel's plate, picking up a tomato and slices thin pieces for him. “Well, if she ever comes back and pisses you off, you come straight here. You don't need all that negativity sucking out your happiness.”

Miguel smiles as your mother works, feeling warm that he has a home to lean back on. “Si, señora.”

“You come here with them too because they don't visit me often.” She nudges Miguel with her elbow, talking shit about you playfully.

You lift off the wall with a smirk, deciding now was the time to intervene. “I see you two have reached the stage of talking behind my back.” You pipe up, reaching between them to grab a slice of cucumber. Your mother smacks your hand, chitting you for touching the bowl. You laugh and feel Miguel take the hand your mother hit and he kisses the same spot with a teasing smile. You feel your heart flutter and look away shyly.

Your mother pretends not to notice and tries to reach for your plate but you take it before she can. “Alright, c'mon. Time to eat. I know this monumental man is hungry.” Your mother ushers all three of you back to the dining table.

She stops when she sees the small gift-wrapped box on the table. She picks it up curiously. “Is this yours?” She asked Miguel.

He nods and sits next to you after setting his plate down. “Well, it's really for you. I brought something for you.”

The woman sits right across from you two and lets out a small “aww”.

“You shouldn't have.” She places it to the side. “Oh and we're about to eat.” She laughs, unsure of whether to open the gift or ignore it for food.

“Please, open it. Or don't. Whatever you like.” Miguel chuckles.

She opens the small gift anyway and inside is a simple yet elegant set of earrings and a necklace. Your mother gasps softly, placing a hand over her chest. “Oh, Miguel…” She murmurs, feeling touched that this young man had done everything for her approval when she loved him the moment you talked so fondly of him. She looks up at him and his hopeful expression. Despite his stress lines and big muscular frame, her mother instincts saw a little boy with big brown eyes. She cups his cheek and pats it gently. “It’s beautiful.” Miguel smiles in relief, letting out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding. In that moment, he wouldn’t mind this being his new family with you. He glances at you after your mom begins to pull the necklace out and you beam up at him. “I told you.” You whisper with a scrunch of your nose, teasing him. He chuckles and squeezes your hand. “I guess so.” He murmurs with an adoring look, kissing your temple.

A/N: i love making miguel cute and nervous i feel like we don't get to see that side often <3

#requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara fluff

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anistarrose · 2 months

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The thing about the Heart Attack segment in Wonderland is that they put so much aromantic subtext in it. They accidentally put SO much aromantic subtext in it, on behalf of multiple characters, and I'm thinking about it constantly. Let me tell you all about it.

Magnus is dropped into a dating game and literally leads with "I cannot stress enough how uninterested I am in this." Now, it's perfectly valid to read this as due to him waiting for Julia, or just him being plain old uncomfortable with having his love life put in the spotlight. However! I cannot stress enough the exchange that happens just a minute or two after that line:

Magnus (describing his ideal date): ... and we don't see each other again, ‘cause I'm really not interested in dating. Audience: [exaggerated] Oooooh! (cheers) Griffin: The silhouette is like, fanning itself. Lydia: Playing hard to get, huh? It seems like our contestant is into that.

And I just have to say: unfortunately, this is one of the most aromantic fucking experiences I've seen represented in fiction in my life. I mean — saying you're not interested in romance, then having those words twisted on you, like they're some secret coded way of saying that you are interested in romance? Not having a single way to express your disinterest that'll actually be believed? That's some aro shit right there. God. Fuck.

As an aside, it's enough to really tell that Heart Attack is not designed to be a reprieve from the pain, even though it's the "good outcome" of Trust or Forsake. It's designed to be uncomfortable. To funnel suffering to Edward and Lydia, just like all the other games do. (More on that later, in fact.) But in summary:

Magnus is a character who can be read as uncomfortable with romance for either aro-spec reasons or unrelated reasons. But in either case, his discomfort attracts reactions that reek of amatonormativity — and therefore, resonate with aromantic experiences. (Psst, I did recently write a gray-aro Magnus fic!)

Two more analyses below the cut (and only one of them is for another Horny Boy):

Obviously the next character I need to talk about is Merle. I've found aroallo readings of his character to be compelling for a long time (having sex with plants so you don't have to worry about romantic commitment, am I right?), but the way he describes his "ideal date" is another factor:

Merle: I volunteer to drive her vehicle, and tell her it's filthy, and so we go through the uh- drive through vehicle wash and she pays for that too. Um, and then I take her to have dinner with my family, and- Magnus: Wait, like your wife and stuff? Merle: She meets my ex-wife.

Merle's probably exaggerating as a joke, continuing on about both him and his partner being miserable, but I think the fact that Merle's mind goes here is genuinely drawing from a lot of poor romantic experiences in the past. He didn't get a choice about being on Heart Attack, and his marriage with Hecuba was similarly "arranged".

It's also worth noting that at this point in time, Merle is putting in the work to be part of Mavis and Mookie's lives again, but is not interested in doing the same for Hecuba — he instead just asks Mavis how Hecuba's doing. That said, given that Magnus is the one to put the focus on Merle's ex-wife, I think it's fair to read the "family" comment as Merle actually expressing that he'd rather spend time with his kids than give any special romantic attention to his date. Moving on to the rest of the "joke":

Merle: She's having a miserable time and she's really mad, she can't wait to get outta there. I take her back to her house, and so I lean up against the door jam and say, 'Sure you don't want me to come in for a few minutes?' and she slams the door in my face.

It's possible Merle just has a more roundabout, self-deprecating way of expressing a similar thing to what Magnus did: Merle just isn't interested in dating. To me, the last line implies he might not say no to sex, if offered — but overall, it reads as if Merle is putting minimal effort in because he's looking for an excuse to get out of this relationship anyway.

It's also possible that Merle's "rejection" of a suitor being so disguised as humor could point to him still coming to terms with his disinterest in dating. Particularly, in comparison to Magnus, who is so vocal and unashamed about it, while Merle might still be figuring this all out.

(Honestly, the self-deprecation Merle turns to here is actually kind of sad, when viewed in that light — he already lets himself be the butt of jokes so often, and now he feels like the way romance doesn't click for him has to be a joke, too? Oof. Someone give him a hug and tell him he's not broken this instant!) But regardless:

Merle views dates, and perhaps romance in general, as things that will inevitably turn disastrous for him and any party involved with him, and he would rather spend time with his children than repairing a relationship with an ex, or cultivating a relationship with a new partner. This is not an experience exclusive to the aro-spec umbrella, but you can't say that an aromantic reading of his character doesn't fit him like a gardening glove...

...which he wears while fucking his plants. Because plants don't demand emotional intimacy, nor take too much time away from the platonic relationships that matter more to him. And you know what? He's fucking valid for that! Fly your flag, nasty grandpa!

But moving on: I promised you aromantic analysis of characters outside of our protagonists, and henceforth, that analysis I will provide. And not just because I admittedly see Taako as the token alloromantic (though clearly an aro ally; if he hadn't chosen Forsake we wouldn't have gotten all this incredible characterization!)

I digress. So let's go on to addressing the lich twins in the room: Edward and Lydia.

Remember my argument earlier that Heart Attack serves the purpose of collecting suffering just like the rest of Wonderland does? How it's just a subtler way of making Wonderland's victims fundamentally uncomfortable?

...Using, of all things, romance?

How the vogue twins, for whatever reason, felt inspired to make people uncomfortable with matchmaking and adoration? How, some way or another, they noticed how much potential romance had to induce suffering? Being pressured into a relationship, being told that no matter how firmly you say you're uninterested, you're not really uninterested?

...Relatedly, I have always gotten the sense that Edward and Lydia projected relentlessly onto their victims.

Edward: This resolve, this desire to do whatever it takes no matter the cost to save yourselves — do you know who you three remind me of? Magnus: No? Merle: Who? Edward: Us!

I'm even going to go a step further and say that on top of projection, they want their victims to go through things they went through. Swallowing the guilt of having fucked someone else over to survive, of course — that's basically self-admitted. But possibly also... the feeling of not being able to get back what you lost (Keats). The feeling of being able to heal (Keats).

So, where does that leave Heart Attack?

Lydia: It was the three of us, surviving against all odds. The world against us.

Their family of three was (is) indescribably important to them. I'm not necessarily saying that societal expectations of romance, especially of romance as a priority above that of family, left a bad taste in their mouths — if not downright contributing to their trauma — but, okay, I wrote the rest of this post and now that I'm back, I can no longer deny it. I'm definitely, absolutely saying that.

At the time of the podcast, we know Edward and Lydia's own relationship is heavily strained. Until the end, they are lying to themselves and to each other about the fact that they continue to be emotionally and magically reliant on each other. After all, Lydia wouldn't say "I guess we really needed each other after all" in her dying moments with such surprise otherwise.

This is the second reason that I... well, I wouldn't quite call it a "theory," but I find it most impactful to read Edward and Lydia as characters for whom the concept of Love has baggage. And always has, from their origins as youth in a tough spot in an already amatonormative world.

Maybe the constant societal devaluing of platonic, familial bonds left them with serious emotional scars. Maybe the constant conflation of Love and morality just weighed on them and weighed on them and weighed on them until they decided: well, we don't love the way people expect us to, so we might as well give up on being the good people they expect us to be. We might as well embrace this new fuel of suffering.

...And you know, I hope this gets across what I mean when I always say I headcanon villains as aromantic to make them more sympathetic.

Edward and Lydia, textually, are already tragic villains. As twins and liches, they're also textually foil characters to several of the Seven Birds. But I also like to think that they have a lot in common with Magnus and Merle, and the possibility that tugs at my heartstrings the most is the possibility of them all falling under the aromantic umbrella.

#taz #taz balance #taz balance spoilers #magnus burnsides #merle highchurch #vogue elves #wonderland twins #(i always forget which tag i use for them lol)#aspec taz #taz meta #happy aro week this essay is my gift to myself <2

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janaispunk · 2 months

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end game

series masterlist • this is part VII

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: ~3.8k

summary: Heartbreak, an explanation and an epilogue.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), angst, feelings, heartbreak, depression, mention of weight loss, fluff, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, sir kink, degradation kink, fingering, unprotected p in v (it's never stated in the fic but i headcanon that reader is on birth control), basically free use kink, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, spit kink, praise kink, Dave is a menace, praise kink, idiots in love, please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: the biggest thank you to @joelscurls for letting me scream about this again and againnnnn, and reading over my drafts countless times, you’re the best, jess! <3

thank you to @daddy-dins-girl for talking plot holes with me and motivating me to write <3

thank you to everyone who has read and loved this series, i have received sooooo many kind words, feedback and just so much love. i started writing this as a pwp oneshot and the fact that it has turned into my first series ever and one that i had soooo much fun with is wild. i’m incredibly emotional about saying goodbye to my babies, maybe i’ll revisit them when i need to write some kinky shit out of my system haha. i hope that you like the ending that i’ve built for them.

a few words about the plot: i actually have zero clue how the hitman business works (shocker, i know), so some parts of this are purposefully vague in a way that i hope is believable and somewhat realistic. just roll with it, thanks :D

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

find my full masterlist here & follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates.

The first week you don’t hear from Dave, you’re confused, but not necessarily worried yet. There have been weeks of silence in the past, though you’ll admit that you had thought that things might be… different now.

Your texts to him stay on delivered, never switching to read. Which has also happened before, especially when he was away on business, but still… The thought that he has gone back to his normal life without sparing as much as a glance back at your time together is nagging at you.

You can still feel his hands on your skin, can still hear him whisper in your ear how beautiful you look, how perfect you are for him. It’s hard to come to terms with the thought that it wasn’t real, that his words and actions didn’t hold the same weight for him that they did for you. Reality has finally caught up to you and it hurts.

When two weeks blend into three weeks and you’ve still heard nothing, you start getting worried. He had said his line of work was dangerous, after all.

Your conversation, still so close and yet a lifetime ago, echoes in your mind. 'Nothing's gonna happen,’ you had said. ‘Not to the girls, not to me. And not to you.’ And not to you. ‘You don’t know that, sweetheart,’ his voice rings through your head. Sweetheart. The word tastes bitter on your tongue and wraps itself around your chest until you feel like you’re choking with it, like you can’t draw breath into your lungs anymore.

Sweetheart.

You don’t know that.

Sweetheart.

You start looking him up online, to find anything that might at least tell you that he’s okay. You don’t want to believe that he would be cruel enough to ghost you, but you barely dare to consider the alternative. You find nothing, no mention of his name, like he doesn’t even exist.

Your calls stay unanswered, your messages stay unread. You find yourself subconsciously checking your texts and your emails countless times a day, catch yourself staring out of your window in the blind hope that he might appear outside. He wouldn’t just leave you like this, would he? Would he?

Days blur into weeks and eventually into months. You’re painfully aware that it’s not healthy, this kind of heartbreak, especially not over a relationship that never even meant anything. If only your heart would understand that.

It was never serious enough that you told any of your friends about it, never wanted to be labeled as the girl that sleeps with married men, never wanted to admit your feelings to someone else when you could barely admit them to yourself. Regardless, even without knowing what exactly was going on, your friends had tried to be there for you, to convince you to go out with them, to cheer you up, but you had turned them down often enough that on this Friday night, your phone stays silent.

It’s better this way. All you want to do is rot away on your couch, staring at the TV with unseeing eyes until it’s an acceptable time to go to bed. Maybe it won’t take you hours of lying in the dark to fall asleep tonight. Maybe it won’t remind you of a different kind of darkness in a different room, a room where the sound of waves against the shore and the deep breaths beside you lulled you to sleep.

You need to get yourself together, your inner voice whispers. Next week, you think. Or the one after that.

A knock on your door shakes you out of your thoughts and you pad over, expecting to be met with the Chinese takeout that you had ordered in hopes of fueling your appetite at least a bit with the prospect of comfort food. Absentmindedly, you note the surprisingly short delivery time. You barely look up as you swing the door open, busy fiddling with your purse to extract a few dollar bills.

After finally managing to pull them out, you face the doorway. A greeting dies in your throat.

Familiar deep brown eyes burn into yours, framed by the face that you wish you’d forget but can’t. The short brown hair, the clean shaven jawline that you can still feel underneath your fingertips, the memory all too fresh in your mind. He looks tired, you think, and instantly scold yourself for knowing him well enough to even notice.

The seconds tick by as you motionlessly stare at him, blinking slowly, your mind running a mile a minute. Why is he here? He can’t be here. Are you making this up? If so, things are far worse than you had thought.

He clears his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably. It’s probably the least sure of himself that you’ve ever seen him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his hand twitching like he almost reached out to you but changed his mind. “Can I- can I come in?”

You regard him for a moment longer. The sound of his voice makes him appear more real, and the fog in your head slowly clears. He’s alive. He’s here. In front of your door. Alive and well. Your emotions boil up inside of you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! You think you can just show up here after months and ask if you can come in? I thought you were… I thought…”

Your voice betrays you, breaking at the sharp sting of pain in your chest that you’ve fruitlessly tried to suppress and the feeling of your throat closing up. Tears spill over and you furiously wipe at your cheeks, determined to keep some semblance of dignity.

“I know,” Dave breathes, defeatedly. “I’m so sorry. Please let me explain.” His hand reaches towards you again. You shy away from his touch and an expression of hurt ripples across his face. “Please, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Your voice only trembles a little as you snap at him. After another look at his face, you eventually step aside and jerk your head towards your living area. You briefly think about how messy the place is, for how many weeks you didn’t have it in yourself to clean up. You can’t bring yourself to care. Seeing him walk through your flat again after being so painfully aware of his absence leaves you almost dizzy. You take the opposite ends of your couch, both of your bodies stiff, careful not to touch one another.

“Okay,” you sigh. “Explain.”

So he explains. How he received a call, barely thirty minutes after he stepped into his house, with a mission that was too perfect of an opportunity to pass it up. There had been no time to let you know, the risk too high to use his personal phone once he started working.

He goes back to the persona that took up half of his life for so long, the identity that is no more, the man that fell down a watchtower and was washed away by the sea. Body never found. At least that’s what everyone who knew this man thinks. Everyone who knew him, but not Dave York.

He’s been thorough with it, with the most important mission he’s ever done. There are no loose ends, no one who could trace things back to the real him.

It took longer than he had anticipated and he kept laying low afterwards, until he could be absolutely sure that no one would be looking for him anymore.

He doesn’t think that he’ll ever get rid of the worry, ever stop looking over his shoulder, but rationally, he knows that he did it. He got out.

Then he had talked to Carol, let her know that he wants a divorce. It had been- easy, almost. She didn’t cry, didn’t scream at him, just nodded like she had known this day would come for a long time. He thinks that she almost seemed relieved, in a way.

Your eyes had been glued to his face since he started speaking. Tears are silently running down your cheeks.

“I know that I should have found a way to contact you. I didn’t-” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t know what to do. I was so worried that someone would find out about you. I never wanted to hurt you, you have to believe that.” He knows that he looks a mess, that his desperation to make you understand is written all over his features.

Every day that he didn’t call you, he knew that he was hurting you. He tried justifying it with himself, that having you think he left you was better than risking somebody coming after you. It never gave him much comfort.

It’s even worse, now that he sees the damage he had done. You have lost weight, deep circles have formed under your eyes and you move like you’re barely holding yourself together. He saw the panic on your face when he tried reaching for you at the door. No matter what he had done to you in the past, you always sought out the safety of his touch afterwards. Until now.

“Please believe me,” he whispers.

You study his face for what feels like a lifetime. Tears are glistening on your lashes. You look so tired, so defeated that it makes his heart ache.

“You’ve done it?” you finally ask. Your voice is a quiet thing, barely bridging the distance between the two of you. A flicker of hope rings with it. “You’re safe now?”

He nods silently, fighting the urge to gather you in his arms, to promise you that he’ll always be there from now on. A small smile curves your lips upward as you mirror his nod, like you’re trying to let this new reality sink in.

“That’s good,” you murmur.

You lean forward, your fingers tentatively closing around his fist that’s clenched tightly against his thigh.

Hope flickers inside his chest. He can taste the three words that he’s been wanting to say to you for far too long on the tip of his tongue. He’s not going to, not right now, not today. But someday soon, he thinks that he might.

Two years later

“Bye girls, say hi to your mom and Matt from me,” you smile, embracing each of them in a tight hug before they dash out of the door, a jumble of giggles and excited chatter. Dave trails behind them with a grin on his face, pecking your lips and calling out for them to slow down.

Your heart is full, overflowing with love for this family that, against all odds, has become yours. You watch Dave usher his daughters into the car and push the doors closed behind them, the smile still on your lips. As you walk back into the house, your eyes linger on the thin silver band adorning your ring finger.

It’s still new, still an unexpected sight when you catch it on the edge of your periphery. It’s the tangible proof of you being the happiest you’ve ever been.

Things had been rough at first, after Dave came back to you. You understood why he handled the situation the way he did, but it took you a long time to trust that he wouldn’t disappear again. To believe that he left his old life behind, that he chose you. But he did.

You busy yourself with cleaning up the inevitable chaos that having the girls over for Dave’s days with them always creates. It’s not the life that you would have expected yourself to have a few years ago, but right now, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

A few minutes later, your phone pings with a message from Dave.

Be back in 15. I expect you naked and on your knees waiting by the door.

You bite your lip, heat building inside you with rapid speed. Your phone pings again.

Don’t disappoint me.

Fuck. Wetness is already gathering between your legs as you jump into action.

The car door slamming shut has never sounded so good before. You’re listening intently, catching Dave’s heavy footsteps on the stairs and the jingle of his keys before the door opens beside where you’re kneeling.

You look up at him from your place on the floor, watching the mix of smugness and adoration on his face as he takes in your position. A shudder runs through you and your nipples harden under his demanding gaze. He steps closer, caressing your cheek.

“Such a good girl… my obedient little wife, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, the coherent thoughts slowly draining from your brain and craving more of his touch, more of him.

He smiles down at you, his eyes glinting predatorily. You’ve come to know this shift into the darkness since you first met, but it’s more playful these days, not laced with the urgency that possessed him back then. Still, he gets intense, especially after having the girls over forces you to keep things rather tame during those days.

“Show me your ass, face on the ground, come on,” he demands coldly.

You obey without question, turning around and bending forward, pressing your upper body down to the floor and presenting your backside to him. He lands a couple of slaps on your cheeks and you flinch, moaning out softly. Your pussy already feels slick with arousal.

“What do you say?” he asks, rubbing his hand over the heated skin.

“Thank you, sir,” you whisper.

Another slap hits you. “Do you know what you did to deserve this?”

You wrack your brain for a few moments, but come up blank.

“I- no, sir.” Your voice is small and breathy, your body bracing for the impact of his hand again.

He chuckles. “Nothing. I just felt like it.” Another slap. “And you’re mine to do as I please, isn’t that right?” Your thighs are trembling. You’re so wet that it feels like you’re dripping onto the floor.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“You know what’s the most fucked up about this?” He crouches down beside your face and strokes your cheek softly, smiling down at you. “How much you whore like it.”

He straightens up and heads for the stairs. “Bedroom, come on.”

You don’t even try standing up, knowing that he won’t let you, and crawl behind him, which earns you another chuckle and a “good girl”.

The image of your naked form on your knees behind Dave who hasn’t removed a stitch of clothing sends another bolt of arousal through you. You’re desperate for him to touch you.

He roughly lifts you up and manhandles you onto the bed until you’re spread out underneath him.

“So…” He grabs your wrists and holds them over your head, pressing them into the mattress. “These stay right here, you hear me? Don’t move, or do I have to restrain you?”

You pout at the prospect of not being allowed to put your hands on him, but obediently hold them in place when he eases his grip on you. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He grins down at you. “I know you will. Got my girl well trained, haven’t I?”

His words make your pussy clench around nothing and your “yes, sir” comes out in a whimper.

He leans in closer, spreading your thighs wider with his body and you force yourself not to buck your hips up against him. The craving for any part of him to touch you, for any kind of friction, is overwhelming.

“Please, sir,” you whisper. Your pleading eyes hold his cold gaze as he’s leaning over you.

“Patience,” he growls. “Open your mouth.” A disapproving click of his tongue. “Wider.”

You part your lips as widely as you can, sticking your tongue out and trying not to squirm against the sheets. He remains motionless for a few seconds, taking in your desperate state with a cruel smirk on his face.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. Then he tips his head forward and spits into your waiting mouth. The filthy feeling of his saliva coating your tongue and filling your mouth almost drives you insane with want and you groan, shifting against his thick thighs between yours, but to no avail. You wait for his next command, your mouth still wide open, not daring to swallow before he tells you to.

But no command comes. Instead, he reaches up to press two fingers down on your tongue, dipping into your mouth and smearing your combined spit over your face. The silver band on his ring finger is cool against your skin and you shudder, loving the reminder that he’s really, entirely yours.

Your body feels like it’s burning up, your hands are twitching and you’re desperate to move them, to touch him, to do something, but you hold yourself still until he finally tells you to, “swallow, baby.”

He smiles and finds your lips for a surprisingly soft kiss, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re being so good,” he tells you gently. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” you smile, chasing his lips when he pulls back, but he tuts at you and you fall back against the bed, huffing out a breath. “Just… please.”

“Patience,” he reminds you, the softness gone as quick as it came. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

You bite your lip, but stay put while he stands up to finally start removing his clothes. He’s agonizingly slow with it, holding your hungry gaze while he unbuttons his shirt in unhurried movements that make you want to tear the clothes off his body yourself.

You drink him in, first the sight of his broad chest and his strong shoulders, then his muscular legs, and finally, making your mouth water and your pussy burn with desire, his cock.

As much as he keeps taunting you, you know him well enough by now to be able to tell that he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him, even when he’s trying to conceal it. He returns to you, sitting back on his haunches and drinking you in, until after what feels like hours, he finally reaches out and swirls his fingers through the wetness between your legs. It’s a barely there touch, but you’re so painfully turned on and sensitive that you let out a gasp.

“So fucking wet,” he marvels and applies the slightest bit of pressure to your clit. It’s enough to make you see stars and you’re sure that he could make you come just from this. But, of course he won’t. He laughs at your reaction and retracts his hand to lean forward instead until he’s on top of you again, your legs spread wide to accommodate him and his cock slides through your folds.

He lowers his head to nip and suck at the skin under your jaw, one hand toying with your breasts and your hardened nipples. Your whole body is buzzing, he’s so close and it’s so much, but it’s not enough, not enough, not enough.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, peppering your skin with kisses and rocking his hips in small movements that make his cock nudge at your clit over and over.

“F-fuck me, please, I’ll do anything,” you beg, your body still obediently stretched out underneath him with your arms above your head. He nods wordlessly and reaches down to position himself at your soaking entrance.

“Be as loud as you want,” he growls against your neck. “I missed making you scream.”

He bites at your skin at the same time as his thrust into you punches the air from your lungs. You scream, just like he asked, as he hammers into you, his lips still attached to your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin. The sensation of finally being filled by him, of feeling the stinging stretch of the way he forcefully pounds into you is like heaven. You think that you’re talking, crying out a mix of his name and sir and please over and over.

You’re flying towards your climax and judging from his groans, he can already feel you tighten around him.

“Go ahead,” he groans, before you’ve even strung the words to ask for permission together in your mind. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

He pinches your nipple just once and the additional sensation is enough to send you flying, your pussy clenching around his cock and drenching him in your arousal as you scream out his name. It’s pure bliss, and you never want to come down.

“That’s it,” he growls, not slowing his movements, fucking you through the aftershocks until you’re a whining mess beneath him, “that’s my perfect girl, fuck-”

You force your eyes open to smile up at him, taking in the wrecked expression on his face, relishing in the knowledge that you’re the one to make him look like this. You just really wish you could touch him.

“P-please, can I-” you’re breathless, barely able to speak, and jerk your head towards your hands above you.

“Yeah,” he rasps, his thrusts somehow growing even more forceful, “do whatever you want, baby.”

Your hands fly towards his body, touching every inch of his skin that you can reach, nails digging into his back and fingers grasping at his hair, pulling him closer, closer, until he’s everywhere, all you can see, all you can taste, all you can feel.

“Fuck!” he swears, grabbing your shoulders and holding you in place as he’s pounding into you, “give me another one, touch yourself, come on-”

His thrusts are becoming erratic and you know that he’s close to his own climax. It only takes a few swipes of your fingers over your clit until you’re coming again, soaring through the heights of your pleasure, your whole body trembling with your release. Dave’s hips stutter and he comes with a shout, pulsing inside of your fluttering pussy until finally, you both still.

He drops his sweat-slicked forehead against your chest, peppering your skin with kisses and engulfing you in the warmth of his arms. After cleaning you up, he moves your bodies until you’re tucked against his side, one arm thrown across his chest while he holds you close.

You’ll never get tired of the feeling of his naked body against yours, of the way he feels like he was made for you. By now, you can admit that he had always felt like this.

“I love you,” he says, lips moving against your hair.

You press your face deeper into his neck. “I love you.”

It’s easy, now. Words that you say every day.

…and i love YOU, thank you for reading! 🤍 if you liked this, a reblog or a comment would absolutely make my day.

#janas fics #the dress series #dave york #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader

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dystopicjumpsuit · 7 months

Note

Whoo hooooo! I think you would create magic as always with this prompt: the first initial kiss being a simple peck, then they immediately go back in for a stronger, more passionate one.

Could I request it with your choice of Tup… or post-stasis Kix… or Hunter? 🫦🥹💙

A/N: Thank you for the ask @freesia-writes! I’ve been wanting to write a fic with a meteor shower for ages, and this was the perfect opportunity. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Hunter x Reader (GN)

Rating: T, but minors DNI as always

Wordcount: 740

Warnings and tags: fluff; sensuality; pop culture in my SW fanfic (it's more likely than you think)

Summary: You and Hunter watch a meteor shower on Pabu.

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“I’m gonna turn in,” Wrecker said. “I’ll take the kid back to the house if you two want to stay and watch the show.”

“I told her she needed to take a nap if she wanted to stay awake long enough to see the meteor shower,” Hunter laughed quietly, passing Omega’s sleeping form to his brother.

You grinned. “In her defense, if my dad had told me to take a nap when I was twelve, I definitely would have stayed awake just to spite him.”

Wrecker let out a booming laugh. “Didn’t realize you were such a rebel!”

“Ssshhhh!” you and Hunter shushed Wrecker in unison.

“Oh, right,” he whispered. “I’m headin’ out. See ya later.”

You waved goodbye at Wrecker and then flopped back down onto the blanket you’d spread on the sandy beach of Pabu, staring up at the glorious night sky. Hunter soon joined you, not quite touching you, but lying close to your side so you’d both fit on the blanket.

“You’re lucky Omega’s such a great kid,” you murmured. “I was a holy terror at her age. I couldn’t even stand myself; I don’t know how my parents survived.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he chuckled. “The proper schoolteacher of Pabu?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you replied. “I was a teenage dirtbag.”

“Is that why all the kids love you?”

“They sense a kindred spirit under my respectable facade,” you said with a giggle.

Hunter huffed a quiet laugh, and the two of you lapsed into silence as you watched the sky. It was a dark, moonless night, and for once, the sky was entirely free of clouds—a perfect night for stargazing. You could see the entire galaxy stretched out above you, the stars shining brightly enough that they reflected as pinpricks of light on the tranquil ocean.

“Look there,” he said, pointing to a section of the sky close to the horizon. “It’s gonna be a good one.”

Sure enough, a brilliant streak of light soon shot low across the darkness, its flash bright enough to illuminate the beach faintly. As it burned out, you turned your head to stare at Hunter.

“How do you do that?” you asked softly.

“I can hear them,” he replied.

He lay on his back, his eyes fixed on the sky, and you took a moment to watch his face in the starlight. “That’s amazing.”

It was difficult to tell in the darkness, but you thought he smiled. “There’ll be another over there.”

He pointed across your body to a section of sky far to your left. He propped himself up on one elbow so he could see over you, and you turned to the sector he pointed out just in time to catch the vivid burst of light. The meteor split in two as it hit the atmosphere, putting on a dazzling show, and you could hear the distant sizzling as it burnt itself out.

“Even I could hear that one!” you exclaimed, turning to Hunter in excitement.

He was much closer to you than he had been when he was lying on his back, and you caught your breath when you realized that your faces were almost touching. Your pulse began to race, and you silently willed yourself to calm down, knowing that Hunter would be able to hear your body’s reaction to him.

Another meteor shot directly overhead, its bright light illuminating his face, and you realized he was staring at your lips. On impulse, you reached up and kissed him. It was quick and light—barely a peck—and by the time it was over, the beach had plunged back into darkness, leaving you uncertain about his response.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Was that—”

He cut off your question abruptly, his lips crashing into yours in a passionate, urgent kiss. His hand dropped to your waist, rolling your body against his as his tongue grazed your lips softly, sliding into your mouth. The moment he tasted you, he let out a short, desperate sound, almost a growl, as his hand slid possessively up your back. Overhead, a spectacular meteor burst into the atmosphere, its flash so intense that you could see the illumination even though your eyes were closed. You opened them just in time to see the light trail die out.

As your lips parted from Hunter’s, you whispered, “We missed that one.”

He kissed you again, softly. “I prefer the view down here.”

#sergeant hunter #hunter tbb #sergeant hunter x reader #gn reader #sw tbb fanfic #the bad batch #bad batch #star wars #sw bad batch #hunter x reader

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pearlywritings · 4 months

Text

Alive

synopsis: the fall of your homeland is a catastrophe as it is, however, it's not only the home you and your husband lost. It's just a miracle you didn't lose each other.

prompt: 21

requested by: a lovely anon

pairing: Pierro x fem!reader

tw: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, pre-Fatui Pierro (he is more open and emotional), topic of pregnancy and children, a couple of my personal headcannons about Khaenri'ah and how the curse affects the body. [...] - is used in places where Pierro and reader use their real names.

word count: 1.3k+ words in total

a/n: part of my Token of appreciation writing event! Closed now, still have 1 more requests to write. Also this fic is from the same AU my other fic is - Behind the wall of falling snow we love. You can check it if you'd like some more

Bright Sumeru sun is blinding and the evergreen forests are dizzying when you look long enough. And yet [...] forces his eyes to take in the life itself blooming in front of him, tired gaze mindlessly following the movement of a red butterfly, flying by. Red. Red, red, red, r e d╴

Khaenri’ahn stars hide behind the eyelids, fingers clenching in a fist unconsciously. So much blood, everything is dirtied by the curse. To this very second he can hardly endure it - two months later and it still haunts him as if he’s back there, at the beginning of the end. Screams, cries, loud screeching of machines, rumbling of collapsing buildings and deafening booming of explosions… It’s hard to forget, he believes he never will. There is blood on his hands yet he hasn’t killed anyone. He only tried to save, but he managed to save only one╴

The one he can’t imagine his life without.

The one the healer is examining behind his turned back. This old man was tolerable, he kept his mouth shut about two refugees from the fallen nation hiding here, above the surface and under the sun. The two previous ones had to go.

“Your wife’s condition is better,” the silver-haired man shivers, torn from his thoughts and finally lets go of the blindfold, dimming the natural light inside this small house you had luck buying. Your love for wearing jewelry and the rules that dictated adorning his mage’s robes in those helped you both survive so far.

“Be more specific,” he demands, returning to the bed, gaze immediately on your body, resting under the covers. Your eyes, equally as mysterious, momentarily dart from the healer to your husband. Before you could even lift a hand resting atop the duvet, he already leans in and slides his palm under yours, squeezing.

“The healing process is complete,” you see the way his breath shakes when your beloved exhales in relief. Fingers flex around yours in a comforting gesture. “I can’t get rid of this curse mark, but I succeeded in eliminating the harm it caused to her internal organs. But,” the wise man looks at you, no longer talking to the man at your side and his gaze turns sorrowful. Your heart stops in fear, knowing what he is about to confirm. “As I said before - I am afraid you won’t have children again. Ever. From what is known of the medicine right now - the closeness of your reproductive organs to the fetus most likely made them more exposed to the damage. On the bright side, I estimate that this factor won’t stop you from continuing living your life. I am still not sure how exactly this ‘disease’ got into your body, however from my observations over you I can state with all confidence - it’s a miracle you stayed alive, dear.”

It’s a miracle you stayed alive.

Big hand squeezes around yours. He doesn’t know yet, that the two of you were cursed with immortality, he doesn’t know yet, that sooner or later even the damage of the severely cursed part of your body would’ve naturally healed either way (not completely, but still). All he knows right now is that there was a possibility of him losing you.

When the healer leaves your humble abode - this one deserves to live - you ask your lover to help you sit, which he does and immediately takes a seat on the edge of your simple bed (it groans a little under his burly mass, but you both ignore it). He still hasn't let go of your hand.

A few moments are spent in silence. You are deep in your own unease, while he is wrecking his head over the way to start the conversation. Gently. He doesn’t want to bring those memories back - how the curse targeted the weakest spot in your body - your womb, how he had to save you, to make a life-changing decision of ridding your body off what was slowly killing you - *your own unborn child*... How he used his best knowledge in healing magic to keep you stable and get you out of the falling land. Everything else is a blur. But everything else doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that you are alive.

“My heart,” he starts slowly, but these two words are enough to gather your attention, “I am relieved to know you are alright. Forgive me my selfish desires, but I can’t fathom a thought of losing you, of spending the rest of my life without you. I ask a lot from you, but, please,” he covers the hand he is already holding with his other one, “I know it’s hard, but I beg you not to forget the happy days we spent together, the love we share,” your gaze falls to the wedding bracelets clasped around your wrists and your heart clenches when you hear desperation in his voice, “and above all, do not let go of your desire to live… For any reason, understood?”

“If you tell me this one more time, I will let go.”

Your abrupt response surprises you. You didn’t mean to lash out, but suddenly it just happened. Is it the brewing pain in your heart? The dull ache and emptiness in your stomach? The settling understanding of the loss and that life will never be the same? You don’t know. You feel too much.

He is taken aback and you notice. Eyes widen and anxiety settles in your heart - have you pushed him away?

"You know you are not guilty, [...]?" Your husband reaches to cup your cheek. You hopelessly cling to it with your free one, leaning into the warm palm, closing your eyes. "At that time nothing else could've been done."

"But if I was stronger, if my body was stronger-"

"But we were not, my heart. It's a cruel reality, but every time I see you I am so glad you were spared. Even if it happened like that."

He knows his words are cruel and he says them to your face now, raw and hurting, but that is the only truth he has. And he is not going to lie to the woman he vowed to treasure.

"Sorry for being rude, I didn’t mean it,” you swallow the lump in your throat, and the man beside you reassuringly caresses your cheek. He understands. “And sorry we have to have this conversation… I am not the only one hurt after all.”

"I am not mad, [...]. And you are the one who’s been hurt the most, so we will return to this topic as many times as you need. I will remind you that none of it is your fault,” his promise is soft and you make yourself believe it. He climbs next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist - gently, almost feather-lightly, - and brings you closer to his chest.

"I just really wish it wasn't our one and only chance to have a family," you snuggle into him, diving into the warmth of his body. "You don't hate me for it, right?"

"Of course I do not. There will never be a thing I'll hate you for."

"Thank you…"

"No, thank you for being alive."

He can feel your lips pulling in a small smile against his chest. He is aware that so little time is not enough to numb the mind and heart to the memories and that this pain is hard to heal - he is sure it never completely will, and even though he is pushing his own despair to the back of his head, he fully shares your hurt. He keeps reminding himself, that you got to stay alive and you are right here, he can see, touch, hold, love you…

And even in the frozen lands of your soon-to-be-destination he’ll continue doing so.

#pearly writing appreciation event #token of appreciation #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #pierro x reader #pierro x fem!reader #pierro genshin #genshin impact angst

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pleasantlycrazyworld · 25 days

Note

“let me love you!” “i’ll never hurt you.” “you’re easy to love.”

from the prompt list with Billy please 💗

(in my head this time it's reader that needs to be told this because she is insecure, i see a lot of hurt/comfort fics about billy being comforted and while i absolutely love those, i feel like the idea of reader being the one that needs to be taken care of not is not explored enough in the Billy fandom 🤍)

am I projecting ? - yes absolutely

Thank you for this request! Literally loved writing this! I hope you like how it turned out :) I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but if it isn't please let me know

Is this billy? no. Do I care? no. I love writing billy as a fluffy man and if you don't like that, that's okay <3

This week has been rough, honestly things have been rough for a while now but this week has been the worst of the worst.

All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay swallowed by the blankets. You didn't want to deal with anything or anyone anymore for a hot minute. And as you drive home you can feel the waves of emotions finally starting to wash over, you when you pull into your driveway your vision starts to blur. You slowly trudge up to your front door and immediately start to undress before crawling into your bed, ready to sleep the day away.

You fell asleep without even noticing. You slept through the seven phone calls Billy left you, you slept through Billy unlocking your door with the spare key you gave him, and you slept through him calling for you as he wanders into your home.

"Babe??? I'm starting to actually worry here!" He yells out before reaching your bedroom. He is about to yell your name again but he freezes seeing you buried under all of your blankets. "Fuck babe..." He kicks off his boots and crawls next to you in bed.

"Baby...come on wake up for me sweetheart" he whispers to you as he moves your hair out of your face gently. You slowly open your eyes and smile once you're greeted by the sight of his bright blue eyes. "Hi baby" you greet him sleepily and snuggle into his chest slightly.

Normally this would melt his heart, however, this time his heart fills with worry. To anyone else, they may have missed how your eyes seemed dull, or they would've shrugged it off as you being tired but he knows better than that, he knows you better then he knows himself.

"Want to fill me in here? What happened today?" Asking this question broke down your walls again and tears started filling your eyes before you could stop it. "I--well it was um..." You clear your throat trying to stop the feeling of it closing in on itself.

"Do you think I'm hard to love?" once those words were out in the atmosphere you squeezed your eyes tightly in hopes that if Billy did hear you that you closing your eyes tight enough would make you disappear. Billy did hear you though, he heard you loud and clear and that broke his heart in two.

"You're easy to love." He says matter of factly, leaving no room to argue. "Let me love you, Let me prove that what you said is so wrong." His brows furrow as anger started to flow through his veins. Who said this to them? Who put those thoughts into their beautiful mind? How long have they been thinking this? As these questions started to flow through his mind more anger started to flow through his veins.

You shake your head not wanting to think about this anymore. "I'm just so tired. I'm tired of feeling hurt, of getting hurt, of being let down. It's been such a shitty week. Been such a long, exhausting week." You ramble on before Billy makes you stop. "I'll never hurt you." Billy says in nearly a whimper. The thought of hurting you in any way destroys his soul and if he ever did hurt you he truly believes he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

"I'd never hurt you. Anyone that has hurt you are the worst, most stupidest group of people to ever live let alone breath. I don't know if you know this, if you realize this, but I...god I really love you and that isn't easy for me. If I ever hurt you I'm done for."

Your eyes filled with tears for a whole different reason. You've never seen Billy so vulnerable, you've never felt so loved before either. From how you were laying on his chest you leaned up and kissed his chin softly. "I love you too Billy, more than you'll ever know" He smiled softly and kissed your head as you rest your head on his chest one more time before falling back to sleep. As you sleep Billy starts to play with your hair and continues to whisper how much he loves you.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #billy stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #billy x reader #billy fluff #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfic #billy hargrove fluff

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laurenairay · 11 days

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you've been sent to save me - N. MacKinnon

Summary: what’s meant to be will always find a way.

Rachel Summers can’t stand Nathan MacKinnon. But when a mutual friend’s wedding pulls them together, will anything change?

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: some angst, some bad language

A/N: Here is my fic for @fallinallincurls birthday bingo! I chose wedding season/dates, forced proximity, meddling best friend, and invisible string theory. This was a lot of fun to write (and I can't believe I've never written a full fic for Nate before!), so I hope you enjoy it Bre! Sorry it's a bit late!

Title from always been you, by Shawn Mendes.

Invisible string theory suggests that everyone has someone in their lives who is attached to them by an invisible string that transcends time, distance, and geography. It’s fate.

June 2023

“There’s just one more thing.”

“Oh?” Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nate’s going to be a groomsman.”

Rachel immediately groaned, tilting her head backwards. A little dramatic perhaps but for Nathan MacKinnon? It was justified. She’d been over the moon when her childhood friend had asked her to be a bridesmaid for her wedding next summer, but now knowing that Nathan was going to be in the wedding party too?

“It’s bad enough that I can’t avoid that grumpy smirky fucker whenever he’s back for the summer, but now I can’t even avoid him for the happiest day of your life?”

“It really will be the happiest day of my life, won’t it?” she sighed happily.

“Angie, focus,” Rachel snapped, unable to stop herself from huffing out a laugh. She wanted to stay mad at her friend, but it was hard with the dreamy look on her face.

Angela just giggled. “Look, Brad has been friends with him for years, you know that. And I can’t change that – I’m sure it’ll be fine?”

“Angie!” Rachel whined.

She just laughed harder. “Rach, I will make sure he won’t act like an ass. I promise!”

“I’ll believe that the day I see it.”

June 2024

It was finally time for Angela’s wedding. After a full year of planning – helping choose the bridesmaid dresses, the hair and make-up trials, the hen do itself, spending her weekends making table decorations – the fateful weekend had finally arrived. Rachel had been given the option to travel up a couple of days early ahead of the wedding ceremony on the Saturday, so she’d eagerly booked the time off work, and was travelling to Inverary Resort bright and early on the Thursday morning. Rachel was ready to settle in and relax with the rest of the bridal party, all friends over the years from Cole Harbour, to celebrate one of her oldest friends marrying the love of her life.

What could possibly go wrong?

After 3 and a half hours of driving, Rachel was ready to kick her shoes off and pick up a cocktail, and as she spotted Angela running happily out of the main building towards her as she parked her car, she found a smile spreading across her face. This weekend was going to be amazing, she just knew it.

“You made it! How was the journey? We got in a few hours ago and it was fine for us – was it still okay for you?”

Rachel just grinned at her friend’s happy rambling, throwing her shoulder-length dark waves up into a basic ponytail before grabbing her bags out of her backseat. Thankfully the transportation of the bridesmaid dresses – a gorgeous olive green that suited Rachel’s dark hair and tanned skin perfectly - were taken care of by Angela’s mom so she hadn’t had to worry about creasing that.

The two of them caught up as Angela walked her through the main lobby of the resort, picking up Rachel’s room key as well as a glass of complimentary prosecco. Rachel tried not to get too wide-eyed over the beauty of the venue, but it was hard not to gawp. The views alone were amazing, and she wasn’t even on the water’s edge yet. From what she understood, for the accommodation on site there was a main lodge with the majority of rooms, as well as whole bunch of individual cottages. Rachel had chosen to stay in the main lodge, as a single guest, so at least she didn’t have to walk far with her luggage.

“Alright, here you are. There are a few other guests already here so get settled and then come downstairs to meet us for drinks. It’s just a chilled day today, touring the grounds and relaxing really, with a dinner tonight at the Lakeside restaurant,” Angela explained, “I’ll see you soon?”

“You got it,” Rachel grinned.

Angela’s enthusiasm was infectious at the very least, and Rachel could feel herself buzzing as she unpacked her bags. She couldn’t wait explore the grounds of the resort – and she was more than ready for the spa morning tomorrow in the Glasgow house cottage that Rachel had set up for the bride’s party – but first, drinks.

After freshening up with a spritz of perfume and a swipe of lipgloss, Rachel left her room, phone and room key in hand.

“Look what the cat dragged in.”

No fucking way.

Rachel turned her head to see the last person she wanted to see standing two doors down from her with a suitcase at his side. He must’ve just arrived. It was just her luck that his room was so close to hers – Angela had better not had a hand in that – as always during the summers when he was home, it was like she couldn’t escape him. Nathan MacKinnon was everywhere.

“Look what the cat coughed up,” Rachel shot back, fake smile at full capacity.

Nate just snorted, rolling his eyes. “Aww don’t front, Rach, you know you missed me.”

“Like a thorn in my foot,” she said dryly, “And don’t call me Rach.”

Rach was for friends only. And Nate was no friend.

Nate held his hands up in surrender with a snicker, finally unlocking his room door.

“If you find yourself lonely in the middle of the night, you know where to find me,” Nate smirked.

“Eurgh, in your dreams,” she grimaced.

“Yes, frequently.”

No. Just no. The audacity.

Rachel gagged dramatically, hamming up the noises, and to her surprise Nate burst out into laughter, leaning against the doorframe as his face scrunched. That had to be the first time he’d laughed so genuinely with just her. She hated the way it made her stomach fill with butterflies.

“Oh man, I needed that,” Nate grinned, still chuckling, “I’ll see you down at the lounge bar?”

More bewildered than anything else, Rachel just nodded. “Yeah, see you.”

What the hell was that?

Angela’s plans for the spa morning on the Friday couldn’t have been more perfect, if for nothing else than to clear Rachel’s mind. Over the space of 4 hours, Rachel (plus the other three bridesmaids, Angela, Angela’s mom, and Angela’s soon-to-be mother-in-law) got a manicure, pedicure, and a facial, on top of full use of the sauna and pool. It was exactly what Rachel needed to wind down from her work week (and the weirdness with Nate yesterday) and relax ahead of the big wedding day tomorrow. By the happy glow on the bridal party’s faces, everyone else agreed.

After a light lunch, the full wedding party met up in the main lodge, ready for a rehearsal. Angela and Brad had wanted a full walkthrough of the running order, timings, and placements of the day, just so they were prepared, which Rachel wasn’t going to complain about in the slightest. It could never hurt to be ready.

Not even Nate’s irritating grin as he stood next to her, continuously nudging her with his shoulder, could ruin her peace.

“So, in terms of who will be walking who down the aisle, we’ve paired the groomsmen and bridesmaids up already.”

As the four pairings were called out, Rachel’s stomach sank. She was walking down the aisle with Nathan MacKinnon. Of course she was. So much for peace. This had Angela written all over it, the meddling wench.

“Rach, I-”

“Don’t even say a word to me right now, you giant potato,” Rachel hissed under her voice.

Nate choked out a laugh, leaving Rachel to make her face blank and calmly walk towards the other bridesmaids. Angela’s expression was all but begging her not to cause a scene. Like she would cause something as inelegant as a scene. No, she would wait until there was a moment to pull Angela aside because what the hell was she thinking?

“What the fuck, Angie?”

“Hi Angie, you look incredible Angie, thanks for planning everything ahead of your wedding tomorrow Angie.”

Rachel pursed her lips, hands on hips, but Angie just shrugged, an amused smile on her face. The two of them were in a little alcove in the main lodge, completely hidden from view even though everyone had gone their separate ways, so Rachel didn’t bother to hide her displeasure in her body language.

“I don’t know what you want me to say? The two of you are paired together to walk for all of two minutes. You can handle it,” Angie mused.

“Why him? You could’ve paired me with literally anyone else,” Rachel groaned.

“True, I could’ve, but it’s done now. Besides the two of you could use a little time to be friendly. Or, you know. Friendly.”

Bleurgh. Absolutely not.

“You are the worst and I don’t know why we’re friends,” Rachel grimaced.

“At this point, Stockholm Syndrome?” Angela beamed.

Rachel couldn’t help but to crack a grin, Angela just giggling at her victory.

“It’s two minutes, you will survive it. The two of you will look good together at least...”

What?

They were complete opposites – Nate was blonde, blue eyed, beefy and pale. Rachel was dark-haired, dark-eyed, slim and tan.

What?

“…and Nate’s obsessed with you anyway.”

“Ew, no, he’s not obsessed with me,” Rachel said, sneering slightly.

“No? With everyone else, he’s awkward and dorky. But with you, he’s laser focused. I wonder why,” she said, finishing with an innocent smile.

“Oh gee lucky me! I don’t know, because he’s an ass?” Rachel scowled.

“No, because Nathan MacKinnon’s flirting never matured past pulling pigtails on the school playground,” Angela shot back.

What?

“He’s not flirting,” Rachel scoffed.

Angela paused for a second, gazing over Rachel as if she was trying to figure something out, before she laughed incredulously. “Oh my God, Brad’s going to lose his mind when I tell him. You really can’t see it, can you?”

“See what?”

Rachel didn’t know what her face was doing to reflect her defensive words, but Angela held her hands up in surrender.

“Just take a step back and look at everything. He wants your attention solely on him and this is the only way that’s been successful in catching it. For twenty years – and you know it. Watch him with other people. Watch him with other women. He’s flirting with you, Rach. Just think about it.”

Watch him with other people.

Watch him with other women.

He’s flirting with you, Rach.

Just think about it.

Angela’s words swirled around Rachel’s head all through the rest of the day, and it was all she could do to follow her friend’s advice. She watched Nate, all through dinner and the drinks afterwards. She watched how Nate was beaming and friendly with Brad and their Cole Harbour buddies. She watched how Nate was bland and polite with women that flirted with him at the bar. She watched how Nate watched her when men approached her, always catching him looking at her, eyes intense and hot. Why did Angela have to put those seeds of doubt in her head? Why did she have to do it now, the night before the wedding, when there was so much else to think about?

Why did she have to be right?

Nate was so different with her than anyone else, even people they’d known all their lives, and it was completely turning everything she’d ever thought about him on its head. This wasn’t fair. She didn’t need this, not right now. It wasn’t fair.

The wedding day came with no further clarification for her thoughts, her head in full turmoil, and it took all of Rachel’s concentration and willpower to focus on being the best bridesmaid she could be. Angela wasn’t even aware of the way she’d swept the rug out from underneath Rachel’s feet, which was probably for the best if she was being honest, so Rachel just let herself get swept up in the excitement of all the bridal party getting ready together, hair and make-up and dresses and happy tears, all of them looking gorgeous by the end of it – Angela most of all.

As the time came for them to walk down the aisle, Rachel’s nerves were in tatters.

“Rachel Summers, damn. You clean up well,” Nate murmured.

She ignored the shiver his words sent down her spine.

“Bite me MacKinnon.”

He immediately raised an eyebrow, eyes assessing her.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, frowning.

Of course he noticed. Of course.

“Peachy,” she said through gritted teeth, plastering a smile on her face.

“I can tell you’re lying.”

“Gold star for you.”

It felt like an automatic defence to slip into their usual banter, Nate just huffed out a laugh, smirking slightly, all of it serving only to make her feel unsteady. How the hell had she missed this for so long? How easy their connection was? How his bitching was actually…flirting?

“Alright princess, let’s go celebrate our friends,” he mused.

As Nate stuck out his elbow, Rachel inhaled shakily but didn’t hesitate to slip her hand into the crook of his arm. Even through the jacket, she could feel the warmth of his body, the thickness of his bicep, and all she could do was try to keep a straight face, to not let anyone see how the simple touch was making her head spin. What the fuck was happening to her?

They walked in silence, in perfection symmetry, Nate sending her a small smile as they separated at the altar, and it wasn’t until the wedding march music started, signalling Angela’s imminent arrival, that she realised she was lost in thought. She needed to pull herself together, and quickly.

Rachel locked her eyes on Angela and Brad all through the ceremony, letting their happy smiles and obvious love for each other fill her mind, a smile of her own easy on her face. This was Angela’s day, that’s all she had to focus on. That’s all she needed. Still, in the drinks reception and through the sit-down meal, Rachel found her eyes drawn back to Nate, the two of them seated at the same table (of course, albeit not next to each other so her gaze was able to float over him without looking too obvious.

Just as the night before, the way he smiled at other guests versus how he smiled at her was completely different, and she was just glad for the prosecco nearby. She was going to need it to get through this night, she knew that much. As the speeches went on and the food was served, she felt herself getting more and more overwhelmed, feeling more and more stupid for how much Angela’s revelations were affecting her. Why was she making such a big deal out of this? It’s not like it was going to change anything, right? She’d get through the wedding reception and go back home tomorrow morning and avoid Nate until he left for Colorado next month. It was totally doable. It was a great plan. It was-

“And now, please join us on the dance floor for the bride and groom’s first dance!”

Fuck.

Rachel moved on autopilot, standing to the side of the semi-circle of guests as Angela and Brad walked into the middle of the floor. Just as the music started, she felt a familiar body moving to stand next to her, and she wasn’t able to hold back the shaky breath escaping her mouth, the softest whimper only audible to him.

“What’s wrong?”

You're the light, you're the night, You're the colour of my blood, You're the cure, you're the pain, You're the only thing I wanna touch, Never knew that it could mean so much, so much.

“Hey, Rachel, are you okay?”

You're the fear, I don't care, 'Cause I've never been so high, Follow me to the dark, Let me take you past our satellites, You can see the world you brought to life, to life.

“Rach. Rachel. Seriously, you’re worrying me.”

So love me like you do, la-la-love me like you do Love me like you do, la-la-love me like you do Touch me like you do, ta-ta-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

She was worrying him? Rachel glanced up at Nate as Ellie Goulding’s voice continued to fill the barn, and the soft look in his eyes just about broke her. It was all she could do to inhale sharply and shake her head.

“No, I’m not okay. I need to get some air. I need to get out of here.”

Nate’s soft expression immediately turned serious, eyes more intense than she’d ever seen, sending a bolt of electricity through her blood. “Can you make it through the dance? It’s fine if you can’t, I can get you out.”

What?

“I…I can wait,” she managed to choke out.

Nate looked at her for a couple of seconds before nodding, arm moving to gently rest behind her as if some kind of fail safe, and it was all Rachel could do to focus on keeping her breathing steady, eyes stinging with tears as she locked her gaze on her friends as they twirled around the floor. But in reality she was barely taking anything in, other than the heat of his body protecting her. Because that’s what it was – he was protecting her. She knew she was a hair away from having a full-on breakdown, and the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention away from the happy couple. The last thing. It was only that thought that kept her together until the music ended, and the moment everyone burst into applause, Nate was whisking her outside, somehow neither of them being stopped by other guests for polite chitchat.

Small mercies.

When they were in a secluded grassy nook, Nate turned around to face her.

“Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

How could he even ask that?

“Am I okay? Of course I’m not okay!”

He held his hands up in soft surrender. “What’s wrong?” Nathe frowned.

“You! You’re what’s wrong!”

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “Okay I know for a fact that I haven’t done anything to earn that.”

Rachel just groaned, clenching her fists as she closed her eyes briefly. He hadn’t done anything to earn it? He’d done everything to earn it!

In the 20 years they’d known each other, all she’d ever ‘known’ of him is the way he always poked at her, always the first to draw attention to her doing something stupid, untying the bows in her hair, jostling her in the school hallways. As they’d grown up he hadn’t really changed, even when he spent more time away for hockey. He still made fun of her choices in boyfriends, in clothes, in music, even being as dumb as to take the last beer at summer parties or the burger she’d been waiting for or laughing at her not being able to walk in a straight line when she was drunk.

But never anything cruel. Just stupid attention grabbing things that absolutely got her focusing only on him and no-one else, just like Angela said. Stupid irritating Nathan MacKinnon, and all of his stupid ideas, and stupid inability to actually talk like a human being.

It wasn’t until Nate started laughing that she realised she’d been ranting out loud, blurting out all of her angry thoughts to him, and it was all she could do to let out a frustrated bitten-off scream of frustration as he smirked that annoying smirk.

“You’re right, I don’t want your attention on anyone else. I never have, Rach, and I never will. If I’d known you hadn’t actually realised that, maybe I would’ve used my words. But where’s the fun in that?”

Oh that absolute ass.

Rachel let out another quiet shriek of frustration, grabbing the lapels of his jacket, Nate still laughing even as she pulled him down and pressed her lips to his in a passionate kiss.

Invisible string theory suggests that everyone has someone in their lives who is attached to them by an invisible string that transcends time, distance, and geography. It’s fate. And for Rachel Summers and Nathan MacKinnon, they were destined.

#my writing #nathan mackinnon fic #bre's birthday fic bingo #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon fanfic #nathan mackinnon x oc #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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wonijinjin · 6 months

Text

KIM MINGYU (+ JEON WONWOO) - BITTERSWEET

author’s note: this is a fic for the @caratsland event, it was a very long process to write but i am proud of this fic, my first true long fic and angst, hope you guys enjoy! inspired by the song bittersweet.

song recs: recommended songs for this fic are bittersweet by wonwoo mingyu and leehi (obviously hehe), i don’t understand but i luv u by seventeen,

synopsis: can two broken hearts find peace, happiness, and heal each other?

word count: 5.2k | genre: heavy angst, hurt/comfort, love triangle | pairings: wonwoo x f! reader, mingyu x f! reader | warnings: mentions of alcohol, heartbreaks, cursing, bad mental health, mentions of food, tiny bit of physical fighting

mingyu had always been in love with you, since the moment he met you; he couldn’t get you out of his head, it was something about the way you smiled at him or the way your eyes lit up when you saw him. just like as if he was put under a magical spell, he was mesmerised by you, he felt like you were his soulmate.

except, this was not a fairytale. this was real life.

“hey, you seem like you just got dumped or something let me treat you to a drink, okay?” a guy next to you observed.

he could recall the the first time you two had met like it was yesterday. it happened to be in a place odd enough; a bar. you had the first heartache of your life and went out to drink your pain away and happened to sit next to him at the bar.

“is it that obvious?” you laughed weakly. he offered a grin in return. “i know a broken heart when i see one.” he said with the same smile on his face. “speaking from experience?” you blurted, a bit tipsy, hands clamping onto your mouth following the remark. his soft look saddened. “sorry, didn’t wanna pry into your life.” you apologised, shame rising in you. “no worries.” he said reassuringly. he saw your almost empty glass and got back to the topic. “so, which one is the lucky drink today?” he joked, motioning for you to choose one from the menu on the table. “surprise me.” you said, playing along with his silly game. “my pleasure.” he faked a bow in sitting position, tilting his head. “you have to turn around or at least not look at the drink, it isn’t gonna be a surprise if you do.” he emphasized, “don’t worry, i am not gonna put anything in it, she can assure you about that, right?” he projected his gaze towards the bartender who nodded siletly. “okay then, but it better be good.” you giggled, twisting your body in the opposite direction so you couldn’t see the drink itself. after the bartender finished the mysterious beverage, she handed it to you, and you accepted it. “thanks.” you returned her kind smile and took a sip of your drink, not knowing what kind of alcohol it contained. “tequila? you have a good taste.” you said after tasting the medicine-like bitterness on your tongue. he laughed out loud. “it is said to be curing heartbreaks.” he told. “i mean it is indeed bitter, might as well be the solution for stress too, isn’t it?” you mumbled in a melancolic tone. he put his hand out for you to shake. “i’m mingyu by the way.” he grinned. you couldn’t surpress the smile that made its way onto your face, and shook his hand firmly. “y/n. nice to meet you, mingyu.”

“i can’t believe you don’t want to tell me his name, after all the times i heard you dreaming about him in front of me! you know how sappy you can be when daydreaming?” fast forward to three years later you guys were sitting in your bedroom, and mingyu was listening to your rambles about your long time crush, jeon wonwoo. he didn’t know it was him though, of course he didn’t know; wonwoo was initially a friend of his, but after stepping foot into mingyu’s inner circle years ago you got to know him yourself, and fell for him. hard. mingyu didn’t know how hard it was to not let him in on this, you truly wished you could have his support, but you had no choice. he was your best friend; you really appreciated mingyu with a full heart, but you just couldn’t tell him your biggest secret, not after failing in love so many times, after all the occasions he had to pick up and glue back together the broken pieces of your heart, you wanted to spare him from having to deal with your bullshit for another time, even so having the possibility of choosing between his friend and you if things didn’t end well.

”y/n, we have been over this so many times, you should ask him out already! i cannot go another week, no, another minute with you whining about it!” he teased you, resulting in you blushing. he loved seeing you blush; you were really pretty with a dust of pink on your face, especially if he knew he was the reason why you got shy. “mingyu, stop! i already told you i am not about to get my heart broken another time!” when you said this sentence he became more serious. he was there for you after you two had met at the bar and you suffered the consequences of a rejection from the first guy you loved in your life. and he had been there for all the heartbreaks ever since, building your confidence up again and again, from nothing. he knew how much that hurt you and on second thought he never wished to see you in that state ever again. “you know what, i might as well take that back.” he agreed, to which you looked at your knees, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. he understood well what played out in your head; he knew you like the back of his hand. he forced you to look into his eyes, a firm look on his face. “look, i don’t want you to get that sad you were when we met. you are my best friend.” he paused for a moment. “all i want is to see you happy. however, for once, you need your happy ending, and that takes many tries sometimes.” you gave him a sad smile. “i know you do, mingyu, i know. and thank you for being here and supporting me. one day i will tell you about him. be patient. please?” you pleaded, and he gave you a determined nod, getting on with your conversation, putting this heavy topic aside for your sake.

“i am so sorry y/n, but i am afraid that i can’t reciprocate your feelings.” wonwoo said, but you didn’t hear it. all you could focus on was holding your tears back, so you didn’t seem any more patethic than you already were, pouring out your heart to him, getting it shattered into millions of pieces. you asked him to meet you at the park for a walk, thinking your next move through after your conversation with mingyu and deciding that you had enough of the waiting and you needed to confess. well, it was definitely a stupid idea. you honestly didn’t know what you had expected; you saw the way he looked at that one girl from the coffee shop he worked at part time, they worked together most of the time, being almost the only ones who ran the place besides the owner. he obviously liked her, not you, but you confessed anyways, what a waste of time and energy.

“it is totally fine wonwoo, it’s okay, no worries! let’s just forget this ever happened, okay?” it was not fine. you were not fine, but still managed to put a forced smile on your face, as big as it could get. “but i should really go now, i forgot about something!” you turned on your heels, choking back the tears you had been holding. “but y/n wait-“ he said but you cut him off. “see you later, bye!” you managed to get out while already running away. you didn’t know where your legs were taking you, but one thing was sure; anywhere just to be away from wonwoo. while hurrying to go to a quieter place to let your emotions out you bumped into someone. “sorry.” you stuttered; when you looked up above the wide shoulders in your vision you saw mingyu’s face with confusion written all over it. his eyes widened “what are you doing here-“ he tried to question, but you pushed him away and started running down the street. “what is going on?” he shouted after you, but didn’t follow; he knew you and how you liked to have your space when getting upset over something, so he never forced you to talk about the issues with him. he would always just text you right after hearing the news and eventually you would come to him yourself; you always did.

but not this time.

he waited for days.

weeks.

months.

you never spoke about what happened that day and what upset you, or about the thing that made you distance yourself from your friends, including him. after that particular day he rarely saw you, and when he did it was only on occasions when just the two of you hung out; that was all he could get you to do, very rarely. when the other guys organised group gatherings you usually cancelled them with some lame excuse last minute; he never believed them, but he stayed silent.

after another few weeks of the situation not getting better he wanted to take action to find out what was wrong, so he made a plan to invite you for a drink at your favourite place.

“mingyu i am very busy and you know that.” you said over the phone when he called you in the afternoon. there was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. “please, we haven’t hung out in like, forever. i miss you, y/n. i really do.” your heart jumped in fear; you had been avoiding all your friends on purpose, but not mingyu, no, you would never want to do that to him. you felt guilt creeping up on you as you could imagine his big puppy dog eyes looking at you, pleading for you to soften and give in to him, which you of couse did. you sighed. “you may be right, i did neglect our friendship. i am sorry mingyu. so, where are we going?” he shouted in excitement. “yes! i knew you would give in to me y/n, you cannot resist me.” he joked to which even if he couldn’t see it, you raised an eyebrow and rolled your eyes. “in your dreams, silly.” you answered. “we are going to your favourite bar! just like old times, remember?” he giggled; that place held so many memories to both of you, laughing or crying, didn’t matter, you loved being there with him. “so just the usual, got it. see you there, text me the exact date. bye mingyu.” you hung up, worry already being heavy on your shoulders; you knew you had to come clean about what happened months ago. although mingyu knew you very well, you did too, so you didn’t doubt that eventually he would ask about the reason of your social distancing, looking like that time had come.

mingyu greeted you at the usual seats in the corner of one of the private rooms; they were basically reserved for you guys, considering how many times you had been sitting in them, talking about this and that, in this case your love life being on the menu of the chit-chat. “so y/n, let’s get to the point.” he started, and you already knew the continuation. “i think you understand why i called you here without me needing to explain in detail. it has been months since that incident. so, tell me. what’s up? are you okay?” he pouted. mingyu was an emotional guy, he really cared for the well-being of his closest friends and he always made it his mission to help them, you frequently being one of his top priorities. if he wanted to be honest he cared for you ten times more than his other friends, they could solve their problems on their own; however, you relied on him a lot, which he didn’t mind; he got used to it pretty quickly, enjoying being trusted by the person whom he adored so much in this world. you looked at him with a heavy heart, tension being so nerve-wrecking while you contemplated whether you would make the right choice by speaking about wonwoo. “sorry ‘gyu, i just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, but i guess now i cannot run away, i know you would figure it out yourself anyways” you turned to him, talking slowly. he listened attentively, encouraging you to go on. “…so here i am, telling you the secret you have been so eager to know. i should start at the very beginning, right?”

“then he rejected me.” you cried into his chest, his arms wrapping around your form protectively. “he fucking rejected me! after all the years i have spent loving him from a distance i succesfully mustered up the courage to tell him, and this is what i get mingyu!” your cries continued steadily, and mingyu was quick to stroke your hair, patting it repeatedly. “why does nobody i love loves me back? do i not deserve happiness in life? am i unloveable, ‘gyu?” you looked into his eyes, tears pricking your own; he could see the pain you had been through in the past few months. he knew how hard it was for you to get over even a crush, not talking about real love. he could see it on you; that you really loved wonwoo, sincerely. it was easy to tell, really; if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have been so upset for this long. and this is exactly why he was really mad at his friend for breaking your heart. “of course you are loveable y/n. gosh, you are the most loveable person i have ever known, so stop with the nonsense. he doesn’t deserve you. he doesn’t deserve the love you have in you, the jokes you make that make everyone want to laugh immediately, the look you give to people you adore and respect, the way your eyes light up when you see a cute dog, or the way you cannot resist those delicious cookies they sell at the bakery next to your apartment and buy them every time they have them freshly out from the oven. he wouldn’t appreciate the meals you cook by yourself and decide to share with your friends, the kind words you have towards everyone, every day, or the help you offer to others without hesitation, even if it puts you at a disadvantage.” he finished his monologue, taking your hands into his. “you deserve the most happiness there is on this planet.” he whispered, almost looking like he was afraid if he said it any louder you would disappear into thin air. “do you really think so?” you mumbled, voice hoarse from crying so much in the span of an hour. “i know so.” he said gently, hugging you softly. “so, is this the reason why you have been avoiding the group meetings? you didn’t want to look into his eyes after the confession?” he gave you a knowing look, having caught on pretty quickly, not to your surprise though; mingyu was a smart guy, he connected the dots easily. you just nodded silently, too embarrassed to say anything about it. it wasn’t the first time you had gotten emotional with mingyu, but this felt different; you weren’t that young anymore, it wasn’t a silly little crush, or a minor inconvenience. regardless, it felt great to have him back and involved with your life again, after these painfully long weeks you admittedly missed his presence an awful lot. you grew more tired with time and closed your eyes when you heard him whisper. ”everything will be okay y/n.” he promised, and you started to believe him.

“so, it was you all along. i should’ve known.” mingyu laughed bitterly while walking up to wonwoo; they were in the practice room, tension already high thanks to new choreography, however the pair had been holding back as much as they could, until the day mingyu found out about you and wonwoo. he squeezed wonwoo’s shoulder, maybe a bit harder than comfortable or necessary. “gosh, i don’t understand. what’s so special about you?” he wondered out loud regarding the rethorical question, gritting his teeth, clearly for the other to hear it. “what is your problem mingyu? what the hell are you even talking about?” the shorter one quizzed, not getting the point of mingyu’s words. “you literally broke y/n’s heart. never took you for the type to hurt others.” mingyu spat out, disgusted by the words rolling off his tongue. realisation hit wonwoo, and he frowned upon remembering the memory. “i wasn’t trying to hurt her feelings.” wonwoo calmly replied. “damn brother, you really outdid yourself with that one there.” mingyu commented again while not even paying attention to his friend, walking away. after this wonwoo couldn’t stay silent; he grabbed mingyu and made him look into his black eyes, dangerously shining. “what the fuck ‘gyu? yes, i didn’t reciprocate y/n’s feelings, so what? im sorry, but should i just ignore what my heart says just to save her from heartbreak? look, she will get over it. this doesn’t work like that, but you seem to be having no idea of what love is like-“ “shut the fuck up! you think i don’t know that? that what the heart wants the heart wants? i love her! i love her and she loves you out of all people!” mingyu screamed at him in frustration. “you should’ve made her happy. happier. she deserves happiness with the person she loves the most, even if it’s not me, even it is you, asshole.” mingyu sighed, disappointed. wonwoo’s eyes widened and he covered his mouth with his hands. “so this is what this was all about, your crush on y/n. how couldn’t i notice it earlier?” he wondered in a surprised tone, to which mingyu kicked him in the shin. “of course, yell it out to the whole world, would you?” he mocked wonwoo who kicked him back in the process. “ouch!” the taller one yelped. “this was for yelling at me,” wonwoo stated, “…and this one is for being this big of a coward to tell her how you feel and blaming it on me.” and with that he slapped mingyu’s arm, the man groaning in pain from the impact.

“love really took the remaining braincells in your head didn’t it? stand up for yourself for god’s sake!” wonwoo lectured, wanting mingyu to cut him some slack because he rarely had anything to do with his anger. “you are the one she loves, not me, i will forever stay the best friend in her eyes. my hands are tied here, brother. can’t you give her a chance? just a few dates? maybe you could get to know her a bit more and fall in love.” mingyu suggested in a low tone, not very fond of the idea, but rather desperate to make your dreams come true; he just wanted you to be truly content with your life, even though if it meant getting you together with his friend, he swore on bringing the moon and the stars to you just to see your happiness, even if it broke him into pieces. “seriously? you know that me talking to her will cause more damage, right? and how shitty of a person you think i am to date someone my best friend loves?” wonwoo sighed, scolding mingyu for not thinking more rationally. “i can get over her, but whatever, forget about it.” mingyu said and then stormed out of the practice room. wonwoo followed him and grabbed his arm. “fine, if this is what you want i will do it. then tell her to text me, because i don’t think she even wants to talk to me. she didn’t even wait for me to finish! i didn’t want to sound so harsh, but i didn’t even have the chance to say anything because she stormed off just like you did now!” wonwoo was grumpy, mad even; he liked you, you were a great friend, he just couldn’t see you in a different light, he had never intended to hurt your feelings. “good, i will. i know she hasn’t gotten over you.” mingyu smiled a bit, wonwoo letting his arm go.

mingyu hadn’t heard from you in a few days and you hadn’t been replying to his messages so he decided to surprise you by going to your workplace after your day ended to pick you up and go out to eat something delicious together, but when he arrived at the building and went inside unexpected news greeted him. “what do you mean she hasn’t been to work?” he asked the recetionist at the ground floor after hearig that you weren’t working. “like i said; she has been on sick leave for a few days already.” he was at a loss of words; why didn’t you tell him that you were sick? you knew he could cook you some soup and help if you felt that bad. regardless, he got into his car after thanking the lady for the help and drove to your apartment. after arriving at your doorstep he knocked on the door, but no answer came from you. “y/n? are you there? i heard that you were sick.” again, silence. “i know where you keep your spare key, so if you don’t open the door i will come in myself, don’t do this to me y/n.” he pleaded, trying to keep his cool and not think about how you could be passed out on the floor and seriously hurt, that being the reason why you never replied to him in the first place. he took the key from underneath the mat in front of the door and stepped inside. there was darkness everywhere around the house, only a small source of light coming out from under your bedroom door which was closed. he hurried through the hall where he could clearly make out your crying through the walls. “y/n? are you in here?” following his question the wailing stopped and he heard a gasp, then the door opened, revealing a very tired you; messy hair, dark circles under your eyes, which were by the way red from crying. “aww what’s wrong?” mingyu asked, pulling you into a hug. “at your office they said you were sick. are you?” he asked, not even waiting for an answer, already putting his hand on your forehead. you pushed it away. “no, i’m not. i lied to them. i lied because i am not okay, ‘gyu.” you sobbed, feeling pathetic that you couldn’t get over the heartbreak of wonwoo rejecting you, even though it had been a long time since the incident. “look, i know it hurts, but life goes on y/n. you can’t hide from everyone forever just because someone hurt you. you know how much i love you and how much pain i am in seeing you suffer, but you need to get it together.” you looked up at him, admitting that you indeed had to sort your feelings out. “and also, i might have a solution for you. what if i said that wonwoo wants to hang out with you?” he grinned, looking kind of crazy from your perspective. “mingyu this is not funny!” you pouted, not believing that he would joke about this; this was really out of line from him. “i am being serious y/n, you would know if you read my messages! i sent like a dozen of them that i had important news. he said he wanted to talk to you, maybe go to the park or something? like on a walk? whatever, you two can figure that out yourselves, point is that i delivered his message. now go text him.” he urged you to take action, and being the good girl you are you put your fear aside, accepted his help and texted wonwoo.

it had been months after the first text message regarding the ‘getting to know each other’ agreement between wonwoo and you, and things seemed to be working out pretty well for the two of you, feeling closer and closer to each other day by day. you had to admit, he was an exceptional person with values similar to yours, you had never ever imagined to be clicking with him so quickly; you hoped he felt the same.

“i heard that you and wonwoo get along really well y/n.” mingyu mentioned while walking along the line of the pavement in front of you when the two of you went for grocery shopping for a party the friends of mingyu had been planning for several weeks. you tilted your head and turned it in his direction; you had been talking to and meeting up with wonwoo after sorting things out about the confession, but didn’t expect him to tell mingyu how it had been going.

“did wonwoo talk about me? wow that’s impressive, it really means we are going in a good direction i suppose.” you wondered; you were not sure about where you pre-dating stage was going to lead you as you had not been in contact with wonwoo as much because all of you guys had busy schedules. “yeah, i think he is starting to fall for you. good job!” mingyu patted the crown of your head, just like when the teacher praises the elementary school students for getting an answer right on a test. you had been brighter in the last months, even considering how nothing was guaranteed with wonwoo, taking it slow, you most certainly did look happier, him assuming it must be already enough for your confidence and joy levels to rise to be able to do something with wonwoo, even as friends for the time being. however, mingyu’s heart had been slowly shattering into more pieces by the day; his feelings for you became stronger with time, after you searching for comfort in him on that night at the bar he just couldn’t stop himself from falling for you harder, even with knowing you wouldn’t return those feelings. he had been working on trying to accept the situation, trying to accept his place and role in your life as your best friend; it was not easy.

you chuckled at his action, winking at him in return. “what can i say? it looks like i am irresistable after all, don’t you think?” his face changed very quickly, though it was barely noticeable; for a moment his eyes grew sadder but he regained his composure in just a second and put on a big smile for you. “yeah, i told you so. now let’s get that grocery shopping done.”

when you arrived at the party after going home following the shopping trip to get ready many people had been there already; it was hard to find anyone you knew. you spotted mingyu in the crowd and he locked eyes with you, waving. “y/n! come here!” he shouted through the noise of the music and you pushed yourself through the wave of people in the living room. “hi.“ you greeted the others shyly; it had been many weeks since you participated in a group activity, since the incident with wonwoo. you came because you missed the boys; you didn’t treat them well and they didn;t deserve it, they had always took care of you like you were their family. “hi y/n, nice to have you here.” wonwoo, who just arrived with a few drinks added, giving you a smile.

“can i have this dance?” wonwoo questioned when taking the empty place next to your right side; you were dancing with mingyu to one of your favourite songs, bodies moving to the rhythm in sync. you took a peak at mingyu’s face, looking for a sign that he heard the question too. he gave you a quick nod and let go of your hand, wonwoo taking it instead and leading you further into the crowd of friends. mingyu watched as the two pair of you and wonwoo laughed and talked while moving on the makeshift dancefloor in the room, then disappearing from sight. he stared into the distance with a sad smile on his face, every nerve in his body concentrating on not lettng him be bitter about it and trying to encourage himself to be happy for you; afterall it was what you wanted, wonwoo’s love.

as mingyu turned around the corner of the hallway he caught a glimpse of wonwoo leaning in and slowly kissing you by the kitchen counter, your hands moving to link behind his neck, him pulling you closer, flush against his body. you were lost in the moment so you didn’t hear mingyu’s footsteps come into the room. “oh.” this was all he could manage to get out, words light as a feathery whisper, freezing in place for several seconds, watching the scene unfold in front of him. after seemingly regaining his composure he turned around his heels, planning on going back to the party in the living room. his steps were long, slow even, dragging his limbs like he didn’t have the energy to move forward in any sense possible; he entered the bathroom instead of the space where everybody had been enjoying their night, standing in front of the mirror, watching himself in it closely. he watched as the teardrop he knew he had been holding in slid down his cheek and dropped to the sink below, as the smile he put on for the entire night disappeared, more tears starting to fall with it.

mingyu was a strong person, there was no doubt in that; but even the strongest fighters and warriors get wounded. he let go of the white surface, slowly opening the door as quietly as he could, taking his coat from the hanger it had been placed on before. upon stepping outside into the night he sent a text to his friend informing him about him leaving so they wouldn’t get too worried. he got into the car, driving down the road, arriving at a familiar place; the bar. he bought a drink, then made his way into the usual room, sitting down in the chair which used to be yours, where the two of you would chat for hours about random topics, where he realised that he was falling for you; where it all started. he closed his watery eyes and held his breath, silence and stillness surrounding the place, not the slightest trace of anyone’s presence there, not even his, like he wanted to believe he could vanish if he tried hard enough.

he exhaled; staring at the ceiling, tears continuously coming from those sad chocolate brown orbs, every beat of his heart, the heart that had been beating for you all this time, tearing it a bit further apart. eventually the tears stopped, only a shaky sigh being left behind, mouth open, words forming, but not yet ready to come out. mingyu’s hand reached his cheeks, brushing away the evidence of his walls crumbling down, lifting the drink to his mouth, taking a sip from it.

“goodbye my love.” he whispered to himself while the sip of tequila entered his taste buds; it had never been this bitter.

132 notes · View notes

normspellsman · 1 year

Text

Can Only Hope

pairings: sully family x gender neutral!reader, slight spider socorro x gender neutral!sully!reader

genre: angst

word count: 3k+

warning(s): character death, mentions of death & gunshot wound

word bank: toruk makto — rider of last shadow, sa’nok — mother, sempul — father, tsmukan(s) — brother(s), tsmuke — sister, tsmuktu — sibling, ilu — aquatic animal residing in awa’atlu that it used for riding, ikran — winged animal used for flying & hunting, skxawng — idiot, & great mother / eywa — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in

note: this is my first post on here eeekkk! super excited to post this. i might start taking requests for avatar & atwow, but we’ll see! i’ve only been a reader on this app & haven’t had any motivation to write until now. i don’t know all of my way around this app regarding requests or writing formats, so if anyone has any advice to share, feel free to! it is greatly appreciated! <3 this fic is supposed to be gender neutral, so please let me know if any part of this fic does not reflect that. tuk is not mentioned in this fic & kiri is briefly mentioned. when i say you have four fingers, i mean you have a thumb & three fingers following that, just like neytiri. this is heavily inspired by @peacelovepandora ‘s account/blog. please go check them out! their work is amazing!

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Your birth was viewed as a new beginning, of sorts. The Omatikaya had gone through so much loss, so much pain in the years that the Sky People had inhabited their planet and planned to make it their own, in hopes of replacing their dying Earth with the beautiful and brutal Pandora. Many Omatikaya had lost their lives as a result of the humans greediness, leaving many orphaned and physically scarred from the destruction they caused. It was hard to see a bright future with the humans constantly taking and taking from the People and the planet they resided on. But, it seemed to get a little bit brighter once Jake Sully, the great and mighty Toruk Makto, had lead the clans to victory against the Sky People in the Great Battle. The humans had no choice but to leave the planet, finally allowing a peaceful and bright future to form itself for the Omatikaya and the rest of the Na’vi living on Pandora. Many celebrations were held in thanks to Toruk Makto’s as well as in triumph for the humans finally leaving their home after thirty years. But another one was celebrated after it was announced that Neytiri te Tsahka Mo’at’ite was with child, marking a new era for those who were succeeded after the Great Battle. You were the new stepping stone for the bright future of the Omatikaya. An omen of good fortune to come to all of Pandora.

Being the eldest child of Toruk Makto had been difficult, especially growing up. Much was expected of you, duties upon duties being put onto your shoulders from such an early age. You had to live up to such high expectations, something that came with being the first child of Jake Sully, a once Dreamwalker, and the clans most fiercest warrior, Neytiri. Constantly training to one day stand in front of your people and be recognized not just as Toruk Makto’s kid but as their leader as well. Although you had the typical features a regular Na’vi should have, four fingers on each hand and no traces of hair on your brow bones, children are still cruel. They constantly called you names that most definitely shouldn’t be repeated, pulled on your tail and hair, spit at you, told you that you’d never be good enough to be clan leader one day, and bothered you during your trainings. You’d cry to your Sa’nok about it once you came home from training, sniffling into her neck as you repeated the awful things kids your age said to you. And even with your parents butting in and demanding the children to stop, you couldn’t help but believe the words they uttered, plagued by the possibility of them being right. So, you pushed and pushed yourself to be the best you could be. Spending whatever free time you had from archery training in your Grandmother’s tent, eager to learn what every herb did and what technique she used when applying paste onto an injured Na’vi, watching her every move. And spending whatever free time you had from that practicing your tracking skills. You did a lot to prove yourself and tried your best to look unfazed by the little amount of sleep you received daily. But as the words that you and your family had to potentially leave your home and clan, everything that you knew, spilled from your Sempul’s mouth, the only thought that came to your mind was Was it all not enough?

Adjusting to your new life at Awa’atlu was extremely difficult. You were a foreigner in a foreign place and your title meant nothing to these people. Sure you earned a little respect and street cred from being the eldest child of the Toruk Makto, but it still wasn’t enough to earn you place amongst the Metkayina. So, once again, you trained and trained until your muscles felt utterly useless from the amount you swam and your lungs felt numb from continuous breath holding. But, as every day passed and the sun rose in signal for a new start, you slowly got the grasp of the way of the water. And you actually found yourself relaxing in the oceans water as you silently floated there once you were excused from your training, a small smile on your face. It was nice to finally relax for once, the feeling a bit foreign to you. Back home, you never got a chance to relax, always busy with pleasing your parents and everyone else in the clan, leaving you without any room to simply breathe. The whole thing kind of felt like a vacation almost. No longer having this weight on your shoulders to become the next clan leader and live up to your clans expectations of you. That is, until the humans find your family in the one place you were supposed to be safe.

You grew up with the stories of the Sky People and their selfishness, how quick they were to claim something that wasn’t theirs and how quick they were to fight over it, not caring for the blood that they spilled in the process. Growing up, you’d have nightmares about the humans coming back to Pandora and slaughtering the ones you loved right in front of you, not being able to move quick enough to stop them. Your Sempul often pulled you into his arms and rocked you in comfort, trying to whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you fell asleep in his hold. He’d then lay you back down in between himself and Neytiri, placing a soft kiss onto the crown of your head before quickly falling asleep as well. As you aged, they became few and far in between, dreaming of flying your beloved ikran or messing around with your youngest siblings. But once the humans returned to Pandora a year before leaving for Awa’atlu, the came back in full force. Your family were awaken many nights by your crying or screaming, rousing you from your sleep to comfort you, sobbing into their gentle hold as the dream kept repeating in your minds eye. You were terrified of having your family be taken away from you and, perhaps, that’s where your fear of disappointment came from and not the cruel children you had encountered early on in your life. You wanted to be a protector and protect the ones you loved, and protect you did.

The sting of the salt water is what drew your attention to the middle of your aching chest, looking down to witness the crimson red leak from your body and mix itself into the clear water you were submerged in. You hadn’t even realized you were shot in the process of jumping into safety, barely even processing the whizzing bullets flying passed you as you dived feet first into the water. All you were focused on was getting your little tsmukans, Neteyam and Lo’ak, to safety during their mission to rescue their human friend, Spider. Your personal safety was the last thing on your mind, demanding that your brothers and Spider go first jumping into the moon pool, shooting back at the fake Avatars. There weren’t many times where you saved your brothers asses from the things they managed to get themselves into, that job being put onto Neteyam by your parents. So, this being one of the only times that you saved both of their asses and were going to die as a result, put a gentle smile on your face. At least I would go out protecting those you cared about, you thought to yourself.

Your struggle was noticed by Neteyam, halting him in his celebrations with Lo’ak and Spider. “Are you alright, tsmuktu?” He asked, making his way towards you as he glided through the water. His eyes didn’t clock in on your hand over your chest yet, too busy watching you nearly drown as you struggled to keep your head above water. It was as if once you registered that you were shot, your body began to shut down at the realization. Your once strong legs forged by the oceans unpredictable current were now struggling to keep yourself up and lazily kicking, your left arm desperately trying to make up for your legs inability to work at the moment, making crazed movements underneath the water to stay upright. You lungs and chest also burned, not accepting any of the air you tried to suck in from above the waters surface. “I’ve been shot, skxawng,” you uttered, spitting out the water that managed to make its way into your agape mouth. Everything burned, even within the oceans cool water.

“Fuck,” Neteyam whispered, grabbing the arm that wasn’t covering the open wound in your chest and wrapping it around his shoulder, trying not to openly sob at your cries of protest in pain. It was now Lo’ak’s turn to notice your current state. He tensed at your cry and found himself praying to the Great Mother that it wasn’t what he thought it was. Neteyam’s following statement only solidified his fear, “(Y/N)’s been shot! Help me get them up!”. Both the brothers and Spider helped you up onto the back of Lo’ak’s ilu, Neteyam settling himself behind you as Spider gripped onto the side of the ilu’s saddle. The four of you raced to the nearest piece of rock that was in direct eyesight, Lo’ak calling out to your Father once he notices him atop the rock they were aiming for. Fear had instilled itself into the younger Sully brothers, hoping that whatever was happening was not the last time you would take a breath.

“Watch their head, bro!” Lo’ak called out against the crashing waves, rocking his, and everyone’s else’s, body up against the jagged rock they were trying to hoist you up on to. You coughed up a mouthful of water in response, gasping for air once the wave that splashed you pulled back and granted you air. “What happened?” Jake hurriedly asks, pulling your body into his arms before gently setting you down onto the rough surface of the rock. He swiftly moves you to your side to assess if whether or not the bullet that pierced you also came out the other side. His heart dropped once he saw the exit wound, even more of your blood gushing out from it. Jake could only close his eyes as he gently shifted you back onto your back, dread making its way up his stomach and into his heart. Jake had witnessed a many of deaths during his time in the marines on Earth. And although he had gotten used to the feeling those deaths gave him, nothing would’ve ever prepared him for the feeling of losing one of his children before his time. Jake found himself thinking of his twin brother, Tommy, at this time, wondering if his death had been like yours, painful, or had been quick and peaceful. Jake quickly shook his head at the thoughts. This is no time to think of your late brother, Jake, he thought. Your child needs you.

“Is-Are they going to be okay?” Spider asked, keeping his distance from Jake and the rest, guilt crawling up his chest and settling into his throat. He tried to gulp down the feeling, but that seemed to only make it worse. No one answers the human boy, too occupied with their dying loved one in front of them. You never made an effort in befriending the boy, your Mother influencing your thoughts on the boy as well as being too terrified to. If all Sky People are said to be what your Mother told you as a child, then you didn’t want to interact with one. But, as you lay dying on the small piece of rock, you couldn’t help but feel bad for not giving the kid a try. One conversation wouldn’t have hurted, right?

Neteyam had put both of his hands over the wound in your chest, as demanded by your Father, in order to slow the blood from further oozing out. “You’re gonna be okay, okay?” Neteyam comforted, although it seemed to be more directed to himself than you, “You have to be. You’re my big tsmuktu. You’re invincible.”. Neteyam’s words only caused more tears to leak out from your eyes. You hadn’t even known you were crying. Whether from the pain or the realization that you were, in fact, dying, you did not know. Neteyam always looked up to you growing up. Although you were only a year older, he still viewed you as his role model. You carried yourself with such grace and confidence, he often found himself trying to memorize your strides and how you pulled back a bow effortlessly, practicing what he could remember whenever he was alone, desperate to be just like his older sibling. As the both of you grew older and drifted apart, he still viewed you as someone to look up to and strive to be like. A much younger Neteyam also viewed you as invincible, untouchable by the bad things that lurked within the depths of the dark corners of Pandora. And now, as a teen, he still viewed you as invincible. Even as you lay bleeding out in front of him, he still thinks you are because you protected him and Lo’ak and Spider from the soldiers on the ship. You gave up your life for him, and for that, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“You still have to finish that bracelet for me, (Y/N),” Lo’ak sobbed out, grasping your free hand into his as he knelt in front of you, next to Neteyam. You only shakingly smiled at your brother, trying your best at squeezing his hand in response, but your fingers only gently fluttered at the attempt. You had begun to weave a bracelet for your youngest brother the night after he was abandoned at the Three Brothers, hoping to cheer him up from the hurtful words your Father spewed at him. You were never a good weaver so it took longer than expected, even with the help of your tsmuke, Kiri. Upon hearing of your struggle from the complaints of Kiri, Lo’ak felt warmed at the nice gesture you were doing. Growing up, Lo’ak always loved the things you made, even if they were a total disaster and halfway down. He still cherished them in his heart. He often found himself ‘accidentally’ breaking a bracelet he or someone else made and asking you to fix it for him or make him another one, excitedly waiting behind you as you did so, tail furiously wagging behind him in joy at his successful attempt at getting you to make him another bracelet of your creation. You pretended to not notice Lo’ak’s continuous purposeful breaking of handmade bracelets he received, happy to make him another one. It made you feel wanted and useful, especially if you had another encounter with one of the child bullies within your clan that day.

“D-Dad…” You weakly called out, turning your head and gaze towards your Father. Tears were running down his eyes as his gaze shifted back onto you, smiling down at you the best he could, putting on a front so you wouldn’t worry. “Yes, angel?” He asked, taking your right hand into his large ones, resting it against his cheek in hopes of comforting you. “I-I did it. Y-yeah? I pro-protected them, D-Daddy. I tried. R-re-really hard. I did. Got th-then t-to safety,” you responded, struggle evident in your voice as you stuttered over your words. That’s all you wanted to do back on that ship. Protect your brothers and get them to safety. You were glad to have achieved your goal, but at what cost? You were only sixteen years old and had so much ahead of you. Even before being forced to leave your home clan, you dreamt of becoming a fierce warrior and leader for your people and possibly having a family of your one day. But that all was ripped from you by a single bullet. Jake found himself cursing Eywa and all the other higher beings for taking his child’s life away far too soon to actually experience it. It wasn’t fair at all. But, nothing ever if fair is it? The Great Mother only gives and borrows energy, having the power to take it away all in one breath. And Jake is learning the hard way of what the Great Mother is truly capable of.

“Yeah, yeah you did, angel. You protected your brothers and brought them back to me,” Jake answered, brushing some matted flyaways from your forehead, the dried up seawater making the hair cling to your skin, “I’m so proud of you.”. Upon hearing that statement, you felt contentment settle itself between your bones. You longed for those five words for years, especially if they came from your Father. It wasn’t very often that either of your parents expressed their feelings about your accomplishments to you. Sure they might’ve bragged to other clan members about how you claimed and bonded with your ikran in little than two minutes, setting a new record for young Omatikaya, and they might’ve put you on a golden pedestal to others, highlighting how nearly perfect you were at everything you did. But they never said those kinds of things to you up front. A few “Good job”’s here and there, but nothing too impactful as those five words that your Father just uttered.

It seemed as if the constant battle your body was engaging with had came to an end, numbness spreading to your entire being as the only thing you could do was continue to breathe shallow breaths and look up at your Father. Your heart was tired of pumping blood throughout your body only to be pushed out of it. Your lungs could only take small breaths at a time, not having the energy to fully expand at your inhales. Your head began to feel fogging, all your senses dimming as you barely registered your Mothers ikran harshly landing in front of you. “What-” the question that Neytiri was going to asked for stuck in her throat as her eyes fell into the scene in front of her. Her eldest child, the light of her life, was limp and covered in blood, who she hoped wasn’t yours. “My baby,” she whispered, quickly falling onto her knees in front of you, Neteyam moving out of the way so your Mother could see you in your final moments. Flashes of her giving birth to you, feeding you from her breast for the first time, playing with you as a babe, teaching you how to walk and talk, and all your other firsts you experienced throughout your sixteen years of life on Pandora raced through her mind once she saw the bullet wound settled into the middle of your chest, draining all life from you. You had been her first child, her pride and joy, and to see you like this, pale and sticky with your own blood, made her want to trade places with you. In an alternative universe, she would’ve.

“Oh, Great Mother, please. No!” She shrieked, grabbing onto both of your biceps, trying to hug you closer as more of your soul and life slipped away at each passing second. You wanted to comfort her, to tell her that it’ll all be alright, but you physically weren’t able to speak, too fatigued to open your mouth. So, you just laid there as your Mother brought you close to her chest, seemingly trying to share her life force with you, to spare you from the cold grasp of death. Jake could only watch as Neytiri pleaded for the Great Mother to spare you, heart strings tugging at her desperate wails. He knows that Eywa always has a plan, but does that really include taking his eldest child’s life away? He began to doubt the entity that breathed life into everything on Pandora, just like he did back on Earth with all the other ones. Would she really be that cruel?

Lo’ak was the first to notice you completely go slack and relaxed, your eyes focused on the eclipsing sun in front of you. He didn’t want it to be true, calling out your name in hopes for your eyes to shift from the sun to him. But, it never came. Neytiri pulled you back from her chest, gently shaking you in hopes that you’d awake. But, you didn’t. Upon the realization that the eldest Sully child had finally passed and was reunited with Eywa, everyone broke. Neytiri let out multiple screams and wails, begging for you to come back. Jake had only closed his eyes once again, tears escaping from his waterline. Neteyam looked down at his blood stained hands, feeling like his palms were on fire. Even then, years after your death, Neteyam can still feel the weight of your blood on his hands and the sticky feeling it left behind, no matter how many times he scrubbed at them. Spider continued to stand in his spot, motionless. He couldn’t help but feel as if your death was his doing. Maybe if he didn’t get kidnapped by Quaritch, you’d still be alive. Maybe if he didn’t need Lo’ak’s help in rescuing him from the ship, you’d still be alive. Maybe if he was able to go into cryo and be shipped back to Earth, you’d still be alive. And Lo’ak felt his body go cold. He slumped back in the spot he was sitting in, bringing his hands up to his face as he sobbed into them. He felt as if he was at fault too. Maybe if he didn’t insist on going to get Spider, you’d be alive. Maybe if he didn’t get caught in that net, you’d still be alive. Maybe if he didn’t go to that stupid broken down lab and get held hostage by Quaritch, you’d still be here. But that’s all the Sully family can do. Think of what if’s and only pray that your soul makes a safe return into the afterlife and that you only stay blissfully ignorant to the fact that you died and are no longer living. They can only hope.

And, along with your death, the new peaceful beginning that was prophesied and hoped for at your birth, died as well.

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anteroom-of-death · 3 months

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Teacher's Pet part 1

Synopsis: The Doctor notices a student. She notices him.

a/n: thank u to the moots for sticking with me. Yall are the best. This is going to be a series. Somewhat of a dark!doctor ish fic maybe. I haven't planned this far. I have ideas. Will switch between a 3rd party but doctor centric POV and a 2nd party student centric POV.

The sun drew itself in on the cold day, light filtering through large windows in the lecture hall. It caught and reflected the motes of light swirling around. First day of the Spring term. Lots of new students trickled in and found their respective seats. Of course, the syllabus was now online and such. But the Doctor still preferred to give a paper one. He felt it helped students focus if they had it real and tangible…unable to forget.

Just like he forgot so much. A lingering pain….

He started up his usual dazzling spiel. Enough to keep them from dropping out, but not enough to rile them to madness. He learned that lesson early on in this particular charade he was distracting himself with. All he had to really do was keep Missy in the Vault and attempt to rehabilitate her. Humans were such a delicate group to keep balanced. Too much stimulation and they would self destruct. Not enough? The same but in a reverse spiral.

Or just fall asleep.

He preferred it if a few actually did fall asleep.

Allowed him to build a reputation as a teacher. Keep the act up.

He didn’t notice the young woman intently staring, writing down the key phrases from his opening statements. He was enraptured in the normal routine he has become familiar with.

The hour came to a close, and he did a bow. He was to visit Missy again some time soon. Just a cursory check. See if she’d calmed down from her last temper tantrum, where she demanded a saxophone and stated that Billy Clinton was also a war criminal, but made some sweet jazz.

He could hardly agree. She already was a mediocre piano player. And the drum set she demanded earlier lay in tatters in her cupboard.

Being her keeper and therapist was rotten work, but it warmed him. Gave him a gram of hope that she may get better and he may have his friend back once more.

Though, he knew in both is hearts, hope could be a fragile thing for a man to hold onto.

But, especially in this body, he believed in redemption and change. They both had forever to change. They had forever.

A few weeks had passed, and he noticed that keen eyes were burning the back of his neck as he scrawled on the chalkboard. It felt different than the usual glazed-over focus of people trying to write or type out his valid points. It was hot and felt more personal. Less trying to pass a class.

He paused his sentence and raked his eyes over. It was a student with large gold hoops and a few tangled gold necklaces. The Doctor recognized two or three of the symbols used on some of them from his travels through Earth’s history. She was chewing hard on her pen. He could see flecks of her tinted chap stick clinging onto the sides of it. Her eyes were squinted slightly and a slight patch of blush rested on her checks. He couldn’t tell if it was a make up look or some feverish feature of her human body. Perhaps she was in the first phases of getting sick!

He went back to his lecture. Some misfocused student was the least of his concern.

But he still felt her eyes bore into him. Intent on something. He trudged on.

He came to a close, reminded everyone of their upcoming projects and let the day start to rest. The Doctor announced that his office hours were changing to represent the spring coming soon and to “Allow you all to feel the sun on your faces, you don’t know how long you’ll have. Humans usually only live once!”

He scanned the audience and saw her shoving her notebook and that well-gnawed on pen into her bag. Big purse with a rhinestone buckle. Resembled something that Rose or Jackie would have had, he mused.

She slung that and a tote bag that seemed overstuffed and ripe for the breaking over her shoulder. She audibly groaned under the weight. He pitied her. The stressed look she had on her face was oddly enchanting in the light just starting to sink.

He knew she was struggling in the class. She did good work, yes. When he opened up questions and debate, she usually had such pointed takes that verged on mind-racing. Sometimes others would bristle against what she said on the more provocative topics he offered up. Essays and tests? Not so much. She floundered.

She had accommodations for some diagnosis or whatever. He could tell her mind was making connections in a far more tangential way than the other’s either couldn’t or wouldn’t make. And for that he did like her. Enjoyed what she brought to the table. Although, even his brains had difficulty making some of the leaps her brain did.

But why was she staring at him like that today? It was almost reverent. Very off putting.

She came forward to his desk and clicked open her notes app .

“Erm…Professor.” She cleared her throat and started up. “Uh, I was wondering if I could see you sooner rather than later. For office hours. I’m sorry for my late essay last week. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I can’t focus and I feel like I’m losing my mind half the time lately. May I have some insight or whatever you want on how I could do better. I know I’m doing…like, so bad.” She confessed and exhaled on the final note of her punctuation.

She turned a new type of stare towards him. Less intense and personal and more of a thousand-yard death grip.

Her entire demeanor in this moment was very lamb like. A confused air of innocent need to do well, to pass her classes, clouded her.

A weaker man would have felt more predatory, he noted.

She wasn’t unattractive for a human, not like past companions he worshiped the ground of. Of course. He was drawn to them for their natures, often ignoring their faces wholesale.

She started to chew and rip at her pinky nail and lower lip simultaneously…

“Of course,” He said. “I have to go help a friend with something, so I have to talk and walk.”

She nodded eagerly and gave such an appreciative smile. “Thanks!” The words came out so quickly, almost breathlessly.

She trotted along side him.

Once outside, they started discussing her options. She had to work nights, she stated, she said so they were arranging a time to work in a little extra help and tutoring.

He genuinely enjoyed her company and led her to a bench.

“What about your friend?” She asked.

“Oh, Nardole can handle himself.” He smiled. “He’ll not miss me for an extra four or five minutes.”

She laughed a bit.

She plunged her hand into her purse and started rifling around. It was a chaotic sight.

She produced a pack of cigarettes and a tiny green plastic lighter.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to quit, but it’s been hell lately.” She grimaced.

He shook his head, no, he didn’t mind. It wouldn’t affect him. Her, yes. But one little luxury, especially if she was trying to quit.

“So long as it’s your last for a while.” He took the teacherly route.

She lit up and took a huge drag. Closing her eyes he noticed that deep look of exhaustion had given her dark purple and almost black under eye circles. She had apparently tried to cover them up with some make up products and some mascara and smudged eyeliner. She held that breath in for a few seconds. It was almost beautiful.

She exhaled and fluttered them open. The smoke wisped and flew away quickly in the gentle breeze.

“Yeah, thanks. People get so weird about smoking. But they’ll vape? Like, indoors. All the time.” She rolled her eyes at that mildly hypocrisy.

They planned for her to meet up with him in his office on Monday just before the lunch hour. Then turned the conversation to some topics in debate that another student, a male who irked her with his constant urge to play Devil’s Advocate. She had some very often-overlooked viewpoints and a very bizarre way of describing things. It was enchanting.

“Thanks.” She ignored a boundary and squeezed his hand. He felt a holy jolt of electricity go up his arm from the small touch. “I gotta go…you’ve got a friend. Works been slow and I have some…appointments. So I have to make sure I’m perfect.” She elaborated with an almost tic-like shake of her head.

“Yes, my friend is probably going insane dealing with our little issue.” He responded in kind. Missy had probably caused Nardole to melt down or malfunction.

He watched her leave towards the bus stop. Her bags hitting her back as she rushed. Her coat barely covering her bottom and the belt caught in the hem of it. He felt himself feeling almost physically unable to leave the bench. Something tugging at his gut was preventing him from doing so. It felt akin to what River and Clara evoked in him but different.

River and Clara were strong and capable, avant-garde. Self-confident. Cocky. But this student was seemingly the inverse. Very vulnerable and nervous to the point of a near imperceptible, even to him with his keen Time Lord senses, shake and a heart that was audibly racing in its cage. Coupled with her addiction to cigarettes and minor tendency towards self mutilation via near-constant picking and chewing…

Something dark, but heartwarming rushed through his core and took root.

He felt himself deeply looking forward to Monday.

#personal #12th doctor #peter capaldi #12th doctor x reader #self insert #doctor who fanfiction #i wrote this #pov fanfiction #student teacher #daddy issues #like my god #doctor who #the doctor #12th dr #reader x 12th doctor #yeeet #get in loser were writing indulgent fics because we've lost control of reality and our lives

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joshusten · 4 months

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love the sinner (albus york/faith koria, bastard warrior || good boy audios)

Albus York takes a bath and Faithful washes his hair. (angst, slight argument, hurt/comfort)

2.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist] [CW/notes: religious imagery ofc (this fic was basically an excuse to write that), typical albus york language, lots of self-loathing and some suicidal thoughts. albus is just having a bad time but hes also so whipped for faithful. speaking of her, i didnt make faith's physical descriptions vague or made it so that she's a "listener" but rather a character of her own! and i based it off of gba's description of her + my own interpretation hehe.]

once again THANK YOU SO SO MUCH to @slushiepizza for all the AMAZING suggestions and support like omfg i SWEAR i keep on saying this but this fic rlly wouldnt be finished without them!! i appreciate it sm!! and im shaking and kissing my irls that ive also bothered with this fic that will probably not see this THANK U SM!! edit: I FORGOT THE FUCKING READ MORE LMFAO

—

Albus York steadily sank into the half-filled tub of one of the ship’s quarters—stripped of his clothes, and left bare to no witness.

Gentle waves of the bathwater rippled against hardened, battle-torn skin. He dementedly mused that if he could go down further, he might finally drown.

He chuckled at the thought, shifted his position, and got to work. It's been a while since he last had an actual bath—way before he even agreed to this suicide mission of an adventure—with warm soapy water and scented products.

The constant near-death experiences and whatnot had interrupted the trio to get any time for themselves, much less to do any sort of basic hygiene. Since the route Devlin had charted for the ship to follow allowed for ample downtime, the Forgemaster had practically shoved his younger half-brother into the common bathroom and forced him to take a much-needed bath (Of course, not without a snobby comment about how his stench matched his personality perfectly well.)

Albus’ inexperience was made clearer with the stiff, awkward motion of his large, calloused hands as he attempted to wash himself. The unpracticed movement made the unfamiliarity of it all fully realized. How long has it been since he felt this safe? Does he even remember how to take care of himself?

Does someone like him even deserve this luxury?

The warrior submerged himself lower, down until his eyes were right above water level. He was thinking again. It was all that he had been doing for the past hour. If the gods wouldn't allow him to drown, then he hoped that the water would at least cleanse the grime and sin embedded into his flesh.

But he knew that filth clung to his skin like how a believer clings to the idea of repentance. No matter how hard—how desperately—he scrubbed (until pale skin turned into blood red, until rough turned rougher), it was all pointless. He had learned long ago that a bastard's prayers were never left answered.

The mark on his chest was a bleak reminder of that reality. Damnation was basically his birthright. Albus York was dead the moment he came out of his mother’s womb—dead to his family, dead to society.

Cursed to hell for being sin itself.

Life had a funny way to remind him—that goodness is something he can be in the presence of but never be a part of it.

"Albus?"

Speak of the devil, his ever-so-naive angel had arrived.

“Albus? Hello?”

Tender, serene, heavenly.

The voice was melodic—like the somber hymns he used to hear in his youth when his mother would take him into the temple and meet with her fellow brothers and sisters. At that time, he always felt drawn to the choir’s performance, despite not being old enough to understand the words (not that he was any more literate in the present). Back then, he was just a kid, blissfully unaware of the blasphemy he had committed for existing.

He had grown since then—in every aspect of the word.

"Albus! Are you still in there?"

A deep grunt, muffled slosh of water, and the pitter-patter of droplets on the tiled surface were all that Faith Koria had heard from the other side of the metal door before a familiar, gruff voice answered back.

"Calm ya tits, woman. I knew you were eager to see my dick but I never knew you were this eager!"

The outside replied with an annoyed groan, a sound Albus was all too familiar with, especially when it came from her. That being said, he couldn't fight the smile forming on his lips as he hastily dried himself up with a nearby towel.

"You've been using the bathroom for more than an hour, just what are you doing in there? Some people want to get cleaned up too, you know!”

The metal door swiftly slid open with a sudden 'woosh!', hot steam dissipating before the runaway nun to reveal Albus’ tall stature, half-naked and slightly dripping wet. Faith frantically averted her eyes on instinct, ears immediately burning with embarrassment. It wasn’t like it was her first time seeing him undressed—for gods’ sake, she treated his wounds like this when they first met! But to have him fresh out of a bath with his toned body exposed and his dampened long hair was—Wait! His hair!

"Alright, alright! I’m out, ya happy? I’m decent too so you don’t have to be a prude about it,” The bastard huffed, a little irritated with how his peaceful bath (or at least, as peaceful as it could be) was abruptly cut short.

“Albus, your hair!”

The man scrunched up his face in confusion. He gathered one of his dark locks and examined it with an intense focus. “Huh? Looks fine to me. What, you're not expecting me to be all prim and proper now, are you?”

“No, no, no! It's all matted and uneven!” The woman replied with a horrified concern in her voice that was rare for the warrior to hear directed at him.“It’s probably from all those monster attacks. Some of them must’ve managed to get to your hair! How long has it been like this? Does it hurt? Do you even have shampoo?”

“Uh…what’s that?”

“Ugh, never mind. Just—” Before Albus could process what was happening, Faith grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip for a nun. She dragged him down near the bathtub he just got out of. He can even hear the water still slowly swirling down the drain.

“Faithful, what are you—”

“Stay right here. You got that, York? I’m just going to get something and I don't want you to move a muscle.”

A deep chuckle resonated within the man’s scarred chest—he always enjoyed it when she got this bossy. He gave her a mock salute and answered with a hearty “Yes, ma’am!”

The sister paladin made a face, letting out a flustered huff before hurrying to wherever she needed to be. So cute.

Albus had put on his clothes at this point while he waited (lest he risked Faithful suffering from a heart attack). A few minutes had passed by when she returned with a rather large pouch that Albus recognized was packed with the rest of her belongings. He deduced it must've been from her childhood with how worn down the embroidery was. Once vibrant floral patterns dulled from years of usage.

“Lean back by the bathtub,” Faith instructed. “I’m going to start detangling your hair. I might cut off some of the more unsalvageable parts too. If anything hurts or if I snagged on it too hard just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” The man repeated simply, not really knowing how to react to all of the amount of consideration he was receiving. Abrasiveness was what he was more used to responding to, not the care that she unabashedly gave him.

She beamed brightly at his compliance (and no, his heart did not just skip a beat), soft hands found their way to his head and started brushing away the more manageable tangles before using a wide-tooth comb for the bigger ones. Despite the numerous warnings, her fingers were nowhere near to being rough. She was as gentle as a lamb—her slow brushstrokes eventually formed a rhythm that filled in the silence of the room. Albus decided to break the comfortable atmosphere.

“How are you so good with this shit?” He mumbled, voice heavy with drowsiness. Fuck, he felt like he could sleep until his next life. “Never knew sisters of Cindergorn get to be part-time hairdressers too.”

Even with his sluggish state, Albus could almost sense the nun’s eyes rolling above him, brushing out his hair with a slightly more forceful than usual tug.

“I'm the one usually taking care of the children at the temple. I’m used to seeing this kind of stuff whenever they play too hard. Obviously not on this level but you get the gist.” Faith snipped off the last of a particularly challenging knot.

“I've also been doing my own hair ever since I was a kid, so really, it's like second nature to me at this point,” she followed up, running her fingers through his hair with a satisfied nod.

Now that Albus thought about it, he had seen Faithful braiding herself earlier on their journey when they had just…tastefully borrowed the flagship meant for his father. He remembered swift, practiced hands twisting sections after sections of dark, coiled hair and had mentioned in passing how it was a hairstyle she often did to withstand the Eastern Faithlands' harsher seasons (Fortunately, it also turned out to be great for going-on-a-quest-to-kill-your-priest-brother-and-save-a-child seasons too.)

Faith’s hands suddenly paused. Before the man could ask if something was wrong, she signaled him to stay still while she rummaged through the pouch to get a small bottle. She squeezed a moderate amount of product into her palm and spread it evenly. As she was about to apply the substance to his head, Albus jerked away, quickly stopping her hand with his own as a furrow formed on his thick brows.

“Faithful,” He chuckled. “Please, I’m a warrior. You don’t need to waste your fancy shit on me. My hair’s going to get fucked up again eventually so what’s the point?”

Faith struggled to wriggle herself out of his grasp. “Wha–Albus, it’s fine!”

“No, Faithful, I’m serious. It’s just hair. Hell, it’s my hair. Relax.” The man sat up straighter at this point, the water from his long, damp hair trickling down along the scarred tissue of his back but it was the intensity in those familiar brown eyes that made him feel a chill.

“And I told you it’s fine just let me—”

“Why are you making it a big fuckin’ deal? What do you want from me?”

“What?” Faith’s voice cracked, appalled and confused. “Albus, what are you even talking about? I’m not asking for anything—”

“I’m just a bastard you hired to kill your brother! I was paid to do the dirty work for you, not to be your fucking toy—”

“Albus, wha—Y–You’re not a toy! Why do you—”

“If I’m not then why are you being like this to me? There’s a catch—there’s always a fucking catch. So what the fuck do you want from me?”

The nun managed to finally yank her hand away from his harsh grip and angrily slammed at the smooth surface of the tub.

“I just want you to stop being stubborn for once and let me do this for you!”

The silence that followed between them felt suffocating.

Faith’s breath hitched, shocked by her outburst. She immediately straightened up her posture only to look down shamefully at the tiled floor. A shaky sigh left her lips, and Albus was doing everything in his power to stop himself from reaching out to her, seeking salvation he knew she shouldn’t give him because he was not sorry that he was like this. He wasn’t afraid to show his filth to the world because it was all he knew to do—all he was taught to do. There’s no excuse, no justification, no escape. She’s everything good and he’s just scum or worse yet—he’s a bastard.

Because she’s an angel and he’s far worse than the devil.

“This isn't anything all that fancy…just something to keep it healthy and less stressful on your scalp. I just want you to feel okay. So please…” She trailed off. “Let me.”

“It’s…It’s just hair, Faithful. I’ll be okay, I’m a big boy,” Albus joked, but his words were sincere. He almost found the whole thing amusing—having the ever-so-snappy sister paladin fuss over him—if he didn’t get a feel for how much…his comfort seemed to mean a lot to her.

Faith pursed her lips, her gaze still fixed downward. “I just think…you deserve at least one good hair day.”

It's that word again. Deserve. Does she really think that? That he's worthy of all of this?

The man cleared his throat with a curt nod. Hesitantly, the nun's fingers slowly found their way back to the crown of his head, resuming whatever she was supposed to do. Steady, rhythmic brushstrokes filled the quiet once again.

After what felt like hours of stillness, the bastard dared himself to shift his head and face her timidly—as if he was afraid he could melt under her piercing gaze.

"Thank you, for…for this," Albus grunted. He hadn't only meant for his hair.

Faith graced him with a dimpled smile—the one that made her eyes squint and showed the tiniest bit of the gap between her front teeth. She proceeded to tuck away a stray lock behind his ear, trailing down to hover over his cheek. Albus can practically feel the nervous tremble on her fingers as if she were hesitating on something. It all came to nothing in the end, closing her hands in a fist before withdrawing to her pouch to start cleaning up.

“Anytime, Albus. Besides, with how you always manage to find yourself in trouble,” the sister murmured, her voice playful (it never failed to leave Albus’ mind racing). Her eyes glinted as they locked into his almost like clockwork. “How can I not?”

Albus York sat by the empty bathtub of the ship’s quarters—fully clothed yet he had felt the most bare that he had ever been in front of someone.

Faith smiled at him again and he swore he could make out the faintest halo crowning her head under the fluorescent bathroom light. ---- a/n: this is probably my most favorite fic that i wrote and i hope you enjoyed! lemme tell u this fic took way to long and got me so stressed for no reason idk ! i was worrying abt how this would happen in the timeline and all the lil details and then !! its a fic!! and im suppose to be having fun!! i am being self-indulgent!! (although i hope was able to characterize them well) again, feedback and comments r highly appreciated!! :DD have a good day/night and thank you for reading!!

#good boy audios #gba albus #albus york #gba bastard warrior #gba faithful #gba fanfic #THIS TOOK WAY TOO LOOOOOONG BUT ITS FINISHED see you guys next year /j

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the-fiction-witch · 4 months

Text

Worship My God

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating SMUT AF LIKE SERIOUS SMUT

Writes Notes: Okay! I know I don't often do this but this ain't a normal fic right here, that rating up there, that SMUT AF is not enough for this! is there was another level above SMUT AF I'm not even sure this would come under that it would be a bit to intense, So! I'm serious! Head my warning, this is gonna be serious! if your still in... enjoy the ride I guess.

I stood in my chamber and got myself into my frock for the day, as this day was to be a very remarkable day indeed if I had the strength to go through with it. I had been waiting for this day for longer than I could face and now it truly was here, I could scarcely believe it. Often pinching my arms to check I was not still in the cling of sleep.

"Will that be all Miss Y/l/n?" My Maid Isa asked as she finished up,

"Of course, head home Isa, I'll be just fine tonight," I told her,

She nodded and gathered up her things before she left my house.

I watched the clock's hands move agonizingly slow as I waited for this afternoon, The mere concept of what will soon transpire was beyond my own heart's reckoning. I could not help but bite my bottom lip, I held it between my teeth for the mere thought that he would be on his way here, the sound of his steps, the shift of his garments, the bounce of his hair all of it exhilarated me more than anything else in this world. The visual of him within my mind was enough to fill me with heart-racing adrenaline. I found each tick to be agony to wait as a tightness grew between my legs and a throbbing sensation that I knew I could not resist.

I moved my body to my bed, I enveloped my arms around my wooden bedpost my fingers caressed the shapes in the wood. I forced myself closer and closer as I held the bedpost tighter until I felt the gentle curve of the spherical section make itself known against the petticoats of my frock. I adjusted myself in such a way, that my legs were on either side of the bedpost and my grip tightened as I absentmindedly and uncontrollably began to thrust my hips.

Immediately I began to whine as the stiff wood rubbed through my dress onto where so desperately required attention, my fingers finding cubbies and sections to rest as my grip only tightened, my breath hitched and my mind flooded with ecstasy as I only got more and more frantic. My whines had by now turned to pleads and mutterings between moans "Uhhh! uuuhh!" I tried to restrain but these sounds came from me uncontrollably as did he whom had caused me to be this way. "Dr Dawkins... Ummmm..." I began to grow more merciless on myself but no matter how hard I tried, I could not reach the heights I needed leaving myself only to wallow in rising frustrations.

I forced myself away and sighed, I spritzed my perfume and let my face cool down unable to quell these horrific frustrations. But I hoped that today may be the day. I headed downstairs and adjusted things in my living room, I made sure the windows were all tightly locked shuttered tight and curtains pulled, I threw a log on the fire to keep it burning gently, I lit a few candles around my room and adjusted pillows on the chamise and chair giving them a fair plump.

My heart jumped into my throat as I heard a knock on the door, I almost wanted to scream.

I didn't want to wait but I didn't want to seem too eager, so I slowly went to the door and fixed myself in the mirror before I opened it. To the reveal the handsome sight.

There on my doorstep stood Dr Dawkins, in his usual brown shoes, washed-out brown trousers with a hint of a darker brown plaid pattern to them but they had been so worn and washed it was almost unnoticeable, a long sleeve white shirt with well-worn slightly stained sleeves, a blue textured waistcoat in need of a good dust wack, a washed out green tie around his neck tucked into the waistcoat, a sort of purplish jacket over him unbuttoned and ill measured as the cuffs of his shirts could be seen beyond his sleeves, a black velvet hat sat upon his dirty blonde hair. In his hand his usual doctor's leather bag filled with various... instruments of torment and betterment.

He saw me and a pleasant smile came across his lips, "Miss Y/l/n, Dr Dawkins." he smiled,

"Yes, I was expecting you doctor," I blushed, "Do come in," I quickly opened my door to usher him in as fast as I could, the moment he was inside I shut the door and locked it tight in the hope no one saw him arrive, as who knows the kind of questions the town would mutter if people saw him come to my home.

"Thank you, no Isa today?" he asked as he made his way to the living room, and set his bag on the table,

"No, no I gave her the evening off," I answered as I followed him in,

"Aww, what a lovely kind mistress you must be to her," he smiled, "I do apologize of course for you having to wait so long for this appointment, I have been strangely very busy of late."

"That's alright," I nodded, "Can't be helped,"

"No, of course, you're more than welcome to have Dr Sneed or Prof do your appointments if it's urgent." He explained,

"That's quite alright Dr Dawkins, you're worth the wait."

"You're too kind," he smiled, as he slipped off his jacket and hat and sat them on the chair, as he often did, "You're my last one for the day, so we can take as long as we need,"

"That's good then,"

"Aww, no cakes today?" He fake pouted, "You almost always make cakes for me, I was looking forward to them."

"I can make you some if you'd -"

"It's alright, I'm only kidding," he playfully chuckled, "Now, am I to take it this is regarding the muscle pain?"

"Yes Doctor," I nodded,

"Right, still all over?"

"Mhm," I nodded,

"Alright, no problem..." he explained as he made a note on his paperwork, "This is getting to be quite often now."

"it is,"

"You taking hot baths like I asked?"

"Yes Doctor, Daily."

"Daily! Ohh my, you really are bad." He said, "You still taking the medication I prescribed?"

"Yes, Doctor,"

"Good," He nodded, "Alright," He said as he stood up and stiffened himself he adjusted his waistcoat with a tug on its bottom hem, "I'll give you a look over, see what I can do about your muscles see if anything sticks out at me and then we'll go from there alright?"

"Yes, doctor." I nodded excitedly moved close to the fire and held my hands as I tried not to bite my lip or squeal with excitement,

He chuckled a moment as he came over and pushed up his sleeves to his elbows, "See that's why you're one of my favourites," He smiled, and I tried not to explode at the thought I was one of his favourites, "such an accommodating little thing," He cooed,

"Ohh you don't know how accommodating I'll be for you doctor..." I muttered,

"What?"

"What?!" I gulped as I realised I said that out loud, "I uhh I said of course I'll be accommodating for you doctor."

"Good," he chuckled, "Now turn around for me," he asked, I nodded and turned to face the fire, "May I touch your neck?" He asked in an almost hushed tone,

"Yes doctor Dawkins," I blushed,

"Just relax for me," he cooed as his hands graced the skin of my neck, he was so gentle and slow as if touching a wounded frightened cat, his fingers traced the muscles of my neck stroking them and lightly massaging them, "May I touch your shoulders?"

"Yes doctor Dawkins," I nodded as I bit my lip unable to prevent myself from looking in the mirror above my fireplace to watch his hands move over me, his hands callus and his nails short, a strength to his thin hands, his hands familiar enough with my body to know where he was going, for a second out eyes met in the reflection of the mirror as he glanced up into the mirror to see my face and we caught eyes, Immediately I put my eyes back to the fire's flame, even if I saw a smirk curl up on the corner of his lips.

"Are you feeling some tightness?" he asked,

"Yes, Doctor,"

"Any stiffness?"

"Yes, doctor,"

"Any, tingling perhaps?"

"Yes. Very much." I nodded biting my lip harder

"I see," He nodded, and his hands moved to my back slightly he massaged the top of my back which was enough for me to whine,

"Uhh!"

"It's alright I'll be gentle," He reassured,

I did my best to remain composed as his hands travelled the length and breadth of my body almost every muscle felt his hands touch, his sweet massage enough to force noises from me not unlike what the bedpost had forced from me but these were far quieter as I attempted to conceal them or at least play them off as pain rather the of pleasure. I did my best to relax and enjoy every moment of it but my legs were so weak and between my legs so desperate.

"Good, that's perfect." He nodded, "Now, open your mouth for me."

I didn't hesitate to open my mouth as wide as I could and even stick out my tongue with my eyes closed, He came to face me and investigated a moment

"Not painful is it?" he asked, I shook my head, "Good. That's very good." he nodded, "In." he demanded, so I did as he asked and moved my tongue back into my mouth and his hand came to my chin and shut my mouth for me, before he headed back to his bag, "Your pain doesn't seem to be getting any worse, which is good, I am a little concerned about your legs the muscles there seem to be a little more finicky but I think I'll up your medication and we'll see how you go," he explained as he made notes on his paperwork,

Immediately I felt disappointed that this was all that was to happen, I mean it's all that ever happened but I had grown so sick of this waiting, that my impatience toppled over, this wasn't fair, he couldn't just leave, he can't be serious that he can't see what he's doing to me, he surely cannot be so cruel to just leave me like this.

"Is that all?" I asked as I turned to him,

He stopped a moment and looked up at me with a questionable look,

"I mean we've just been trying medications, and treatments over and over and nothing seems to be working, and I'm having to wait so long to even see you, surely there must be more you can do Doctor."

"It's muscle pain unless there's something you're not telling me there's not all that much I can do for you miss Y/l/n," he chuckled,

"Don't you have any theories at least as to the course of my pain?"

For a moment there was silence between us, "I have a theory yes."

"Which is?"

"I'm almost convinced you have a very common condition, often seen in women your age." he explained, "Not much I can say about it, or do about it I'm afraid,"

"And what is it?" I asked,

He chuckled, "In my professional opinion. There's nothing wrong with you." he said, and I froze up, "There's nothing wrong with you, no muscle pain, nothing of the sort, you're faking it. Have been for weeks."

"I uhh I see how uhh how did you reach such a conclusion?"

"Becuase I've been giving you sugar pills." He said and my jaw almost dropped, "You've had no medication for two months, plus the fact that your... whines of 'pain' don't match up to what my hands are doing, if you had muscle pain me rubbing on your back should have made you scream, not moan. The fact you are even able to get dressed into that dress let alone go out and wander about town tells me you're fine." He explained, "But... you do have a condition."

"I do?"

"Yes, it's called Woman in Need of a Man syndrome." He explained, "You're not hurt, you're horny."

"I uhhhh I see." I blushed, "And in uhh your professional opinion what should I do to cure this need of a man?"

"Get married." He answered,

"I see, yes I absolutely must but uhh... until then," I spoke up, "Is there anything you could do for me doctor Dawkins,"

"Really?" He smirked,

"I'm sure you know just the things to fix me, make me all better."

He chuckled, "You seem very confident in me. I do appreciate that Miss Y/l/n. I suppose I could provide... something for you if that would help?"

"Yes!" I yelped, but clamped my hand over my mouth given I didn't expect to be so loud,

he chuckled again, "My, my, you seem so very energetic all of a sudden." He smirked, "You really are in need of a man." He smirked as he moved closer

"Mhm," I whined, "I am very very badly in need of a man, I am in utter desperation for a man, in anguish, misery, need, deprivation for a man such as yourself doctor dawkins."

"Never seen a lady with quite such enthusiasm for treatment?" He smirked as he rested his hand on his hip,

"Well, I uhh I wanna get better."

"And would I be correct in assuming that you'd be willing to do... anything to get better?"

"Anything you ask of me doctor Dawkins," I gasped,

"Anything?" He smirked, "and what if I... had some particular tastes that would, require very specific things from you miss Y/l/n?" he asked in hushed tone inches from my face,

"I would have no objections."

"Well then, are you... sure this is what you want?"

"Positive."

"and are you willing to keep our, treatment between us and your bedpost?"

"Well, I uhh my bedpost may get jealous,"

"Might it?" he smirked, "Oh... Humm, I take it your bedpost is how you've been curving your hormones before?"

"Yes doctor, and my baths you so sweetly percribed."

"I thought as much," He nodded, "Well then, just between us then?"

"Yes, doctor."

"Good, now... I must warn you, care for this condition can be a little, Explict I'd need to be looking at you very closely for a good while, I'd need to be touching places I would not normal, I'd need to be very... particular. But of course, you do understand this is purely for medical reasons?"

"yes, medical reasons of course."

"So, you won't get me in trouble?"

"Of course not doctor Dawkins."

"Good girl," He cooed and immediately I wanted to faint, "Now you may be a little anxious or embarrassed but I promise I'm going to take good care of you, just try and remain nice and calm for me Y/n."

"I'll do my best Doctor." I nodded,

"Now turn around and we'll begin your treatment," He smirked,

I did as he asked without question to stand face the mirror again but this time I couldn't dare look away from the reflection, as he came up behind me moved his lips to my ear, "May I touch you now?"

"uhhh... Yes Doctor Dawkins," I moaned,

he chuckled biting his bottom lip his brown eyes seemed to smile with the rest of his face in a wicked sly way, as he kissed my ears tragus before he spoke "Good girl, hold still for me," He demanded in a sly whisper as he nibbled on my ear lobe, his hands moved to my hips his thumbs rubbed on them hard which only caused his sly laughs to deepen, as his arms slowly enfolded my body his hands now on the opposite hip crossed over my stomach, "You're excitement is quite noticeable Y/n."

"Yes I uhhh I uhhh yes I'm sure my excitement is uhh noticeable to you Dr Dawkins, I uhh I'm sorry I'll do my best to be still," I answered as I stuttered like crazy,

"I never said it was a problem," he smirked, "You can be excited, you just have to be a good girl for me."

"I'll be good, I'll be very very good." I nodded,

He smirked his hands moved up my waist before he pulled back his eyes staring down at my ass as he held my waist, slowly his hands moved to stroke my curves his middle finger stroked under the curve of my ass slightly picked up the weight of me in his hand and let it drop again caused it to jiggle, which caused him even more amusement, before he slapped me firmly with an open hand,

"ohh!" I gulped,

"Yes?"

"Nothing, nothing." I blushed,

"That wasn't a protest from my good little girl was it?"

"No! no never. Doctor."

"Good," He nodded, his hands snaked around my body caressed under my breasts his fingers traced the bones of my corset, "take off your dress."

"I-"

"I need to examine you, take off your dress." He demanded and snapped the button off that held the back of my dress which left me with no choice but to remove it,

"Yes doctor," I blushed getting my dress off me as quickly as I could leaving me in my corset and underdress, he chuckled slyly and ran his hands over my corset,

He laughed wickedly as his hands stroked my shoulders before they dove into my corset and cupped my breasts in his hands "Pretty little thing aren't you?"

By now I was a moaning mess, I didn't care what noises came out of me my heart racing fast, and my whole body throbbed with desire as he squeezed and fondled my bare skin pressing his body against my own, one hand left my breast to sit on my hip pulled my hips against his own and then stroking my thigh which only made me moan more,

"Humm Calm down Y/n." He smirked,

"I- I can't Doctor-"

"Relax for me... that's a good girl." He cooed his hand moving higher up my thigh and softly massaged my thigh and my breast in his hand,

"Please Doctor Dawkins,"

"Please what Y/n?" He whispered in my ear,

"Please... Touch me." I begged,

"I am touching you Y/n," he smirked, "Where would you like me to touch you?" He whispered,

I didn't even hesitate I grabbed the wrist of his hand that had been on my thigh and moved it over to between my legs,

"Oh." he smiled slyly, "Are you sure this is where you want me to touch you?" his fingers began to stroke my mound through my underdress,

"Yes! Yes! Please! Please, Doctor Dawkins...." I begged,

"Humm... You really are horny aren't you?" he bit my ear lobe a little hard as his thumb rubbed my mound through my underdress his other hand now shifted the weight of my breast in his hand as he plaid with it, "You want me to touch you, don't you?" he smirked,

"uuuhhhh! yes! yes Please Doctor Daskins! Please! I'm begging you."

"Begging me are you?"

"Yes! Yes! I'm begging you please," I whined and tried to push his hand where I so needed him but he slapped my hand away,

"Beg for me." he whispered, "Beg for my hand Y/n."

"uhhh! Please, please, please, please, please, please! Please, Dr Dawkins! Please! I'll do anything! Anything! I'll do anything you ask! Anything you want! I'll be yours just touch me please!"

"Anything? Really?"

"Anything! Anything! Anything!"

"Anything?" He asked milking the word for all it was worth,

"Anything! I'll be yours! I'll be your toy! Your pet! I'll let you do anything you want just please let me have your hand!"

"what a good girl," he cooed, "Anything at all? Even if that included-"

"Anything!" I screamed, "Physical, emotional, intimate, anything you desire of me, Dr Dawkins."

He chuckled again "You are very willing." he smirked, "What a poor desperate little girl,"

"yes! Just please please im- I'm-" I moaned "Uhh Dr Dawkins, please! I'm desperate! I'll do anything, anything you ask just please!"

"Tell me how bad you want me," he growled,

"Uhhh! Dr Dawkins!" I moaned, "I want you! I need you! I worship you! I'm begging you for your mercy please!"

"Worship me?"

"Yes! Yes! I worship you, I beg for your mercy, I adore you so utterly, I worship your voice, your body, your very existence, I will be your adoring worshiper, your slave if you so asked it of me If my god would only give me what I do desire."

He moaned into my ear as he heard me say that, "Ummm, How the fuck have you never got a man when you talk like that..." He groaned, "Uhh Be a good girl, and worship your god. Show me how desperate you are, price to me how willing you are to serve me."

I didn't hesitate Immediately I turned to face him and moved to my knees on the cold wooden floor the moment I did he gave me a look questionable but not like he was going to stop me, I set my hands on the floor between my knees and looked up at him with a wide innocent smile, "ohh my sweet sweet doctor, please let me worship all of you doctor," I pleaded, "let me prove to my doctor what I will do for him"

"Then prove it. Prove to me what a good girl you can be." He smiled as he stroked my jaw, "Show your god how you worship him."

I blushed but began to kiss the top hem of his trousers felt the soft cotton against my lips, felt his breaths through his stomach, I tugged a little on his trousers and felt the resistance of his suspenders, so I undid them which forced a moan from his lips, I tugged them apart and tugged down his white underwear and I was taken back immediately as the size of him, certainly more then I expected and now it was truly revealed to me that he too was desperate as he couldn't conceal just how hard his cock stood, his stiff his shaft staid, how he throbbed with the desire for attention, "ohh my sweet sweet doctor, please let me worship all of you doctor" I plead "May I-" I began

"Yes." He gasped, not even waiting for me to finish the question, I blushed to think he was so needy for me and I pouted my lips and blew air across his shaft, "Uhh! don't tease your god Y/n."

"Ohh? Will I face your wrath?"

"You might," he smirked,

I smiled and gently began to press soft kisses to his shaft, I began at his hilt and slowly peppered kisses to his head and back again, he began to gasp more often and squeeze his eyes tight, "Ohh Dr Dawkins, Dr Dawkins," I muttered between kisses, which only seemed to tease him more, but I couldn't wait any longer I sat back a moment and opened my mouth as wide as I could stick out my tongue out for him before I took his cock into my mouth completely and gently began to suck,

"Ughhhhh!" He groaned his hands came to my head and held my hair, I did my best to insure I pleased him sucking him slowly, moved my head back and forth down the length of his shaft, and licked my tongue around his head, I was so fueled by his moans and groans above me being very vocal for me, his head thrown back and his jaw hung low, "Ughhhh! Uuuhhh! fuck! uuuummm! Yes Yes! Like that! Uhhhhhh!" he moaned, I often opened back allowed my sweet sounds to be heard my little moans and whines vibrated his cock which only seemed to make him more desperate, "Ughhh! Good girl, such a good good girl," he cooed and stroked my jaw he glanced down at me so I made the most innocent of eye contact which drove him insane, "Ughhhhh! fuck! Ummm you look so good when you worship me Y/n!" he groans "Uhghhhh- Please please-" He begged and I felt so so lovely to hear him plead for me so I continued I made sure I didn't change anything, "Just... keep... Go- UGhhhhhhhh!" He grabbed my hair hard and dug his fingers into my head as his hips jolted himself to deep throat me almost made me gag but I stayed still as the warm slightly salty liquid sputtered around my mouth, he quickly pulled out of my mouth and slowly began to soften the moment he released, he gasped, and groaned between his breaths as he tried to calm himself down after such a rush of pleasure, but with a satisfied smile,

I giggled a little while still sat on my knees my hands between my knees, in my white underdress and cream corset, my mouth hung open wide enough he could see but not wide enough to lose anything that I held in my mouth, I slightly stuck out my tongue as I had earlier and allowed him to see the mess he had made of my mouth, made sure to make the most seductive eye contact I could,

"Good girl," he smirked, "what are you gonna do with all that then?"

I smiled and licked my lips before I swirled my tongue around my teeth and the sides of my mouth before finally shut my mouth and swallowed and I made sure I made a loud enough gulp that he heard me.

"A very good girl indeed," He cooed and stroked my jaw again, "I'm surprised just how eager you are to worship me Y/n."

"My doctor wants more?" I cooed as I opened my mouth again,

"More?" He asked a little breathy,

"Again?"

"humm again? You want to do it again?"

"I want to prove how much I need my doctor and how much I adore him, I will do anything you ask, if you wish for me to do it again I will do it as many times as you ask"

"Well, well, what a very good girl to praise me so." he smirked, "but I think I want to reward my sweet girl for all her worship would you like that?"

"Yes, doctor Dawkins."

"On the chair, with your legs open. Now." He demanded as he pulled on my hair to force me in the direction of the chair,

"Ughhh Yes! Doctor Dawkins!"

#thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #tbs smut #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut #thomas brodie sangster #tbs #thomas sangster #jackdawkins #jack #jack dawkins #thearttfuldodger #theartfuldogger #the artful dodger

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