#so can we close the space between us now it’s a distance we don’t need | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

portgasdwrld · 5 months

Text

★ Cleaning

↺ nsfw content featuring Ace x fem!reader

Summary: After being scolded by you because of his messy room, he finds himself tidying up his space, but falls on a pair of your thong. Let’s say, he easily got distracted…

Warning: NSFW content

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

-Ace?

He watches you walk toward the busy table with a bag in your hand. You don’t seem particularly pleased with seeing him and your eyebrows are slightly frowned. He pushes back a little his hat and stares at you with curious eyes. Your fellow crew members look at you intrigued as you close the distance, flickering their gaze between you two.

-Can I talk to you for moment?

You ask, but it sounded more like a demand from your tone. He knows at this moment that you are indeed pissed and he quickly nods. He stands up to walk away as his friends tease him about being a bad boyfriend to you.

-What’s wrong pretty girl?

He asks with a smile to relax the atmosphere, but it only earns him an annoyed sigh from you as you roll your eyes.

-Your room, that’s the problem.

-Huh?

He looks at you absently as he tries to recall what did he possibly did wrong this morning to piss you off so much. You quickly bring him back to reality as your hand softly grab his forearm.

-Ace, baby, I love you but I cant possibly sleep in your room anymore with the mess.

-It’s not that ba-

-Yes it’s that bad! I didn’t mind the messy clothes laying a bit everywhere, but I draw the line at food spoiling in your room as flies make it their own territory.

You explain frustrated at Ace’s easygoing attitude when it comes to cleaning. You let go of your hold and cross your arm against your chest. Yes you love him, yes he’s really important to you, but he still gets on your nerves at times.

-But-

-And! The dirty socks ?? It needs to go, there is a dirty-clothe basket for a reason.

-Y/n, wait-

-No, I’m done. If the room isn’t clean by tonight, I’m sleeping with the girls like I used to.

He cocks an eyebrow at you with a small smile, not believing your words. You two have been sleeping in the same bed for around a month now, and he can’t possibly imagine not having you in his arms while he sleeps. He challenges you a little with his furrowed eyebrows and sly smile. You roll your eyes at him once again and huff.

-I do my fair share of cleaning as we share your room and I know you can be busy when I’m not, but it has to be fair. The dirty plates really are my limit…So yeah, I’m being serious.

You hand him the bag with the garbages that you collected earlier as you were thinking what to tell him. You are upset, but you also get that he’s a pirate and probably never had proper discipline when it comes to that.

Ace frowns a little as he understands this is truly a serious situation and takes the bag in your hand. You avoid his face as you don’t want to be influenced by his charm and back down on your boundaries. You feel him walk closer to you and leave a quick peck on your forehead.

-Then you won’t be mad at me anymore?

He concludes with a soft smile. He takes your hand into his. You nod as you put distance again between you two by taking a step back.

-Yes, but it has to become a habit Ace..

-I will try my best! Let me take care of this, so my princess is able to sleep in a clean space tonight!…and after tonight too!

You chuckle a little, glad to see him enthusiastic and understanding to your frustrations.

-Thank you

-No problem, I will see you later then!

He smiles at you one last time and he doesn’t miss the chance to steal a kiss on your lips before walking away from you: Direction, his room!

——

As Ace walks in, he’s met by his familiar room. The bed is undone and he can see the beginning of your cleaning and where you clearly gave up. You left a pile of dishes on his desk and the dirty clothes near the bed.

The fire user sighs at the view, knowing it’s gonna be quite the work, but if it’s for you, anything is worth it. He starts by the easiest which is dropping the dirty dishes in the ship kitchen and quickly washing them.

He quickly runs back to his room ready to attack the next task. He takes a wet clothe and pass over his fournitures to remove accumulated dusts. He places your books as a small pile on his desk and put his maps in their designated basket, along with any files he had left around.

After running around the ship, he gets his hand on a broom. He cleans the floors from the dusts and any garbages, after putting the clothes on the bed to fold them or throw them in the dirty-clothe basket.

He finally sits down on the bed. As he’s drinking water, he eyes the clothes and pass his hands through the familiar pieces that you wear and he wears. He puts the water down and attack the pile of clothes.

It’s going very well until, he’s almost at the end of it and he falls on one of your pair of thongs. Ace can’t help himself but smirk as he exactly remember when you wore this and what exactly happened after this was removed from you. He finds himself lost between his dirty thoughts, him missing you, him being tired of cleaning.

A little break wont’t hurt right? As long as everything is done by tonight..?

He grins mischievously as he lays down on his bed. He closes his eyes for a second as he sighs before opening them once again and stares at your pair of panties between his fingers. Despite knowing you would kill him if you saw him possibly , maybe highly considering jerking off instead of cleaning, the thought is getting more and more tempting.

Damn he loves it when you stand your ground and show how confident you are. He loves when you climb on top of him and you two make out for minutes and minutes before getting to the act. Those moments where his hands roam all over your curves, feeling the goosebumps on your skin. He loves when you touch his bare chest with your fingers and press slightly your core against him. He loves how lost you get when he touches you, how your confident behaviour crumbles whenever he presses kisses over your body. You are such a turn on to him, it’s almost unfair.

He feels his shorts getting tighter as a tent form under the material. He sighs as he brushes his free hand in his dark hair. He looks at the ceiling as he let his other hand flop against the mattress.

“I can maybe do this in like 10 minutes? And like get back to cleaning after..”

He mumbles to himself as he tries to convince himself it’s a good plan even though he clearly has a feeling that it is not.

“Huh fuck it”

He concludes nonchalantly with a slight shoulder shrug as he awkwardly massages his cock through his shorts. What are the possible odds you enter the room while he decides to do this…

He hisses at the pleasure that the slight friction gives him and his eyes dart to your thong which he’s now holding tighter between his fingers.

From this moment, his mind forgets all about the cleaning task and he’s only thinking of your silhouette, the curve of your body, the view he has when you two are having intercourse. He’s thinking of how he ate your pussy out with this exact thong pressed against your wet core, you always get so wet for him.

His cock now in his hands, Ace allows himself to start with slow strokes which leaves him wishing for your presence. Your lips wrap his tip so well, you suck it and lick it with such skills that he dreams of spending a day just getting his cock sucked by you. Your name leaves his lips as he begins to go faster, occasionally holding his cock tighter like you do.

He’s lost in his train of thoughts before he hears some rumbling outside of his room and your voice from afar after being greeted by Marco. Usually he wouldn’t bother to hide the fact that he was jerking off, but now was a different situation. In panic he pulls his shorts up, but as you open the door, you seem to quickly notice something is off.

“Hey…I came to see how the cleaning was going..”

You trail off as you scan the room. Ace who was just now looking at you with surprised Bambi eyes, cough to shake the awkwardness away and points at his desk area with a slight blush.

“Well the desk is now uhh clean and uh I’m um finishing the clothes..”

“With my thong in your hand?”

You cock an eyebrow at his hand. Ace didn’t notice that he was still holding tightly into the piece of clothing when he pointed at his desk.

His hard bulge makes it harder for him to focus as all he’s thinking right now is tossing the clothes on the floor and fuck you. His eyes stare at you without much thoughts behind.

“Yeah…well your clothes are mixed up with mine”

You squint your eyes at him, before nodding still skeptic. You know Ace, you know your boyfriend, you clearly have an idea of what he was possibly doing and as you step on his belt laying on the floor, it completely confirms it for you.

“You did a better job than I was expecting …”

You start as you ignore him and analyze his job so far. Ace awkwardly shifts on the bed, trying to find a more confortable position that would relieve a little his dick.

“Oh..uh thanks babe, I really tried my best..”

“…, but there is clearly still unfinished work but I guess I did say you have until tonight for it to be done.”

You finish as you turn to face him and point at the pile of clothing. You cross your arms over your chest as you lean back on the desk for support. Ace looks delicious. His shorts are barely hanging on his waist, his obvious hard bulge, his toned body glistening from a slight sweat, his dark long hair covering a little his face and his flushed freckled cheeks.

“I will finish it don’t worry”

He says as he holds eye contact with you and a confident smile. You scoff as a smirk curve your lips. You uncross your arms and walk closer to him. You cup his face with one of your hand, your boyfriend on the other side is still holding eye contact with you. You peck his lips and you find it a bit funny how easily he left a sigh out.

“Alright, then I guess I’m done here”

You try to walk away, but Ace’s hand is quick to hold you back by holding one of your thighs. You know he’s not in a position to ask for favors after the whole cleaning situation and he’s very well aware of this too, which is why he hasn’t flipped you over, back pressed on the bed and fucked you already.

“You can kiss me better than this”

He teases as you feel his thumb massage circles on your skin.

“I will when you hold your promise Fire-Fist”

You reply as you flick his forehead. He whines a little and suddenly his attitude changes completely. He sighs defeated as he let go of his hold on you and lay down again on the bed.

“Alright baby, then see you tonight”

He smirks as he watches your confused expression. You nod slowly, “is he going to just continue what he was doing with my old pair of underwear…” you think to yourself. You slightly get annoyed that he’s able to always be so cool about everything. It’s not fair, because you really wanted to give him the best blowjob ever because he just looks amazing and you love him, but you have your pride. So you decide to not make it so easy for him, make him see what he’s clearly missing by not finishing up his cleaning task.

You quickly kick your footwear off and climb on top of him, surprising him. You smirk to yourself as you feel satisfied with the expected reaction you wanted.

“And what are you going to do Babe?”

You coo at him as you dangerously close the distance between your bodies. Ace brown eyes glitter in excitement and his hands find themselves naturally on your exposed thighs.

His cock is painfully hard at this point. Ace furrows his eyebrows, before tightly closing his eyes in pleasure when your knee softly presses against his bulge.

“Your cock is so hard baby..it must hurt so bad”

You continue in a fake concern. Ace doesn’t answer and he simply let his fingers travel under your shorts where he grabs tightly your ass. You leave at first a peck on his neck and then multiple butterflies kisses all over his torso, until you are facing his hard dick still hidden under his shorts.

“Your dick is probably leaking in precum already”

You continue, trying to push him to the edge. You know you have the control over the situation, but the thought of him randomly snapping and fucking you was incredibly tempting. But you had to stick to your plan. You pan your hot breath over his length under Ace lustful eyes. He’s tightly holding into the bed sheets and that’s when you figure it’s best to leave it there for now.

“Too bad there is still some cleaning to do”

You conclude as you remove yourself from him with a fake disappointed pout. You grin to Ace who looks completely out of it. His head heavily falls back against his pillow as he sighs annoyed.

You put your shoes back and as you’re about to leave, you hear your boyfriend speak.

“Enjoy whatever you have to do now, because I promise you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

You don’t turn around and simply close the door behind yourself.

A clean room and a hard fuck? Seems like the perfect night.

As of now, Ace has to finish, well his

Cleaning.

lowkey might do a part 2. If I have time

930 notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 3 months

Text

Good Terms With The In-Laws

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: Y/N and Drew broke up a long time ago, so why does he still go to movie night with her parents every Friday?

A/N: This is inspired by this post.

Masterlist

Y/N and Drew broke up six months ago. It was a mutual decision between the pair; they just felt like it wasn’t working out anymore. He is always away at work and this leaves her at home by herself. After the breakup, she moved in with her parents for moral support and because she couldn’t find anywhere else to live yet. It would be hard for her to go back to living by herself after four years of living with Drew. They had been dating since they both graduated from university, so the breakup was a big change in their lives. Yet one thing doesn’t change in their life and that is Drew’s weekly hang out with her father and mother, which becomes more weekly because of the SAG strike. He’ll bring over dinner and watch a movie with her parents every Friday. When they were dating, she used to join the tradition, but the split has made it awkward. Now, she goes over to a friend’s house until he leaves. This week, she has nowhere to go so she’ll just stay locked up in her room. She is watching TV when she gets a notification on her phone.

Your dad isn’t picking up his phone so let your parents know that I am going to be there in about ten minutes with the wings. She rolls her eyes at his text. We broke up six months ago. Why are you still doing this? When is it going to end? She watches as the three dots get replaced by a text. It’s just a dude having dinner and watching a movie with a married couple. That’s not a crime, Y/N. She leaves him without a response and goes back to her show. Around eight minutes later, the doorbell rings. She waits for her parents to answer it, but swears up a storm when she remembers that they went out to get some drinks for tonight.

She opens the door to find Drew. His gaze is on the empty driveway and he turns toward her. “Your parents aren’t home,” he states, stepping in and going to the living room to set the food on the coffee table. She shrugs, “They’ll be back soon. They went to get drinks.” She is stopped from going back to her room by Drew. “We haven’t seen each other in months and that’s all we are going to say to each other,” he questions. She turns to him with furrowed brows, “We broke up a long time ago, Drew. What do you want me to say? I don’t understand why you are still doing movie night with my parents?”

“Because it’s good to be on good terms with your in-laws.”

“Good terms with your in-laws? Drew, did you hit your head? We broke up.”

“I know, but we both know that that isn’t permanent.”

He closes the distance between them so she feels his breath on her face. Her neck cranes to look up at him, “What are you talking about?” “Let’s be honest. You broke up with me and I went along with it because I could see you needed space. But eventually, I was going to make you realize that although my work takes me all over the world, I’m going to do everything in my power to not make you feel alone,” he tells her, taking her hand in his. “Because my heart was made for you, so only you can have it. You take as much time as you need and when you are ready to get back together, I’ll be here waiting for you.” Her parents come back home at that moment, which means she can make her exit back to her room without Drew’s knowledge. Her heart is pounding like a race track. She can’t believe what he just said, but what if he is right?

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey fic #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x you

526 notes · View notes

fxrmuladaydreams · 3 months

Text

back off (sv5) (dr3)

pornstar!seb x pornstar/camgirl!reader , pornstar!daniel x porstar/camgirl!reader

summary: seb isn’t happy when he finds out that you’ve become intimate with daniel, and daniel isn’t happy when he finds out seb isn’t going to give you up

prev part next part

Sebastian feels like he’s been staring at the screen of his phone for days now.

I’ve been spending so much time with Daniel lately

He’s reading the words over and over again, as if they’ll change at some point. When he gave you Daniel’s phone number he really only expected you to film a video or two with him, not to become close with him.

Sebastian figured you clearly weren’t in the mood to talk to him either, seeing as his last few texts went unanswered, so he decided he needed to take matters into his own hands.

You’re surprised to see Sebastian standing on the other side of your door when you answer it, a nervous smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hands.

“Sebastian, what are you doing here?” You ask.

“You weren’t answering your phone.” He shrugs. “These are for you.” He thrusts the flowers into your hands.

“Thank you… Come in.” You step to the side so he can come inside.

He takes slow, cautious steps in, as if afraid he’ll overstep.

“You know, usually if someone doesn’t respond to texts it means they don’t want to talk.” You tell him as you find a vase for the flowers.

He feels bad being here, but tries to keep his cool. “You don’t want to see me schatz?” He pouts.

You sigh. “I thought you were the one who didn’t want to see me.”

Your words feel like a punch to the gut. “I always want to see you.” He says quietly.

“Then why did you push me away?”

He stares at you, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“I can’t put up with you like this Seb. You can either stay here and be honest with me, or you can keep this wall between us and leave my house.” You cross your arms over your chest.

His lips move for a moment, he’s trying to think of the right way to string his words together.

“I was nervous. I felt like things were too much, moving too fast.” He takes a step towards you. “But I’ve sorted myself out now. I want to be close with you.” He practically whispers.

You take a small step back, keeping that small bit of distance between you. You’re too afraid you’ll quickly fall under his spell again if you don’t.

“We can become close again. As friends.” You tell him.

He gives you a small nod. “Friends. Can friends offer to buy you lunch?” He asks, a sheepish smile on his face.

You can’t help the smile that starts to appear on yours. “Friends can get lunch together, yes.”

“Good. Lunch it is then.”

He takes you to lunch in his car, letting you pick the music. It’s very reminiscent of your drive to the filming studio. He keeps stealing glances and you keep pretending not to notice.

Everything seems effortlessly easy with Sebastian. You quickly fall into rhythm with each other, a slightly flirty banter used to communicate with each other.

He pays for your meal, even after your insistence that he doesn’t have to.

“I’m just being a good friend schatz.” His tone is teasing, but he doesn’t like the way the words feel on his tongue.

He wants to be able to sweep you up in his arms and plant a kiss to your lips, but he remembers what you said about kissing. How it was something personal, that it belonged to you. He was just going to have to fight to earn it from you.

He drives you back to your house and joins you inside for a movie. While you start on opposite ends of the couch, by the time the movies over you find yourself curled up against the German man.

He almost wants the movie to never end. He wants to stay here with you in his arms forever. We wouldn’t be mad if you happened to fall asleep against him.

But when the credits roll you sit up, peeling yourself away from Sebastian, who tries to fill the space between you.

“I had fun today.” He tells you.

You nod, giving him a soft smile. “Me too. It was nice to see you again.”

“Maybe we can hang out again. Sometime soon?” He asks.

He’s close now, probably too close. You can feel his breath fan over your face as his words are murmured to you. His eyes travel down to your lips. You know what he wants, and even if you didn’t he tells you when he tilts his head closer to you.

“I kissed Daniel.”

He freezes at your words, slowly pulling back. A flash of anger crosses his face.

“Did he make you?”

“No! No, I kissed him willingly.”

“Oh.” He leans back on the couch.

“I’m sorry. I just thought you should know.” You head tilts down in shame.

He hums. “So are you dating him?”

You look back up at him. “No, I don’t think so.”

Sebastian smiles mischievously. “Then he has no claim over you. You can kiss whoever you’d like.” He brushes the hair away from your face and leans in again. If he pressed his lips to yours you wouldn’t have pushed him away, but he doesn’t. “I’m not going to kiss you schatz. I don’t want to confuse you, or make you feel bad about your feelings for either of us. But I won’t give up on you that easy. I’ve still got some fight in me.” He winks, then pulls away to stand up.

You almost reach out for his hand, wanting to pull him back down and kiss him yourself, but he steps away, towards your door.

“Goodnight schatz.” He calls out to you, then you hear your door open then close.

You feel fuzzy on the inside, like you’re on a bit of a high as you get ready to go to sleep.

Daniel comes by the next day, immediately pulling you into his arms and planting a kiss to the top of your head.

“Good morning sweetheart.” He says. “I brought breakfast.”

He puts a bag down on your table. You recognize the logo on the bag, it’s from the diner he took you to after you filmed your video. He hums as he admires the flowers on your table, letting his fingers gently brush against the petals.

“Where did you get these?” He asks, thinking you probably bought them yourself just to add to the dining room.

“Seb gave them to me.” You tell him. You try to sound casual about it, as if he didn’t stay late last night and if you had your way you would’ve climbed on top of him.

“Seb?”

“Sebastian.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, I know who Seb is. I just thought you weren’t seeing him anymore.”

You shrug. “It was nothing. We went out to lunch. As friends.”

He nods. “So, got any plans for today?”

You try to have a nice day with Daniel, but it’s clear something has shifted. He holds onto you just a little tighter, and makes sure to sit next to you a little closer.

When he drops you back off at your house he leans in for a kiss. You turn your head, letting his lips land on your cheek.

“Goodnight Daniel.” You quickly tell him, stepping into your house and closing the door between you.

Daniel lets his anger bubble up on his drive home. Why were you with Sebastian the previous night? Who the hell did Sebastian think he was to give you flowers? Why didn’t you let him kiss you tonight? His hands grip the steering wheel as he drives.

He walks back into his house and sighs as he hangs up his coat. The house seems far too empty, too cold when he’s home alone.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket as he walks to his room.

To Sebastian

I don’t know what your deal is, but you need to back off. Y/n and I are happy and you’re just going to ruin it.

He gets a reply within minutes.

To Daniel

I think Y/n can choose to spend her time with whoever she wants. And I’m not planning on letting her go that easy Danny. Let the best man win.

Daniel huffs as he tosses his phone aside. He’s going to show you just how much better he is for you than Sebastian.

#sebastian vettel x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #sv5 x reader #dr3 x reader #formula one x reader

626 notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 2 months

Text

What Are We (4 of 4)

John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: light angst, brief mention of alcohol, possessive Soap, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv (wrap it up irl)

Word Count: 942

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Always deflecting the question, you push John for an answer.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // what are we masterlist

John is not an angry drunk. Nor is he a sloppy one.

In fact, John is exceptionally gifted in holding his alcohol. But what John is after a few drinks can only be described as mischievous. He loves pushing at the right buttons, teasing until you’re hot with carefully concealed embarrassment, constantly touching, constantly grabbing until you’re playfully smacking at his hands.

John loves riling you up. He does it on purpose. He pushes until the gentleness becomes quiet discontent, until your tone becomes argumentative, only for John to kiss you, and then fuck you until you shut up and forget all about it in the first place.

While it’s a game between the two of you, you’re not particularly feeling it tonight. Right now, you’re slightly irritated, uninterested in all of his advances. It’s not because you’re no longer attracted to him, but because you have a task before you.

Your friends all the say the same thing. To confront John and ask him what this is between the two of you. You and he are always together, always a pair, and yet there has been no solid commitment. Whenever it’s brought up, he’s usually the one to quickly dismiss it, especially in a group setting. In the beginning you thought nothing of it, but now, after months together, you need an answer.

John lounges on the couch, legs spread, one arm draped over the back of the sofa. His eyelids are soft, almost closed. The arm not resting on the back of the sofa is in his lap. John’s large hand rubs up and down his covered thigh.

“Come here,” he murmurs, indicating where you should sit with a soft tap of his palm.

You’d give anything to slide into his lap. To wrap your arms around his neck and forget the world for a bit.

But your heart is beating wildly in your chest, the anxious need to ask him a fiery thing.

“What are we, John?” you whisper, glancing up to his face, seeking an answer.

The playful smile on his face drops slightly. John slowly rubs up his thigh and back down again before lightly squeezing. “Come here,” he repeats. “We can talk while you’re in my lap.”

If you go to him, the two of you will not talk.

“No,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest.

The playful demeanor melts away, replaced with that of a hunter. John leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. He holds this position for a moment, staring at you intently. With an exaggerated unhurriedness, John stands and then strides forward into your space. There is no chance for you to step away from him or to give yourself room to breathe.

John is right there, grabbing the back of your neck, hauling you into a passionate kiss that rips your resolve from your throat. You open for him, and he enters, claiming and kissing and tasting until your fingers dig into the front of his soft, cotton t-shirt.

When he breaks the kiss, the wetness between your thighs is stark and unforgiving.

“You need to answer my question,” you murmur, some of that strength returning.

“Do you think you’re not mine?” he asks, tone serious.

“No. Just—you never admit what we are. You always brush it off, especially in front of others.”

John frowns, his thumb rubbing across your cheek. “They don’t need to know what this is. This is just between us.”

You shake your head. “I understand but that’s not what I’m asking.”

John’s hold on the back of your neck strengthens. He draws you even closer, just until the tips of your noses are touching. “Then let me show you.”

He closes the distance, and you melt completely, forming to him as you always do. With one arm snaking around your waist, John guides you over to the sofa. You’re so wrapped up in him that his abrupt breaking leaves you momentarily dazed. It’s brief. A flash. And then you’re bent over, knees sinking into the cushion, arms and hands digging into the sofa’s armrest.

“John—”

You don’t even get the question out before he’s shoved up your skirt, pushes your underwear aside, and places his mouth on your pussy. His tongue swirls and tastes, expertly moving up and down and then stopping to tease your clit.

Everything clenches. Everything shakes. And it isn’t until your small death appears suddenly that you realize how good John is with your body. He sucks and sucks on your clit until your voice goes hoarse.

Then, you’re yanked flush against him, his chest pressing into your back, John’s hand wrapped around the front of your throat. You feel his hand between your bodies opening up the front of his jeans and shoving them down enough for his cock to slide between your thighs.

You whimper and push back on him.

“You’re mine, love,” he murmurs into your ear.

The head of his cock presses against your entrance. It hovers there before sinking in. John groans as your fingers find his skin, digging in.

“Your cunt is mine,” he growls, retreating a bit before thrusting forward harshly, completely burying himself inside you.

The hand at your throat twists a bit, forcing you to look at him.

“Your lips are mine,” he says just before kissing you, his lips meeting yours as he rolls his hips.

His other hand reaches between your legs to play with your clit. It’s over. You’re done. You will give him anything.

“Everything about you belongs to me,” he whispers against your mouth. John’s thrusts increase in pace. “And I am all yours.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @enfppuff @heeheehoohoohahahihi

328 notes · View notes

lincolndjarin · 2 months

Text

Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 5

chapter five : i'll decide where to go from here

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : happy last chapter of oh honey!!!! took a while to get out bc i was briefly on hiatus and then was in a slump (whoops) but here it is. this is another case of me writing an ending before the story so this has been the intended ending since i started and i hope you all like it as much as i do

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 6.4k

summary : a look into the past and present of life in honey, west virginia

warnings, etc. : language, allusions to sex, angst & fluff, complicated relationships and people who are trying to handle them, an obscene amount of flashbacks, reader has hair and is carried by Joel, several timelines in no particular order.

“C’mere, bunny.” His stubble brushes against the back of your neck, his mouth is warm as you feel a kiss placed against your spine.

“Mmm, what’s on the agenda for today?” You hum, pushing back against him a bit, the camper’s freezing in the winter, your heater broke a week ago and the parts Joel ordered to fix it won’t be in for a week. So you’re stuck with a little space heater you’d bought at the hardware store.

“I was thinkin’ we’d just do this for a while.” His arms tighten around your waist and stomach with a sigh. “We could just stay in today, order food, watch a movie on your laptop.” He yawns before nestling close against you.

“It’s too cold to stay here, it’s supposed to snow all weekend, it’s only gonna get worse. Maria even closed the home early yesterday” You groan, rolling over in his arms to press your face into his neck. The tips of your nose and ears are freezing, the two of you are under all the blankets you own, bundled up, when you peer out the window you can see the snow falling and settling on the trees.

Joel mumbles into your hair, deeply inhaling. “Why don’t you pack a bag and we can head back to the house then. You can stay until Monday and can fix the heat while you’re at work.”

“I hate staying at your place, all of my shit is here.” You spend most weekends at Joel’s, it’s easiest that way, but packing up all of your things and bringing them back and forth is getting tiring.

“Just bring it with you.”

“I think you underestimate how much stuff I need for four days.” You’re already giving yourself a headache trying to make a mental list of everything you’ll need.

“Why don’t you just move in.” He mumbles with another yawn. “It would make it easier for both of us if all your stuff was there.” It isn’t until he realizes that you’re frozen in place that he opens his eyes. “Or not, just a thought.”

You stammer an excuse, hoping to alleviate the tension that’s suddenly lingering between you. “I just- I don’t know if we’re there yet.”

“I didn’t mean to rush you, just thought I’d offer.” He shrugs before pulling you close again.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper into his chest.

“Don’t be. You’re right, it’s too soon for that.”

You’ve been together for a year now, you almost never sleep apart, if anything you should have moved in six months ago.

What’s stopping you?

You’ve been distancing yourself from any concrete commitments for sometime now and even if he never says it you know it bothers him. When do you stop punishing him for something you claim you’ve forgiven him for? He doesn’t hurt people as often anymore, at least he’s trying harder not to. But it’s getting hard for the both of you to keep up this system of locking yourselves in his room for a week every month.

Sometimes your cycle syncs with Maria and Sarah has to drive in from out of town to watch Ellie, it’s just generally become harder to manage.

But you can’t leave him when he’s like that.

On the rare occasion that you’re too exhausted to stay awake and entertain him he’ll end up in the woods and a massacred corpse ends up on your table when you return to work.

Everytime you think you’ve found forgiveness and acceptance you’re reminded of the fact that you love a monster. A selfish choice that you make every day. And everytime you tell him you can’t live with the guilt he gives you the same option.

Kill him.

You’re sure he doesn’t mean to make it sound so grim, each of you have complicated relationships with death. You just don’t think you’ll be able to live without him, and it’s not like he expects you to kill him yourself, he always tells you he’ll handle it with Tommy but you always shoot the idea down and you’re back to square one.

“I just need a little more time, I promise this isn’t forever.” You mumble as you sit up.

“I’d do anything for you, anything at all. Just tell me what to do.”

You don’t doubt that. But he still doesn’t give you what you actually want, all you ask of him is options that don’t involve him, or any more innocent people, on your cadaver cart.

The bed is empty when you wake up.

You knew it would be when you went to bed alone last night but a part of you, after all this time, still feels incomplete when the sheets beside you are cold. The creaking under the floorboards is the only noise in the house.

Your alarm clock reads 6:58 a.m. and you know it’s only a matter of minutes before you need to be up so you throw the blankets aside, stretch your arms above your head, and stand. Right on cue you hear the familiar stomping down the hall before your door swings open, Ellie rubs her eyes before scurrying over to you. Her hair’s in disarray, having fallen out of the braid you put it in last night, you scoop her up into your arms, trying to smooth the mess down.

“Good morning, little monster.” You mumble, kissing her cheek before carrying her down the hall and into the kitchen. You can’t help but wonder how much longer she’ll be small enough to hold like this. She’s already almost too heavy for you to lift for this long, and the living room and kitchen are still decorated with banners and deflating balloons from her sixth birthday party yesterday.

Kids birthdays, elementary school, home owning?

Even after a couple years it’s still a little dizzying that this is your life now. You set her down at the table, retrieving the generic sugary cereal you’ve grown fond of from the cabinet along with bowls, spoons, and milk, setting them down on the table in front of her.

“Can I feed the sheep before we go?” She says before reaching for her spoon, you nod.

“If you brush your teeth without giving me a hard time.” You fill your bowls, you have to remind her to slow down a few times as she shovels cereal into her mouth, eager to go out to the barn. You’re only halfway through your bowl when she runs off in the direction of her room.

You hear the telltale sounds of her pushing her step stool across the tile of the bathroom as she rummages through the cabinet. As you finish up your own food and tidy up you make a mental list of everything you need to do today.

Get Ellie ready for school.

Tend to the sheep.

Drive Ellie to school.

You take your phone out of your sweatpants pocket, 7:16, and text Maria to make sure they’re still good to take her this weekend. Ellie hums as she brushes her teeth when you peer into the bathroom before making your way into your own room, changing quickly, you’ve got about an hour before you need to leave.

Drive Ellie to daycare.

Grocery shopping.

Oil change.

Making lists helps. You like knowing what you’re going to do and when you’re going to do it, you’ve had enough surprises in your life, you don’t like when the routine changes. Without your routine you’d lose yourself entirely. Ellie helps, she likes structure as much as you do, you stand behind her in the bathroom now watching her finish up and making sure she did a good job. The sparkling stone on the counter catches your eye, a reminder that you’re constantly forgetting your ring. It’s a bit much for your taste but it’s a family heirloom and Joel insisted. Sliding it onto your finger as Ellie hands it to you.

Check on Ellie.

Clean the house.

Make dinner.

Before she can run back to her room you gently pull her back by the collar of her shirt, grabbing a hair tie off the counter you tie her hair in a ponytail before letting her go get dressed. By the time she’s ready you’ve got your jacket on, holding Ellie’s coat out for her to stick her arms through the sleeves. She already has a toothy grin plastered on her face as you both step out of the sliding doors leading to the backyard. You take her hand, knowing she’ll run ahead if given the chance, you know better than to let her out of her sight.

Dangerous things live in the woods of Honey.

She’s pulling you along through the short path between the trees leading to the barn with a fence surrounding it. Once you’re in the clearing you let her run ahead, once you’re able to see everything around you. The air is icy and damp as you follow after her, opening the gate as she slips under the fence. The sun is just starting to break through the trees, it’s still too cold for the sheep to be out, there isn’t much exposed grass for them to eat anyway. You’ve been keeping them in the barn most days unless it warms up, today isn’t one of those days. With a high pitched giggle Ellie rushes inside, you hear the familiar sounds of bleating as she greets all of them by name.

You watch in momentary silence as you make your own way into the barn, enjoying her little smile that warms up the freezing barn.

“Did you turn in your project yesterday?” You sit on a hay bale, watching her run amongst the sheep before turning to you, nose red from the chill. You hadn’t gotten to ask her about it since you’d been so busy with her party, it wasn’t really a “project.” Just a little assignment for the kids in her class, to draw something important to them.

Of course Ellie had wanted to draw her father, something you were happy to help with until she held the crayon in her fist and began to draw the sharp angles and pointed claws that you realized she couldn’t show it off to her class. You let her finish the drawing. It’s remarkable really, how someone so small and vulnerable can portray such a frightening creature without fear.

She loves him, that’s why.

You love him too but that doesn’t mean he didn’t terrify you. No amount of strange magical connection was going to change the fact that he scared you. The difference of course is that Ellie doesn’t know what he’s done. You had encouraged her to draw a background, concealing the mass of flesh and teeth in darkness and trees until only the two of you knew what hid behind the blue and green. Together you decided that it was a drawing of her favorite place. The national forest on the edge of town.

“Good, Riley guessed what it was though.” She says as she pats one of the lambs gently on the back.

“She guessed it was the Manangahela National Forest?” You give her a skeptical smile as she fills a bucket with feed before emptying it into the trough.

“Monongahela.” She corrects you proudly.

After all this time, you still never get it right.

“Smart ass.” You grumble under your breath as she carefully lifts the hose, filling the water buckets.

“Ass.” She says with a grin.

“Don’t say that.” You point at her sternly, stifling a laugh.

With a small huff she turns the hose off and rushes over to sit beside you and watch them.

“She said the forest was my favorite so it was easy.” She mumbles, briefly captivated by the sheep.

“She’s a good friend for knowing that.” You like Riley, you’ve watched the two girls play together several times before, she’s a good influence on Ellie as far as you can tell.

“Mhmm.” She hums, the silence returning between the two of you as you both watch the sheep.

You don’t tell her that you’re going to butcher one of them tonight.

You know that she can handle it. At this point in her life she can handle much more than any other six year old you’ve ever met but you just aren’t ready for that sort of thing yet. You haven’t been a parent long enough to know the proper way to go about that sort of thing.

“Time for school, kiddo.” You stand up abruptly and take her hand again, watching as she yells back to the sheep, saying goodbye to each and everyone of them.

The truck sits idly in the driveway but you ignore it, opening the door of your own car, Ellie throws her backpack in before climbing in herself. It was the first thing you’d bought with Darlene’s money. (The second thing you did was help Sarah with her student loans and put aside some for Ellie.) You hated driving the truck, it was too big and too loud, this just felt safer for driving Ellie around. Once she’s buckled into her seat you make your way over to the driver's side. The radio plays some rock song that immediately has her squealing in the backseat, with a grin you turn it up as you pull out of the driveway.

“Is she my mom now?”

You had been walking past Ellie’s room after your shower, wearing one of Joel’s flannels with the towel wrapped around your hair when her voice froze you in place, her bedroom door cracked open.

“That’s not exactly how that works, kiddo.” His voice has a nervous lilt to it you don’t often hear from him.

“Then why is she always here?” She sits up a bit and you hold your breath as Joel’s brow furrows.

“Is that a problem?” God you hope not.

“No, I like her.” The tension in his face relaxes with your own.

“I’m glad you do. I like her too.”

“So when will she become my mom?” Her persistence on the issue makes you feel as awkward as he currently looks.

“She’ll become your mom if she wants that. But that probably won’t happen until we’re married, and I don’t know if she wants that yet either.” There’s a beat of silence, you’re heart skipping a beat at the earnestness of the conversation. The silence is quickly interrupted by the little one screaming your name as you rush back to the bathroom, opening and shutting the door to try and make it seem like you hadn’t been listening.

“Yes, little monster?” You make a real show of stepping loudly down the hall as you push the door open. You’re greeted by the sight of Ellie trying to wriggle out of a rather flustered Joel’s arms, face red and flushed as he tries to shove her under her blankets.

“She’s just messin’ around.” He grumbles before throwing a pillow at the giggling mess.

Her voice calling your name from the backseat snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What’s up?” You turn the music down as you glance at her in the rearview mirror.

“Can Riley come over today after school if her mom says it’s okay?”

“You’re going to Uncle Tommy’s tonight, love. I’ll text her mom and see if she’s okay with picking her up from there if he gets you guys after school. Does that sound okay?” She nods happily when you look in the mirror before going back to singing along with the radio. When you pull up to the parent drop off you get out of the car to unbuckle her, kneeling down in front of her as she pulls her backpack straps over shoulders.

“Can we have a birthday party with Dad when he gets back?” She tilts her head to the side as she asks, you lean forward and kiss her on the cheek before pulling her into a hug.

“Absolutely we can.” You give her a soft smile before her attention is diverted towards a group of her friends. “Be good today, I love you.”

“Love you, bye!” She leans in to give you a kiss on your own cheek before rushing off, you watch her go, waiting until she’s in the building before getting back in the car. You send a quick text to Riley’s mom and Maria, scheduling plans for the girls before putting the car in drive as you head off towards a neighboring town. Honey has a grocery store but on days like this where you have so much free time you like to go to the nicer ones out of town.

You turn the radio off now that it’s just you, cranking the heat to keep warm as you drive in silence.

“We should get married.” You had brought the idea up, much to his surprise. About a year ago, as you were setting up for Ellie’s fifth birthday party, a year after you’d finally moved in.

“Are you serious?” He had been laying on his back, under the camper, working on the more technical aspects of the project. In his shock he’d rolled himself back out to stare at you.

Why wouldn’t you be? Sure, it took a lot of effort on his part but you finally feel like you’ve stopped holding everything against him. You had hoped that he knew that by now.

“Why not? Everyone already thinks we are, everyone at Ellie’s school calls her my daughter, Tommy’s been teasing me about it for ages-” He pulls himself to his feet, quickly putting his hands on your shoulders.

“Bunny, slow down.” He’s getting flustered, you swear his drawl is thicker when he gets like this.

“You’re the one who always says I take things too slow.” You frown, turning back to the flowers you’d been planting in the boxes under the window but he turns you back around to face him.

“You mean it?” His voice is a whisper and you quickly realize how much this means to him.

“Of course, I mean, we’re going to spend our lives together anyway, why wait.” You give him a reassuring smile as you tilt your head to kiss his cheek, briefly letting yourself indulge in the taste of his skin before pulling back. “As much as I’d love to talk about this more, we should get back to work if we want to finish this before she’s home.”

He doesn’t say anything else about it as he goes back to running the electrical under the camper and you can’t help but wonder if you crossed a line. Thankfully you’re on a time crunch to finish this and your mind is kept busy.

The two of you work in silence, almost synchronized as you move from task to task. He brings the cinder blocks out and lines the camper, creating a semi-permanent foundation as you string fairy lights along the outside and finish up planting flowers around the entire thing. Joel attaches the small porch he and Tommy made a few weeks ago that you had painted as you step inside. It’s unrecognizable after all the work the two of you put into it. The ceiling now painted a dark blue, glow in the dark paint dotted along the entire thing, when the sun goes down she’ll be able to see the stars from inside the camper. You painted the walls and changed out the curtains and sheets more to Ellie’s tastes. She’d always loved it here, when Joel was actually busy with work trips she’d stay with you in the camper. Even nowadays with you living with her and Joel she still often asks if she can play in the camper.

Just as you’re finishing up Joel steps inside as well, testing all of the faucets while wiping a bit of sweat from his brow.

“Think she’ll like it?” You ask, your fingers nervously twitch as you roll the hem of your shirt between them, he laughs as he leans back against the counter.

“She’s gonna love it, s’better than any gift I’ve ever gotten her.” You can’t help but smile as he holds his arms out towards you, you quickly step into them, leaning against his chest and taking a deep breath.

You open your mouth to speak, wanting to address your proposition from earlier quickly so it doesn’t hang in the air for too long but you hear the familiar rumble of Tommy’s truck pulling into the driveway and the two of you quickly rush out of the camper and down the steps. You straighten the bow on the door and quickly lock it. You hear Ellie’s laughter as she runs around the side of the house, Tommy and Maria walking up behind her.

She’s excited to see both of you, a paper crown announcing her birthday adorns her head as she runs up to hug her father. The second she sees the camper though she darts right past him.

“Why’s this here?” She yells excitedly, she knows exactly why it’s here instead of sitting stagnant on the piece of property you sold just a few days ago. You smile at Joel, nodding towards her as he leans down to pick her up.

“She got you a little birthday present, since you’ve been so nice to her and let her come live with us.” He points at you as she immediately starts squirming out of his grasp, tossing her backpack aside as she runs up the little porch steps. She turns around to look at you with a huge smile on her face.

“Are you fucking serious?” She screams. You can’t help it as a laugh slips out of you, thankfully Tommy can’t hold it together either as Joel immediately breaks into a lecture you nudge his shoulder as you hand her the key.

“It’s her birthday, she’s allowed to say it on her birthday.” You murmur through your continued laughter. She wraps her arms around your legs, hugging you tightly before turning around and unlocking the door. “Happy birthday, Ellie.”

She had loved her party, thankfully. And she loved her new playhouse much to your relief.

You and Joel laid on opposite sides of her as her little snores filled the camper, she had wanted a campout as a birthday treat and you were both more than willing to oblige. You’re staring up at the faintly glowing stars painted on the ceiling when he sets the box down next to you. You grab it, wanting to ask him more but not wanting to wake Ellie up you open it.

And you’re met with a ridiculously gorgeous ring.

Clearly an heirloom but he’s recently had it polished, one large diamond framed by two smaller ones on either side of it. Your eyes are wide as you stare down at it, shimmering in the moon light before sharply turning your head to the man with a dopey smile lying across from you.

“Been carrying that around for a while now, if I’d known you were ready I would’a asked sooner.” His voice is low as Ellie stirs a bit and you both freeze as she rolls over closer to her father.

Neither one of you speaks again, but the look on your face as you put the ring on was answer enough.

The beeping brings you back to reality as you scan every item in the self checkout lane.

You’re only feeding yourself while Ellie’s with Maria and Tommy, so you keep it simple. Another box of cereal, milk, an apple, a loaf of bread and deli meats. You’re pretty sure you have enough cheese and other essentials to get you through the rest of the weekend. On your way up to the checkout counter you grab a bag of dark roast coffee beans and a box of tampons.

You’re out of both.

You know you live in memories too often, especially without Joel to keep you in reality. You find him in the past when he isn’t beside you because something needs to fill the aching void that yearns for his smell, his taste, and his touch. And echoes of Joel are almost as good as the real thing. There’s a funny comfort you find in memories. Even unhappy ones. There’s no surprises in memories, you know what’s going to happen and you know you survived it.

Even the bad memories bring you comfort when he isn’t around to do it himself.

You pay quickly, loading everything into the cooler in the car as you head off in the direction of your mechanic. When you park you’re told it’ll take about fifteen minutes, nodding as you sit in the waiting room, where your mind inevitably wanders to one of the worst memories in the hours following your meeting in the Applebees that has since closed.

You didn’t pay attention to the road.

Instead you stared at your hands in your lap as he drove, not bothering with the radio, the two of you stewing in your silence as he pulled into the driveway. You didn’t even unbuckle your seatbelt, he had come around the truck and done that for you, pulling you into his arms and carrying you bridal style up the porch steps and into the house, only stopping to kick the door shut before bringing you to his room, clicking on the lamp he hadn’t bothered to remove, and setting you on the mattress.

He lays down beside you, taking your face in his hands but you immediately recoil, pushing him away.

“What do I have to do to earn your forgiveness? To show you I’m sorry? Cause I don’t see a point to any of this if it’s never going to happen, it’ll be better for both of us if we know where we stand.” He’s right, unfortunately. Neither one of you deserves to waste the other's time if this is going to mean nothing.

If you can’t forgive him.

“Can you at least let me love you? Do you think you can manage that?” His voice is dangerously close to cracking and you have to pray that he doesn’t break. If he can’t hold it together you know you won’t be able to either. “Neither one of us wants to deal with this but we don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t know.” You mumble, you really don’t know so why answer with anything else?

“I don’t even need a concrete answer, bunny. I just need to know if someday you’re going to be able to forgive me. I can’t live a life where you keep me at arms length.”

You hadn’t responded. Just slid closer to him.

And you let him hold you until you fell asleep, hoping that would be enough.

Your phone buzzing is what snaps you out of your empty thoughts this time. When you open the notification you’re met with a message from Maria, a photo of Tommy sleeping in the recliner, Ellie sitting in his lap, and Riley sitting on the arm of the chair, watching whatever movie they put on the T.V.

[ Made it back from school. Watching Treasure Planet. ]

[ love it ] [ thanks again for taking them ]

The mechanic returns shortly after, handing you your keys and telling you you’re good to go. The hour drive back isn’t terrible, you opt to listen to music on the way back. It’s quiet when you return home. Putting away the groceries and making yourself a sandwich as you look around the cluttering remnants of the party yesterday, the only sounds are your chewing and the soft creaking and scratching from under the floorboards.

Joel has so much pride for your home. He would hate it if he knew how dirty it was currently, the thought alone has you reaching for an empty trash bag once you’re finished eating.

You turn all the lights on as the sun starts to set, how much time did you spend daydreaming today? You try not to think too hard about it as you start cleaning up the plastic cups and paper plates that litter every surface of the living room, popping deflating balloons and sweeping up discarded streamers and confetti. There’s a feeling of solace that comes with cleaning the house, making it feel like home once more.

This isn’t just Joel’s house now, it’s yours as well, even if you thought this would never be the case.

“I know that you shot down the idea last time but I want to show you something.”

“Joel, I just don’t think…” Your voice trails off as you stare at the key ring he’s holding out towards you. If you can’t guarantee that he won’t hurt people you can’t share a home with him, it’s stupid and it makes you feel childish but you can’t come home to him knowing people are still dying, even if you can’t stay away from him.

“Just give me a chance to show you.” He puts the keys back into his pocket before taking your hand. Walking you down the hall towards his room, he stops briefly to check in on Ellie, still tucked into her own bed as you peer into her room before he closes her door quietly. “I don’t want you to think that a life with me is going to be only horrors, and I know that a part of you has already resigned yourself to such a thing but you don’t deserve that.” You’re about to interrupt him, tell him that’s not true despite the ache in your chest that tells you he’s right but he’s opening his own bedroom door and you’re too busy staring slack jawed inside.

It’s unrecognizable from the monster cage he’d created for himself.

Instead of resting bare and on the floor, the mattress has sheets and now rests on a low to the ground metal frame. The photos that were once taped to the wall are now in frames or pinned to a bulletin board he hung up.

He put a rug down that covers any claw marks on the floor and he’s done his best to hang up photos and paintings over the scratches on the walls. There’s even furniture now, a nightstand on either side of the bed with a matching dresser, lamps scattered around the room make the space feel warm and lived in.

“You- you did all this?”

“If you live with me I don’t want you to have to sleep in some sort of creepy homemade dungeon, you deserve an actual bedroom.” He whispers as you look at the paintings on the wall, all of them are Alice in Wonderland themed. “I borrowed those from Sarah’s room, we can change them out when- if you move in.” He quickly mumbles as you look up at a painting of Alice staring into a lake, her own image being reflected back up at her.

“It’s lovely, it’s perfect Joel.” You turn back to him as he rubs the back of his neck bashfully.

“This ain’t it, there's a few more surprises for you.” The shocked look remains on your face as he takes your hand once more, bringing you back into the kitchen and out the sliding glass door.

You had run outside without shoes on and took down the banner hanging on the camper before rushing back in and tossing it in the trash bag. When you look at the clock it’s just a couple minutes from 7:00 p.m. You bring the bag out to the porch before washing your hands.

You don’t bother taking a shower as you change into your pajamas, setting your ring on your nightstand, not wanting to risk damaging it as you pull up a pair of sweats you don’t care about being ruined and an old shirt you wore when you painted the bathroom a month ago. Grabbing the apple off the counter you shove it into your sweatpants pocket. Shooting Maria one last text and turning your phone on do not disturb, you tell her to say goodnight to Ellie for you before slipping your sneakers on and heading out the back door once more.

You don’t like going to the barn alone, and you should have put on a proper jacket, without the sun to warm you, your skin prickles with goosebumps. The dark doesn’t frighten you very much anymore, and it’s easy to follow the familiar path even in the dark. Your phone flashlight illuminates the ground in front of you as you walk, you’re trying to remember if there is a specific sheep Ellie isn’t attached to.

Most of the flock is sleeping save for a few stragglers, you decide not to overthink it, grabbing a lead and putting it over the head of the first sheep that’s brave enough to greet you. The unlucky winner is one of the older sheep, making its way over to you the second you open the gate. You reward her bravery with the apple in your pocket, the only sounds in the quiet night are those of chewing as you walk her back towards the house.

You swung your intertwined hands between the two of you as you walked through the trees behind his house. He must have worked startlingly fast to do that for you, no ones ever put in that sort of effort for you before.

The sun is just starting to set behind you as he takes a step back and covers your eyes.

“Hey-” You start to object with a giggle as he continues walking you forward.

“Oh hush, let this be a surprise.” He chuckles as he leads you further down the path before stopping abruptly and lifting his hands. “Surprise.” He whispers, taking a step back.

“Woah.” You exhale in shock as you stare at the barn in front of you. A white fence surrounding it.

It’s beautiful.

“Tommy and I grew up on a farm, we can raise whatever you want, pigs, sheep, chickens, anything you want.” He mumbles as he wraps his arms around you from behind, kissing your cheek.

“I love that idea, but can I ask why?” You let out a nervous laugh as you turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

“That’s actually a part of your last surprise.”

“Another?” Your voice pitches up, he built you a fucking barn, what else could he have done for you?

“I want you to know how serious I am about you moving in, I don’t want you to have any doubt.” He mumbles against your temple, inhaling deeply before pulling away and taking your hand one more time. “Come on.” He pulls you back towards the house as the sun sets for good, you walk in the darkness until he brings you to the basement entrance and pulls out the keys he’d offered you.

Several locks adorn the basement entrance, you sift through your key ring until you find each lock's respective key, letting them drop into the grass as you remove each one. When you swing the heavy metal doors open you’re met with the welcoming warmth that comes from below. Several lamps and space heaters create a warm glow that beckons you down the steps. Almost immediately the sheep pulls away, bleating fearfully. Animals are far more intelligent than anyone gives them credit for, they know when something is wrong.

You pull her down with you then reach up and let the doors slam down, sealing the poor thing in its tomb with you.

You drop the lead once the doors are closed, there’s no point in leading the lamb any closer to the inevitable slaughter.

“I have loved you since I first saw you in that bar. I have loved you every moment since, you could be cruel and terrible and I’d love you still and I’d probably deserve it. But you aren’t. You’re smart, and you care about everything, and you love everyone even if they aren’t worthy of it.” His hands caress your face as he whispers into the night air. “And you feel so much guilt for the things I do even though you shouldn’t. You can forgive me for all that I’ve done but it won’t change the fact that I’m still doing terrible things. I’ve done terrible things for so long that I didn’t really consider any other options, but you deserve other options.”

He pulls open the basement doors once all the locks are undone, and offers his hand to you.

“I want to show you that I can change, that I would do anything you need me to do, be anything you need me to be.”

It’s your choice, take it or leave, he won’t hold it against you if you crack and can’t handle it anymore. But you need him to keep yourself together in the first place so you take his calloused hand in yours and let him lead you down into the darkness.

The smell of vanilla and pine is dense down here.

As you descend further down the steps you see the familiar set up, a few lamps and lanterns are scattered throughout the darkness as well as a couple space heaters that are only there for your benefit. A mattress you insist on putting sheets on is pushed against one of the scratched up walls, the blankets and pillows scattered about the space, you walk over to the mess, picking up the scattered quilts as you throw everything back down on the mattress. You can feel the movement behind you, the scratching against the cement as you lay down, even with the heaters it’s cold. Thankfully you know you’ll be warm enough soon.

The panicked baa’s of the sheep are swiftly silenced, replaced with the wet tearing sound that once would have filled you with dread. It’s a bit morbid how comforting you now find them, you roll over as you pull another blanket up over yourself, watching the iron chains drag across the floor as the unseen figure pulls them in different directions.

You can see movement dancing on the edges of the lamp light, the smell of blood is almost as prominent now as the suffocating sweetness. A smile begins to tease the corners of your mouth as you hear him moving closer, the familiar, gravely voice that calls out from the dark recesses of the basement fills your ears like warm honey.

“C’mere, bunny.”

a/n : that's a wrap on oh honey folks, once again im sorry i made yall wait so long, i hope it was worth it <3

i no longer have a tag list but for fic updates follow @lincolndjarinnotifs !!

#lincolndjarin #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou hbo #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #monster fucker #monster lover #monster romance #oh honey #fic : oh honey

163 notes · View notes

spiderlandry · 9 months

Note

can you please do “there’s only one bed” trope with Ethan Landry and it’s pure fluff but reader and Ethan are just “friends”, pretty please and thank you 🩷🤗

i’ve always wanted to do a one bed trope but never really had a reason so here’s my chance! hope you like it anon :)) also this ethan gif is so cute i canMt i love him so bad im never getting over this man

100 follower event

warnings: tiny bit of angst/insecurity but it’s sandwiched between pure fluff, also sexual innuendos but not that bad

space — ethan landry

The car sputters to a stop, and you grumble, pulling over to the closest parking space. “Stupid piece of shit!” You yell at the steering wheel, taking your anger out on the horn, likely waking up any of the houses nearby.

Ethan had never seen you this angry, not even when your professor refused to give you an extension after you’d never handed in anything late. Then, you just got ice cream and your mood was alright. But now? He’s sure you’re going to rip his head off for breathing when you glare at him in the passenger seat.

“You told me…” you took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “…that your car was fixed, Landry.”

Oh, yeah. The said stupid piece of shit is his car.

“I—I thought it was,” He mumbles, shrugging.

“This is the fifth time it has broken down.”

“I know, I know,” he puts his head in his hands, ashamed. “I’m really sorry. Like, genuinely.”

There’s nobody on the road. You take a look at the time, and it’s almost three am.

“Fuck, Ethan.” You rub your eyes.

He tries to ignore something stirring inside him when you said his name. “Look, we can just get a motel. I’ll pay. And we can take a rental, or something. I’ll cover it.”

God, you think. He sounds like a kicked puppy.

You take another deep breath. “It’s not your fault, it’s fine. We can split it.” You soften, finally getting a glance at him and he looks like a kicked puppy with those doe eyes.

“O—okay,” he nods. “I’ll look up motels.”

There’s a moment of silence and while Ethan is focused on his phone, you take the time to admire him.

He’s pretty. Annoyingly pretty.

When you’d met him, he seemed intimidated by you. He couldn’t talk to you until you talked to him first. You wanted to be more open, be more inviting, but the friendship was progressing slowly. You didn’t mind, though. It was a good challenge. But being so angry definitely isn’t helping, so you try your best to calm down.

“I found one,” he says, head snapping up at you when he finally feels your gaze. You’re definitely mad, he thinks.

“Alright, let’s go.”

The man at the front desk doesn’t even look the least bit apologetic when he says, “It’s the only room.”

You turn to Ethan for guidance, not knowing what to do.

The only room. One queen-sized bed.

When he doesn’t answer, you turn back to the man again.

“Are there any other hotels or motels near here? Like, within walking distance.”

Ouch. Are you really that desperate not to sleep in the same bed as him? Ethan can’t help but take it to heart.

“The closest is two miles,” The man answers, almost smug.

Ethan can tell you’re trying not to do something drastic.

“Fine,” you sigh. “Give us the room key.”

Ethan speaks when you both reach the room, opening it and seeing the only bed in the room. “I can sleep on the floor.”

Your head snaps toward him, eyes wide despite your lack of sleep. “Does being in the same bed as me actually repulse you that much, Landry?”

As the two of you enter and close the door, he starts shaking his head profusely. “No! Why—why would you think that?” It’s literally the opposite of how he’s feeling. It excites him, and it’s worrying.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Nothing?! Why is that nothing? Do you think he doesn’t want to be around you?

There are only two pillows, and since you need them to sleep, you can’t even put one between you. He can read the unease on your face.

“Really, I can sleep on the—”

You hold you hand up and he snaps his mouth shut.

“Just. Just get in the bed, Ethan. I’m tired.”

Butterflies swarm his stomach at the prospect of actually getting in bed with you. You sounded so gentle. For a short moment, he imagines a world where you’re saying that because you have a home with him, sleep in the same bed every night.

He’s not aware of how true it will become in the future. He’s not even giving himself a chance to think about it.

He can feel your warmth radiating from your side. It's dark, you’re turned away from him, while he’s facing the ceiling unable to close his eyes, wanting to savor the moment.

You’re both under the same comforter. You’re inches away. God, help him.

“You’re awake, aren’t you?” Your voice is quiet, but he hears.

Should he answer? “…Yeah.” Well.

There’s a rustling beside him, and it sounds like you’ve turned your body toward him. He wants to do nothing more than turn on the lights and see your face as you lay there.

“Ethan,” you say. “Are you scared of me?”

“What? Why would I be scared of you?”

“You seem scared of me.” Maybe it’s the way the silence plagues you both, the darkness making it hard to see, that it feels easier to talk.

“I am scared,” he admits. “Just not of you.”

“Then what?”

“I’m scared that I’ll make myself look like an idiot.”

“What?” You almost sound scandalized. “In front of me, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“You can figure that out,” He wants to laugh, but his nerves consume him. You’re smart, he’s sure you’re just asking this to tease him, you’ve likely figured it out the moment you met and he stammered while saying his name.

It’s so quiet that he thinks you might have fallen asleep, but you surprise him by saying, “Can I touch you?”

What?! “What?!”

“It’s—!” You slap his arm lightly. “It’s not like that, perv.”

Now he actually laughs. He’s a bit more at ease now. So much that he has the courage to ask, “Are you suggesting we cuddle?”

“You can figure that out,” you reply, mocking him.

Instead of responding, he reaches out for you cautiously until he finds your waist. Where the hell did this confidence come from?

His hands are what you need to make that final step, scooting closer to him to encourage him to snuggle closer.

“Come here,” You whisper, almost scared to break the spell. “Closer.”

He clings to you like a koala desperate not to fall off a branch, and though it feels a little awkward with the amount of muscles he has, his head perfectly against your neck.

“I feel the same way, you know.” You stroke his curls, hands resting at the nape of his neck. He’d be purring if he were able to, he’s sure.

The next morning, you share a laugh when you both realize that you’ve switched places, and you’re now the one clinging to him.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #scream 6 #scream 6 x reader #ethan landry fluff #scream vi #scream x reader #scream

527 notes · View notes

gretavanlace · 6 months

Text

Sugar II (part 4)

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, angst, digital penetration, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cheating, lightly edited and I’m sorry for any typos, etc

*also, we all knew I was going to use this pic eventually, because ohhh myyy goddd. I don’t know who I should kneel down in thanks for this, but goddamn

Jake twists the ring around on your finger, studying it to avoid your eyes.

You wish it would disappear. And you know that isn’t right, but you wish it all the same. It breaks your heart to feel the intensity of his watchful, heated gaze upon it. Though it’s got nothing on the way his own seems to be caving in on itself within his chest. And he doesn’t need to tell you that for you to feel it.

His voice comes softly, straining against the aching lump you can hear in his throat, “Daniel warned me, as if it would change anything, as if I might not want to see you - but I didn’t believe him. Didn’t want to.”

He holds your hand a little tighter when you try to pull away, and abandons the ring in favor of meeting your teary stare.

“Don’t cry, sugar,” his gentle smile doesn’t meet his eyes as his thumbs drift soothingly over the backs of your hands. “You know I can’t stand it. What’s his name?”

You can’t bear for him to exist in this room between yourself and Jacob, and offer a shake of your head in lieu of responding.

“Know your enemy, and all that, love.” He prods, but again, you deny him.

“He’s not your enemy.”

There are his palms again, so warm and familiar as he cradles your face like some long forgotten song you’ve just remembered the melody to. You want to sing it forever.

Here, leaned back against tastefully textured hotel wallpaper, in a robe that smells of bleach, you feel more alive than you have in years…as if you’ve been asleep this entire time and he has just tapped you awake…time to wake up, sugar.

“Do you love him? Do you love him the way you love me?” It ghosts from his lips, the softest accusation you’ve ever heard.

Your answer comes swift and sure, without hesitation, but just as quietly, “I’ll never love anyone the way I loved you.”

Thumbs drifting over your lips now, he tilts his head and proves how transparent you really are standing here before him, “Loved?”

You want to cling to him, to curl up against his body and bury your face in his hair. To lick against his throat and suck his bottom lip through the tears you’re fighting so diligently.

Instead, you weakly offer up a fact, “I’m getting married.”

He’s closer now, clutching your face in his hands as the tip of his nose nudges against yours, “That isn’t what I asked. Do you know how much I love you? How much I’ve always loved you? How much I’m always going to love you? You think I can’t feel it? You think I can’t feel it in your entire body right now? That I can’t see it? That I can’t smell it? The way you love me? It pours out of your heart the same as it bleeds from mine.”

Maybe he thinks you look taken aback - though you aren’t - because he follows up closely with, “I’m not gonna stand here and pretend to have some mundane conversation with you and dance around what needs to be said. We’re way past that. I think we always have been.”

Pushing him back, you make your way deeper into the room. Space, that’s what you need…just a little space.

He follows, but maintains a respectful distance as he watches you move and shuffle around to avoid him.

Finally, when he can stand it no longer, he sinks down onto the bed that smells of you and reaches deep inside himself, searching around for that heart of his that you’ve always owned. He’d like to return it to you. “Do you want some truth?”

Easing down on the opposite end, perched like you’re readying to flee, you shake your head, “Probably not. But I have a feeling I’m going to get it anyway.”

“I’m not well, sugar.” He confesses, easing back to stare up at the ceiling. “That’s not your problem…but I’m willing to bet you’re not well either. What we have, it could never be one-sided, and that’s how I know you’re a fucking liar with that ring on your finger. You’re gonna ache for me forever, just like I ache for you.”

All at once, you’re a little angry. But why? Because he’s right? Because damn him for saying what shouldn’t be said? Pushing that aside, you brace to stand your ground and rise from the bed, preparing to show him out before this goes any further.

“You can’t just walk in here and act like you still know me,” his eyes track you like they’ve never seen anything lovelier, or more frightening. “You don’t know me, and you don’t know him, and you can’t just show up and start saying things like that. Josh was right, this isn’t good. You should go.”

Now anger colors his inflection as well as he stands to trail along behind you. “‘Josh was right’, don’t you fucking dare bring him into this room with us.”

“He is always going to be in the room with us, he always was…or have you forgotten why everything imploded to begin with?”

He’s stalked you into a corner now, reaching for you like you’re a cool, placid pool of aquamarine water and he has forgotten what it’s like to swim.

You shouldn’t, you fucking know you shouldn’t…but you reach out for him as well, a silent plea. Touch me. Hold me. Love me.

“Is he always going to be in the room with us? When your heart breaks, does it break for him? Is it Josh that you long for in the dark? Is it Josh that you mourn late at night when you lie beside him?” His eyes flicker toward your ring and then back to your face, searching for truths you refuse to give. “Because I don’t think it’s either one of them that can fill that hole inside you. I think that hole inside you is shaped exactly like me.”

He’s so close now, the soft wisps of hair that decorate his forearms skating beneath your touch. The strange shampoo you don’t recognize does nothing to mask the scent of him…so unchanged, so home.

“They aren’t here.” He whispers, lips barely a sigh at the corner of your mouth. “Lie to me and tell me you don’t feel it. Three years or thirty, sugar…we’re always gonna be us.”

“Jake…”

“Just talk to me,” he rests his temple against your collarbone, gentle as a feather. “I miss you every fucking second of every fucking day and it hurts so badly. Just…just talk to me. Just be here with me. Just be here, baby.”

You give in and run your fingers through his hair, holding him against you. “Why are we always in hotel rooms?”

His weight melds into you, muscles relaxing as he nuzzles into your tentative embrace. “I don’t care where we are. None of it matters. Fuck, sugar…I miss you. I didn’t even know it was possible to hurt like this. I’m terrified I’m going to wake up any second. Then again, you always did feel like a dream.”

Silence tiptoes into the room, enveloping you both as your lungs sync, arms wrapped around and clinging to one another. There is a near constant pinprick within your heart - it pokes and needles at you day and night, a tangible reminder of your loss…

But here, with him holding onto you and you holding on to him, it has gone away. Here, it’s hard to believe it ever existed at all.

“I’m so afraid all the time,” he whispers, breath warm against your chest, “so afraid that I’m going to forget this. That some terrible morning I’m going to open my eyes and realize I’ve forgotten what it feels like to hold you.”

“I’ll never forget what it feels like when you hold me.” You breathe, stroking through his hair.

“You said you don’t love him like you loved me. Like you love me,” he’s breathless now too, and clutching at you like you might dissolve into nothing under his fingertips. Breathing heavily like he’s walked a thousand miles just to be this close to you. “But does he? Does he love you right? Does he love you the way you deserve? Does he listen to you like you’re music and drink you in like art? Does he touch you like you’re sacred?”

His hands are wandering now, and you let them. You want them to wander.

His index finger eases inside your robe, tickling against the swell of your breast as his mouth charts a lingering path up your jaw until it kisses against the shell of your ear, “Does he fuck you like I did?”

“Jakey,” you gasp, just before sucking that ragged breath right back in, and his entire body stills.

“I’ve been waiting to hear you call me that since you opened the door,” his confession is winded and unsteady, “Say it again, pretty girl. Say it again.”

Once more, you call his name, and then your head is falling back to meet the wall, making room for his velvet mouth to chart slow maps over your throat.

You’re desperate to absorb him inside of yourself somehow, to carry him with you always. His tongue, soft as suede and tasting of buttery lust, slips against your own and he swallows the whimper that sounds softly out of you.

“One more time, sugar,” he’s speaking into your mouth as he makes love to your tongue between words. “Just let me have you one more time. The last time, I didn’t know…I would have paid more attention. I would have memorized you. Just once…I’ll live on it for the rest of my life.”

You’re fighting some faceless inner demon that you wish would go away, and he sees right through you, “You want me, sugar?” He’s kissing and sucking at your lips like he’s starved, “because it feels like you do. It feels like maybe you want this just as badly as I do. It feels like you need this. Your whole body is trembling.”

Arching away from the wall, you press against him.. Hungry. Desperate. Burning in the white hot flames of your need. This is wrong, and you shouldn’t do it. But you’re going to anyway…there’s never been any stopping the two of you. The invisible string that tethers you to one another refuses to snap.

“Touch me,” it pants out of you with such shaken aggression that his grip on you tightens, longing to hold on to that throbbing desire.

“Where, baby?” God, how you’ve missed his voice this way. Hot and soft, cashmere filth fanning across your cheek. “Have you missed my hands? Tell me where.”

“Anywhere,” and you mean it, but your legs are spreading for him all on their own, pulling open and disheveling your borrowed robe.

Then, there they are…those warm, searching fingers, hooking into your panties, teasing over you, reacquainting themselves with your swollen clit.

“My sugar…” he sounds winded, and a little close to tears, though his eyes remain clear and steady, locked with your own. “How could you go away and leave me? How, baby? You broke my heart. It feels like I’m dying, but the end never comes. Fucking purgatory.”

Holding onto him like you’ll never let him go, the shame flushes your cheeks and rips through your soul, “You know why, Jake.”

He’s easing inside now, deftly seeking that blissful little spot within you…his fingers tuck in against it as the words come undulating behind the flash of pleasure, “Do you think of me when he’s inside you? Do you close your eyes and find me hidden away in that gorgeous mind of yours? Do I wait for you there when he fucks you? When he takes what’s mine?”

“Jake,”

You’re rocking against his hand now, fucking and grinding into his touch, but he’s having none of it. He wants what belongs to him - your admission - and he will have it. “Tell me. Do you? Do you think of me when he’s fucking you? Do you close your eyes and fuck me instead?”

“Yes! Fuck, I try,” it sobs out of you as you bury your hands in his hair, shoving his mouth against your neck just to feel his tongue lick along your pounding pulse. “But he isn’t you. No matter how hard I fucking try, he isn’t you. No one will ever be you.”

You’ve hardly had a blink to register being yanked away from the wall before you’re being guided somewhere. Bed? Floor? It matters little. His hand continues to work you into a frenzy as his own confession blurs your head. “Me too, sugar. I look for you in all of them. And I run from you with all of them, too. It never works either way. You never leave me alone because you’re my fucking girl, do you hear me? You’re my whole fucking life.”

When your back hits the mattress you dissolve into a frantic nod, “I’m your girl, Jakey, Forever. Haven’t you always known that? Haven’t you always felt it?”

His left hand wraps around your throat, gently possessing you as his right fucks you closer and closer to that bright and beautiful end, “No. I haven’t. You watched me beg you to stay and you left anyway. You just fucking left….you should’ve killed me instead, it would have been a kindness.”

You want to answer him, really you do, there is so much to say, but he’s gotten you far too close and the words melt away on your tongue like spun sugar as tiny puffs of air begin to flutter his hair.

“That’s it,” he nods, eyes flickering with rapt attention over your face, “There’s my fucking baby. C’mon, little girl, let go for me. Cum sweet, right in my hand. Right here in my fucking palm so I can lick you up. Wanna taste it, sugar.”

“Jake, don’t stop,” you’d nearly forgotten what it’s like to beg for him. What it’s like when he has you peering over that sharpened edge just before the fall. “Please, please, please, oh god, please,”

With a jerking twist of his wrist he throws you up into the stars dancing behind your eyes, praising you with choked words you can’t seem to decipher no matter how badly you’d like to.

He thinks he might like to cease to exist in this moment…if this is all he’ll have of you, this is where he wants to take his leave - hovered over his beloved as she shakes and breaks apart so ethereally beneath him.

And for a moment, he wonders if any of this is real. If you’re real. How is it that he has found himself here with you after all this agonizing time? How is it that he opened his eyes this morning and didn’t know you were near? But, wait…did he know? Is that why everything felt so off kilter?

His forehead finds yours as your eyes blink open, dazed and stunning, “I felt you.” Words not much more than a hush, he slips his hand from between your legs and sucks his fingers into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you as though he is in pain, “I did.” Tongue lapping at your lips now, you can taste yourself lingering in his kiss, “Close, I mean. It makes sense now…how I felt. I knew you were close.”

There is a sudden rush of an emotion you can’t name twisting up within you, clawing at your heart, wringing at your soul. It isn’t love, it’s something more. It’s like the night your eyes first landed on his face all those ages ago…that ancient pull, as if you’d been encrypted in the stars, molded by the gods for one another, destined to search for each other across time. Bound and certain. Inevitable.

You need more of him, though he’s pressed into you, mouth licking and teasing at your breasts as he whispers your name like a wounded prayer.

“Inside, Jake,” you’re pulling at his shirt now, furious that it exists, you ache for his skin against your own.

“Yeah?” He rips it over his head and watches down over you. A deity with a half-grin on his lips and hell in his eyes. “You want me inside? Do you miss me there? Do you miss my cock, fuck doll? Does your sweet little pussy cry for me? Hmm? Does she weep for her Jakey?”

Jesus. He is so perfectly vulgar. Vile and shameless. And you’re weak for it, you’ve missed it so, your body is sparking and popping with it. Alive, alive, alive.

A sound you didn’t know you were even capable of making chokes out of your lungs. Devotion drips off of his tongue in the form of obscenities that make you clench around nothing, and you’d lick up every drop if you could.

Hands delving into his sweats now, you nod frantically, bowing your back to arch closer to him, sucking your mark into his chest where it has been absent for far too long. “Yes, yes, I miss your cock, Jakey. Want it so bad. I fucking need it. Give it to me, give it give it give it…”

You trail off, pink in the cheeks and ashamed of yourself. You sound like a petulant, spoiled child. Demanding and spoon-fed.

He, on the other hand, adores it, and wishes to listen to you stomp your feet for him every day for the rest of his life. “You go ahead and throw your little fit, pretty girl,” a hiss sucks in through his teeth when you wrap your fist around his cock to find his heart beating wildly for you there. “I’m gonna give you what you need. Gonna give it to you, baby, aren’t I? Don’t I always give you what you need? Or have you forgotten?”

An airy, “Please,” is all you can manage when he softly pushes your hand away and begins circling your clit with his lush, swollen tip.

Shoving the waistband of his sweats down just far enough that you can dig your nails into the tops of his thighs, you pull him in and whine beneath him when the head of his beautiful cock nestles inside you.

“Does he make you cum, sugar?” His voice tingles over your skin like crushed velvet, melting you, teasing you, making love to you like music even though his words are tiny daggers. “Does he fuck you until the sheets are ruined? Does he change them for you while you lie around, soft and spent, talking about silly things? Do you pine for his cock in your pretty cunt when he pulls out and leaves you feeling empty?”

He’s fucking you harder now, and already, you’re just so, so close. “I don’t want to talk about him. Shut up.”

“Why not?” He dips down and bites at your lip before licking into your mouth, “You love him enough for this,” your ring finger is presented to you, and then there is his wet, pink tongue lapping over the diamond, claiming it, claiming you, “but you don’t want to talk about him? C’mon, little girl, tell me all about him. Tell me how much you love him. Tell me how good he makes you feel.”

He knows better. Fuck him for wanting you to say it when he knows better.

“No,” it gasps out of you as he rolls his hips, nudging against your sweet spot exactly right, like he was just there yesterday. He remembers you perfectly.

“Why not, sugar?” He sounds winded and gorgeous, sucking blooms of heat against your throat. “Say it.”

“No,” you cry the word like praise, clawing into his back as he nods for you to dig in deeper.

“Fucking say it.” Fucking into you posessively between each word, he drags the truth from you.

“Because he doesn’t fucking matter.” Oh, what a wretched, vile, horrible bitch you are. “It’s just you, Jake…it’s only you. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you…”

He nods again, feverishly now as melodic moans begin to tremble out of him, sweeping you further under, “Take it off.”

“Hmm?” It hums out of you, hardly a sound at all you’re so lost in him.

“Take,” he pushes inside you deeply…it hurts in such a euphoric way tears prick at the backs of your eyes, “it,” again, “off.” and again.

His mouth searches out your finger and descends down around it, sucking fiercely as the tip of his tongue swirls along until you’re shuddering with goosebumps. When he pulls away, the ring comes along for the ride, only to be spat out against the sheets.

“Mine, sugar,” his resolve is weakening, he sounds soft behind the aggression. Lost underneath the possessive edge. “You’re fucking mine. I love you, baby. Fuck, I love you so much. Tell me, pretty girl, please, tell me.”

“I love you, Jake.” Your hands are tangled into his waves, pulling and petting at them, so silken, such a mess, “love isn’t the word. There are no words. There are no fucking words. Oh fuck, please, make me cum, make me cum…”

“Come on, sugar,” he urges, teeth skating along the column of your gasping throat, “you just let go. So pretty on my cock, so tight, so fucking warm. My little piece of heaven. That’s your cock isn’t it, baby? That’s your fucking cock. C’mon, soak it like a good girl, yeah?”

“Yeah,” your nails are raking across his back brutally but you can’t seem to stop.

“Yeah?” He’s right there, you can hear it in his breath, you can feel it in his rigid muscles, in the way his cock is twitching violently within your slick grip. “Are you my good girl, sugar? Still so goddamn good for me after all this time. Still just my best fucking girl?”

“Your best girl…” your chest is heaving against his as you scratch and tear at him, you need him closer and closer. He’s vibrating and growling, gnashing his teeth into your shoulder, completely wild and carnal. “Inside, Jakey,” you yank at his hair, snapping the order through grinding teeth, “cum inside me. I need it, baby. I need you inside me..”

“Say you love me,” his forehead, glazed with sweat and overheated, nestles into the crook of your neck, “say you fucking love me, sugar. Say it.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” it is a hymn, an antiphon just for him, secreted into this anonymous room where no one else can hear as you finally break…exploding into something otherworldly, something you only ever are with Jake…

He tears you apart so beautifully and then stacks you back together like his body has always known yours.

When he spills inside you, his body is rocked with it; his lips licked slick and shiny as filth and praise tumble off his tongue like nonsense in the haze of it all.

He wants to live in this moment, never ending and perfect, and you know that because you want it too, and you can feel it like soft spring rain misting over your skin. You can feel him like rain and you want to lie back and drown in it all.

Lifting his face away from where his mouth as been consuming you, never wont to miss that faraway full of love look in your eye, he catches your gaze and destroys you with his.

He is beauty, and love, and art, and sex, and life, and how you’ve missed him.

His plea gently breaches the calm “Don’t look for it, sugar.”

Confused, you furrow your brow, so immersed in him you’ve forgotten everything else.

“The ring,” he clarifies through a gentle kiss, “don’t look for it. Stay with me, baby. Stay.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @jakesgrapejuice @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake

360 notes · View notes

novasintheroom · 3 months

Text

048. Sunset

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 0.8k

♡ Warnings - mention of having future children? Very brief.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

It’s been a slow traveling day. Not enough double dollars between the two of you to rent a tomas, so you’re left with the two feet you’re born with to get you to the next city.

The worst of the heat is over; the suns are dipping toward the horizon. Here, on one of the numberless sand dunes on No Man’s Land do you stop for a break, a drink of water. And here, while Vash puts the water away and hands you a pack of nuts for snacking, do you stare with a fond longing at a farm.

“When we get old,” you say, because there’s always going to be a ‘we’ with you two; to be together ‘til the stars burn out, “we should get a house like that.” You turn to him with a glint in your eye. “One with a wraparound porch. Lots of space.”

Vash straightens slowly from his sack and looks off at the distant farmhouse, with its small greenhouse domes and tracts of brushed sand. The suns are setting to the west. Everything is bathed in amber, and he squints against the shine of reflecting light through his glasses. It’s small, as far as farms go. Most are these days. With Plants growing healthier and technology being leaked slowly from Home, farms don’t have to settle as close to cities to survive. A sand tractor kicks up dust in the distance, the farmer prepping the ground for hardy plant life meant for deserts.

He feels a smile grow on his lips. A brow raising slowly, he gives you a playful look. “You want to sweep all the sand off the deck all day? ‘Cause that’s what will happen if we get that porch.” He hefts his pack on his shoulder and starts walking again. He knows you’ll follow.

And you do, feet steady on the sand. “Ah, you’re right,” you open the bag of nuts and pop a few in your mouth, savoring the one cranberry in the bunch, “But wouldn’t it be nice to watch the sunrise and sunset after a long day? Just sitting in some rocking chairs. Or one of those hanging benches!”

Vash hums, looking at the farmhouse again. “We could hang up some string lights around it. Have a little space off to the side for a firepit. Roast marshmallows and eat s’mores.”

You grin. “We’d have to have a workshop somewhere, for your arm and whatever else you want to build.”

He glances over his shoulder and gives you that charming smile. “I could build you some bookcases. Have our own library inside somewhere.”

“We’d need one with all the journals we have between us.”

Vash laughs in agreement, then pauses at the crux of the dune. The tractor moves along. He looks at the farmhouse now as if it is your own. “We’d have a master bedroom, and at least three guest bedrooms. For when friends come by for a visit.” He points. "Right there."

You stand by his side. Brushing his hand, you smile at him when he looks down. “There’d be lots of them. We might even have to add a second wing, especially when holidays roll around. Maybe some of them would move in for a bit, then they’d go off to start their own businesses, or their own families.”

“Now it’s starting to sound more like a bed and breakfast place. Or a hotel.”

“Or our own farm! With hired hands that can work the land with us, learn how to care for the Plant we get.”

He gives you a look. “You wouldn’t mind all the people?”

You purse your lips, then shake your head. “I know people’s more your thing, but I think they’d become like family eventually.” You give him a wink and bump his arm with your shoulder. “I’d do it for you.”

And a breath leaves in a slow rush from his lips. He's overcome. You’re golden in the sunset’s light. Beautiful. The perfect match for him. Vash often wonders, if there is a God, if He looked down on his pitiful state and said, ‘Alright, just this once,’ when he sent you. “Maybe…” he swallows and voices the imperfect little hope he has that can never be true, “…we’d have some room for the kids, too.” He looks down shyly, and is grateful for the hood of his coat obscuring his sight a bit.

Your smile only grows, and you hold his hand, leaning into his arm. “…Maybe.” You grin when his ears go red.

A solemn, bittersweet feeling overcomes him, even as he brings you close to hold you. He knows this is all wishful thinking. Two lovers hoping for a better, calmer future together. Something to get you both through the next day. There's a Plant to the east calling out, and he needs to answer it. But he still hopes, staring at that distant farmhouse, that it could come true someday. Somehow, someway, you’d both settle down. Have your own place. Your own family.

He sees a lone figure come out of the house, followed by a smaller one – a child – and his breath leaves him.

You both watch the waning sunset over the house and hope for a brighter tomorrow to find you soon.

#trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #tristamp #writing #reader insert #self insert #vash x reader #nova writes #vash the stampede x reader #trigun x reader

84 notes · View notes

jagwis · 8 months

Text

Down the Undercroft

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader

word count: 4,103

summary: You decide to learn the Unforgivable Curses. You're lucky that Sebastian agrees to teach you. You're unlucky that he has special teaching methods. Seems like a bad idea to voluntarily climb into a snake's lair after all.

warnings: slight dubcon (completely con later), manipulation, unresolved sexual tension, spicy things (e.g. biting, kissing, pinning against the wall), mature language + canon divergence in using crucio, because i had to joke about microbes guys.

a/n: Reader is Ravenclaw, because i had a certain prompt in my head and it didn’t work for badgers, snakes and lions. although apart from one phrase in the fic, where it is mentioned that the Reader is a Ravenclaw, you will not find faculty mentioned anywhere else. no use of Y/N, no description of reader. also Sebastian and Reader are in their seventh year and over 18, i am NOT dealing with underage.

okay, burning question now: once again falling for Slytherin boys are we?

"I never said I didn't want to learn the Unforgivable Curses." It comes off your tongue a little rougher and sharper than you'd like. Anger at Sebastian and frightened Ominis’ voice still press on your thoughts from the inside, entangling them in a furious fog and coloring intonation in displeased tones.

Sebastian freezes as he almost reaches the exit of the undercroft. When he slightly turns his head in your direction, his eyes glow with triumph.

"Is that so?" Sallow's honey-sweet words cut your ear with your favorite and hated smug intonation.

When you don't reply to his remark, Sebastian turns away from the door completely and, judging by his undisguised smirk, you realize that it's too late to back out now. You are trapped between a Slytherin whose self-satisfaction ripples around like incense in the Divination class, and between a cold dark undercroft. Oh, about that. You are in the undercroft where no one can find you, just asked Sebastian Sallow to teach you the Unforgivable Curses. Great.

While gloomy thoughts swarm like glumbumbles around your mind, Sebastian pulles out his wand and slowly approaches.

"Wipe your trademark grin off your face." You wince in displeasure when your words only make Sallow's lips stretch further. "I've always said it's wrong for professors to forbid us from learning any spells. Besides, I learned Confringo with you, didn’t I?"

"That you did." Sebastian's left hand rests on his hip, while the fingers of his right twirl the wand lazily. "However, Blasting Curse is nothing compared to the spells that torture, command and kill on the spot. Blowing up an opponent is slightly more humane than torture to death, don’t you think?"

Sallow takes another step forward, his voice becoming a conspiratorial whisper. You feel your body stiffen in response to his closeness. He never missed an opportunity to play with you a little, but never did he violate your personal space before.

"And certainly far more merciful than forcing someone to kill themselves... No?" Sebastian's breath tickles your forehead as he tilts his head to whisper in your ear. "With their own hands preferably." Sallow straightens up, putting back a saving distance between you. He's still annoyingly close, but at least not in his I-have-no-idea-what-we're-doing-standing-so-close-but-you-will-think-about-this-at-three-am position anymore.

"Very funny." From the narrowed laughing eyes opposite, you understand that your confusion from his actions cannot be hidden by faked confidence. The step back that you take to maintain this very confidence only amuses him more.

"You are well informed that Rookwood and Ranrok are looking for me. Runs in the name, I guess." You comment as you roll your eyes, causing Sebastian to chuckle. "I need these curses for self-defense."

Sallow raises his hands in mock surrender. "It's not for me to judge, love. But what should I say to Ominis? Poor thing thinks you're the voice of reason in our trio, you know."

"We have already discussed the use of pet names." You cast a disapproving look at highly pleased Slytherin. "And I won't lie to Ominis or hide anything from him. I just don't want you to make him do something against his will."

"Fair enough. He didn’t complain much before you joined our humble company, though."

"I do not want to know." You cut off, shaking your head. "Now, would you be so kind as to teach me curses already? Unlike some, I have a lot to do."

"Oh, don't I know it. I have to do half of these doings of yours, love." Sebastian tosses his wand to his other hand, moving behind you. Some strange inner voice is screaming at you that losing sight of Sallow is a bad idea. You tense up, already turning, when two hands are being firmly placed on your shoulders, holding you in place.

"What…" You start half annoyed, half wary, the undercroft’s shadows and the fact that no one can help you here suddenly act somber on you.

"Unforgivable Curses are dangerous even while they are being mastered." Sallow's voice, deeper and more serious, sends goosebumps through your body. "We wouldn’t want anything to go wrong, would we?"

When you don't answer, the long fingers tighten slightly on your shoulders, pressing down on your muscles.

"We would not." Understanding the hint instinctively, you answer, the grip on your skin loosening at your words. His one hand remains on your shoulder while the other begins to slide down your forearm. You freeze, concentrated on the touch. Through the thin fabric of your shirt, warm from the heat of your body, you can feel the coldness of five fingertips slowly rolling down your arm.

You think you can hear Sebastian swallow as he reaches your rolled up sleeve at the crook of your elbow, lingering there.

"Good. It would be a shame to kill you here." A small shiver runs through you as you hear the change of his voice. Sebastian sounds muffled, guttural. You'd give anything just to see the look on his face right now, to understand a little bit about what's going on.

"Speaking truthfully, I entertain the thought that we could do far more enjoyable things down here than putting you into danger."

You don’t have time to analyze his words, because all your attention is captured again by the movement of his hand, which overcomes the threshold of your sleeve and touches your bare skin.

A quiet sigh escapes your lips, to which Sebastian reacts instantly, pressing his fingers tighter, sliding them down to your wrist and wrapping around it.

You let him raise your hand to a chest level, align it to the position he wants. A huge question mark burns in your mind like a red neon sign.

"Does misleading me count as a part of your teaching methods?" Your voice sounds quieter and more intimate than a few minutes ago. Sebastian responds in the same velvety tone, and his lips are much closer than you initially thought, giving consideration to your hair, moving under his breath. This thought occupies you so much that you almost miss his answer.

"Am I misleading you?"

"With your actions. You are irrational." Your answer is intended to prick Sallow, but even without seeing you and your puzzled eyes, Sebastian perfectly feels the slight trembling of your wrist, securely hidden in his palm.

"On the contrary." Sallow removes his other hand from your shoulder and you feel your wand being deftly fished out from behind the bosom of your clothes. "I'm very sagacious when it comes to what I need. What I want."

Your wand settles with its usual weight in your hand when Sebastian offers it to you and slightly corrects your posture again, one hand holding yours with the wand clamped in it.

"The truth is, when I set a goal or, Merlin forbid, desire something." Sebastian tilts his head to the side, scratching your ear with his breath. "Rationality is my strongest trait."

You try to move away from Sallow, his captivating voice intoxicates you better than the Imperio Curse. Sebastian allows you to win a few tens of saving centimeters between you, while not letting you to pull your hand out of his.

"The first spell is the Cruciatus Curse. I do believe you know what it does. Always hold your wand steady or it might ricochet back at you."

Sebastian controls your hand and repeats the right movement several times before releasing your wrist from his grip.

"The main idea with Unforgivable Curses is the wizard's willpower. For the curse to work, you have to mean it."

You take a few deep breaths in and out, trying to urgently put your thoughts in order and focus. The lack of concentration after your impromptu hug with Sebastian, your friend and fellow student, is indeed dramatic. However, your talent for sorcery helped you get out of many other complex situations, so on the third breath you mentally call on all known wizards, wave your wand and firmly say: "Crucio."

A red flash erupts from the end of your wand and crashes into the stone wall of the undercroft, certainly dooming the several billion microbes that live on it to eternal suffering.

"Well done." Resounds behind you. "You looked so confused that I was ready to drag you to the Hospital Wing."

You are about to turn around and make a couple of flattering comments about your confusion and its reasons, but Sallow is quicker. Wrapping both arms around your waist, he presses his whole body against your back.

For a few seconds, both of you keep deathly silence. You, because Sebastian smells so damn good of sandalwood, probably after sitting through the Potions class before you met in the undercroft. Sebastian is silent because, knowing you, he is seriously taking in consideration how to avoid you practicing Crucio on him for all his antics today.

"Sallow." Your voice seems to be trembling, but because of the ringing in your ears, you can't tell for sure. "What the fuck."

Sebastian clicks his tongue in disapproval and rubs his cheek against the top of your head. "We're not finished." He purrs, breathing in the scent of your hair.

Without letting you go, his hand is again on yours and puts it in the right position.

"Next is the Imperius Curse." Sebastian rests his head in the hollow between your neck and shoulder. "It will allow you to force anyone to do what you want." Sallow shows you the right move but doesn't pull away this time.

"Sebastian." Your voice sounds almost pleading, to which he hides a chuckle, pressing his lips to your shoulder. "I- I can't cast it until you-" Your voice cracks, you clear your throat several times.

"Couldn’t care less." Sallow whispers, leaving dry kiss, a quick stroke of lips, on your neck. "The next curse is Avada Kedavra."

He supports you by the waist, the toe of his boot pushes your feet apart.

"This spell also needs a special posture."

"Sebastian." You speak louder, panic and arousal roll up to the bottom of your stomach at the same speed. Your fingers are cold, your cheeks are burning, heart is beating wildly in your chest. "Stop."

"Why would I do that?" Sallow runs his nose up your neck, stopping his lips at your ear, exhaling into it with a chuckle. "I can feel your pulse from the start of our little talking, silly. Your heart has been racing ever since."

"So what? Maybe I'm just scared by your growing insanity."

"You of all people should not be afraid of my insanity. You should be entirely and completely blamed for it."

You abruptly pull yourself out of his embrace, wasting no time turning on your heels and finally finding yourself face to face with Sebastian Sallow. The first thing you notice is his wand lying at his feet. He probably dropped it at some point, because he was too busy with what else (who, rather) could get into his hands.

Studying Sallow's face, you need a few seconds to recover and just enjoy the view in front of you.

Sebastian looks utterly smitten. He’s all fast breaths, eyes lidded in gaze of a pure bliss, pupils dilated, lips parted. His chest rapidly heaves, as if he’s trying to control his every breath through force. His fingers, nervously clenched into fists, tremble, like the fact that you have slipped out of his grip causes him almost physical pain.

The sudden realization of your power over him blooms in your chest with warm pleasure. You run your tongue over your lips, trying to make the final decision for yourself whether you want to be here, now, with him. Sebastian's gaze immediately jumps to your lips and fixates on them, the edge of his mouth twitching slightly, as if he forbade himself to repeat your movement at the last moment.

"Well, in that case." You straighten your back, trying to give yourself confidence and not show that your own self-control is cracking like glass under Depulso. Praying that Sebastian doesn't see how desperate you are.

"We must both be insane then."

You’re giving him your consent directly, and Sebastian reads it from your lips, as if drinking the sweetest nectar from the rim of a glass.

His eyes darken, unfailing smirk turning into a grin. He takes a step towards you, then again and again, while you hastily move back. Every step he takes forward is your one step back.

Your confidence is thinning with every meter that you overcome in sync. It almost feels like a dance, but when Sebastian in the torches’ half-light reminds you of a predator approaching to devour your soul, it’s more like dancing on coals, when every wrong move can mark the triumph of fire and your defeat. You giggle, remembering Sallow's love for fire spells, imagining yourself as a pillar of sparks if you anger him. Sebastian narrows his eyes.

"What's so funny, love?"

You are about to snipe as you open your mouth, preparing a caustic comment, when your back rests against the cold, damp wall of the undercroft. All cocky remarks die in your throat. You exhale, resting both hands on the mossy rocks. Your wand is still between your fingers. Sebastian lets out victorious sneer, caging you between his two hands, pinning you against the wall.

"Not so funny anymore, is it?" Sallow murmurs, looking at you. There are hunger, longing and something else in his gaze, similar to the tenderness of a collector preparing to pin rare butterfly with a needle.

Despite your position, you still try to maintain a bit of dominance and control. Therefore, tearing your palms away from the wall, you stealthily hide your wand behind the edge of your clothes on your waist. Feeling light-headed at his proximity, you grab Sebastian's tie with one hand and place the other on his lips, preventing him from closing the distance and kissing you. Sallow huffs in annoyance through his nose, giving you his brand menacing look.

You smile as you wrap the green and white fabric around your fingers.

"Yeah, what's so funny, Sallow?" You pull on his tie and Sebastian follows your instructions without question, getting even closer. In his eyes, black with desire, you see the reflections of fire from the torches of the undercroft. "Is that the right way to act when you want something? I'd like to hear the magic word."

Suddenly you feel a wet hot touch on the inside of your palm. In surprise, you pull your hand away, staring in amazement at the sly smile spreading across Sebastian's face.

"Did you just licked-"

"Poor little Ravenclaw." Sallow grabs both of your wrists and holds on tight, preventing you from moving. "Has anyone ever told you that snakes tend to eat birds?"

Your gaze darts from his hazel eyes to his lips as you try to get your thoughts in order. Sebastian is watching your efforts with keen interest. When you growl in annoyance from the overflowing desire to kiss the damn smile from his face, Sallow leans forward and covers your lips with his own.

Your breath hitches as Sebastian picks up a slow, painfully slow pace. You expected some violence and passion from him, but instead he kisses you the way a dying knight, devoted only to his mistress, kisses her palm for the last time. The kiss is sensual, soft, wet. Alluring. As if he is afraid that you will shatter like a mirage, like a dream inspired by a mind tormented by fantasies.

His lips are hot, the hands on your wrists clenching tighter as you return the kiss, rising up on your toes.

When he feels the responding movement of your lips, it seems that you have lost the poor boy for good.

Sallow releases your hands from his grip as you pull them demandingly towards yourself. Without breaking the kiss, he takes you under your head with one hand, holding your waist with the other, and pulls you closer. Your fingers are in his hair, slightly squeezing the curly strands. Sebastian seems to forget to breathe.

The kiss becomes faster, you pull each other more, further and, in the heat of touch, it seems that you become one lump of shattered breathing and pleasant shivering.

Sallow bites your lip, pulling it lightly with his teeth, then runs his tongue over it. You moan softly, parting your lips, and Sebastian melts in your arms, getting drunk from your voice and permission.

His tongue meets yours and deepens the kiss. You are being slammed into the wall, Sallow braces your face in both of his hands now, tilting your head as he wants. You allow him, trembling from all the unfamiliar sensations.

It feels good, but so hot, unbearably so. There is not enough air, too, but it is a pleasant suffocation, as if an oxygen void spreads in your chest being filled with an endless repetition of one word instead of air. Sebastian Sebastian Sebastian Sebastian Sebastian.

"Sebastian." You moan as you feel Sallow's lips on your neck, just below your jaw.

Sebastian freezes instantly, returning to your face – it takes a couple of seconds for his misty eyes to focus on yours.

"I think I just found your weak spot." He looks smug, but his voice is broken, and his eyes are pleading.

"Shut up." You whisper, stubbornly looking away.

Sallow grins, pushing your head back into place, hooking your chin with long fingers.

"What is it, darling? I know what you need, and I know what you want. All you have to do is ask politely."

You stare daggers at the proud Slytherin, who playfully runs the fingers of his free hand along your neck, raising a wave of goosebumps. His thumb on your chin circles your lip.

"Too much honor. Why would I bother?"

Sallow slightly scratches the skin of your neck with his nails, and you lean into his touch, causing him to chuckle.

"Because." Sebastian leans down, picking at the skin of your neck with kisses and bites. "I can make you feel good." Sallow returns to his original position, looking into your eyes with a burning glare of anticipation. "Be nice, won’t you? Is it really this hard to confess what you want?"

Sebastian watches your pupils dilate as you stare in fascination at his lips stretching into a seductive smile.

"Come on." Sallow gently tucks a strand of hair from your face, kissing you lovingly on the cheek. "Beg for me, love."

You instantly come out of the trance into which Sebastian without the slightest difficulty allured you with sweet voice and warm touches. Pride and stubbornness inflame in your chest a violent desire to resist.

"I don’t beg." You answer, firmly meeting Sallow's gaze. He frowns, puzzled by the change in your behavior, but once you believe in your small victory for a second, you see the familiar spark of an idea that flashes through the depths of Sebastian's eyes. It’s an all too well-known light that always means trouble. To you mostly, that is.

Sebastian straightens up to his full height, throwing his head back a little and looking down at you. You don't like the amount of triumphant glee on his face as you try to figure out his next move in confusion and panic.

"Oh no, love." Sallow purrs affectionately, you are bathed in the tart sweetness that pervades his every word. "I'm afraid now you do."

You notice too late that his hands are no longer touching your skin. It's also too late because you can't feel your wand in the bosom of your clothes anymore. The last thing you see before a green veil fills your vision is Sallow's right hand aimed at you with your wand clasped in his fingers.

"Imperio." Sebastian whispers and gracefully waves the wand.

With an impulse, you are slightly thrown back into the wall. It feels like you are spinning on a very fast carousel, or you are being at a very high altitude – not a single thought has time to reach your consciousness, as if invisible barriers reflect it.

Sallow watches with an unhealthy interest how the fog swirls in your eyes, green flashes are shimmering through the irises. You look up at him, your face free of all emotion.

"Beg." Sebastian commands, excitement and euphoria filling his entire being.

"Please, Sebastian." Your voice is the most beautiful thing Sallow has ever heard in his whole life. But when you pronounce these words under your breath, brokenly desperate, bittersweetly, he feels that he can come undone.

"Again." He orders, leaning forward, drinking in your every word. "Better."

You whimper, fingers clawing at his robe, but Sallow feels it as if your fingers are clenching right on his heart. It's stupid, embarrassing really, how much power you have over him without realizing it. Now it’s you who beg him, but for some reason he feels that he is the one kneeling in front of you, as if before an ancient deity on the altar, sacrificing his soul, praying that you will accept it.

"Please." You pleadingly look into his eyes. "Please, Sebastian. Please, please, please, please, please, please, I can't take it anymore." The cascade of your whispers falls on him with an unbearable weight. Sallow groans softly at your pleas, his eyes rolling back, and he must control every breath to keep him from choking.

He lets out another quiet moan, pressing his lips to your neck, covering it with open-mouthed kisses, bites, and licks, holding you in place with his fingers on your hips.

Sebastian knows the curse wears off as you relax in his arms, leaning closer.

"Sallow-" You begin with outrage ringing in your tone. "You-" The furious tirade is being abruptly stopped with a loud moan as you choke on it, sensing Sebastian leaving a hickey, effectively cutting off all of your displeasures.

You feel his chest vibrates under your fingers with laughter.

"What would Ominis say if he knew you were practicing the Unforgivable Curses on me?" You say revengefully.

"Don't use my best friend's name when I'm kissing your neck." Sebastian winces.

"Oh?" You mumble innocently. "And here I thought that it would amuse your ego."

"How so?" Sebastian pulls away from your neck, giving you a look.

"Well." You close the distance between you, biting on his chin for a second, hearing his breath hitches in his throat. "Because right now you are the one kissing my skin, not him." You trail wet kisses down Sallow's neck, leaving your own vindictive hickey. Sebastian flinches and groans, making you break into a smirk. "Because I'm being hold in your hands, not in Ominis', and finally-" You move higher, looking into his eyes. "Because when I begged a couple of minutes ago, it was your name that escaped my lips. Or am I wrong?" You smile slyly as you watch Sebastian open his mouth, completely stunned by your words.

"You are incredible." Praise finally escapes his lips when he tries to kiss you again, but you back away, chuckling as Sebastian whines in disappointment. A blush covers his cheeks, framing a constellations of freckles with warm color. You want to kiss all of them.

"I know." You wink at him, kissing him yourself, obediently wrapping your legs around his waist when he picks you up and takes you in his arms, leaning your back against the wall.

You are so absorbed in each other and in your undying duel for authority that you almost don’t catch the sound of the undercroft door opening.

You freeze in horror, Sebastian breaks into a big shit-eating grin. You now think that it is highly possible that only you did miss someone else’s company.

Sallow brings his index finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet.

"I can hear you, you know." The voice of Ominis Gaunt resonates in the silence. Sallow's smile widens. "I'll leave you two doing Merlin knows what in my undercroft then, you filthy animals." He grumbles when he does not hear an answer from either of you. He hears perfectly clear, however, how you sink back to the ground, twisting out of Sallow's grip.

When Ominis turns on his heels and leaves the undercroft in a rage or nervousness, you are ready to cast Crucio on yourself. Already starting to move towards the exit to catch up with Gaunt and talk to him properly, you feel a strong grip on your wrist stopping you.

"You haven't finished your lesson." Sounds from behind.

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian x reader

154 notes · View notes

wintaerbaer · 11 months

Text

things we don’t say: part 2 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 11.4k

chapter warnings: IN THE SOOP TAE, swearing, alcohol consumption, feelings?, implied sexual situations (not for oc), that chicken fight game you can play in a pool (definitely not the animal cruelty kind, just want to clarify), bartender jungkook (who is also an absolute MENACE), infidelity, namjoon’s chest

a/n: we’re heading into the thick of things now! thank you to everyone who has shown this series love thus far. and even to those who may be silently reading, i appreciate each and every one of you. these characters have been in my head for years, and it’s so incredible to finally get to share them!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

You’re starting to think you might be a terrible friend.

It's been a week and a half since Maya's art show when Jimin slides into the chair next to you in your office building's cafeteria. You've worked at the same company since graduation but in different departments, so while you don't see each other every day, you occasionally grab lunch together or pop over to each other's desk for a quick chat.

"Hey, stranger," he chirps, setting his food on the table before peering closely at your face. "Almost forgot what you looked like."

You roll your eyes at him. After the incident at the gallery sent your brain into an emotional spiral, you had decided to put some distance between you and Taehyung until you could figure out what the hell this all meant for your friendship. As a result, you hadn't been over to the guys' apartment since then—an unusually long amount of time for you to stay away.

Jimin frowns at your lack of a response, leaning forward until you look at him. "You avoiding us?"

"No," you say simply, busying yourself by taking a bite of your lunch.

"Sorry, let me rephrase. Are you avoiding Tae?"

You chew slowly, carefully considering your words before settling on, "Why would I be?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking. For a friend of course." Jimin shrugs. "He mentioned that you haven't really been talking to him—asked if I knew why. Plus, you missed two Sunday meal preps."

"I've missed them before—"

"Two!"

You purse your lips, guilt creeping in at the thought of Taehyung spending two nights cooking alone as you broke your tradition. "You can tell him what I told him—I've been busy."

Jimin frowns again, watching you stare at the table as you chew another bite. "Is something going on? Did he say something to you?"

"About what?" you ask, eyes snapping up to his.

"I..." he hesitates, suddenly uneasy. "I don't know. I just know that I've never seen you two like this."

"Like what?"

"Apart."

You give a dry laugh, more out of nerves than anything. "Chim, we're not literally attached at the hip, you know? We have our own lives."

"Yah, you know that's not what I mean." He sighs. "I can just tell he's missing you, that's all.”

If getting called out on missing meal prep nights made you feel guilty, then this is the true slap to the face. Taehyung may be mild and introspective by nature—a quiet force in his own right—but he holds close those who are dear to him, and you know he can't be pleased with your recent silence.

Still, any guilt tingling through your veins inevitably winds up outweighed by the memory of the flash of heartbreak that had crossed his face at the party, reinforcing your need for space.

"Well we'll see each other in a couple days," you murmur, a tiny burst of excitement breaking into your mind at the thought of your upcoming vacation.

Property of Jungkook's family, the beach house rarely used by his parents had become a staple for your friend group over the years as the go-to site for New Year’s parties and summer holidays. When Hoseok and Sunny had lamented the astronomical cost of the wedding and how they were going to opt out of having bachelor and bachelorette parties to help save money, Jungkook had offered up the house to do a combined pre-wedding bash to celebrate their upcoming nuptials.

Jimin taps his fingers on the table, looking at you quietly before accepting the change in topic. "It should be fun. Jace coming?"

"No, he has that conference."

"Damn," Jimin huffs. "Does that guy ever get a day off?"

"Guess he had to afford the ring somehow," you say, the corners of your mouth tilting up on impulse.

Jimin smiles back. "And here I was, wishfully thinking we might get a front row seat to a proposal this weekend."

“Not his vibe.” You scrunch your nose. “He never went to the house as frequently as everyone else. And I don’t know if he’d want a bunch of other people around. At least not people who know us.”

“Aww, why not?” Jimin whines. “We could all celebrate with you! And Maya could take pictures!”

“Or Tae.”

“Or—yeah, or Tae.”

You pretend not to have noticed his hesitation or the way he startled at that, and certainly not the way it made your pulse jump. Has everyone really been seeing this except you?

“Regardless,” you say, trying to ignore the sudden nausea rolling in your stomach, “I don’t think he’ll do it in front of you guys. And if he was going to ask Maya to take pictures, I think he would’ve done so by now if he was going to propose soon.”

When you had told Maya about the ring the afternoon after the gallery opening, she’d seemed genuinely surprised, clapping her hands together and immediately calling dibs on being maid of honor.

Go figure.

“Ah, well,” Jimin sighs. “There’s always the planning to help with.” He holds up a hand and begins ticking off his fingers. “And the bridal shower, the bachelorette party, rehersal dinner, eventual baby shower—“

“Woah, Park, getting a little ahead of yourself now, no?”

“Y/N, this is an exciting time for you! I’m excited for you!” He slurps down a mouthful of his noodle bowl. “And maybe I’m living a little vicariously through you. Maybe. A little.”

“Geez, Kook’s right, you are in a drought.”

“Oh, great. You too now?”

You giggle as he dramatically presses a hand to his forehead, food puffing out his cheeks.

“But really though,” he says, leaning forward again with concern in his eyes, “you are excited, right? After you told us about the ring, you seemed a bit off.”

Shit.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen you get drunk that fast in a while.”

“I was happy for Maya and Tae.”

“And yourself?”

“Yeah, and myself.”

Jimin stares at you for a long few seconds, clearly not buying what you’re selling. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” He leans back in his chair in a way that says he’s letting you off the hook. “But you’d better figure out this weird thing with Tae before he corners you at the house. Good luck avoiding him then.”

Okay, maybe not entirely off the hook.

The rest of the short work week passes in a blink, and you quickly find yourself packing for your trip on Wednesday night, the plan being to leave Thursday morning and stay until Monday. Jace fiddles with his phone on the bed, occasionally glancing up to watch you flit around the room as you fill your travel bag with an excessive amount of clothes.

"Are you leaving for five days or a month?" he teases as you cram ten pairs of underwear into a side pocket.

"I like to keep my options open," you say. "Never know what could happen with the weather."

"Or your bladder, apparently."

"Hey, it's gonna be hot. I'll have to hydrate."

He laughs at that before his eyes settle on you with a warmth that has you shifting under his gaze.

“What?”

“I just love you, you know?” he hums.

Warmth blooms in your chest. “I love you, too.”

“It’s going to suck being apart.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I wish you could’ve come.”

At your words, you feel like you can literally see a light bulb turn on in his head as his expression brightens with an idea. “Do you want to take my jacket?”

He can only mean one jacket. You’d found it together a month after you started dating at a thrift shop downtown, and it’s been his signature piece of clothing ever since. Jace had pulled the bomber jacket and its bright green satin off the rack, and your first reaction had been to laugh. The thing practically glowed.

“You’ll look like a traffic light,” you’d giggled.

But Jace was already pulling the shimmering material over his shoulders. “Consider this your green light to jump my bones whenever you want,” he’d said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“I’d feel bad separating you from it, to be honest,” you say in the present. “I’m pretty sure a piece of your soul is tied to that jacket by now.”

He pouts. “You’ll be carrying a piece of my heart already; what’s a piece of my soul?”

“Smooth.” You poke at your bag. “I may not have any extra room in here though.”

“Fair enough, but if you change your mind, the offer still stands. What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Eleven. Should get us there a little before lunch."

"Us?" He pauses, setting down his phone. "You're driving with Tae?"

"No, Maya." A tinge of panic drops into your chest at the mention of Taehyung's name. Does he know? "Why?"

Jace shrugs, nonchalant. "No reason, just wondering. And you're back Monday?"

"Mhm, by dinnertime." You settle on the bed next to him, trailing your fingers along his forearm. "Do you want to maybe do a date night after work that day?"

He sighs deeply, tilting his head back against the headboard. "We have our conference debrief Monday, so who knows when I'll get home." You nod in understanding, but the disappointment must show on your face because then Jace is leaning forward to take your hand in his. "I'll tell you what, I know work has been keeping me from you lately, so let me make up for it.”

The pads of his fingers lightly dance along your jaw. "Fancy date night next Saturday? That upscale Italian place on Fifth that you love so much? I can make a reservation."

Your heart pounds as you will your eyes not to subconsciously drift to his desk, and you put on your best poker face. "It's a date."

The drive proves an easy one for you and Maya as sunny weather and a surprising lack of traffic has you at the house in under an hour. As you drive through the iron gates, a small mansion, white and pristine, spreads itself out before you, and you're once again reminded of just how wealthy a family Jungkook comes from.

You had grown up very well-off, sure, but Jungkook’s parents and their vast real estate portfolio are on an entirely different level of rich. And while your parents had immediately cut you off right after you left for college, Jungkook’s parents continue to supplement his bartending income with a monthly allowance to this day.

The word “spoiled” is a bit of an understatement when it comes to your friend.

"You sure you don't want anything more serious with Kook?" you tease Maya, who sits in the passenger seat with her dark sunglasses over her eyes. "All this could be yours."

"As if," she scoffs. "Not worth it to have to put up with his ass for the rest of eternity."

You key in the code for the front door and are greeted by a multitude of voices, the cavernous open-concept kitchen/dining room/living room only serving to amplify those inside. Hoseok and Sunny are quick to reel you in, introducing you to Sunny's three bridesmaid friends, Hoseok's brother (who you’ve met a few times before), and—

"Joonie!"

Namjoon swoops in to pull you into a bear hug while lamenting how long it's been since he last saw you. Hoseok's best friend since freshman year of college, the former pre-med major had been a core member of your group of friends, but med school combined with helping to manage his family's restaurant means that you rarely see him nowadays in spite of him sharing an apartment with Hoseok and Sunny.

"How's the roomie search going?" you ask as Namjoon pulls Maya into an equally crushing hug.

"Mmph, still no luck. Though I may have an old friend from grade school moving into the city soon, so we'll see if that pans out." He throws a quirked brow at Hoseok. "But I haven't entirely given up on convincing these two to reconsider breaking up the dream team."

"Ah, Joon, you really wanna live with two newlyweds that badly?" Hoseok whines. "Just think about it for two seconds. Really think about it."

Namjoon clicks his tongue, cheeks now tinged with a dusting of pink. "Okay, maybe you have a point."

The light mingling continues as everyone settles in, and you find yourself taking stock of the kitchen and planning a grocery run with Sunny's friends when the last three members of your party come spilling through the door. Your companions head back to the entrance for introductions, but you stay firmly put, mindlessly busying yourself with plates and silverware, nerves alight at the thought of who just entered the house.

Voices still echoing from the living room, it's only a minute or so later when you sense the quiet presence of someone stepping into the kitchen, and, ever in sync, you don't need to turn around to know who.

"Hey, can I talk to you?"

You turn on instinct, your body responding to his voice before your brain can remind you of your avoidance. Taehyung leans against the kitchen island in a long-sleeved yellow shirt, baseball cap turned backwards on his head. Chin slightly tilted towards his chest, he's gazing at you from under his lashes, and you recognize it as nerves. "I, um, I'm about to go on a grocery run."

"I can come with?" he offers. "Keep you company, carry the heavy stuff—"

"I made plans to go with Sunny's friends, actually."

"Oh, okay." His shoulders drop ever so slightly, and you glance away at the shoreline crashing in the distance, anywhere but at your best friend looking like a kicked puppy in front of you because of your own cowardice.

"Listen, Y/N—"

"Later?" You quickly interrupt, not mentally prepared to have this conversation right now, especially with Jimin casting you looks from where he stands in the living room.

Taehyung licks his lips, seeming to scan your face for something before he swallows down words on the tip of his tongue, grimacing as if they're nails. "Yeah, okay. Later."

When you said later, you truly meant it. While you and Sunny’s friends (Taehyung thinks their names were Iseul, Hana, and Yumi) run out for groceries, the rest of the group bustles around the house, splitting up rooms, settling in, and eventually migrating to the pool. Taehyung tries to catch you again when you return, but you hurry past him with a box of liquor, mumbling something about helping Jungkook set up the bar out back. Sunny’s friends dump the rest of the groceries on the kitchen island before scurrying away to the back deck with everyone else, which is how Taehyung winds up unpacking the bags.

Alone.

Nice.

He’s pushing a box of ramyeon on top of the fridge when he hears the back door click and slide open behind him.

“Need a hand?”

Namjoon walks into the kitchen, fingers poking at one of the bags.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

They unload the groceries in a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes before Namjoon says, “So how have things been?”

Taehyung shrugs a shoulder. “Ah, you know, the usual. You?”

“Same.”

Quiet takes over again, and Taehyung thinks the conversation has ended before it even really started as he moves to place a bottle of orange juice into the fridge. But then—

“I heard about Y/N and Jace.”

Taehyung freezes mid-motion, the cool air from the open fridge slipping out and chilling his skin. When he looks up at Namjoon, the other man is studying him with a calm intensity that raises goosebumps along his arms. It’s not his first time being under Namjoon’s microscope, but he’ll never get used to the feeling of being simultaneously picked apart and comforted. Because while his friend may exude a quiet warmth, he always gives the sense that there’s also a million calculations going on under the surface at any given time.

It’s easy to let one’s guard down around Namjoon.

With that in mind, Taehyung opts for the simplest answer, slowly closing the refrigerator and saying, “Yeah?”

Namjoon nods, equally slow. “Are you alright?”

“I’m great,” Taehyung says, breaking the eye contact and closing the refrigerator to reach for another bag. “She’s always wanted this. And Jace is…” He finds himself rooting around his brain trying to find a descriptor for the guy. For someone who he’s known for several years, it’s bizarre how he can’t find a single word for him.

Weird.

“She’s happy with him,” is what he eventually comes out with.

“But is he right for her?” Namjoon presses.

“You think he’s not?”

Namjoon reaches up to put a few bags of snacks into a cupboard. “I don’t know. It’s like he was always around in college, but he was never truly present, you know?”

“That’s a Joon-ism if I’ve ever heard one.”

Namjoon smiles, a dimple dotting his cheek. “You don’t get what I mean?”

“No, I do. But that’s not important, is it? It doesn’t matter if we think he’s the right guy; it matters if she thinks he’s the right guy. And if she does, then I support it. It’s not my place to do anything else.”

The words settle in the room, and he means every one.

“You know, I’ve always admired the two of you,” Namjoon says after a moment. “The way you care for each other is…extraordinary, to say the very least.”

The sincerity in his voice makes Taehyung blush. “Well, we only had each other growing up, you know? She saved my life when we were kids. I truly believe that.”

“I know, you’ve said that before. She gave you a way out.”

“A way out, a purpose, a friend.” He crumples a plastic bag into his hand. “She chose me when no one else did. Not even my own family.”

And you had, when no one else seemed to want anything to do with him, there you were, hanging by his side like his own personal guardian angel.

“She’s the most incredible person I know, and I would just…do anything for her.”

“Including watch her marry him, apparently.”

“Yes,” Taehyung says. Unhesitating. “If that’s what she wants.”

“And where does that leave you?”

Taehyung has nothing to answer that with—his worst fear laid bare in front of him. It’s the thought that keeps him up at night, plagues the very marrow of his bones every time someone mentions that tiny velvet box. Your childhood friendship may have allowed you to grow together as one through the years, but just as trees grow apart as they grow upwards, it feels like only a matter of time before your branches no longer intertwine, drawn apart by jobs and relationships, life and love.

How long until you’ve outgrown him? How long until you’ve started your own family and left him behind?

He has no right to you, and he knows that. The last thing he would ever want to do is hold you back, but perhaps a part of him thought he’d have more time. Now, with you suddenly not talking to him for reasons he can’t even begin to grasp, he feels like he may have already lost you.

Namjoon puts him out of his misery. “Do you know what Plutarch said about friendship?”

“Who?”

“I don’t need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better.”

Taehyung stares, stunned and confused. Because Namjoon couldn’t possibly be suggesting…

“You’re saying I should tell her to say no to him?”

“I’m saying it’s possible to be selfless to a fault.”

It doesn’t sound terribly different in Taehyung’s mind, but he tries to consider Namjoon’s words regardless. Your happiness has always been his utmost priority, but could his unconditional support really be doing more harm than good? He likes to believe that if he felt your well-being were truly at risk, he would speak up.

Then again, with the way his friend is looking at him, he also can’t help but feel like he’s missing something important.

“What are you trying to specialize in again?” he asks, deflecting.

“Psychiatry.”

“Of course.”

Namjoon chuckles. “It’ll all work out in the end.” He winks, moving to rejoin your friends outside. “Life finds a way.”

You’ve managed to evade Taehyung all day, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t felt his eyes on you.

The early hours had been easy, your supermarket run giving you an (albeit weak) excuse to put some physical distance between the two of you. But it’s becoming increasingly difficult to maintain, especially after your group gathered together to decide what to do tonight.

When you’d entered the living room, Taehyung had already been seated at the end of the couch, a free spot open on his left; with the way that his hand had been resting, it was almost as if he was saving it for you. Instead, you’d chosen an armchair diagonally across from him, squirming more and more the longer he looked at you. Throughout the entire conversation, as the group decided upon going to the beach bar down the street to kick off your first night at the house, you don’t think his eyes left you even once.

You’re being a coward, and you know it.

Now, you sit at the vanity in your room, struggling with your necklace and just about ready to give up on the damn thing so you don’t hold everyone else up. The clasp doesn't want to cooperate, your fingers can't seem to get purchase on the thin metal, and really, who are you trying to look good for anyway?

Right as you prepare to abandon the cause and stuff the offending item back in your bag, someone knocks on the door and you yell for them to come in.

Taehyung saunters into the room, now wearing a black t-shirt and shorts, his hair pushed back in such a way that you can tell he's been running his hands through it. His eyes skim your figure as he softly closes the door behind him, and you feel your pulse double in pace. "Need help?"

"It's okay—I, um—" but before you can stutter out an excuse, he's already taking the thin chain from your hands, and all you can do is try not to focus on how his fingers feel brushing the back of your neck.

"There. Easy peasy." He eyes you up and down again before clearing his throat. "Looks good on you."

"I, uh, thanks." Your voice is practically a whisper, and you busy yourself with your make-up case...which may have been an adequate distraction if not for the fact that you've already done your make-up and so your hands are only left to wander aimlessly. Glancing up, you catch Taehyung gazing at you over your shoulder in the mirror, and the intensity of his stare has you dropping the case back to the table. "What?"

"You're avoiding me." He states it as a fact, eyes unwavering, and you turn to face him.

"I'm not."

"You are." He searches your face as if to find the answer written there in big, bold letters. "Why?"

A tiny spider makes its way across the corner of the ceiling, and you find yourself staring at it as you chew on your bottom lip, not knowing what to say.

"Hey," Taehyung murmurs, pulling your attention back to him. "It's me, yeah? We don't keep secrets."

But still you hesitate. "You won't get mad?"

He reaches out to hook his pinky with yours. "Of course not."

Letting out a shaky breath, you ask, "Are you okay with Jace proposing?" The question hangs between you for a second, the air thickening with apprehension.

His eyebrows press together, confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, it's just..." You pause to collect your thoughts. "When I told you about the ring at the gallery opening, there was a second where you appeared to be…bothered."

"Ahh, well..." He pushes his hands through his hair, mulling over his next words. "Do you want me to be honest?"

"Please."

"I know we're friendly, but I've just never been his biggest fan, even in college." Taehyung shrugs. "You know I want the best for you, and he seems like a good guy and all, I just—I don't know." Another run of his hand through his hair. "I just get a weird vibe from him sometimes."

You smirk at that. "A weird vibe?"

"Yeah, like," he licks his lips, still fidgeting. "I can't put my finger on anything in particular, just something about him rubs me the wrong way sometimes." You open your mouth to respond and he quickly cuts in, "But I will 100% support you! If he's who you want and he makes you happy and treats you well, then I will cheer you on the whole way. Hell, I'll even walk you down the aisle if you want me to." That draws a small laugh from you, and he smiles. "If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you. That's all I care about."

You take in his beaming figure and are reminded of how thankful you are to have this man in your life. But the voice in the back of your head is still not entirely placated and before you can stop yourself, you're blurting, "And that's really it?"

Taehyung's smile fades, lips slowly turning downward into a frown, and you silently curse yourself. After seventeen years of friendship, the man can practically read your mind and you know it. "What aren't you telling me?"

You sigh. Seems like there's no way getting around it at this point, and so you decide you may as well dive in. Tucking your hair behind your ears, you quietly ask, "You don’t…have feelings for me?”

Taehyung's eyes blow wide, and you're surprised his jaw isn't touching the floor. After several moments of stunned silence, he lets out a strangled, "What?"

"No, I just—" you stutter. "Look, someone said you did, and after you seemed upset about Jace proposing, I thought maybe..."

He's deeply scowling now, the crease back between his eyebrows, and a flare of his nostrils indicates that he's pissed. "Who?" he asks.

"Who what?"

"Who said that?"

"Tae—"

"No, Y/N, if people want to talk about me behind my back and screw with my private life, I have a right to know who."

He stares you down until you purse your lips and break. "Maya."

"Fucking hell," he says under his breath as he rubs at the lines in his forehead, and his lack of a denial has your head spinning.

"So it's true?"

"Y/N—"

"You haven't answered the question—"

"No!" He almost shouts it. "I don't."

"Because if you did have feelings for me, you could tell me. No secrets, right?"

He lets out a huff and stuffs his hands in his pockets, leveling his gaze back at you. "No," he says. Firmly. Definitively. "No, Y/N, I don’t have feelings for you."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. But something in your blood continues to tingle.

"Okay."

And really? You should've known. Should've trusted to get the truth from him and not secondhand from your friends who, though they mean well, have been known to meddle and gossip (and sure, maybe that includes yourself at times).

The heightened tension has dissipated from the room, but the two of you are still left looking awkwardly at each other. After a stretch of time, Taehyung shifts on his feet and asks, "Y/N, are we good?"

There's a hint of fear in his eyes, and it has any residual worry you're feeling melting away. This is still Tae. Your Tae.

"Of course we are." You link your pinky with his. "Always."

The beach bar is relatively crowded for a Thursday night, the warm summer air and mix of bodies driving your group to disperse around the venue. Some migrate towards the live band, while others choose to mingle (and flirt) with the other patrons.

Noticing the way one guy at the bar has been eyeing you since you got here, Taehyung sticks close to your side, just in case. That is, until Namjoon finds his way back to the two of you looking harried, drawing you in so he can gently rest his hands on your elbows.

“Y/N, can I borrow you?” His light smile and the way he leans in close are clearly meant to project the image of intimacy, but his eyes are desperately screaming for help. “There’s an intoxicated woman who seems determined to motorboat me, and I don’t know where Maya is. I need a fake girlfriend.”

You pretend to swoon. “Joonie, with a chest like that, I’d be honored to be your fake girlfriend.”

Something aches behind Taehyung’s ribs as he watches you walk away on Namjoon’s arm when he just got you talking to him again. Still, a bit of breathing room is probably for the best. His conversation with you has him rattled; he doesn’t think his pulse has fully returned to normal since you suggested he has feelings for you. At the very least, he was able to smooth things out, which has noticeably eased the weight he’s been carrying the past couple of weeks.

But speaking of your conversation, you being summoned away by Namjoon gives him the opportunity to address the other elephant in the room.

He scans the crowd, determinedly ignoring the woman who’s been trying to catch his eye from a few tables over. (She pouts in his peripheral vision, shifting the neckline of her shirt to sit lower on her chest.) Finally spotting his target making her way back from the bathroom, he quickly moves to intercept her before she can join you and Namjoon at the bar.

Maya startles as he tugs lightly on her arm, leading her to a quieter spot towards the edge of the beach before abruptly spinning to face her.

"What the fuck?"

"What?" she quirks an eyebrow as if in askance but her overall countenance says that she knows exactly what this conversation is going to be about.

"You know what."

"Maybe, but I want to hear you say it."

Taehyung takes a deep breath. He loves Maya like a sister, but that sibling relationship means that she often gets under his skin like one, too. "You told Y/N that I'm in love with her?"

Her other eyebrow joins the first one in climbing her forehead. "Are you?"

"No."

Maya scoffs. "I'm going to give you another chance to say that, but try to sound like you actually believe it this time."

"You had no right—"

"So you're not denying it now?"

"I said no."

"Okay, that time was better, but it could still use some work—"

"Maya, fuck!" He scrubs a hand over his face. "Don't do this."

"She needs to know! What did you tell her?"

“That I don’t—“

“I thought you two didn’t lie to each other.”

“I didn’t!”

“You’re full of shit, and you know it.”

He’d swear he can feel his eyelid twitch. Maya always seems to know which buttons to press to get a reaction out of him. "She's getting married, for fuck's sake!"

"No, she has a boyfriend with a ring box in his drawer."

"Same difference."

"It's not."

"It is."

"She hasn't said yes yet, Tae."

He goes quiet at that. It’s painfully reminiscent of his conversation with Namjoon, and yet he’s equally at a loss. What are they honestly expecting him to do here? What could he possibly do that would accomplish anything other than drive you away, and rightfully so?

Maya’s gaze rakes over his face, scrutinizing him with a mixture of frustration and pity. "Tell me it isn't killing you."

Taehyung licks his lips, looking out across the bar until he finds where you’re standing with Namjoon. The latter says something that makes you laugh, and his stomach flips watching the way your eyes twinkle with mirth as you toss your head back, hair spilling over your shoulders.

You’re radiant. Stunning.

"She's happy," he finally croaks, but it comes out like he's physically straining to push out the words. "Leave it the fuck alone."

“Hey.”

You find Taehyung in the kitchen bright and early the next morning, already rummaging around and littering the counters with bowls and ingredients. The soft morning light drenches him in a golden glow, highlighting his honey skin, the slope of his nose, the long lines of his fingers as he works.

“Hey!” The smile he gives you is light and easy, the awkwardness between you having evaporated as easy as steam after your discussion last night. “Want to help me make breakfast?”

You jump in, immediately falling into rhythm with the way he maneuvers around the kitchen. God, you’ve missed this. It may have only been a few weeks, but cooking with Taehyung is one of your life’s greatest joys, and after missing two of your meal prep nights, it feels like a part of you has come home. There’s no doubt that you’re breathing a little easier today with the air cleared between you.

And honestly, how stupid to let a single comment from Maya drive a wedge between the two of you. You’ve known Taehyung practically your whole life. If he did have feelings for you, you would’ve figured it out by now.

Surely, he would’ve told you.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t even notice that Taehyung is sneaking up on you until he’s already smeared a streak of waffle batter across your cheek.

“Augh, Tae!”

“What?” He quickly backpedals out of your reach, anticipating retaliation, but grinning widely. “You were clearly somewhere else. Had to bring you back to me somehow.”

A while later, as Taehyung sets out the platters of waffles, fruit, and eggs, you begin making the rounds to let everyone know that breakfast is ready. Sunny and her friends thank you from where they’re hanging out on the back deck and say that they’ll be in soon. Moving back into the hallway, you greet Hoseok and his brother, Jiho, as they pass you; Hoseok gives you an appreciative high five when you tell them about the food. Namjoon and Jimin have their door wide open, so you only need to poke your head in, Jimin immediately taking off down the hall at the mention of waffles.

When you get to Taehyung and Jungkook’s door, it’s closed, a series of muffled groans coming from inside. Unhesitating, you knock hard, and the groaning stops, followed by a curse and the sound of shuffling before Jungkook is opening the door halfway, blocking your view of the room. Clad in only a pair of gray joggers, a light sheen of sweat coats his bare chest, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Can I help you?”

“Tae and I made breakfast. You’re welcome to join.” You nod your chin at the area behind him. “Unless, you know, you have better things to do.”

Jungkook smirks, amused. “Alright, I’ll be out in a minute.”

He moves to close the door, but you manage to stick a foot out to block him.

“Maya, you too!”

There’s a moment of silence as you stand there, Jungkook looking as smug as ever, before a voice sounds from inside the room.

“Okay!”

It's a cloudless, sunny day so your group heads down to the beach after breakfast. Jungkook's beach house sits down the street, away from the center of town and tourist areas, which allows you a relatively private, uncrowded stretch of sand. The air is sticky with humidity, only mitigated by the breeze coming off the water. It's an oddly soothing combination of hot and cool that has you pulling in deep breaths of the salty air. You could stay out here forever.

"This is paradise," Hana says, verbalizing your own thoughts. "I wish I could live here."

You're sitting on your towel in the sand helping Maya sunscreen her back, but you don't miss the cocky grin on Jungkook's face.

"Well, pretty ladies like you are always welcome here."

Maya's shoulders tense up under your hands, and you're tempted to say something snarky in her defense before Sunny beats you there.

"Not my friends, Kook!"

Hana giggles, Jungkook feigns innocence, and you think that's that, stretching out on your towel to sunbathe. But an hour later, Taehyung is plopping down next to you in the sand.

"I need your help."

You slide your sunglasses to the top of your head so you can look at him better. "Sunny trying to set you up with someone again?"

He blushes. "No, Kook wants to have a chicken fight."

You push your glasses back down your face. "No."

Taehyung is quick, reaching over to pull the shades off your eyes entirely.

“Tae!”

“Look,” he murmurs, leaning in close. “Normally I’d blow him off, but he’s pairing up with Hana, and Maya actually seems kind of bothered.”

You peek over his shoulder to where Maya is now chatting with Jimin, throwing furtive glances at Jungkook and Hana flirting by the water’s edge.

“I know they’re not exclusive,” Taehyung continues, “but you have to admit Kook is being a bit of a dick, and I kind of want to show him up.”

You’re still hesitant, lips turning downwards, and so he presses closer, until all you can see are big brown eyes.

“Please? For me?”

The past two weeks creep into your mind, two weeks of intentionally avoiding him—hurting him—due to your own idiocy, and that’s when you cave. You owe him.

“Okay, fine.”

You follow Taehyung down to the shoreline, where Jungkook grins widely at your approach and claps his hands together.

"A challenger!"

You shake your head at his antics and move to tie your hair up and away from your face. "Do we have any stakes?"

Jungkook strikes a dramatic pose: calf-deep in water, hands on hips, six-pack abs already glistening as he pouts his lips in thought.

Then, with a snap of his fingers, he says, "Loser cooks dinner tomorrow."

Well, that's much tamer than you expected. "Just dinner? No, 'loser has to go skinny dipping' or anything like that?"

His mouth forms into a tiny "o", eyes wide with excitement. "Do you...want that?"

"No," you're quick to clarify. "It just doesn't seem like much of a punishment for us."

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. "I like your food."

"Okay, but what if we win?" Taehyung asks, nodding from your right.

The cocky grin is back. "You won't."

Seagulls circle above like curious spectators to your game as you get into position. Taehyung squats in the surf so you can scale his back, sliding your legs over his tanned shoulders. He wraps his arms and hands tightly around your knees to secure you as he walks deeper into the ocean until the water is up to his waist. Roughly ten feet across from you, Jungkook and Hana have assumed a similar stance, and you're not sure if it's the waves rolling in or if Jungkook is actively bouncing on his heels.

"Jimin, wanna count us off?" he shouts.

From his spot on the beach, you see Jimin cup his hands around his mouth.

"On your mark...get set...GO!"

The men charge at each other through the water until you and Hana collide, grappling at each other's arms. In spite of a tiny build, she's surprisingly strong and sturdy, and you already have to adjust yourself on top of Taehyung, who likewise rearranges his grip on your legs.

"You good?" he grunts from under you, and you assure him you're fine.

You change your tactic, moving to push at her shoulders and send her backwards, but Jungkook shifts his legs to keep the two of them balanced. This gives Hana the chance to bump you with an elbow, and Taehyung likewise has to tighten his hold on you again to keep you steady.

This back-and-forth goes on for a short while, your friends now cheering from the sidelines, until Jungkook pushes forward and Hana collides with you again. This time, Taehyung adjusts to the hit by sliding his hands upwards, his long fingers skating up the soft inner flesh of your thighs and digging in.

A flash of heat rushes straight to your belly.

The sensation forcefully jolts your entire body and sends both you and Taehyung tumbling into the water. You kick around trying to find your footing before he pulls you up, sopping wet and spluttering as Jungkook and Hana celebrate their victory with raised arms and whoops.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

Hell if you know. You’d swear you can still feel the pads of his fingers on your legs, and so you merely blink at him with a shake of your head.

A biological reaction, you tell yourself, as you wade your way back to dry land. Nothing more.

You will your body to get a grip as you settle back down on your towel. You love Jace, you’re taken, and you and Taehyung have just reestablished the platonic nature of your friendship. Letting his touch have that kind of effect on you is nothing short of wildly inappropriate on two counts.

Trying to shake the shame poking at your brain, you angle yourself towards the waves and snap a quick selfie to send off to your boyfriend.

You [2:05pm]: miss you so much, wish you were here <3

It’s not long before your phone chimes with a reply, and you open the message to see a picture of Jace taken at a similar angle. He stands in a sea of businessmen and conference booths, suit crisp and hair neatly combed. The smile he wears is bright, eyes crinkling in the way you love so much and setting of a flurry of butterflies in your belly.

J <3 [2:07pm]: i’d say i wish you were here but i wouldn’t wish this place on my worst enemy let alone my favorite girl lol

J <3 [2:07pm]: i miss you too, beautiful :(

By the time the sun starts its descent, you’ve all moved to the pool on the expansive back deck, Jungkook immediately hopping behind the outdoor bar to make drinks.

“You know,” you say from your perch atop one of the stools, “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who can match your enthusiasm for your job.”

He smiles, rattling a cocktail shaker. “It gets me booze and ladies. What more could I ask for?”

Yumi soon joins you at the bar top to ask Jungkook for a margarita, and is quick to strike up a conversation with you. Unsurprisingly for one of Sunny’s friends, she’s incredibly nice, and you learn she works as a hairdresser in the city.

“I’ll have to check out your salon!” you say. “I’ve been meaning to get a trim.”

She claps her hands together eagerly. “If you want to give me your number, I can text you the address!”

As you’re putting your contact information into her phone, she looks at you thoughtfully and adds, “Not to sound like I have an ulterior motive, but Sunny also mentioned that you’re going to be getting married soon, too?”

Heat creeps into your cheeks. “Ah, yeah, nothing official yet. But, you know, it seems like it’s coming.”

“Exciting!” she declares. “Just figured I’d let you know that I do weddings, too, in that case. And I know we’ve just met, but I’d still give you the friends discount. Sunny’s friends are my friends, as far as I’m concerned.”

“That’s so sweet of you. I’ll definitely give you a call to talk about it once we’re actually planning.”

“That sounds gre—“

“Sorry to interrupt.” Taehyung wanders up to where you sit, handing you a plate of steaming beef and cucumber salad. “Hoseok and Jimin got the first round of meats done. I knew you’d want it hot.”

The moan you let out as you take the plate from him is downright scandalous. “Ugh, you’re the best.”

You’re rewarded with a light chuckle and a signature boxy grin. “I know.”

As he heads back to the grill and you dig into your food, Yumi lets out a dreamy sigh. “It’s no wonder he’s planning to put a ring on your finger. I wish someone would look at me like that.”

A piece of food lodges itself in your throat, and you cough hard. Yumi stares at you in alarm until you regain your breath and turn to her with wide eyes. “Tae and I aren’t together.”

She looks back and forth between the two of you like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re not?”

“No.” You shake your head emphatically. “We grew up together. My boyfriend is at a work event.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaims. “I just noticed how close you were at the bar last night and how he’s always—“ She cuts herself off with a shake of her head. “Nevermind. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

You assure her it’s fine, and she changes the subject, asking how you know the others and what college was like. Your chat carries on for a while longer before you excuse yourself to use the bathroom.

You don’t even make it halfway across the deck, though, before a tattooed arm is snaking across your waist, lifting you off your feet, and carrying you in the direction of the pool.

“Jeon Jungkook, don’t you fucking dare!” you screech, trying to wiggle yourself out of his grip to no avail.

All you hear behind you is a maniacal giggle before you’re tossed through the air and land in the water with a splash.

When you come up to the surface, pushing your wet hair out of your eyes, you find Jungkook cackling by the pool’s edge. You glare at him.

“Asshole!”

“C’mon, Y/N! It’s a tradition!” he laughs. “It’s not a beach house trip without—“ But he doesn’t get to finish that thought before Taehyung shoulders him hard in the back, propelling him into the water next to you.

You only give Jungkook a second to get his bearings before you’re hopping onto his back and trying to play wrestle him back under the water to the laughter of your friends. It’s hopeless really—Jungkook is basically a mountain of hard muscle that barely budges under your touch—but a few minutes of scrambling all over him with determination, and he eventually concedes and humors you by allowing you to dunk him below the surface.

It’s later, once you’ve clambered out of the pool and are toweling off on the deck when you hear him talking to Jiho behind you.

“He got you good. You didn’t even hear him coming, did you?” There’s a shuffle and a “Pow!” like Jiho is reenacting Taehyung’s takedown.

“Ah, it’s alright,” Jungkook laughs, no hint of a grudge in his voice. “I messed with his girl.”

Your party stretches on into the night until the sky has turned inky black, peppered with stars that shine intensely this far removed from the city. Almost ironically, your group has mellowed out as the alcohol has flowed, settling into smaller groups scattered around the deck. Namjoon sits with Hoseok and Jiho, clearly getting philosophical around the fire pit. Sunny is gathered to the side with her friends as they sloppily braid each other’s hair, the occasional burst of laughter coming from their general vicinity. Jimin lays on his back at the side of the pool, drunkenly tracing constellations with his finger. And Maya and Jungkook are nowhere to be found.

There’s a sense of peace that flows through your veins as you watch your friends smile and talk while you grab yourself a beer from the poolside bar. You’ve always loved coming here. Sure, getting a free stay at a waterfront mansion is nothing you’d ever say no to, but it’s really getting to spend quality time with your friends—away from all of your real world responsibilities—that makes this place feel almost magical.

You look out to the shoreline and spot a figure sitting alone on the beach, staring out at the waves. You’d been thinking about joining Namjoon’s group by the fire, but that plan is immediately pushed out of mind as you grab a second bottle and make your way towards the sea.

You’re not loud in your stroll, the soft sand muting your steps, but Taehyung seems to sense your approach anyway, not startling a bit as you seat yourself next to him and hand him a beer.

“Contemplating the wonders of the universe?” you ask. From this angle, he looks almost like he did in Maya’s photograph of him—the same constellations in his eyes.

Taehyung stretches his legs out with a sigh, leaning back on his palms. “Where do you think we’ll be this time next year?”

You sip at your drink. Honestly, you can’t imagine things being all that different.

“Right back here?” you say. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of coming here. This is my ultimate happy place.”

Taehyung hums in agreement. “It could be your pre-wedding party we’ll be having next year.”

“You think?”

His brow furrows at your doubt. “I’d expect you’d at least be planning then, no? Or you could already be married by then if you guys want to move fast.”

The thought sends jitters running down your spine. “Who knows?” you challenge. “Maybe you’ll be the one married. Maybe you’ll meet your soulmate tomorrow and elope because you know it’s fate, and there’s no point in waiting.”

Taehyung barks out a laugh. “That sounds somewhat out-of-character, no?”

“Hmm, true. You’re more of a wait five years to move in and another five years to propose kind of guy. Work on your credit score and establish a detailed financial plan before even thinking about merging assets. And don’t even get me started on the background check.”

“Geez, Y/N. Does Jace know you just casually talk dirty to other guys like this?”

You playfully shove at his shoulder, and the pink of his tongue pokes through his teeth as he laughs.

“Oh, wow, look.”

Taehyung points a delicate finger as a tiny flash blazes through the sky, trailing light and stardust in its wake. He turns to you, smiling.

“Make a wish?”

The words come out on a whisper like a secret meant just for the two of you.

As you sit there, gazing out at the shadowy horizon in the distance, you feel perfectly content. What do you wish for when you feel like you already have the world? Work has been going great, and after almost a year of unpacking boxes and rearranging furniture, you feel like you and Jace are finally settled in and cozy at your apartment. You think about Jace—his smile, the soothing feel of his hands on your skin, the little black box in his desk—and contemplate all of the joy you can sense coming your way.

And then you consider the man beside you.

His eyes are closed as he meditates on his own wish, his legs now drawn up so he can rest his forearms on his knees. It flashes you back to when you were kids, lounging away the hours in your room or hanging at your favorite spots around town—the park, the library, the ice cream shop where Mrs. Kang would often take pity and treat the two of you to free cones. When you were young, Taehyung almost always sat like this, knees to his chest as if he was trying to make himself smaller. As if he could make himself invisible to the shadows that followed him every second of each day.

Taehyung’s always been a positive person, steadfastly determined to not let his demons poison his perspective of the world. Though neither of you were fond of explicitly discussing your situations, Taehyung always maintained a bright outlook on the rare occasions when your frustrations would spill over. There’s still the family we can choose, he’d tell you. We’ll find them one day.

Still, though, you could always sense a certain anxiety lingering under the mask of his smile. It showed itself in the way he’d sit with his arms around his knees, in the way his forehead would crease during the moments when you’d catch him lost in thought. This had eased up in college, the change in scenery and your newfound friends loosening his bones and laugh lines. But since graduation, you’ve seen some of that tension return to his shoulders like he’s carrying extra weight, especially in the past year.

You consider the man beside you, and you think, then, that he deserves the world, too.

I wish for Taehyung to have everything he wants. You squeeze your eyes shut, casting the thought out to the universe with everything you have. Every last desire of his heart. He deserves it all.

No one in the world would be more deserving. Of that, you’re sure.

When you open your eyes again, he’s watching you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“What did you wish for?” is all you can think to ask, blinking at him.

“Well if I tell you, then it won’t come true.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head with a teasing scoff. He smiles.

“Happiness,” he declares. “If I had to put it simply.”

You smile back at him, hoping those stars stay in his eyes. “Yeah, me too.”

He’ll find it. You know he will.

It's Sunday morning when shit hits the fan.

After Saturday passes with ease, another lazy day by the pool punctuated with you and Taehyung collaborating on a fried chicken dinner as per your bet with Jungkook, you wake up on Sunday to the sound of Iseul's squeals over there being no hot water, a fact which is soon confirmed after the men team up to check the heater. Jungkook calls his family handyman (apparently those come standard when you have more houses than you can count on one hand), but the man is quick to inform him that he's getting ready for his granddaughter's birthday party and won't be able to come out until tomorrow.

"There's no way I'm making it through the day without a hot shower," Maya grumbles.

Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows. "I can show you a hot shower.”

She doesn't even look at him.

You're also not enthused about the prospect of having to either take a cold shower or skip one entirely. So when Maya suggests going home a day early, you're already leaning towards the idea as well.

"It won't be that bad," Taehyung says, lips turning down in a tiny pout when you tell him. "The key is to just go fast."

"I'd rather not have to do it at all." You giggle as his pout deepens. "We're going to stay until the evening. It's only like a twelve hour difference."

"But I thought we were going to do a movie night."

Okay, now you feel bad.

"Temporary reschedule?" you suggest, poking at his bottom lip. "Jace and I are going to dinner on Saturday, but my Friday night is free."

A hand rubs at his chin as he pretends to make a show out of pondering your offer. "Deal."

Later, you're sitting on a chaise lounge on the back deck, soaking up your last few hours of sun with one of Jungkook's signature cocktails in your hand when Maya sighs deeply beside you in a similar show of disappointment.

"It really is a shame though," she laments. "Tonight was supposed to be our big send-off, and now I cleared my schedule tomorrow for nothing."

"We could do a girls night?" you say. "I have this new cab sav I found the other week that we could split."

"Ooh, twist my arm."

Plans made, you pull out your phone. Jace has been texting you on and off from his conference all weekend—just brief check-ins and I miss yous—so you shoot him a quick message now.

You [4:53pm]: the water heater here is busted so i'll be home early tonight. maya is going to come too, might stay over. can't wait to see you <3

The sky is a misty orange when you pack the car and say goodbye to your friends, Taehyung giving you a particularly tight hug. Things were great between you for the rest of the weekend, but you can feel the tension of your conversation lingering in the way he holds you that extra second.

You check your phone as Maya settles into the passenger seat and buckles her seat belt. There's still been no word from Jace. It's not particularly unusual for him to forget to answer his phone—especially since you expect he's busy wrapping up the conference—but a seed of worry still plants itself in the back of your brain. You hope everything is alright.

The ride is mostly quiet, you and Maya occasionally singing along to a song on the radio as the evening gradually turns to night. But about halfway back home, you feel the need to straighten things out.

“So I talked to Tae.”

She’s quiet for a second, her face shrouded in shadow. “Uh-huh.”

“He said he doesn’t have feelings for me.”

Maya shifts in her seat, angling herself towards you ever so slightly. “And you believe him?”

“Yes. Definitely.” There’s no doubt in your mind. “He’s never given me a reason not to.”

Silence stretches itself between you, Maya entirely unreadable as she seems to be puzzling something out in her head.

“Okay.”

It comes as a surprise, and you jerk your eyes away from the road to glance over at her. “Okay?”

Maya shrugs. “Okay.”

“That’s it?”

“Do you want there to be more?”

You work your mouth in a stunned gape. Because she’s right; why are you pushing this?

“No. We’re good.”

When you get to your apartment, you swipe you and Maya into the building and head towards the elevators. You’re a little bummed that your time at the beach house had to be cut short, but you take solace in the fact that you get some time back with Jace.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Maya asks on the ride up.

You grin. “We could play that Twilight drinking game I sent you.”

“Pfft, I know I said I have tomorrow off, but I meant I could handle a mild hangover, not alcohol poisoning.”

You fumble for your key at your apartment door, sliding it into the lock and pushing the door open. The first thing you notice is that the lights are on, so Jace must be home.

“Babe?” you call, as you and Maya dump your bags by the couch.

“Where’s that cab sav?” You nod in the direction of the kitchen, and Maya skips over to investigate.

A moan sounds through the apartment.

You and Maya both freeze, staring at each other. Goosebumps break out over your entire body, a frightening sense of impending doom slamming itself down on your consciousness.

A second moan, and now you notice the lights on under the closed door of your bedroom. There was no sign of forced entry, but the image of a wounded and bleeding Jace pushes itself to the forefront of your mind.

You rush to the bedroom door, fearing the worse.

“Jace?”

You swing it open.

And your entire world collapses.

Taehyung can’t quite shake the feeling that you’re slipping through his fingers.

Movie night had been his idea, a way to get you in one spot (and mostly to himself, if he’s being honest) after your two weeks of silence. Now knowing the reason behind your push for space, he doesn’t blame you at all. Maya throwing that wrench into your relationship was surely unsettling, and he understands wanting time alone. But he’s missed you; he’s not going to deny that. And he’s desperate to prove that things can be okay between you. Things can be normal.

But the universe, it seems, is stacked against him.

He’s ambling through the house, wondering if Jimin might be up for a game of ping pong in the downstairs game room, when his phone blares in his pocket. It’s a jarring sound, violent in the way it disrupts the calmness of the house, and Taehyung frowns when he sees Maya’s name on the screen.

Maya never calls.

“Hello?”

“Tae, oh thank God.” Her voice is high and tight—clearly in distress. “You need to come to Y/N’s apartment as soon as physically possible. Grab Jimin and Kook if you need to drive them back—whatever. But just—as soon as possible.”

“Wait, wait, slow down,” he urges, hairs standing at attention on the back of his neck. “What’s going on? Is everyone okay? Is Y/N okay?”

“We got back to the apartment, and Jace he…”

Time seems to slow in anticipation of Maya’s next words—the kind of eerie stillness that precedes a storm, quiet and disarming in its disguise.

And then she drops the bomb.

“He was with someone else.”

Taehyung’s ears ring. There is no possible way he heard that right. “What?”

The breath that comes from the other side of the phone is heavy, like Maya can’t even believe the words coming out of her own mouth. “He was in bed with someone else.”

A chill drips down his spine, pushing its way through his veins until his entire body runs cold. This can’t be happening. Not to you. You’ve had enough pain and hardship in your twenty-five years of life—he’s seen it, weathered it with you. Things are supposed to be getting better; this is supposed to be the payout for years of heartache. Surely, the universe wouldn’t be so cruel.

But then it happens. A single, anguished sob rings out in the background of the call, sharp and pained in its grief.

His heart shatters, shards piercing the spaces between his ribs.

“Tae? Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“She needs you. Please just get over here.”

Then line goes dead.

Taehyung is only frozen for a second longer before he’s bounding into motion, tearing down the hallway and into the living room where Jimin lays on his back on the couch. The latter shoots into a sitting position when he sees the look on Taehyung’s face.

“You okay?”

“Y/N—she—we—“ His mouth feels like it’s filled with sand, and while he stands there, working his jaw in agonizing frustration, Jimin leaps to his feet to close the distance between them, grasping Taehyung’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong? What happened to Y/N?”

His lungs burn as he finally finds the words. “Jace is cheating on her.”

Jimin goes still, the same stunned shock registering in his body.

“We need to—we need to go,” Taehyung gasps, and Jimin is quick to sit him on the couch.

“I’ll get Kook. We’ll take care of this,” he says, voice steady. Commanding. “You just wait here and breathe.”

The next several minutes are a blur as Jimin rushes to get Jungkook, and they work on packing the car, briefly explaining the situation to the others. Taehyung can’t think of anything but you, his focus reduced down to a pinpoint in his mind. You must be devastated. In spite of what he had said about his own feelings on Jace, he knows how much you love him, how you were expecting to spend the rest of your life with him. How must you be feeling to have an entire future ripped away? To have to bear witness to and suffer that kind of betrayal?

He’s not quite sure how it happens, but he winds up in the passenger seat of his own car, Jimin sliding behind the wheel and peeling away from the house and onto the highway. The air inside the cabin is thick, a stifling combination of premature summer heat and heavy silence, with even Jungkook sitting oddly quiet in the backseat. Taehyung is thankful for the absence of conversation; he doesn’t think he can handle talking about any of this until you’re in front of him and he can hold you, feel that you’re safe.

He realizes somewhere along the way that he’s shaking, your cry still ringing in his ears.

The trip from the beach house to the city only takes about forty-five minutes, but it feels like days, headlights and street lamps zipping by like tiny suns as Taehyung wills the car to go faster, faster, faster. He’s never felt further from you before, never been so determined to close the distance between you like he is now.

Whatever you need from him, he’ll give it.

Jimin finally pulls into your apartment parking lot, and the car hasn't even fully stopped before Taehyung is bolting out at a near sprint. Jungkook and Jimin catch up to him as he pulls out the duplicate access card you had given him in case of emergencies, swiping them into the entryway and down the hall where he pounds the button for the elevators.

"It'll be okay," Jimin says, staring Taehyung down where he seems to be vibrating in his shoes. "She'll be okay."

"She'd better be," Jungkook mutters, fists clenched tight.

(Jimin hopes Jace has long cleared out of the building, lest they run into him.)

The elevator ride is tense and slow, the numbers ticking upwards in time with the pounding in Taehyung's ears.

2...

The bastard was sleeping with someone else.

3...

You thought you were going to marry him.

4...

He'd spent time with Jace all through college. Even laughed with him at times.

5...

The sound you'd made on the phone, like you were physically wounded.

6...

If he ever sees that piece of shit again—

The doors open with a ding that snaps the mess of Taehyung's thoughts into focus.

He's here. You need him.

It's a brisk walk to the end of the hallway, and then he's practically punching your apartment door, which swings open almost immediately as if Maya was waiting on the other side. She and Taehyung stare at each other for a brief moment, her mouth stretched into a tight line before she simply nods her head in the direction of the bathroom. Taehyung makes the final leg of the trip in five long strides before freezing in the doorway.

The fractured shards of his heart turn to dust.

You're curled up on the bathroom floor, a tangle of arms and hair covering your face as your body trembles with quiet sobs. They echo around the tile, filling the space between you until Taehyung thinks he can feel the sound burrowing itself under his skin, a morbid tattoo he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to erase. This image, he thinks, will surely haunt him for the rest of his life.

You. Completely and utterly broken.

He falls to his knees so he can brush your hair aside, the strands draping themselves over his fingers like a tether. Your face is red and stained with tears, and he reflexively wipes at the ones he sees rolling down your cheeks as you peer up at him, only now registering his presence.

"T-tae?"

"I'm here," he murmurs as his hands continue collect your tears, trying to carry them for you.

When you hear his voice, your cries start up again in earnest, and you reach out to clutch at his shirt. Taehyung immediately gathers you into his arms and tucks you into the haven of his chest, holding you like if he squeezes hard enough, he can press your broken pieces back together.

"T-tae...h-he..." you gasp at his collarbone, words failing you as Taehyung hugs you to him even tighter.

He runs his hands through your hair, presses kisses to the crown of your head, trails his fingers up the length of your back as you burrow into him, wails escalating.

"Shh, I've got you, baby."

He does. He'll hold you forever if he has to.

"I've got you."

a/n: thoughts? guesses as to what taehyung used his wish on? likes, reblogs, and feedback give me life :)

taglist is open!

a/n 2: oh, fun fact. when jace caught oc going through his desk in part 1, he wasn’t even thinking about the ring box when his eyes flicked to the drawer. he was worried she was going to find the condoms, which would’ve been weird since they hadn’t used them in like two years (oof) (this isn’t plot relevant, just a detail tidbit lol)

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

343 notes · View notes

shadowbriar · 11 months

Text

Anthony Lockwood - I Love You So

Pairing : (F/M) || Anthony Lockwood x TouchGifted!Reader Word Count : 5.7k. Damn I’m on fire this time. Warning : Mention of blood and injury. Angst. Possible OOC as I haven’t read the books. Not proofread. Synopsis : The ambition they’ve nurtured for years finally start to create a space between them, straining their relationship that turns what once were friends into colleagues. Notes : Inspired by The Walters - I Love You So. This song is very Lockwood coded for me, I recommend listening to it while reading. Please help and try to save Lockwood & co by using the hashtag #SaveLockwoodAndCo on social medias and don’t forget to vote for them on National Film Award 2023. You can check my friend Paulina’s tweet to see how. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Her fingers trace the writings on the thinking cloth, lips unintentionally curved into a smile whenever George's silly comment or Lucy's mocking remarks were visible. Their early bicker about their planning process replays in her head. She's always been one to easily record information in her head, no further recall or revising needed for her to proceed with their plans, but given her troublesome nights lately, supposed a late night go over with a cup of tea would be a brilliant idea.

“Trouble sleeping?”

She looks up, welcomed by smiling Lockwood who's leaning by the kitchen door, “Something like that.”

“Why didn't you come to the library?”

“Wasn't in the mood for a late night quarrel with you.”

She shot him a playful smile, earning a light chuckle that didn't sound like it was heartfelt. Just enough to let her know that he understood her sarcasm.

Lockwood steps in, pouring himself a cup of tea and sitting across her. She could feel his eyes trained on her, taking in every detail and admiring it as he wouldn't do it during the day. For whatever reason that might be, she wasn't sure. But it wasn't like he ever professed any feelings for her. For all she knows he might just be spacing out and planning something in his head completely unrelated to her.

He calls her name.

Not looking up to meet his eyes, she hums, “Hm?”

“We're good.. Aren't we?”

No, no we aren't, she thought. He might not notice it but the distance growing between them has been eating her alive. She wasn't sure when it started nor what exactly is the cause for her invisible wound, but something's changed between them. He would be there in the morning when they eat breakfast, would be there when they watch their late night show on the telly, but Lockwood has been anything but a friend to her. He's turned into a stranger she hardly recognise. There was a wall between them, one she couldn't climb nor break through, and it's maddening that she couldn't fix it or talk about it.

Because what exactly changed? She doesn't know.

“Of course.” She faked a smile, feigning her most believable tender tone “What makes you think we're not?”

Lockwood opens his mouth before closing it again, sealing it with a smile as if he thinks it would be better to entertain her lies, “Nothing. Just wanted to be sure.”

She nods, looking back down to the thinking cloth.

“Will you join me tonight?” He asks again, nervousness bleeds through his tone. This wouldn't be the first time he asks her to sleep with him, just to hold each other until the sun rises, but for some reason it feels much more nerve racking than the countless previous. Perhaps because for the first time, her answer might not be pleasant to his ear “We can discuss further about the plan. Maybe my rambling can help you drift to slumber.”

“Not tonight, Anthony.”

It's taken her every willpower to not look up and take her words back. She can imagine the disappointment in his eyes when she hears him let out a sigh. She's avoiding him now. Perhaps scared to actually feel the distance between them when she lays on his bed, no longer feeling the safety of his embrace.

“Alright,” He mutters as he stands and pushes his chair “Don't stay up too late, we need you sharp and alert for tomorrow's job.”

Again, she only replies with a nod.

When the doorknob lightly clicks, she lets out a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding. Her eyes now avert to the door, where he was standing just a few minutes ago with that proud smile and tired eyes. He looks the same, the very same Anthony John Lockwood who'd caused them numerous troubles on the field, the very same Anthony who's ego seems to inflate whenever a rapier is at hand, the very same boy she's been madly in love with for years.

There were moments when she thought that the water flows both ways. When he would hug her first after winning a fencing tournament, or when he would hold her after a terrible nightmare, or simply when he would give her freshly cut toasts for breakfast. The little things one would not notice as something sentimental after years of growing up together. But she does. She notices.

Perhaps had even taken things too seriously when it might just mean nothing for him.

She lets out a sigh, running her fingers through her hair and rubbing her temples gently. It might just be nothing, she tries to convince herself, it might just be the stress of work for both of us. With the agency's growing popularity and demands of clients that never seem to end, perhaps all her troubles were just caused by it. That nothing is wrong between her and Lockwood, that there is no distance, no space between them.

—-

“Another massive win for us, I might say.” Lockwood says as the squad enters 35 Portland Row. His arm was around her shoulder as support, dried blood littering his left cheek from the early action of the mission, but neither the ache nor wound on his temple seem to wither his satisfied-self “The papers are going to have to write about us this time.”

Lucy groans as she tidies their rapier to the stand, “Keep me out from them, please.”

“Oh, but you're the star of this agency, Luce!”

Lucy dismisses Anthony's remark as she proceeds to ascend the stairs, visibly in desperate need of a warm shower.

“I wouldn't want to be involved too, thanks for asking.” George sarcastically commented with eyes still studying the locket they retrieved from the site. An ancient relic that would be his source of research for the weeks to come “You two would be enough of a punching bag for them to pick on.”

Lockwood turns to her as George retreats to his room, a happy grin still etched on his face, “Looks like it's gonna be us two again.”

“We can worry about the press later. You have a wound to treat first.” She replies as they begin to walk deeper into the house “And don't keep your hopes too high, Anthony. DEPRAC has a tendency to stomp on our dreams.”

Wincing slightly as he rests himself on the sofa, Lockwood watches her leave the room to get their med kit and a basin full of water. He could never get tired of this. Walking home after a successful mission, her tending his wounds that wouldn't be there if he would just suppress his impulsive-self, and listening to her scolds about how he acts like he's got nine lives on his sleeves.

But when she returned with her kit, the nagging that he's braced himself to face never came. She remained quiet, eyes locked on his wound. Not even a second spared to look into his eyes.

The cleaning process felt like a blink of an eye. Before he knew it she was already fixing the bandages back to the aid bag. His wound was cleaned, a thin layer of healing ointment lacing it. All done in silence, no lectures.

“Try to keep the wound dry when you shower, alright?”

Lockwood blinks. Nodding at her words as he tries to digest the silence they're in.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I don't think so.” He answers.

She flashes a smile, standing from her seat. Without another word she exits the room, carrying the basin that is now slightly red from his blood and the aid bag. She spared no other glance at him. Silently returning the medical kit to the cabinet before entering her room and locking it shut.

Perhaps today isn't a big win after all.

—-

Having Lucy in the company has exponentially boosted their success. Such brilliant talent has brought them more accomplishment that it was getting troublesome for them to finish one mission to another. Lucy was truly Heaven sent, in short. The saviour to their dying agency and she could never thank her enough to revive Lockwood's dream back to life.

She understands the importance of Lucy's gift for their team and how the company is at it’s golden moment right now. Sure she and Lockwood are two of the most gifted agents there are, but with Lucy in the crew, the quartet was unbeatable. And it is obvious that Lockwood is determined to reap as much advantage as possible.

“I'm going to the grocery shop, anyone needs anything?”

It was a lazy Sunday morning. George making notes on the thinking cloth, Lucy trying to listen to their newest source, and Lockwood leaning on the kitchen set with his brows furrowed, clearly in a deep thought.

“I'll come with you.” Lockwood says as he picks up his coat “George, you said we need more teabags, right? Anything for you, Luce?”

The girl shakes her head, looking rather annoyed to have her focus broken from his question.

“I can go alone, it's not going to be a huge shopping trip.” She says as Lockwood comes to her “Really, Anthony, you can just stay and help brainstorm the plan.”

“I'm coming,” He insists with a light chuckle “What is it with you? Are you avoiding me or something?”

Yes, she wanted to say, I'm going out to have a breath away from you.

Lockwood opens the door, gesturing to her to come and ignoring her lack of answer, “Come on then.”

With a last smile and wave of goodbye to George and Lucy, she follows Lockwood's step outside of the house. The wind was blowing gently, sky clear and blue, the very perfect weather for her to take a stroll yet her mind couldn't help but to overlook such perfection and worry about the body walking next to her instead.

Lockwood's hands were buried deep inside his pockets. He was looking down to the cobblestone, as if there was some invisible stepping for him to step on. The creases on his forehead are a clear indication that his mind is occupied elsewhere. Almost as if he was mirroring her.

“So, uh,” He begins, trying to break the ice between them “What do you need from the shop?”

“Just some snacks and sweets.” She answers “You?”

He shrugs, “Maybe just a pack of gum.”

“Right.”

Lockwood nods, turning his gaze back to the road.

For someone who loves to brood in silence, Lockwood has always had her as an exception. She's the only person he could let his chatter-self loose, expressing all the most trivial thoughts he has, knowing that she would indulge them with a welcoming commentary or simply a warm laughter. The kind of laughter that makes you feel seen and heard. Her kind of laughter.

But after all her evident effort to turn him down, asking to be paired with George on their missions, declining his invitations to spend the night in his room or the library, and the most recent no-scolding-moment when she tended his wound, Lockwood couldn't help but to feel pressured on finding a topic to talk about.

“So what do you think about our last job?” He asks, forcing a happy smile as she turns to see him “A rather brilliant achievement, don't you think? With Lucy in our team, I'm certain our agency can be big in no time. Hell, we might have to start rejecting clients soon, can you believe it? We're lucky to have found such gifted talent-”

“Lockwood,” She cuts in, making him wince at the use of his last name instead of his first “Can I ask you a favour?”

He blinks, “Anything.”

“Let's not talk about work until we get back home, okay? Can I ask that of you?”

“Sure,” He nods “Of course, no talking about work for the rest of our shopping trip.”

She flashes a smile in gratitude, locking their arms together as a means of apology for stomping on his light. He smiles at her, a genuine one, before patting the back of her hand and continuing their walk to the grocery shop.

—-

The trolley wheels through the aisle as she scans for the particular brand of chocolate. She would certainly need a big bar of it along with a pint of ice cream tonight. For once after what seems to be forever, she finally cracked the code. The cause of space that has been growing between her and Lockwood has been found. What is left now is to find a way to solve it and to tell him about how they need to separate their lives with the job.

When he first told her about his dream of having his own agency, she was ever the most supportive and kind. Dropping her brilliant achievements at the academy, she was the first or perhaps second agent of Lockwood & co. Their talents were more than enough to ever become the elite team if they were in another agency, but since the company was still on its baby roots, finding clients was rather challenging. Things were getting better when George joined and even more brilliant now that Lucy is part of the team. She would have never expected his dream to be in the way of their personal lives.

Everything is just work, work, and work now.

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger.”

She turns to see the man, a wide smile plastered on his face. Almost as radiant as his yellow leather uniform, “Quill, hi!”

“Oh, it's been forever.” He says as they share a hug “Are you here alone?”

“Lockwood,” She replies “He's wandering around but with you here, I'm sure he'll pop up in no time.”

The two chuckles at her commentary. Lockwood and Kipps were always the cause of her nightmares back in the academy. The two boys could never seem to act civil, always bickering and hostile to one another, but when she's alone with either of them, they would act the most gentle as if she was someone they love dearly for.

A different kind of love from each of the boys, of course.

“How are you?” She asks, her expression turns to slight worry “Is it getting any better?”

Kipps smiles painfully, “Barely holding on. We've got to make most of what we have, don't we?”

If there were no bad blood between the two she would have offered Kipps to join the agency years ago. Having known him for years and to see just how brilliant he was, the way his techniques were always showcased whenever they have a fencing duel, it is no wonder that people hold a big expectation on his shoulders. He was promoted as supervisor in no time due to his proficient skills but with his talent slowly weakening, he needed someone to help patch this rather embarrassing fragility.

“Have you given it a thought?” Kipps asks with a gentle tone “I heard that Lucy girl is of great help for your team. Do you think you could finally help mine instead?”

“Quill–,”

“Kipps,” Lockwood says as he circles his arm around her shoulder, showing a rather possessive manner at the sight of them “What are you doing here? You're not stalking us, are you?”

Kipps snorts, making a disgusted face at him, “This is a public space, Lockwood. Don't flatter yourself.”

Understanding that their time has come to an end, Kipps flashes her a smile and walks away. He knows that Lockwood wouldn't give them another second to talk so unless he'd want him to know about his persisting issue, it was best for Kipps to find himself out of the scene.

“What did he want?”

“Nothing, we just had a chat.” She lied, pushing Lockwood's arm off of her shoulder and continued to wheel the trolley.

“About what?”

“About nothing of your concern.” She replies “You might never see him as one but Quill's a friend of mine, Anthony. We were just having a friendly conversation.”

Lockwood frowns at her dissatisfying answer. She's keeping something from him but whatever it is, he knew that poking about it now would be the recipe for a nightmare. Her sour mood hasn't watered and it would be wise for him to just let her be.

Besides, it wasn't like she'd leave him. Not for Kipps of all people.

“Can I ask you something?”

Lockwood turns to her, a loving smile decorating his face, “Anything.”

“How are you, Anthony?”

He frowns, “Splendid, how are you?”

“No, I mean, how are you?” She repeats, sighing in frustration to convey her true meaning “I don’t know anything about you outside of work anymore. What music do you listen to now? What book do you read? Do you even read still?”

Lockwood remains quiet, waiting for her to continue with her words so he would understand better.

“I live under your roof, see you almost 24/7. You’re the first person I see in the morning and the last I would bid goodnight to, yet I feel like I don’t know anything about you anymore.”

“That’s not true.” He argues, still not understanding the severity of their discussion “You know everything about me.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t you?”

“Stop turning my questions to me, Anthony. You know I don’t like it when you do it.”

His chuckle breaks, now pulling her for a tight hug, “Is that what you’ve been worrying about? That you don’t know me anymore?”

She remains quiet.

“If there is anyone that knows me down to my fibre, it would be you.” He continues, patting her head gently to soothe her “I mean, I suppose I have been too occupied with work but that doesn’t mean that you don’t know me anymore. We still share our meals together, watch our favourite shows and spend most of our time together. You’re still the one friend that knows me best.”

“I suppose,” She gives in “I’m just worried that this whole ghost hunting thing is burying our reality because I genuinely can’t draw the line between work and our lives anymore.”

“Well, our life is the agency, is it not?”

She shrugs.

“Hey,” Lockwood calls, breaking the hug and cupping her face to look into her eyes “You know me. I’m not a stranger to you, alright? You know what my current favourite jam is, what kind of tea I enjoy at the moment, and what colour of socks I wear the most. We’re still the same people as we were five, ten years ago.”

She smiles, nodding as she melts into his sweet words, “Alright.”

—-

"Anthony, I don't like this."

The group puts down their bags as they arrive at the mansion. Examining the place from the outside, she can already tell that whatever is waiting for them inside isn’t anything close to what they’ve encountered before.

“It’s still a couple hours till sunset but the energy is already this strong.” She told him, her senses heightened in fear “We’re not equipped to fight such a visitor, Anthony. Best we go back, rethink our plan, and maybe ask for assistance.”

“From who? Kipps you mean?” Lockwood asks with a bitter expression. He rubs his nose, a habit he does whenever he’s trying to tone down a brewing exasperation “Look, we’ve been through this a hundred times. The plan is foul proof, I can assure you. By this time tomorrow we’ll be crowding the sitting room, watching whatever unknown movie George picks to enjoy.”

“This isn’t about your ego or old feud with Quill, Anthony. There’s nothing wrong in understanding your limit and drawing the line. No shame in dropping a job we’re not capable of.” She tries to reason “Think about our safety.”

“You’re safe,” He insists, placing his hands on her shoulders for assurance “Nothing bad will happen to any of us. I’ll keep an eye for you, I promise.”

Not giving her another second to argue, Lockwood walks away and begins to help Lucy fixing the metal chain. The inside of her stomach flips when the wind blows. She knows that even for people who aren’t gifted, the atmosphere the mansion offers is nowhere close to the word homey. There’s something dark and cold, peeking through the windows and she could feel it in her bones that none of them four is strong enough to battle such power.

She walks to George and begins unloading their equipment. Her brows furrow at the sight of a strange item. A circular ball that looks like their salt bomb, only that it is heavier and bigger in size.

“Careful,” George says as he takes it from her hand with care.

“What is that?”

“A new bomb.” He answers “It has salt, lavender, and some other chemical thing inside that would explode from sudden force. Throw it to the floor and whatever visitor we meet would evaporate to thin air.”

“That doesn’t sound very safe.” She mutters, turning her eyes back to the mansion “I hope we don’t have to use that tonight.”

She looks back at Lockwood’s direction, trying to ease her worry by repeating his words in her head. Lockwood knows what he’s doing. They’ve been through the plan a hundred times, just like he said. Nothing will go wrong tonight. Everything is collected and under control.

—-

“Make it stop!” Lucy wails, closing her ears tight with her hands “Please, make it stop!”

“George, give us the chains!” Anthony yells as he tries to calm Lucy.

George quickly runs to their aid as she tries her best to fight the ghost with her rapier. She might not be the best there is, but she’s neck to neck as good as Lockwood and that should give her friends enough time to cast more protection for Lucy.

It hasn’t even been two hours since they entered the mansion and already the plans they came up with burned to ashes. This is more than just a case of an old abandoned house. The amount of type two occupying the building is enough to tell them that their client hasn’t been truthful. This place must have witnessed a mass murder, perhaps a cult sacrifice, to hoard this much energy.

“We need to find the source.” She says as she battles the ghosts “I can’t use my talent while fighting these ghosts.”

As if on cue, Lockwood came and began to fight the ghosts. He turns to her for a brief moment, “Go. I’ll protect you.”

With a nod, she walks away from her spot, running to the other side of the room. She places her hands to the walls, trying to get a clearer picture of what they’re dealing with.

The sound of screams and crying begin to fill her ears. There was so much pain and sorrow. This mansion has seen the worst of human acts, inflicting as much agony as possible to innocent lives. Her consciousness was slipping away, drowning in the torment that she is sensing and if it wasn’t for Lucy’s scream of cry acting as her tether to reality, she would have sunk in a ghost-lock condition.

“The blade,” She says as she finally gets the idea of their source “The source is a blade. An old one with a gold handle and Latin engraving.”

“Great work,” Lockwood praises her, his prideful smirk tugging on his face “George, prepare the chain net. Be ready to cover it.”

“How exactly are we going to find it? It’s pitch black here.”

Lockwood chuckles, “Well, use your flashlight, why don’t you?”

The three of them now begin to scour the place whilst fighting the ghosts coming in their direction. The screaming in her head gets louder as they come closer to the source, almost deafening her physically. Her stepping was getting unstable. Energy and focus drained out of her with every bead of sweat layering her skin.

“Stop!” She yells, dropping her rapier as the cries become unbearable “It hurts, please stop!”

“Oh, no,” George, who was closest to her, now kneels down and tries to bring her back to consciousness as he lightly taps on her cheeks.

“George!” Lockwood calls, panic seems to finally sink in as he watches her wail in pain “The source must be close, try to find it. I’ll protect her.”

Nodding, George begins to crawl away and look for the damned blade. His hands found what seems to be an old cabinet and began to rummage through. With very limited lighting and no idea of what the blade looks like, searching for a piece of steel through a locker full of metal items feels fruitless.

Scanning from one drawer to the other, George lets out a satisfied chuckle as he finally finds what they’re looking for. But before he could take it out and cover it with their chain net, a handful of ghosts headed his way.

“George, watch out!”

In the heat of the moment, George throws the chain net to the drawer, hoping that it would land and cover the blade, before throwing the new bomb to the ghosts.

To their luck, the chain net did fall on top of the source but due to the close proximity and the lack of understanding of just how big the explosion the bomb would produce, George was thrown out of the wall from the impact. Bits of broken wood scratch his skin and there was a big gash on his forehead.

George was unconscious.

—-

Opening the keys to 35 Portland Row with a tired yawn, she put down her scarf and hung her coat by the rack. She’s been staying at the hospital for days, only returning home to take a shower and bring a new set of fresh clothes for George. Her body was aching. The scars on her skin from the previous mission are still fresh and hurting but none of it compares to the fatigue of worrying for George’s being.

The terror from that night still haunts her. How her head was filled with wails one moment to complete silence and darkness as George successfully covers the source. She remembers scanning the floor with her hands to find her flashlight, trying to get some light to understand their situation better, only to be completely frightened by the sight of George, lying unconscious with blood pooling around him.

“You’re home,” Lockwood greets, a relieved expression evident on his face.

She nods, not giving him an answer as she walks past him.

“How is he?” He asks as she gets to the stairs.

“Still unconscious but his vitals are stabilising.” She answers “You'd know if you visit him yourself.”

“I want to, but I need to finish the report and paperworks.” Lockwood reasoned, following her behind like a lost puppy “Lucy's out at the library to do some research about our next mission. With George at the hospital I think we'd need more time to make our plans.”

She rolls her eyes, fist balling as she tries to hold in her anger.

“I was wondering if you could go to the DEPRAC office on your way back to the hospital and drop the locket? Inspector Barnes called and-”

“Anthony!” She yells, finally turning to face the boy who's now pale from her sudden outburst “Are you even hearing yourself right now? Sending Lucy to work on our next job, asking me to stop by the DEPRAC office, you being busy in your little library, do you not even care in the slightest for George? He's lying unconscious at the hospital for a work I've told you to drop about!”

Lockwood remained silent. His expression is hard and unreadable.

“I've told you that we didn't have the equipment nor skills to do the job. I've told you that the visitors are much more powerful than the ones we've faced before. I've told you to at least ask for help for the task and yet you've dismissed it all and look what it's brought us, Anthony!”

“Yes, but we did it, didn't we? We secured the source.” Lockwood answers with feigned optimism, giving her his unsure smile as he steps closer “We took a hit, sure, but it's not like George didn't know what he was getting himself into.”

She blinks at his words. Now taking a step back away from him as she tries to digest his answer, “Is that what you're going to say when each of us falls?”

His expression softens, “You know I would never let anything hurt you.”

“Yet here I am.” She argues, her poison laced smile evident “Hurt and wounded.”

Lockwood was at a loss of words. He remained silent, staring at her with his pleading eyes that silently screams for her to drop this and forgive his faulty words. But his silence served as nothing but a mere slap to reality for her that Lockwood was just a boy with a naive dream and no understanding of the risks he's committing the team to.

“I thought this was all I wanted.” She says with a volume just above a whisper, a pitiful smile plastered on her face as she tries to keep her tone steady. The cracks of her breaking heart is visible through her expression “You're everything I want, Anthony.. But I can't deal with your ambitions anymore.”

Giving him no chance to explain, she retreats to her room and slams the door, leaving him defeated in the hallway. The house feels colder now somehow. As if the silence wasn't enough to weigh his guilt even more. Lockwood knew that he messed up but never had he imagined that he'd ruin things this far. Especially not with her.

—-

Days have been slightly better now that George's discharged from the hospital. The kitchen is once again filled with their chatter but not nearly half as much laughter as before. The nightmare of wounded George still haunts her days and torments her at night. She would never be able to work with the squad as she did before. Something has changed in her and there's no turning back now.

Lockwood on the other hand has tried every possible way to talk to her but with every chance he makes to pursue her, she just has a hundred more ways to turn it down and avoid him. Her silent treatment was driving him nuts and it would be an understatement to say that he's desperate to fix it.

Now sitting in his study room, Lockwood turns to the door as he hears a light knock. She peeks inside with a slight smile, the most he's gotten after their fight a couple weeks ago.

“Can I come in?”

“Have I ever said no?”

She nods, stepping inside the room timidly. A piece of paper in her hand.

“What is it?” He asks with a warm smile, hoping that this would be the start of their reconciliation “What can I help you with?”

She looks down to the letter in her hand, sighing before handing it to him, “I wanted to give you my resignation letter.”

Lockwood stares at her blankly, not moving from his chair.

Gently, she reaches for his hand and hands him the paper. Lockwood's eyes were glued on her, trying to catch any trace of jest from the words she uttered. He prays for all gods out there to let this be a joke. Some cruel prank she's pulling on him as payback for his dickhead move for the past months. But as the ticking of the clock in the room grew louder, her playful smile never appeared.

“Why?”

“Anthony–”

“I promise to do better, I swear it.” He begs, standing from his seat and carelessly putting the letter away “I'll make better plans, I'll calculate each and every possibility there is and I'll listen to you better. Any input you have, I'll highlight it and make it work. Please, just– Don't leave. Don't leave me.”

She had to look away from his eyes before her fortress crumbled. Lockwood knows just when to put those big puppy eyes out and win her heart. But there's just so many times she could spare herself for him. There's just so many chances she could give and no matter how much she wishes and prays that this time would be different than the last, she knew that the damage done would still leave scars on them. An invisible one that could only be healed with time and space.

“Please,” Lockwood begs, seeming on the verge of tears “Name your price. Anything, please, just say it.”

“What I want you cannot give, Anthony.” She answers with a bitter smile “Because if you could, I know you would have given it to me years ago.”

“Just name it, please. Do you want a rise? Do you want to switch rooms? Do you want your name to be the agency's name? Because I can do that. We can just change the company's name to yours.”

A tear escapes her eyes. She knows that he was being genuine, that he was willing to give up anything to make her stay. But even with all he offers to give, Lockwood still couldn't see the one thing she desires of him.

And it's crystal clear to her now that he could never give the one thing she needs of him.

Placing her hands to his cheeks, she cups him gently and smiles, “You're going to be a brilliant agent, Anthony. Lockwood & co will be the best agency there is, I know it. I believe it.”

“Then why are you leaving?” He asks with a defeated tone “Why won't you be here with me?”

Because you won't love me the way I love you, she thought.

“Please,” Lockwood pleads “I can't lose you too.”

Pulling him for a hug, his dam finally breaks as sobs begin to echo in the room. He holds her tight, afraid that she would disappear if he loosens his embrace just a little. He would miss the sweet scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her body when he needed some comfort after a terrible nightmare, and her joyful laughter that always seemed to drunken him in bliss.

If only he would tell her exactly how he feels.

“You'll never lose me, Anthony.” She whispers to his chest, listening to his heartbeat before they part “I'm yours, always.”

↠ If You’re Going to Break My Heart

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood angst #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood scenario #anthony lockwood fanfic #anthony lockwood fanfiction #anthony lockwood oneshot #lockwood and co #lockwood & co

242 notes · View notes

ronwestbreeze · 1 year

Text

TO YOU , WORLDS AWAY | PART ONE : CHAPTER TWO

pairing: jake sully x reader

summary: in which you are forced to be in the same vicinity as jake sully for months

warnings: none!

word count: 3.9k

author's note: yay another chapter!! :))

AO3 | prev | next

It had been a few weeks since the last time you had stepped foot in Hell’s Gate and ever since your conversation with Quaritch. Still, you had sent a few vague video messages for Grace and the newbies about the culture of Na’vi. The videos were mostly for Jake since Norm seemed well educated on the culture and language. It was easy for you to do and get out of the way one day a week. This was you being the tutor that Quaritch tried requesting. And technically you weren’t disobeying orders. But you did find yourself a loophole to avoid the Gate and Jake Sully all together.

That was until now.

“No!”

“Tinkers…” Grace sighed.

“Hell no, Augustine!”

You never thought you would find yourself yelling at Grace in all the time you’ve met her. It almost felt wrong. There was so much respect between you two, there was just never any way that you thought you’d be arguing with her this hotly, this irritated. Sure, there had been clashes in the past but those were tame and intellectual.

Now it was almost like a child snapping at their mother for the first time. You didn’t want to but your frustration and irritation had built up over time until it finally made you explode.

“He’s found and met the Omatikaya people, Tinkers. This could be our chance to rebuild a relationship with them if we do this right.” Grace's voice was cracking through the radio that you held in your hands. “And to do that we need a good set up, a good foundation away from the Gate. We have to have some distance, especially from Parker and Quaritch.”

That had made you stop. Your hands, which had been previously tinkering with your project, stopped moving as you focused your attention on the radio. “Why?” The question had come hastily, making you cringe at yourself. “I mean, what does this have to do with Quaritch?”

Grace responded in a lowered voice through the radio, “For some odd reason, I feel like you already know the answer to that, Tinkers. Which also explains your sudden attitude toward Jake. Yeah, don’t think I haven’t noticed, kid.” You rolled your eyes, knowing she was talking about your obvious steps to make sure you didn’t interact with Quaritch’s new puppet. And your lack of a response only confirmed Grace’s guess.

Really, there was no point in denying it. Grace knew you. And she knew Quaritch just as well as you did. She knew the tense relationship between you two, it was hard not to over the years of you being on Pandora. Which was one of the reasons why Grace had taken you under her wing, which was why you had always followed her around like a lost puppy in your first few years in Pandora. There was no hiding anything from Grace Augustine, especially when she decided to look after you when no one else would.

“And you think bringing everything up here, crowding my space…” Despite yourself, you glanced down at your project which was nearly finished. “How is this a good idea again—”

“We’re coming, Tinkers.” Grace said sternly. “You can stay cooped up in your lab all you want but we’re still coming, and kid, sorry but you’re going to have to deal with Sully’s presence whether you like it or not.”

She wasn’t wrong. Yes, your lab was connected to the mobile link station Site 26 which Grace and the others were free to use if they wanted. But this lab was your solitude, your own world of secrets.

You didn’t want Quaritch’s little spy anywhere near it.

“Meet you up there, kid.” Grace said before the radio went silent.

For a moment, you stared at Project Pandora. Then you got up and started cleaning up the desk you had been working at for the past few hours. Carefully, you placed the project in the cabinets beneath the desk and closed it, locking it with a padlock.

Perhaps you were being a bit paranoid but you couldn’t risk it. Hell, you couldn’t even risk Grace seeing it either. She’d try to talk you out of it if anything.

Hours had passed until the helicopter had arrived with Grace and the others. Despite your previous annoyance toward the new situation, you went out to greet them as they got off the helicopter.

“Hope you took care of the place since I left.” Grace commented as you fell into step side by side with her. “I’m not going to see a whole hoard of shit everywhere, will I, Tinkers?”

“I know how to clean my own shit.” You grumbled when stepping into the station. “If anything you’re more messy with me. Most of you shit is in there anyway.”

Grace rolled her eyes, setting her things down at an unoccupied desk. Norm trailed in, looking around with wide excited eyes. “So you’re telling me you’ve been staying up here in the Hallelujah Mountains for months now? How are you not amazed by this every day?”

You shrugged as the link beds were rolled in, “I guess you get used to the view every day.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. Still to this day you found yourself always amazed at where you were and how you often remembered that Earth was nothing compared to this. And that you didn’t miss the former planet one bit.

Norm shook his head in disbelief, “Have you ever explored more of this place?”

“On my own? No.” You found yourself chuckling self-deprecatingly. “Pandora may be beautiful but it's also dangerous, especially for those unskilled to handle it.”

As soon as you said that, Jake wheeled in. He took in his surroundings the same as Norm until your gazes connected. There was an unreadable expression on his face when he nodded toward you in acknowledgment, “Doc.”

“They haven’t killed you yet, I see.” You hummed, raising a single brow. “Can’t really tell if I’m impressed or disappointed.”

He gave a sarcastic smile, “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Doc. Have any more half assed advice for me?”

“Yeah, right up your—”

“Alright, kids.” Grace interrupted, glaring at the two of you. “If we’re all gonna be stuck here together for the next few months, we’re gonna have to suck it up and get along or else this whole thing is for nothing.”

You roll your eyes, before leaving to go back to your lab. That was your only place where it would be your solitude after. Seconds later your lab door opened and in came Grace who already wore a maternal stern look on her face upon looking at you slouched in your desk chair.

“Why are we even still working with him?” You hiss in Na’vi. “It’s like you said on the radio, you and I both know he’s working with Quaritch. We can’t trust him!”

“He will start learning their ways and they will accept him if we play this right, Tinkers. Think about it. Sully could be our chance to rebuild our relationship with them, to get them to trust us again.” Grace glanced over her shoulder at the now closed door before continuing. “And if it works maybe things will start to fall in place when it comes to Quaritch.”

You stood, shaking your head. “You have too much faith in him, Augustine. Whatever relationship you think we could salvage with them, it’s gone. They will never trust us again after what happened. And now letting him enter their clan as an outsider, lying to them, that is what you think is going to help?!”

Exhaustion fell onto her face as she placed her hands on her waist, switching to English. “You’re gonna have to trust me on this one, Tinkers. I need you to work with me here, I need you on my side.”

This was too reckless. All of it. And no matter what you did to stay out of it, somehow you were always dragged back into it. You were always hurt again. You didn’t want to be hurt. You didn’t want what happened last time to happen again. Not to the Na’vi. Hell, not to Grace. You can’t stand seeing her heart broken after what had happened again.

“He is not on our side.” You whispered, pointing to the door.

Grace did not respond and the conversation soon ended when Norm called for her. Before leaving your lab she gave you one final stern look, “Play nice. This place is about to be stuffy, kid.”

The first couple of weeks, you mostly kept to yourself in your lab, working on your project, video logging for yourself, or just other smaller projects. Just to keep yourself distracted and away from the main station. When you did come out of your lab, you’d mostly speak to Grace and Norm and kept your interactions with Jake to a minimum. Which most of the time included snarky remarks and or cursing at each other.

“She keeps calling me, skxawng.” Jake muttered one day while eating his breakfast before he’d hop into the link unit as usual. During his stay here, you had learned that Jake had met Neytiri, the Omatikaya clan leader’s daughter. You recognized the name mostly because you had met her in the past, her and her mother Mo’at, the Tsahik of the clan. It had been a while since you had seen either of them. “What does it even mean?”

“Moron.” You muttered, eating some of your yogurt.

“Yeah, right back at you, little shit.” Jake retorted.

Norm shook his head, hiding an amused snort behind his bowl of breakfast. You turned to Jake and raised your brows, “Skxawng, means moron, asshat. Though it’s pretty fitting for you, don’t you think?”

“Bite me.”

“Very mature.”

“Both of you sound like children!” Grace snapped from her spot at the desk in the corner. “For god’s sake, you’re adults! Act like it!”

“Tell that to her.” Jake commented.

You flipped him off.

But as time went by, you can admit that Jake was making bits of progress when it came to integrating into the Omatikaya. Some days, when you wanted a break from spending so much time in the lab, you’d be sitting on one of the cots watching Norm struggling to teach Jake the language and get easily frustrated at his slow learning.

“Oel ngati kameie.” Norm repeated for what sounded like the hundredth time that evening. “I see you. You almost had it on the ninetieth try.”

“Fuck off.” Jake rolled his eyes. “Oel ngati—”

“No, no, no!” Norm grumbled while you hid a smile behind the book you were reading.

“I’m saying exactly what you’re saying right now!”

“No you’re not—you know what?” Norm breathed out a sigh before pushing away from the table he was at, “Let’s take a really, really long break, yeah?” You watched as Norm exhaustedly rubbed his face and left the room, mumbling to himself in frustration.

Jake huffed and went quiet for a while. Right now it was just the two of you sitting in the room. You made no move to say or do anything, mostly just kept to yourself like you had been for the past week. While reading, you heard him start to mumble the same phrase over and over again, though his pronunciation was wrong each time.

And despite wanting to ignore him, your need to correct him eventually won.

“You really do have a thick skull, huh?” You commented. Jake turned his wheelchair away from you, pettily ignoring you. “You're sooo funny. Apologies for trying to help.”

“And since when have you ever tried to help me?” Jake snorted, glaring at you over his shoulder.

“Did you not watch the videos I sent you?”

“Fuck off.”

A small, amused smile tugged at your lip before you closed your book. “Quaritch did tell you to listen to me, make sure you survive and whatnot. Or are you not taking orders from him anymore?”

Jake didn't reply right away, instead he turned his chair so that he was facing you again, studying you with an unreadable expression. “You hate him.”

You scoffed, “Great job, Sherlock.”

Jake tilted his head, giving you a look, “He’s mentioned you a few times. Asks about you.”

Not really wanting to hear any of this, you got up and grabbed your book. “We’re definitely not having this conversation, especially not with you of all people.”

“Okay, then make something clear to me.” Jake called, rolling after you. “I don’t get it. He acts like the two of you are close and treats you like a family. And then there’s you, you can’t even stand to be in the same room with him.”

Now you were scowling and turned back to him, “Yes and it’s been a pretty great relationship so far. What’s your point, Puppet?”

He frowned at the nickname but continued, “It’s because of the school, isn’t it?”

That, you hadn’t expected. Really, you didn’t even know that he knew about that. Then again, Grace might’ve told him at some point. Still, the question threw you off. Enough that Jake could read the expression on your face, which confirmed his question without you having to say anything.

“I, uh, noticed the pictures with you and Grace’s avatars, with the kids.” Jake continued but a lot more carefully than before. “Grace told me about, um, Sylwanin and the other kids that died.” You winced terribly, barely able to hide it as you turned your gaze away from him. It had been awhile, no, a couple of years at least since it first happened.

You just never bothered talking about it again, never bothering to go back into your avatar form unless you absolutely needed to. Those deaths had weighed down on your shoulders forever.

Jake was still watching you as he spoke, “You blame him.”

“They were on his orders.” Was what you said, willing your voice to remain firm. Crossing your arms, you continued through gritted teeth, “If he ever thought of me as family he wouldn’t have allowed that to happen that day. Those were my friends he had gunned down.” You turn to look at Jake, frowning. “Could you forgive that?”

Surprisingly, his response was immediate. “No.”

Quietly, you watched him the same as he did you. And then you stopped, not wanting to read into anything more. Not wanting to discover anything more despite the growing doubt settling in as this conversation kept going.

“What else has he said?” You found yourself asking after a while, quietly. This now surprised Jake. “About me?”

Now it was his turn to look away from you for a moment before shrugging, “Says you guys used to be close, practically an uncle to you or something, I don’t remember.”

You nod, not protesting that. Despite everything, that was true. Your parents were both dead. Quaritch had known them both and you since you were young. He was a family friend. An uncle. The only person that cared for you that was left in this world.

And with everything that had happened between you two, that’s what broke your heart the most. No matter what, he was the last one left for you.

You walked toward the door to your lab but stopped before glancing over your shoulder toward Jake.

“It’s oel ngati kameie.” You pronounced slowly, doing the hand movement along with it. “You’ll get it at some point.”

“Wait!” Just as you opened the door, Jake had wheeled closer. “The way you say it, it’s different from how Norm did it.”

You shrugged, “Norm’s a bit too formal with his translations. Spend a little time with the Na’vi and listen to how they communicate with each other, that’s when you start to sound like them.”

Jake grinned a bit, “Why don’t you teach me? Call it a truce, you and I. Let’s make this work, yeah?”

“I don’t know.” You hummed stepping into your lab. “I still don’t like you very much.”

He raised a brow, a smirk on his lips, “You’re warming up to me though.”

“In your dreams, Puppet.”

“Video log, 100-something…I don’t know but I miss you guys.”

You say quietly to the camera. It was around night time in Pandora. The other should’ve been fast asleep by now or Jake was still in the link bed, parading around the forest with his avatar.

“It’s been a few months…since I’ve logged in, I think. I know I should be keeping up with them. And it’s been five years today since you guys left…Mom, I’ve improved and kept your work going. Hopefully I’ve done you justice…you know…I can’t exactly replace you. Your brilliance…everyone looks to me now that you’re gone…I don’t know how to feel about that. I’m not ready for it-I really don’t understand how these people think I could live up to you….”

There was a muffled sound outside of your lab. Someone was probably moving around. Whoever it was, you waited for a few seconds before you didn’t hear anymore thuds. You turned back to the camera.

“I think it was a mistake leaving me to Quaritch…and I know he’s one of your oldest friends Dad, but…this isn’t working anymore. Pandora has really shown me the truth. Something I was too naïve to notice before…but now that I do know the truth, I’m not sure….I’m not sure if I was ready for it…”

Knowing that these videos were being watched by the higher ups, you decided to cut the camera off before the tears came. The last thing you wanted was for them to see your vulnerability. To see how much their mission practically broke you. They wouldn’t have cared anyway. But it was embarrassing to imagine either way.

All you knew was that you never wanted them to ever see you cry. You would not grant them this.

The last thing they would see of you was not tears. No.

It would be a grin made of gasoline. And the fire you started in your wake.

Norm and Jake were arguing. You didn’t know what about but if you had to guess, it was probably Norm getting frustrated with Jake while he was supposed to be helping him with the language. And you were betting Jake was responding back like the smartass he was.

It wasn’t long before Grace jumped in to scold them like a parent. Now it would’ve been entertaining to listen to the three of them go at it, but they’re dumb fight was distracting you from your work, which was in itself a sin.

When the fighting never ceased, you gave up with the work you attempted to refocus on and stomped out of your lab. Outside of it, Jake and Norm were back at the small table in the corner going at it while Grace scowled and snapped at them from her spot across from them.

“—it’s like you’re trying to be dumb on purpose! How can you not get this?!” Norm snapped.

Jake scowled, “Kind of hard to listen to you when you’re talking out of your ass!”

“My god! Am I just surrounded by children these days? What the hell is wrong with you two?!” Grace glared at them.

You stood to the side and watched as they fought, both annoyed and intrigued.

Norm suddenly stood up, “You know, I don’t get it. I’ve studied and prepared myself for this for several years and he gets this chance in one go, why? What the hell has he done to even earn his place here?!”

“Spellman—” Grace sighed.

“So you're jealous?” Jake smirked, leaning back in his chair. “What, mad that I got the chief’s daughter and you got horseshit?”

You could tell Jake was just trying to get a rise out of Norm and the latter took the bait easily, “I deserve to be out there. I fucking speak the language—”

“Quaritch chose him.” Grace said simply, growing tired of the fight. “There’s nothing we could do to change that. And complaining about it sure as hell isn’t going to solve anything.” She then looked at you with a frown and spoke in Na’vi, “Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to add anything to this conversation?”

You shrugged indifferently, “You seem to have a handle on things.”

“Would the two of you stop that!” Norm snapped exasperatedly. “I can understand you! You’re not being secretive by talking in another language I know!”

Grace frowned, “Nobody said anything about being secretive, Spellman. Take a deep breath, alright? Yes, you are good at the language, which is why I need you to help Jake out here.”

Norm glared at Jake. Jake glared back, raising his brows provocatively.

You rolled your eyes before smacking Norm’s arm, “Go. I’ll take over.”

Grace raised his brows while Jake stared at you curiously and another expression you couldn’t make out. “You sure, Tinkers?”

“If it’ll get the two of these idiots to stop arguing, yeah, I’m sure.” You say, replacing the seat Norm had been sitting in before.

Norm scoffed, “Whatever.” He disappeared in the back.

“Let’s see here.” You say, looking at the notes that Norm had scribbled down. “Eywa ngahu.”

“What, no hello?” Jake grinned at you.

“Eywa ngahu.” You repeated sternly.

Jake rolled his eyes, “Eywa ngahu.”

“Good, good.” You nodded before glancing down at the papers, “Jesus, what is this handwriting?”

Jake leaned forward to get a better look at it, a little too close for your liking. He pointed to one of the phases, “Oel ngati kameie. I see you, right?”

You nodded while Grace from her corner of the room narrowed her eyes at him, “Just a few minutes ago you were struggling with it when Norm was teaching you.”

Jake shrugged innocently, “I guess I learn fast.”

“Bullshit.” Grace scoffed. She glanced from you to Jake with a strange yet knowing look before shaking her head and going back to work. Muttering under her breath, “Idiots…”

Now it was your turn to narrow your eyes at him. Jake just continued to stare at you innocently. You glanced back down at the papers noticing the red marks next to some of the phrases.

“Those were the ones we were gonna come back to.” Jake pointed out when he saw the question practically forming on your face. “They were the ones I struggled with the most.”

“Mmm.” You said for a moment. “Let’s go down the list. Ngaru lu fpom srak.”

“Ngaru lu fpom srak.”

“Fyape syaw fko ngar?”

“Jake Sully.”

You blink and Grace makes a sound that was suspiciously close to a snort. “You understood what I said?”

Jake nodded, “Yeah, it was a lot clearer when you said it.”

Bullshit. You pushed the papers away and leaned back in your chair, “Jake, were you purposefully acting obtuse just to get rid of Norm? Because if you were, that has got to be the most idiotic shit I’ve ever witnessed.”

In the corner of your eye, you could see Grace sneaking a look toward the two of you, waiting for a response.

“It’s not idiotic if it worked.” Jake winked, leaning forward on the table.

You shook your head in disbelief. And despite yourself a smile grew on your lips, “You’re such an asshole, Puppet.”

“I know. But you’re still here.”

“Shut up.”

taglist: @luvvfromme @sully-stick-together @dazedshoon @jakesullylvr @s-u-t @erenjaegerwifee @ssc7514 @cheari

#to you worlds away #avatar jake sully x reader #avatar jake sully #jake sully x reader #avatar way of water #avatar jake #jake sully #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #jake sully fic #atwow

689 notes · View notes

dany-is-my-queen · 10 months

Text

A Question of Loyalty XIII

Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader, Alicent Hightower x reader

Word count: 5.6k

Summary: When dragons of green and dragons of black dance, you have to choose the color that suits you best.

"You have an insatiable inclination for suffering and rejection," Daemon trailed off. "You, as a princess, can have any maid, any lady, anyone at all. Why do you persist in being fixated on her?" He reproached her.

"You don’t understand, dear uncle. You have never experienced the depths of love before," Rhaenyra retorted.

"No, I have not. But I would never grovel after a woman—I would simply find another to take her place," Daemon stated with an air of self-assuredness.

"She cannot be replaced. Do you believe she harbors feelings for Alicent?" Rhaenyra inquired, her voice filled with a fragile vulnerability.

“I cannot say," Daemon responded.

Later on ~~~~

Rhaenyra regally positioned outside your apartments, appeared as a vigilant guard.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" The silver head asked, laden with.. disappointment.

"I did, princess," came the reply, a hint of regret.

"Skoro syt issi ao evading issa, issa riñnykeā? (Why are you evading me, my lady)” Rhaenyra's voice quivered, hurt and frustrated.

"I— I'm not. I thought you might need some space," you stammered, reflecting your uncertainty.

"You can't even bring yourself to look at me," She exclaimed.

"Princess, if you'll excuse me—"

"We need to speak.”

"I don't want to cause you pain, Rhaenyra," you admitted.

"You've already done so. And still do," She declared, conveying a sense of woundedness.

Frustration boiled within Rhaenyra, reaching its peak as it consumed her. She took a step forward, bitterness invading her. "So, it is Alicent, isn't it? The reason you're pulling away from me. Ivestragon issa se truth! (Tell me the truth)”

Caught off guard by the intensity of Rhaenyra’s accusation, you struggled to find the right words. Your resolve faltered as Rhaenyra closed the distance between you, tauntingly brushing her lips against yours. The air crackled with tension as you resisted the urge to surrender to the magnetic pull between them. Every fiber of your being yearned for the taste of her lips, but you held back.

Rhaenyra's voice, now laced with defiance and desire, whispered against your lips, "If you truly feel nothing, then prove it. Kiss me, and let me see the truth in your eyes."

Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between pining and self-restraint. With an anguished sigh, you mustered all your strength to resist. "No, Rhaenyra," You managed to utter, thick with longing. "I can't. Not when it's tearing us apart."

Rhaenyra's eyes blazed with pure frustration as she stepped back, hurt etched across her face. “You deny me even this," she whispered.

As Rhaenyra turned away, your heart shattered into fragments, the weight of your.. unresolved emotions seemed to suffocate the room.

"Tell me, then. Tell me why you can't give me what I need," Rhaenyra demanded.

A pained expression crossed your face. "Rhaenyra, it's not about Alicent," you confessed. “You deserve so much better. I believe there are great things awaiting you, and I fear that I would only hold you back, trapping you.”

Rhaenyra's eyes filled with determination as she shook her head. "Bullshit. I don't just want you to love me," she pleaded. "I want to love you. I want to make you happy. I know I can. Please, Y/N, don't push me away."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked into Rhaenyra's pleading gaze, seeing her unwavering commitment. It was a choice you had to make, torn between your fears and the overwhelming desire to be with the one who held your heart. You took a deep breath.

"You have an extraordinary capacity to love, and I know you could give me everything. But I can't bear the thought of holding you back. I fear that if we do this, I will be the one who hinders your path, who keeps you from reaching your fullest potential. You are the princess of the Realm, everyone has expectations. We could never be together.”

Rhaenyra reached out, gently taking your hand. "You're wrong," she said. "I want to be by your side. The blood of the dragon courses through our veins, connecting us in a way that no one could even fathom. Even if you were a commoner, I would love you the same. Please.”

“Princess..—“

"Fuck it," Rhaenyra proclaimed. “To the realm and to the gods, I say damn them all. The opinions and expectations of others hold no sway over the love I have for you."

Your heart throbbed as you felt the weight of Rhaenyra's love, stirring a longing deep within. Not because it was too much, but because you felt every single ounce of that love for her in return, it ached like a bitch because you were just as madly in love with her, yet you knew better, and you were the one with the strongest will here. You had to do what was right.

"I'm sorry," you finally uttered. It was a bittersweet.

Rhaenyra's pleading attempts ceased, and a sadness settled upon both your features. You watched as her figure receded from your sight.

Would it really killed you if you kissed?

—

Alicent glared at Otto from across the dining table, her narrowed eyes seething. She found his suggestion completely absurd and it made her blood boil. "What?" she countered.

Otto maintained his composure despite her clear frustration. "What? Your brother would be a perfect suitor for Lady Y/N. He would make an excellent husband for her, and they would ensure the continuation of our house's lineage in case anything catastrophic were to happen."

Alicent scoffed, dismissing his words with a hint of condescension. "My brother and Y/N are strangers to each other," she retorted haughtily, shaking her head dismissively, indulging an old habit of picking her nails.

Otto was undeterred. "Their lack of familiarity is irrelevant," he declared in a stern and grave tone, befitting his commitment to this notion. "Do you realistically think that she would ever marry you? You dwell in a world of mere fantasy, Alicent.”

His words struck her like a weighty load, shattering her equanimity and leaving her feeling incredulous. The mere thought of Y/N being whisked away to wed her own sibling was simply inconceivable, given such an alternative.

"You can't be serious," she said, her voice trembling with anger and disappointment. “Do you not take my feelings into account at all?”

He began, trying to reason with her. "Pragmatism must dictate that we prioritize the welfare of our house over sentimentality."

"I simply can't believe you would even contemplate sacrificing Y/n's happiness.”

“It’s not as if you will cease warming up her bed. I would expect you to do so, out of respect for your brother.” Alicent derided. Otto emitted a heavy sigh, evidently exasperated by their discourse. "I realize your attachment to her, Alicent," he articulated, trying to console her. "However, we must undertake what is imperative to secure the future of our House. The union between Gwayne and Lady Y/n is the optimal approach to achieve that objective. Considering the ongoing war, we require an alliance through marriage.”

“She will not betray us, she will not betray Aegon. Yet, what if she flees once she discovers your attempt to betroth her to Gwayne?”

“At that point, you will intervene. You will persuade her.”

“No. I refuse. I am no longer willing to be a pawn in your machinations, I am no longer inclined to blindly accede to all your pronouncements. Especially when it concerns her,” she declared with resolute detachment, departing from the chamber.

She would not endure it, not anymore.

—

As Aegon dismissed Otto as his Hand, a sense of.. disquiet seized you. You had never harbored any fondness for Cole; he embodied a callousness that paid no heed to the sanctity of human existence.

You recalled the incident from years past, the altercation between him and your deceased brother's paramour, Ser Joffrey. The brutality with which he met his untimely demise — where was the justice in that?

The Queen, to your everlasting chagrin, extended her clemency to him. The matter still gnawed at you.

Notwithstanding the imminent repercussions, you knew you had to assert yourself. "Your Grace, might I proffer the suggestion of appointing another as Hand of the King?"

"And whom would you propose, my lady? Someone unswayed by the caprices of my mother & grandsire?" he sneered.

"A candidate endowed with level-headedness and commitment to the welfare of the realm," you conveyed.

“And who might that be? Do you have a suitable choice in mind?" he inquired, his tone on the verge of hostility.

"Perhaps you might contemplate appointing Lord Lannister in his stead, Your Grace. Cole is a volatile and impetuous individual, his mental state perennially awry."

"I am the King, and I shall act in accordance with my own discretion. Cole has safeguarded me since my infancy.”

"I beseech only for the best interests of the realm, Your Grace.” you asserted.

“I may well have another candidate in mind. Another that has been there for me since I was but a babe.” he persisted, perplexing you as you raised an eyebrow. “You.”

You widened your eyes, uncertain of how to respond.

“The Lords rejected Rhaenyra as their Queen, for she was a woman. I believe the same holds true for me, in this situation, Your Grace. The Council will not accept it.”

“I was my father first male descendant. You have demonstrated your loyalty. You possess the aptitudes befitting the station.”

“I am deeply honored, Aegon.”

“I’m not doing it to honor you. I need you, Y/N.” Aegon frankly let on.

—

Otto, flabbergasted by the news of Aegon appointing you as Hand of the King, bellowed at Larys in disbelief, "Is he truly out of his mind? Appointing a woman? A bastard? This is preposterous!"

Unbeknownst to them, Alicent had been discreetly eavesdropping on their conversation, her curiosity piqued by their heated exchange. No one has told her anything yet.

“The young King yearns for the tender affection only a mother can provide. His own subjected him to physical abuse whenever an opportunity arose. He desperately craves the presence of someone who will stand by his side, devoted to him and his remaining family."

“He cares not for his sister's well-being. His focus lies in seeking retribution for his son and ensuring the protection of his daughter. Yet he keeps whoring around.”

Nodding, Larys acknowledged Otto's point, "Indeed, my lord. For the time being, it is imperative that Haleana conceive a male heir swiftly. We cannot afford a repeat of past circumstances. And as for Y/N, it still astounds me that she chose to remain in King's Landing. Her supposed loyalty, tainted by her illegitimate blood, proved to be far from steadfast.”

Otto, deep in thought, mused, "One wonders how long her loyalty will endure. Complete trust in her is an ill-advised notion. Hence, my intention to unite her with my son through marriage."

He continued, "It appears that we will be unable to rid ourselves of her presence anytime soon.“

“She is well aware of the consequences should she attempt to flee. She understands the gravity of risking her parents’ reputation.”

Nodding in agreement, Larys replied, “What is the life of a bastard girl against a Kingdom?”

“You ought to maintain a respectful distance from her. The Dowager Queen.” With a subtle hint, he added, “Though your private meetings have proven advantageous for us, allow some time to elapse,” Otto suggested, “and then gradually rekindle your visits to her. Adapt your approach, my lord, and let your actions speak of change.”

Meanwhile, Alicent found herself at a loss for words. Not because of your new appointment, but rather due to the revelation that you were a bastard — a fact she had been unaware of until now. The questions swirled in her mind. Had you been ignorant of your own heritage? No, you knew. Had you intentionally kept it hidden, a testament to the lack of trust you placed in her? Moreover, the realization that her father was willing to subject her to the clutches of such a monstrous individual struck her like a blow. She couldn’t shake off the feeling of being treated as nothing more than a disposable rag doll. It left her feeling sickened to her core.

—

The next morning, you found yourself in the library of the Red Keep, meticulously gathering books on the previous Hands of the King. Though the selection was limited, one particular tome caught your eye—a fascinating account of Septon Barth, the trusted confidant of King Jaehaerys. In his forty years of service, he had amassed immense wisdom and prosperity. You hoped to glean some of that insight to fulfill your newfound role.

As you delved into your reading, the Queen Dowager entered the room, acknowledging the two caretakers present. Thankfully, Aemond, who has been a source of tension between you, was absent, deviating from his usual habit. The wounds inflicted by his actions were still fresh, and he knew it.

Alicent took a seat in front of you, and you stole a glance at her, sensing her commanding presence. Addressing her affectionately, your eyes remained fixed on the text before you.

"My love?" you called out, your attention split between her and the book.

"Y/N, I must discuss important matters with you," she said, causing you to look up and find an expression on her face that left you puzzled—was it disbelief?

"Aegon believed it best to make the announcement today. I should have informed you immediately; it wasn't meant to be a secret—" you began, but Alicent interrupted, clearly preoccupied with something other than your appointment as Hand.

"Secrets still linger between us," she lamented, her words striking a chord. You raised an eyebrow, studying her closely. In that moment, as you observed her intently, Alicent's anger dissipated, her countenance softened. She stopped herself from being harsh or reproachful because she recognized your worth and understood that you had your reasons for not divulging the “news” earlier, just as she had her own with the unsavory affair involving Larys. Fear, rejection, shame... Alicent would wait for you, at your own pace. You were in a good phase of your relationship, and she didn't want to spoil it.

"Alicent?" your voice seemed distant, and seconds later, she snapped back to reality, meeting your concerned gaze. You had gently placed your hand on top of hers.

"Uh, yes, don't worry about it. I comprehend the need for an official announcement. It's not a major issue. By the way, congratulations, my lady. My son has made his first wise decision during his reign."

"Thank you for your understanding."

"Y/N... my father intends to betroth my brother Gwayne to you," she confided.

"What?" you replied, astonishment etched on you.

Alicent heaved a weary sigh. "He just mentioned it now. As you know, I vehemently opposed the idea and argued with him. However, he appears resolute... though I doubt that impulse will persist now that you hold the position of Hand.”

Otto's prior blackmail had already strained your patience, and now this? It was the final straw.

"Why would your father propose a marriage between your brother and me? What does he stand to gain?"

"A formidable alliance. A dragon."

"But you've already tamed the dragon," you quipped, injecting a hint of humor to alleviate the tension. She let out a soft chuckle.

"Let's speak seriously, Y/N."

"I am being serious. I won't entertain the idea, and I believe you know that. So, your father shouldn't harbor false hopes or attempt to orchestrate anything, as it would be in vain."

"He commanded me to persuade you into accepting, but I made it abundantly clear that I am no longer his puppet. I would never force you into something like that, or any other situation, for that matter," Alicent assured you sincerely.

"So, your father needs to witness us tangled in the sheets to understand that we have no interest in men, then?" you punned, pretending to maintain a serious tone.

"Quite amusing," she remarked.

"In that case, I'll go and request your hand in marriage, and he better give his blessing if he hopes to solidify an alliance with House Velaryon," you continued jokingly, momentarily casting aside the weight of your true parentage. Alicent played along, offering a lighthearted response.

“That might partially appease him," she replied, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

—

The afternoon was shrouded in clouds, casting a somber hue upon the castle, it’s become regular. As the weeks passed, Haleana gradually regained strength, alleviating the burden that had weighed her down. A difficult decision was made to safeguard her little remaining daughter, Jahaera, sending her away from the capital in secret until the storm subsided.

Haleana seldom granted others access. With you, trust came naturally.

You reminisced about the days when she spoke passionately about her fascination with insects, marveling at their intricacies as if they held the key to an enigmatic world.

There was an unmistakable resemblance between Haleana & Rhaenyra, not just in their physical features, but also in the gaze they shared.

"Have you ever considered taking a ride on our dragons?" you asked, a warm smile gracing you. The question caught her off guard, and her surprise was evident. "I've always believed that Dreamfyre and Silverwing would get along splendidly."

"I thought that was an adventure reserved for my brothers or nephews," she responded, a hint of regret coloring her words. Your expression shifted to one of sorrow.

"I would cherish the opportunity to embark on such an adventure with you. It's invigorating to embrace new experiences, don't you agree?" Sympathetically, Haleana nodded.

"Sometimes, I find myself wondering... how different my life would have been if my mother had accepted the marriage between Jaecerys and me," she mused. Intrigued, you looked at her intently. "Perhaps all of this chaos would have been averted, or it might not even be happening at all." A profound silence enveloped the room as you pondered her words. "Aegon would have chosen another to be his wife. His claim would have remained intact. Although it was never his desire."

"Jace would have made you the happiest lady in the Seven Kingdoms. I am certain of it," you responded with genuine conviction.

"He is a fine young man. Baela deserves him. While I don't know your nieces well, I sense their exceptional nature. And Rhaena... she would have been happy too, with Luke," she concluded.

“Perhaps in another life. A life where everything is vastly different, and everyone finds their happily ever after."

“You can still find yours, Y/N. With my mother. I know how deeply she loves you."

"And I love her dearly, my dear."

"That's how love should feel, shouldn't it? Strolling through a meadow adorned with vibrant flowers, the sun's gentle warmth caressing your skin, and the rhythm of your beloved's heartbeat becoming the sweet melody that intertwines with the songs of birds and the whispers of the breeze." Haleana's words wove a tapestry of melancholic memories, transporting you back to that fateful day when you and Alicent wandered through fields together. It was a moment of pure bliss, witnessed by Haleana as if she herself had experienced it. She had never seen her mother happier or more content than in that fleeting spring day with you.

You harbored no ill will toward Aegon, but sadness washed over you, knowing that your dear Haleana deserved such joy. Yet, her husband, could never grant her that.

"Oh, my precious girl. I just know that destiny has something extraordinary in store for you.” You promised.

—

The first “triumph” achieved as the Hand was the proposal of a visionary strategy aimed at streamlining the movement of your father's fleet, which had hindered access to vital maritime trade routes. The Stepstones, although not officially under the jurisdiction of the Iron Throne, presented an opportunity for persuasion through ceding those islands. It wasn't a relinquishment of your rightful territory, merely a diplomatic maneuver. Furthermore, understanding the need for improved communication and collaboration, you pledged to establish a place for dialogue and understanding within the Royal Court, bridging the gap between continents.

While they ultimately acquiesced to your terms, a surge of apprehension appeared, concerned about the potential loss of your father's loyal soldiers for the accord you had forged.

In one of the sessions, Cole brazenly voiced a controversial opinion, advocating for the immediate decapitation of all those who had voiced support for Rhaenyra. "We cannot stoop to the level of cold-blooded murder," you countered, asserting your stance.

"It is a display of weakness to spare them," Cole persisted, his attack directed at you. "They won't alter their convictions, my lady. And we both know you lack the fortitude to make the necessary decisions," he taunted.

"Choose your words wisely, Lord Commander," the King interjected. Turning towards you, he desperately sought your counsel. "What then, do you suggest we do with them, lady Y/N?"

"Let them be confined in their cells, treated fairly according to their standing. Over time, they will have no choice but to reassess their allegiances. This is not coddling; it is an act of mercy, granting them the chance to witness our aversion to wanton destruction of the Kingdom. By abstaining from vengeance and sparing the lives of their Lords and Ladies, we deny their Houses the fuel for hatred and the thirst for revenge," you concluded, your head held high, while Alicent regarded you with pride. The others in the room appeared disinterested, some offering merely subtle nods.

"May they not test my patience before its very limits," Aegon declared.

Larys, ever the opportunist, interjected himself back into the Council's affairs, asserting his indispensability to prevent the King's reign from crumbling, given his vast network of connections and cunning. He extended an apology to Alicent and maintained a cautious distance from her. Though you despised his proximity, the King accepted him once more.

"If he dares to approach or even glance at you, I shall shatter his face, again.” you exclaimed in annoyance after a meeting. Alicent embraced you, placing her head gently upon your shoulder.

"I know you will always defend my honor. Yet, the last thing I desire is to see you harmed," she whispered softly in your ear.

"He doesn't intimidate me."

"It is not he, directly, that concerns me. He wields influence, and I dread any ill befalling you 'by accident,' my love."

"Do you believe he is foolish enough to attempt it? Or dispatch someone to inflict harm upon me? A Targaryen?" you spoke your mother's name with a hint of double meaning. "I possess a dragon, my dear. And it has been far too long since it relished a hearty feast."

Both you and Alicent found peace in the knowledge that Daeron remained in Oldtown under the care of Ormund Hightower, Alicent's uncle.

Though you missed him deeply, you understood the stakes involved and the perils that would accompany his presence. While he possessed the skills to join the fray and potentially assist his brother, you strictly forbade his participation. Being the dutiful child he was, Daeron honored your wishes and refrained from soaring upon Tessarion's wings.

You knew that safeguarding Daeron's life and ensuring his continued growth were paramount.

—

Rhaenyra found herself at a loss, her mind tangled in a web of uncertainty. She couldn't fathom your involvement in the recent assault against her family, and yet news of your ascension had reached even the shores of Dragonstone. Leaving her taken aback.

However, despite the tempest raging within her since Luke’s murder, she resolved not to advance towards King's Landing. Her paramount concern was to protect you.. She hesitated to unleash fire and blood upon the capital, fearing that in doing so, you would inevitably become entangled in the conflict. And she simply could not bear the thought of Daemon attempting to extinguish your life once and for all. Even amidst the chaos, you remained one of her utmost priorities.

No, she would never allow that.

With a heavy heart burdened by the weight of her decisions, she made a resolute choice. Little Y/N, would be sent to the Vale, seeking sanctuary in the alliance with Lady Arryn. She contemplated extending the same protection to her two younger sons, Viserys and Aegon, convinced by Rhaenys. Together, they were dispatched to the impregnable Eyrie, escorted by her most loyal knights. She had to keep them safe, even if it meant enduring separation for an extended period.

In those moments of respite from the maelstrom that engulfed her, she found doted on the presence of her lovely baby. Rhaenyra cherished those precious, tender moments, cradling and soothing her, listening to the gentle cadence of her breathing as she slumbered. It was during these tranquil interludes that brief moments of calm pierced through the chaos, if only for a short while.

"Nyke gīmigon bony tubis, issa beloved hāedar, y/n jāhor rhaenagon ao. Se ziry jāhor find isse ao nykeā beacon hen jorrāelagon se ōños. (I know that one day, my beloved girl, Y/N will meet you. And she will find in you a beacon of love and light)” she whispered like an incantation every day, her voice heavy with longing. Thoughts of you occupied her heart.

The Black Queen yearned to see you, to trace the contours of your face with her fingers, to have you by her side. Yet, at the same time, she harbored a profound fear of encountering you. In your presence, she felt her strength waver, her resolve crumble. For you, she would relinquish any crown, any throne, any war. Such vulnerability was deemed unfitting by her advisors and those who depended on her.

Within her being, an immense wound festered, a wound that you had inflicted upon her when you were but fifteen. Instead of healing over time, this wound had grown into an abyss, a constant reminder. Time, it seemed, held no power to mend such a deep-seated hurt.

Resentment seeped into the depths of Rhaenyra's heart. In her time of dire need, when she required your support, you had turned your back and departed. The days stretched on, devoid of your return, and still, she waited.

She acknowledged the mistakes she had made, the pain her actions had inflicted upon you. To some extent, she understood the weight of your burden. Thoughts of writing you a heartfelt letter, an apology permeated her mind. Perhaps, within its ink-stained confines, she could offer a chance to escape together with her children. But she knew such a decision would be born of selfishness and one-sided desires. No words could ever be enough to bridge the chasm that had grown between you. So, with tears streaming down, she tore the unfinished letters into tiny fragments, tossing them into the fireplace. In the solitude of the night, her sobs mingled with the crackling of the burning paper, as her lonely shadow offered the only companionship.

Perhaps, she mused, expressing her feelings face to face would be easier, carrying far more significance than mere ink on a page. Perhaps, by looking into your eyes, she could convey the depth of her emotions without anything or anyone standing in the way.

Still, she continued to wait.

—

Your war strategies proved futile in preventing Cole from devising his own tactics.

"Your Grace," you exclaimed, "Ser Arryk was a knight of great valor and loyalty. Sending him on this mission was a grave mistake."

"I knew you would not understand. Hence, I did not seek your counsel or opinion," he retorted.

"This could have quelled the rebellion. We had nothing to lose by attempting it," Lord Lannister chimed in.

You bit your tongue, suppressing any inappropriate outburst. Alicent, always perceptive, averted her gaze, shielding you from betraying your emotions.

But you would never have consented or condoned such an act. You harbored no desire for harm to befall the Blacks, which, given your position, may seem redundant.

"My lady, do not make me regret the choices I've made. This goes beyond honor and mercy. We are in the midst of war, and severing the snake's head swiftly is imperative," he admonished.

"And who was the intended target?" you demanded.

"Her bastards. Whoever he could reach first," he coldly replied.

Once again, you clenched your teeth, biding your time until the meeting concluded, yearning for a breath of fresh air.

Days passed without any attack from Rhaenyra.

After capturing Rosby and Stokeworth, and subsequently sacking Duskendale, Cole's next move was toward Rook's Rest—a revelation that reached your ears belatedly.

It was evident to you, in an instant, that it was a trap. Rhaenyra would not risk her children's lives to rescue Lord Staunton, and Daemon remained entrenched in Harrenhal. It would likely be Rhaenys, your mother, who would extend her aid.

Once again, you found yourself kept in the dark. Hastily, you penned a letter, forewarning the Blacks of the impending danger, imploring them not to offer assistance this time. But alas, it was too late.

Vhagar and Sunfyre were absent from the capital, prompting you to hasten to your mother's aid. Mounting Silverwing for the first time in months, apprehension and fear coursed through you as she soared with newfound speed, astonishing for a dragon of her age.

Your heart trembled in your hands, fully aware that Meleys would stand no chance against two fully grown dragons—perhaps against Vhagar, but along Sunfyre, none at all.

In that moment, loyalty to the Greens vanished from your thoughts. Everything faded away, and all that remained was the determination to arrive in time and thwart the brewing catastrophe.

Finally, you reached the scene, observing the battle unfold just below. The castle was besieged, with archers and men-at-arms scattered throughout. Your attention was drawn to the massive scorpions pointed skyward, ready to strike their target.

Anxiety surged within you as the dragons were nowhere to be seen. Then, as if the gods granted a brief respite, the clouds parted, and there emerged your mother. But where were the Targaryen siblings?

"No, mother," you whispered, overwhelmed and unsure of how to proceed, the chaos engulfing you.

Rhaenys immediately noticed your presence, guiding her dragon closer to yours. "My dearest child, my firstborn," she murmured.

"Mother! It's a trap, a trap! Retreat immediately, leave!" you cried out with all the strength that remained, your voice echoing through the air. There was no trace of anger or resentment in her eyes; only joy at seeing you once more.

The Red Queen, already bore the marks of numerous arrows lodged in her body.

You knew well that your mother would never retreat like a coward, for she possessed a spirit untamed by fear. In a swift motion, she turned Meleys, just as Aegon and Aemond descended upon them, emanating an aura of ferocity.

You longed to match that swiftness, to come to her aid, but Silverwing suffered a direct hit from an iron bolt in her left wing. Cole had clearly ordered his forces to target you as well. Arrows rained down upon you, forcing you to dodge and weave, desperately trying to evade them. Yet, one pierced your lung, stealing your breath. You realized you had neglected to wear the necessary armor for this encounter. Another bolt found its mark near Silverwing's neck, followed by yet another in the same spot. The dragon let out a pained roar, losing balance and preventing you from directing her toward the unfolding battle just miles away.

Silverwing unleashed her fury upon the battlefield, her fiery breath engulfing the enemy forces. Hundreds of men met their demise. The bowmen, with their weapons raised, were reduced to ashes in mere moments. Even Criston, fell before your dragon’s wrath.

With determination, you attempted once more to guide her closer to the red dragon, but an arrow found its mark in your spine, searing pain through your body. You hadn't given a thought to your own safety, consumed by the urgency to save your mother. Silverwing's descent was inevitable, her ability to take flight hindered by a sky enveloped in smoke and flames. The three dragons vanished from plain sight.

Had you been there, there might have been a glimmer of hope. With you, perhaps the outcome could have been different.

The assault on Silverwing ceased, and with a gentle pat on her back, you dismounted, running toward your mother, oblivious to the agony that coursed through you. There was no one with her.

In those fleeting moments of desperate hope, you believed she might still be alive, battered but breathing. You yearned for her to utter one of her comforting phrases, to wrap your arms around her, shielding her from anyone who sought to harm her. As you sprinted toward her, beseeching every god known to you—the old ones, the new ones—for a miracle, you clung to that hope.

Meleys lay lifeless, shattered by the fall, her broken form strewn across the ground. And nearby, another figure, charred and unrecognizable, lay motionless. It could have been someone else, anyone else. But you knew it.

You fell to your knees before them, tears pooling in your eyes, refusing to accept the reality that unfolded before you. Despite knowing deep down, you held on to denial, unwilling to acknowledge that the figure before you was your mother.

Silhouettes began to gather around, the hushed whispers of onlookers enveloping you. But you could not tear yourself away from her side. The world around you blurred.

Your heart bled. The war had claimed its toll yet again, and the price paid was your beloved mother.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @nnightskiess @loveislove4 @evattude @lethal-minds @sophiexoxsblog @claymoresword @tired-ninfa @glorioushamsterqueen @alicenter @newcaptainofsquad9 @pindoris @oh-thats-cute @rxscpctals @laenordeservedbetter @voniikg @bugwritesstuff @letlovee-in @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valenciavv @the-camilucha @joliettes

#got #house of the dragon #hotd #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader#alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower #house of the dragon fic #rhaenyra x reader #alicent x reader

209 notes · View notes

livingintheupsidedown · 1 year

Text

A Good Kind of Different

Steve Harrington x reader

[1.3k] - Steve invites everyone over for a day in the pool.

A/N - Thank you to the anon who requested this! It was super cute and fun to write.

Your relationship with Steve was unique, to say the least. Not many people can say they fell for someone because they got sucked into fighting interdimensional monsters together. Part of you wants to thank Dustin for roping you in, but you’d never give him the satisfaction. Before you and Steve had even started dating you’d practically already seen the other at their worst, having been so vulnerable around someone so early on was something you definitely weren’t used to. It was different, and different often meant scary.

Steve was the good kind of different.

The kind of different that you adored. That risked their life to save yours. That encouraged you to be yourself and promised to love you no matter what.

Today was also a good kind of different, it was a rare chance that all the teens managed to get a day off together. Which of course only meant one thing, a pool party at the Harrington residence.

And that’s where you found yourself now, an hour early while you watched Steve clear the pool through the kitchen window. You could see the sun warming his back and chest as he worked with the net, his muscles tightening and relaxing every time he stretched out to reach a stray leaf. It was no secret that Steve was attractive, you’d tell him every chance you got, as if he needed the ego boost. But you still marvelled at how he was wondered up being yours, how you were the one to comfort him at night and hold his hand during the day.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the doors sliding open as Steve walked inside. “You know, most people consider it rude to stare, especially when they’re not wearing a shirt.”

You blushed and turned back to the sink. “I wasn’t staring,” you said, filling up the glass you’d forgotten was even in your hand. “ I was studying the pool to make sure it’s safe, don’t want the kids to get hurt.”

“Baby,” he said rolling his eyes while the nickname did nothing to help your blushing. “I saw you staring, you’re not as slick as you think you are.” He closed the distance between you, taking the glass out of your hand and turning you around so that your foreheads were touching. “I don’t mind though, as long as it’s you.”

“Okay fine i was staring, can you blame me?” you said wrapping your arms around his neck. He shifted his arms to hook under your legs, deciding to take the hint you jumped as he helped push you onto the counter. Now standing in the space between your legs, his hand gently massaged your thigh.

“I knew it, just can’t get enough of me huh babe?” he said with a smirk. You tugged at the base of his hair causing him to wince.

You scoffed “Keep that ego in check Harrington.” As he opened his mouth to reply, you heard a voice come from behind him. “Hey lovebirds, try not to fuck each other on top of the food.”

Eddie.

“Munson, what the fuck you’re like an hour early?” Steve whined before untangling himself from you, only to turn around and lean back into you instead. Your arms coming up to rest over his shoulders and down his chest instead.

Robin appeared from behind him, “Nancy and Johnathan said they’d bring the gremlins so Eddie and I thought we’d head over early and help you guys prepare but hey, if you guys are busy we can come back later.”

“You know what that’d be great, we were kinda in the middle of somethi-” you slapped his chest before he could finish his sentence. Eddie laughed while Robin’s eyes went wide.

“Stop being so horny all the time Harrington.”

“Watch your mouth Munson.”

A while later Nancy and Johnathan arrived with the kids, who practically bypassed you to jump straight into the pool. You found yourself on a lounger to the side, soaking up the heat as you listened to the chatter around you. You didn’t mind being sat by yourself, it doesn’t feel as lonely as it once did.

Robin and Nancy were off to the left of the pool while El and Max sat on the side above them with their feet submerged, it seemed Robin was updating on how things were going with Vickie and from what you could hear, the answer was well.

Dustin, Lucas, Mike and Will were playing chicken, hand flailing and feet kicking water into the other's face to try and get them to fall. The sound of their laughter warmed you, knowing they were safe and could be kids for at least a day.

Off to the right sat Eddie, Jonathan and Steve. The pool water reflected on his face, his skin kissed by the sun as it became accustomed to the new freckles it seemed it designed specifically for him. It excited you, knowing that later tonight you'd be counting the new ones on his body and connecting them together like a dot-to-dot. Your touch was the only thing that allowed him to sleep, you had to make it fun somehow. Another kind of different that eventually became your new normal.

Hearing your name you opened your eyes and turned to look at the pool to find the voice. Dustin was now at the edge of the pool looking at you, a smile upon his face. “We totally won that fair and square right?!”

Behind him stood an equally enthusiastic Lucas while Will and Mike pouted furiously. You chuckled to yourself before replying, “I certainly didn’t see anything wrong with it.”

The boys erupted into noises of cheering and protesting causing your laugh to grow in volume. “See I knew it! This is why she’s the best-”

“Henderson! You better not be flirting with my girlfriend.” Steve said as he jumped out of the pool to join you on the lounger, “how many times? She’s off limits.”

Dustin simply shrugged and jumped back into the pool while Steve rolled his eyes, failing to hide his grin. He lifted your legs to sit down and placed them on top of his own. His fingers trailed up past your knee as he spoke, “you not gonna join us, sweetheart?”

“I will, I just like watching sometimes.” He frowned slightly, creating the crease between his eyes that you always try to kiss away, “Watching?”

“Yeah, It’s nice you know? Actually feeling like a family without having to worry about them being ripped away from us.”

Steve understood, how could he not? He sat lying away about the same things you did in the night. Waiting for the call that yet another gate had opened or there was a new creature to deal with when all he wanted was to keep you safe. He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers. “I’m not going to let anything be ripped away from us okay? I promise.”

Even if you couldn’t have seen the look in his eyes, you knew he meant it. With every bone in his body, he meant it. “I know,” you pulled your intertwined hands up to your face, placing a gentle kiss upon his, a silent promise that you’d do the same for him, “now go back in the pool, it’s too hot out here.”

You closed your eyes again hoping to go back into the peaceful state you were in beforehand when suddenly you were being lifted from your chair. The party looked round at your squeal to see Steve’s carrying you bridal style as he approached the pool, “Steve Harrington you put me down right now!”

Next thing you knew you were being thrown in the pool. The water surrounded you as you fought against it to find your way to the surface. You ignored the laughs and cheers from around you, instantly making eye contact with Steve and glaring as hard as you could.

“What? You said put me down!”

“You’re so gonna pay for that Harrington.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fanfic

639 notes · View notes

noirsfantasy · 6 months

Text

The Outlaw’s Embrace

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Jonathan Majors as Nat Love x Black!Fem Reader

𝔱𝔶𝔭𝔢 ➛ Smut, semi-fluff

𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 ➛ The Harder They Fall

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛ 2.6K

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ When Nat Love shows up after another one of his travels, you give him the cold shoulder. Although, you know as well as he does that you can’t stay mad at him. Hell, you can barely resist his smile. But you won’t make it easy for him…

The sun hangs low, casting long shadows through the dusty streets of Deadwood as the familiar creak of leather and jingle of spurs announces the arrival of a lone rider. Nat Love, the notorious bounty hunter, guides his horse to a halt in front of a weathered apothecary shop. He dismounts, a confident swagger in his step, and pushes open the creaking door.

Inside the shop, he spots me, my back turned as i carefully measure out herbs. I barely glance at the door towards the visitor. I continue my work, wanting to finish up before I tend to anyone. Nat clears his throat, his eyes fixed on the assortment of dried plants and glass jars that lined the shelves. “Need somethin’, ma’am,” he drawls, a hint of mischief in his voice as he picks up a jar of medicine. My fingers hesitate for just a moment, then resume their task with practiced precision. I know that voice, even after all this time.

Without turning around, I respond curtly, “Can’t help you if you don’t ask.”

He takes a step closer, his presence filling the small space. “Might be I need a little… healin’, Doc.”

I finally turn, my gaze meeting his with a cool detachment. He stands at the counter, towering over me as he watches me. “You might be needin’ more than that, from the looks of you.”

Nat chuckles, the sound warm and familiar. “You still not talkin’ to me?” he asks, his eyes searching mine for any sign of softening. My expression remains steely, my lips forming a thin line.

“I reckon I’ve got nothin’ to say.” I reply, my tone icy. He leans against the wooden counter, studying my face.

“You know, darlin’, you can’t stay mad at me forever.” I meet his gaze with a flash of defiance.

“I’ve not been keepin’ track of time.” The tension between us is palpable, a silent battle of wills that echoed through the apothecary shop. We stand there, locked in a familiar dance of push and pull, the weight of our shared history hanging heavy in the air.

As the moments stretch on, Nat’s gaze softens, a flicker of regret in his eyes.

“Y/n,” he says, his voice gentler now, “I didn’t come here to stir up no trouble. Just… needed to see your face.”

I hold his gaze for a beat longer. I lean in so that our faces are inches apart, then turn away, my hands resuming their work. “Well, you’ve seen it. Now what?”

Nat sighs, a mixture of resignation and longing in his expression. He knows that winning back my trust wouldn’t be easy, but he is willing to try. The wild frontier had a way of bringing people together and tearing them apart, but perhaps this time, they could find a way to bridge the gap that had grown between them.

"You fixin' to make a purchase, Mister? If not, reckon it's time to mosey on." I quipped, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Might be I’m lookin’ for a remedy to deal with a stubborn woman,” Nat shoots back, a playful glint in his eye.

“You’ll need more than a potion for that, cowboy.” I scoff, turning back towards him and crossing my arms. Nat’s eyes stay on me, his eyelids low. His spurs click against the widen floorboards as he makes his way around the counter, closing the distance between us.

“You always did have a mouth on you, Y/n. But you know, a sharp tongue won’t keep me away.” His eyes have a seductive glint in them. I meet his gaze, unyielding.

“Guess we’ll see about that, won’t we?” I retort, tilting my chin up as if to raise a challenge. Nat’s expression turns determined, a challenge accepted.

“You’re just beggin’ for trouble, ain’t you?”

“Trouble’s my middle name, Nat. Don’t you forget it.” I remind him, causing him to quirk his eyebrow. I defiantly do the same, a smirk playing at my lips. The air between us thick with tension as we stare each other down, daring the other to fold. Although, underneath all this bravado, there’s an undeniable chemistry that neither one of us can deny. He is, in fact, right. I can’t stay mad at him forever.

“Well, darlin', if you're gonna give me trouble," Nat grins, "then I reckon I'll just have to show you who's boss."

As the sun dips below the horizon, the last lights of the evening shine across the shop. Nat and I stare each other down, not giving in. After what seems like an eternity of silence, he finally leans in, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that is as fiery and defiant as I am. In that heated moment, I allow myself to be carried away, my bratty facade melting into the raw intensity of our connection.

Nat's hands find their place on my waist, his fingers pressing into my hips as he draws me closer to him. Our kiss is fervent and intense, a clear reflection of the magnetic pull between us. I wrap my arms around his neck, lightly grazing his lower lip with my teeth.

Nat lets out a soft moan against my lips, his hand gliding up my thigh to caress and grip one of my cheeks through my bloomers. Soon, he firmly holds both of my thighs, lifting me up, intensifying the kiss. Our desire is palpable as we move clumsily towards the stairs.

As we reach my room, he playfully throws me onto the bed. His hat lands beside him as he nonchalantly discards his jacket and unbuttons his shirt. Meanwhile, I effortlessly shed my clothes down to my undergarments.

Nat's gaze intensifies as he watches me undress, his heart racing with anticipation. He throws his shirt to the side, unveiling a sculpted chest and defined abs. His bulge is prominent as it strains against the fabric of his jeans. He leans me back into the bed, hastily removing the rest of my clothes as he gazes upon my dripping wetness. He doesn’t waste any time and presses his mouth to my pussy, causing me to gasp with pleasure. His tongue slips between my lips, lapping up all of my juices.

Nat takes his time, licking and slurping at my folds, using his tongue to probe and tease my clit before moving to the entrance of my pussy and thrusting his tongue inside of me. His hand’s grip remains firm on my thighs as I buck into his mouth.

“Oh, sweet Jesus, Nat~” I moan as my fingers knot into his hair. Nat groans into my crotch, loving the way I'm falling apart. He continues to lap at my folds and thrust his tongue deep inside of me, his other hand moving to grope my breast.

"That's it, baby girl. Keep calling my name." With every flick of his tongue, my release builds more and more. Feeling my body tense up beneath him, Nat increases the intensity of his actions. His tongue fucks my pussy relentlessly while his fingers pinch and roll my nipples, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

"I'm gonna make you cum so hard," He remarks as he keeps one hand on my hip to hold me down. I squirm and writhe as the my climax reaches the breaking point. My moans fill the room as I squirt into his mouth, drenching his beard as well.

Nat groans around my swollen clit, his mouth filled with my sweet nectar. The taste of it drives him wild, his cock twitching in anticipation.

"Fuck, you taste amazing," He husks. I pant heavily as I lay back onto the bed, coming down from the high. But he has no intentions to give me the luxury of rest.

Without breaking eye contact, Nat slowly pulls away, his mouth still full of my juices. His eyes stay on me as he pulls down his britches, allowing his hard cock to spring free. He reaches down and grabs hold of his bulging erection, positioning it at my entrance.

“Ready for more, darlin’?” He teases. I bite my lip as I watch Nat stroke himself, his tip pressing against my entrance. My silence earns me a firm smack on my thigh, causing me to yelp in response.

“Where all them words from earlier, lil lady? You ain’t seem to struggle with words none when you had all that sass earlier.” Nat gives me a smug smirk as he sees my change in attitude. I gulp nervously, feeling the heat of his gaze on me. My mind goes blank as I try to think of something to say.

"I... I want you to fuck me." The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. Nat chuckles darkly, his hand moving to grip my thigh roughly.

"That's more like it," Nat grins, his cock now rock hard and leaking precum. He continues to rub his cock between my folds, his tip getting slick with my juices. I whimper softly as the anticipation is killing me. I move my hips towards him, hoping for him to slide inside me. Nat clicks his tongue at me, smirking as he shakes his head. "You seem a mite impatient, don't ya?" He asks, causing me to groan as I grip the sheets.

“Nat, plea-” With a swift motion, Nat slams his cock deep inside me, filling me up instantly. A high pitch gasp emits from my lips as his girth stretches me. He groans loudly, bracing himself against the wall as he begins to pound his hips against mine. I cry out as he fills me so completely, my body aching with need. Nat's rough lovemaking sends shivers down my spine; it's both painful and exhilarating. The headboard bangs against the wall in rhythm with our grunts and moans. It’s as if all this time apart allowed our lust and longing to build and it’s all being released at once.

The more he hammers into me, the louder my moans become. I bite my bottom lip hard, trying to stifle some of the sounds but failing miserably. Nat's hips are like pistons, driving him deeper and harder into me. My body starts to adjust to his size, and I feel myself growing wetter around him. I clutch at his broad shoulders, my nails digging into his skin lightly.

"Fuck, Nat," I pant, "You so big." With a smirk, Nat leans down and captures my lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue dives deep into my mouth, tangling with mine as he goes deeper with each powerful stroke. I cry out, moaning into his mouth as the pleasure builds up inside me, my legs shaking with each movement. Nat's thick cock feels like it's hitting all the right spots, driving me crazy with need and lust. I arch my back against him, meeting his thrusts with my own, our bodies slapping together in a primal dance of desire. The headboard is starting to creak under the force of our passionate lovemaking.

I can feel myself getting closer to the edge, my orgasm building up rapidly. I try to match his pace, meeting each of his thrusts with a sharp gasp or moan.

"Nat," I gasp, "I'm close—!" My legs shake unsteadily as I try to maintain my balance under the onslaught of his passionate lovemaking. I can feel him getting closer, the head of his cock brushing against my sensitive nub with every thrust. He makes his reply by growling lowly as his fingers dig into my hips, thrusting even harder. The pain is dizzying and I find myself tearing at his back with my nails as I don’t hold back my screams. A slew of unintelligible words and whimpers fall from my lips as Nat drags his teeth across my neck, sucking hard on the skin.

“Cum for me, baby," he demands, driving his cock deeper still. And just like that, I'm lost in a whirlwind of pleasure.

“Oh fuck, Nat!" I scream, my body shuddering violently as wave after wave of orgasm washes over me. Nat follows quickly behind, his powerful thrusts becoming erratic as he releases himself deep inside me.

“Unngh...," Nat groans, collapsing onto me. His weight is heavy, but I welcome it, savoring the closeness we share in this moment. Our chests press against each others as we come back down to earth, our heartbeats matching.

As our breathing slowly returns to normal, I nuzzle his neck, my lips brushing against his soft skin.

"Damn, girl," Nat pants, rolling off of me. He wipes his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand and smirks at me. "That sure was a wild ride, sweetheart. Seems like you had a lot bottled up beneath them layers." He teases. I roll my eyes, giggling a bit.

"Well, I reckon I wouldn't have been so bottled up if a certain cowboy hadn't hightailed it outta here." I retort with a sly smile. Nat laughs and pulls me close to him, his muscles cradling me gently. He plants a kiss on my forehead and his hand runs down my side, resting on my ass cheek. He sighs softly, looking at me with low eyelids.

“Y/n, I’m here to stay, I swear on it.” He tells me, giving me a reassuring half smile. I return the smile, wanting to believe him, but deep down I know it ain’t the truth. A man like Nat can never stay too long. I know as well as he does that he’s got unfinished business.

My hand runs up and down his muscled bicep as I enjoy the time I have with him. It’s a cycle with us. Nat Love has to leave to go do what Nat Love does. I stay here, going on with life as I patiently await his return. He comes home eventually like nothing ever happened and it seems like he’ll actually stay this time, but something always comes up. It’s only a matter of time until-

*Knock knock* goes the front door from downstairs. Nat and I both sit up, instinctively reaching for our guns on the nightstand. Nat pulls on his pants and shirt while I put on a night gown that reaches my feet. We slowly make our way down the stairs, guns pointed as the banging at the door comes again. Nat steps in front of me, inching towards the door.

“We closed this time ‘round. Come back in the mornin’!” I call out towards the door.

“Y/n? It’s Bill Pickett, is Nat with you?” He asks through the door. Nat and I lower our guns and he gives me an apologetic look that I already know the meaning of. Nat sighs and opens the door.

"Bill, you sure do have the worst timing known to man." Nat chuckles, half smiling. Bill looks between us, realizing what was going on.

“My apologies, y’all was making sex. I hate to interrupt but you gots ta see this.” I glance at Nat, knowing what’s next. He turns towards me, giving me a sweet, longing kiss, before giving me his signature smile.

“I gotta go see what’s up, Y/n, but I’ll be back before you know it.” He promises, and I smile wryly. He gives me one last kiss on my forehead, before heading out the door, putting his hat on and riding off into the night with Bill Pickett. I know as well as he does that it could be a while before I see him again. But, still, I’ll wait. He has my heart and I know I have his, he will come back. I know it…

#smut #fluff #the harder they fall #nat love #jonathan majors #Jonathan majors smut #Wild West #imagine #western #black reader #black romance #black tumblr #black men #black actors #noirsfantasy

104 notes · View notes