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sweet child o' mine | pt. ii
hi. this is max's lawyer speaking. please don't get mad at her for this part. she asked me to let you know that she loves you all and hopes that you trust her. sincerely, jimmy mcgill
pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader
summary: you're pregnant with joel miller's kid. he's dating someone else. you deal with it.
warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy stuff like nausea (none of the v word, y'all are safe with me), ultrasound scene set in a hospital, anxiety and guilt surrounding pregnancy, description of body change/growth, brief and i mean brief discussion of abortion, joel is dating someone who isn't reader, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), reader has no physical description save for hair, cursing, genderless use of buddy when referring to baby, joel kisses someone who is not his partner, mention of alcohol, disturbing & semi-graphic nightmare about being involved in car accident, reader has a panic attack, discussion of dead parents, fluff and the beginnings of angst
DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there's ever anything you feel i've missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.
word count: 9.2k
pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵
“I know, I know,” Joel holds a palm up, “it’s nine thirty. I know. But I had to lug all this wood over here, and it – You okay?”
You realize when he pauses that you’re gaping at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place behind your front door. Your jaw hinges shut, a gulp like carpet burn down your throat. You didn’t hear a word he just said.
How does he know? He can’t possibly. Did he sense it, from two lawns away? Dream about the binding of cells, the furnace left lit in your body from that night? The embers still floating, just waiting to catch to life again?
Did he do the fucking math, the way you probably should’ve? How does he fucking know?
The minute the question leaves your mouth, you regret it.
Joel’s eyebrows drop. “How did I know what, kid? That you need new closets? Like you ain’t been nipping my ear about ‘em for weeks?”
Your eyes unlock from his and shift to the slats of wood leaning against the balustrade. The toolbox hanging from his fist. The worn jeans and the white dust marks on his thighs. He doesn’t fucking know, you idiot.
Joel steps forward. Takes your wrist. One grounding, steady hand around your thrashing pulse. “You’re freaking me out. What the hell’s –?”
“Nothing,” you chirp, remembering. The closet. The deal. The fucking – the deal. You withdraw your arm. Hidden up your sleeve, quickly slipping out of his grasp, is the news that his life is about to change forever.
Maybe. You don’t fucking know.
“No,” you continue, blinking the burn of sunlight from your vision, “I just – I forgot. Sorry. Come in. Sorry.”
“Quit sayin’ sorry,” he mutters, eyeing you suspiciously. He lifts a foot and hovers it over the threshold, hesitating. Like the first step across a minefield; instinct telling him to tread carefully.
And you swear an oath to yourself, swear it on your own life: if he doesn’t put the heel of his boot in your hallway, if he turns around right now whether because his instinct is razor sharp, or because he forgot his lucky screwdriver, or purely because he needs to take a fucking leak before he gets started – you will never tell him. He will never know.
If his intuition is that good, he’ll turn around and never show up on your porch again. If he has any sense, he’ll forget any of this ever happened. Deal off.
“How’s the stomach?” Joel asks, sole still three inches from wood.
“What?” you bleat, your heel knocking against the bottom stair. It’s a little more panicked than you intended.
“Yesterday,” a crease forms between his brows, “you said you had a weird stomach. That any better?”
Oh, you think, and as you open your mouth to reply, his foot hits the ground. No answer needed. He was coming in whether you tried to deter him or not.
“Oh, yeah. It’s – Well, it’s better than it was. I think I worked it out,” you grimace, tongue curling under the tinge of anxiety and – well. “Thanks,” you add, noticing the brisk cut of your replies.
The heavy thud of his footsteps follows you upstairs, blunt on the carpet as you lead him up. Joel sets the toolbox down and casts your room a quick glance, snapping back to you as soon as you notice him.
You tug on the corner of the bedsheets, a heat bubbling beneath your cheeks. Something shy and self-conscious, all of a sudden. The reality that you don’t feel close enough to this man to share the anatomy of your room with him, mixed with the knowledge that the two of you are, now and forever, bound by the anatomy of something a little more significant than dirty laundry and dusty wardrobes.
A little closer than most humans get, let’s say.
“You want a coffee or something?” you ask, crossing your arms and leaning back against the window sill.
“You havin’ one?”
“Sure. Wait – actually –” Can you have coffee whilst pregnant? A woman at work quit it altogether when she fell pregnant with her son. Fuck. “I’m – No. I’m good. But let me go make you one.”
Joel shakes his head, amused. Screwdriver burrowing into a door hinge already. He flashes you a tickled grin. “I’m good just now, kid. Wait until you’re makin’ one. Thanks.”
You lift a shoulder. “Welcome.”
His eyes flit from the twist of silver to your hunched shoulders, your arms crossed protectively over your chest. “You gonna stand there ‘n watch me all day? You my foreman now?”
“Sure,” you reply, and he laughs. You sniff, twisting your foot into the carpet. The plastic test itches against your skin; you can feel the two lines ripping into your wrist like tiny burns. “I can go, if you want.”
His lip turns, musing. A quick flick of his jaw. “You’re good company, all in all.”
Metal clanking against metal; fingers knuckle-deep in the toolbox. You can hear the harsh sound across your body, like the point of screws and bite of rust are actually scoring your skin. The groan of a near-fifty-year-old man rising to rip a decades-old door from its home. The creak of wood as it splits.
Everything so heightened that it’s actually painful.
Joel straightens up and pauses, turning his screwdriver between his fingers. “Are we –? We’re good, right?”
“Good?”
“Yeah. You’d tell me if things were weird?”
“Why would things be weird?”
His answer scrawls itself across his face. Your response scoffs from your lips.
“I just,” Joel sighs, “I feel like something might be off with ya. Maybe you just ain’t feelin’ too hot. But you’re quiet.”
“Quiet,” you whisper, palms locking heavily against your biceps. More defensive than convincing.
“Yeah. You usually annoy the hell outta me.”
Over your shoulder, Alice Brown waddles down her driveway, eyeing her flowerbeds. She pauses when Diane’s station wagon pulls up across the street; stands motionless as she watches the round figure climb out and totter to her own front door.
“Just – not in a very annoying mood, I guess,” you offer, staring at the white head of hair fluttering in the breeze. The glint of a trowel in her hand.
Joel’s chin lifts. He studies you, tongue tracing the ridges of his teeth. And then he’s nearing you, turning until you’re shoulder to shoulder, two silhouettes stood against the bright square of blue sky inside your window frame. His arms crossed; his stare fixed.
The words begin to boil in your stomach. Violent bubbles against the wall of your midriff. Rising like steam, fading into nothingness over your tongue, the sting of heat where your voice won’t collect them.
Joel moves from foot to foot. It feels like some kind of merry dance, some choreographed moment between you – like a skit in a comedy show. I know something you don’t know.
“What happened – at the wedding,” he murmurs, addressing the polished gold of your bedframe.
Some small sound passes your lips. An affirmative. You’re on the same page.
“We didn’t use – you know. And with you not feelin’ well, it’s…” A deep breath. Chest full of a ghostly bravery. And then he asks, “Are you –?”
Silence swallows the end of his question whole. You didn’t need it, anyway. The stiffness of his frame, his stare shooting straight ahead. The lack of oxygen between you – both holding your breath for fear that something might tear loose from your lungs. He knows. He knows he knows he knows.
You gulp. “…If I was?”
His head cranes upwards, focusing on the cracked plaster of your ceiling. The realization slowly trickling down over his skin. It hasn’t seeped through, hasn’t bled into his brain yet. “Then,” another breath, “then it’d be a conversation…” His voice is halved, split somewhere between knowing and – what is it? Hoping?
Your eyes slip over to the worn sleeve of his T-shirt, stretched around the swell of his bicep; scaling up to his shoulder, the tight set of his jaw. He’s so much taller, he’s so much older. There’s so much life lived and so many lessons learned behind his eyes that you wonder how much the news I’m pregnant would actually crack him.
Your eyes meet. You whisper, “Then – talk,” and his expression softens.
He blinks away whatever’s left of his trying, his polite attempts to skirt around it. He sheds probably a good three decades – turns back into some doe-eyed boy, wonderstruck and terrified. His voice is quiet, and at the same time, the heaviest with emotion you’ve ever heard it. “Are you?” he asks, and immediately, he blurs behind a wall of tears.
Your sentence gets caught in your teeth. It made no sense to begin with. Tangled between your molars, latching at the back of your tongue. Your hand slowly pulls free from your sleeve, the little white test between your fingers.
Joel’s eyes instantly drop, staring at the pale stick with a fraught expression you understand to mean the message has finally reached his brain. The same words now ringing between his ears: She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. I got her pregnant.
You hold the test out, quivering in the daylight. He takes it in his thumbs, instantly soothing its tremble. Everything muted, every movement steady and considered. And suddenly the sight of that positive test feels less scary, in his hands. Feels like a smaller problem, if that were ever possible.
And he says nothing, and it’s almost unbearable to watch the shape of his lips thin, the shadow beneath his brows darken. Agonizing to stand here and wonder what the next words over his tongue will be.
He stares at it a moment longer. You count the beats of your pulse in your throat. You wrap your arms tighter around your body, holding your skeleton together.
Joel’s lips part. Your breath freezes. Whatever he says, you don’t want to miss a syllable.
“Are you –” he blinks, “– are you feelin’ okay?”
You stare blankly. His eyes finally lift.
“What?”
“Are you feeling okay?”
Your head jerks. “I’m – I’m fine. I mean, I’m fucking shocked.”
He nods. “How long have you known?”
“Took that right before you showed up,” you say, eyes diving to his hands. “Twenty minutes, maybe.”
He’s still switching between you and the test. Checking those two lines are still there, as if they might fade to nothing, and then checking you’re still there – as if you might, too. Might be swept off if he’s not keeping an eye on you.
His face pales. He sinks back against the window ledge. “Jesus,” he breathes, a hand down the scruff of his chin.
And it feels like relief, like a mirror sat before you, presenting the honest truth: you’re fucked, and Joel thinks so, too. It embeds the shock into the cushion of your brain, the weight of it absorbed and laid bare for every particle in your body to pay it a visit. What the fuck do we do now?
“Yeah,” you sniff, “Jesus.”
But then his arm wraps around your shoulder, reminding you you’re still solid. Still whole. He holds you to his side, and when you turn into him, he takes you in the other and pulls you flat against his chest. His lips to your hair. His breathing slowing yours.
“We’re gonna work it out,” he says into your hair. “We’re gonna – Jesus, I did not expect…We are goin’ to be fine, alright? You are goin’ to be fine.”
You’re nodding, the prickle of tears flooding across your eyes again. They’re doing nothing, his words – blunt against your skin and insignificant to the fear swelling around your heart – but it feels better to be afraid with someone. Feels better to hold onto something stronger, something bigger, while you feel yourself beginning to shrink.
“What do we do?” you ask into his shirt.
Joel loosens his grip, pulls away until you’re staring at one another. “What do you wanna do?”
“I don’t…” Your head’s shaking, lips moving quicker than your voice will offer the words over. “I don’t think I want to get rid of it.”
He nods, a hand coming up to hold your cheek. “Alright. Then you don’t have to. You don’t gotta do anythin’ you’re not comfortable with.”
“But,” you sniff, guiltily averting his gaze, “this fucks everything up. Everything’s about to change.”
Joel takes a long, slow breath. “It complicates some things, that’s for sure.” He looks out to the street; Alice Brown now hauling weeds from the edge of her lawn. In his exhale, he breathes a name.
“V…What?”
He looks down. Eyes dance around your damp cheeks. “Vanessa,” he says, clearer now.
“Vanessa?”
A nod. His nose wriggles with an awkward sniff. You push off from his chest.
“Who the hell is Vanessa?”
Joel lets you go; lets you step back. He watches as you brace yourself against the ledge. Runs a hand through his hair while he fixes the right order of words. He’s thinking. Carefully.
Too fucking carefully. He’s taking too long.
“Joel. Who’s Vanessa?”
“She’s…” He sighs. “She’s my ex. From Tommy’s wedding. Vanessa Hart.”
Your jaw slackens. The purple dress. The hair like silk, a halo around her head where the light kissed her perfectly. Her plump lips; the way her head tipped back to laugh. The amount of air you felt her take up the second you laid eyes on her, the second you saw her, arm on top of Joel’s.
“Vanessa,” you whisper, your eyes descending his frame. The memory feels menacing now: her sweet giggle a sneering cackle, and you’ve no idea why. The bulky jewels around her neck, her clawed fingers on his arm.
Joel’s hand sits inches from yours on the wooden sill. Alice is walking back inside.
“We, uh…we swapped numbers the morning after the wedding, at breakfast. I didn’t think much of it, but we’ve seen each other a couple times since.”
This isn’t the time for another it’s a date, it’s not a date argument. What the fuck does he mean by –
“Seen each other?”
“Mhm.” He owes you better than that. He reckons so, too. “Dates,” he clarifies. “We’ve been on a couple dates.”
“Oh.”
Your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. Plummets, dragging with it your breath and your nerve and any other words you can think of. Your chest gnaws at the edges of the cavity left behind. It hurts. It stings.
Though you’ve no right for it to hurt or sting: as far as you were concerned, as far as you think Joel was concerned, that night was a one-off. It meant as little as the alcohol draining from your glasses, the vacant buzz of love and hope loose in the air. Equally as intoxicating as each other.
Cataclysmic, for the first little while. So heavily awkward that you would wait to watch Joel head out in the morning, clear of your path, before you’d set off for work. It felt like the aftermath of some natural disaster – the cleanup of debris and mistake.
But oh, it feels like a punch to the gut. Low, unexpected; a foul move by someone who never meant to hurt or not hurt you. Someone ignorant to every move he made, right up to this moment.
Your arms wrap around your body again, as though tending to the bruise left by the sucker punch shaped something like that tall woman named Vanessa.
Joel scratches the back of his neck. “We were…we were seein’ about starting things up again. Me ‘n her.”
“Yeah,” you nod, “I got you. That’s – I mean, I’m – I’m sorry, Joel, I –”
“Woah, woah,” he’s stepping forward now, “hey, no. No way. This wasn’t you. Well, shoot – it kinda was you. But it was just as much me, right?”
You smile, your face back in the safe hold of his hands. Tears roll down your cheeks, collecting in the corners of your mouth. His thumbs swipe them away.
“This was just as much me,” he repeats, voice soft and soothing.
“But, you know – if you wanted to – just ‘cause I don’t want to get – so if you didn’t wanna have to – that’d be okay, you know that, right?”
His head snaps back, brows low. It’s the first time he looks like his cool has broken all morning. It’s the first time he looks…downright offended. “Are you kidding me?” he asks, and then, “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“I just – I know this ain’t ideal. It’s even worse if you’re tryna make it work with Vanessa. So if you felt like it was too much, then…”
Joel shakes his head. “Shut up,” he says, edged with some kind of groan. “Stop talking, right now. Stop. You gotta take a deep breath, alright? I’m here, ‘n I mean I’m here. We’re in this together. I am not running out on you.”
“Joel –”
What was a mere crack in his cool before, rips through it now like lightning spreading across the sky. He closes his eyes, a sigh escaping between his teeth. “If you think I would leave you right now, to deal with this on your own –”
“I don’t,” you tell him, his vexation powering your sudden animation. You wipe your tears away, shaking your head. “I’m just saying, it’s a fucking lot. I don’t want you to feel trapped. I’m giving you an out, man.”
“I am not interested in taking it. Enough. Conversation over.”
“And what about Vanessa?”
“What about her?” he asks, the question dripping in something akin to anger. He catches himself, draws it back in. “She’ll just – We’ll talk, I’ll explain it. The hell else can we do? One thing at a time, okay?”
“Right,” you nod, “okay. One thing at a time.”
“Let’s just build these damn wardrobes. I sure as hell didn’t lug all that timber over here to not do ‘em.”
“Okay,” you repeat, making for the door.
“Ah.” He clicks, and you turn back. “Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?”
“To get the timber.”
“I don’t think so,” he says, pointing to your bed. “Sit down. Relax. You ain’t getting a damn thing.”
Joel calls it a day at six o’clock.
The skeleton of the closet is up: a smooth, tan frame lining one wall of your room. Much bigger, much sturdier than its predecessor.
You’re in the same spot he left you in: lying across your bed, admiring his handiwork. He’s good at what he does. You told him twice, and the two of you almost heaved both times. Compliments aren’t something you’re used to handing one another.
He left, maybe, three hours ago. Said he had to shower; said he’d be back first thing to finish the job. You sat up to see him out, got struck by a wave of nausea so bad that you fell back to the bed with one hand on your stomach and the other over your lips, and Joel had insisted – demanded – that you stay where you were.
I’ll be back later to check on ya, he assured, setting a glass of water at your bedside. And then he told you to call him if you felt even remotely off – sick, or panicked, or had a tickle in your throat that you couldn’t clear – and that’s when the two of you realized that you don’t even have one another’s numbers.
And you laughed, the both of you; laughed at the absurdity of you carrying his child when you don’t even carry his contact details in your phone. Laughed at how quickly everything has turned one hundred and eighty degrees in the few hours since you woke up. It felt like some form of release, the only way to clear the blockage of tension in both your throats. So, you laughed, until you felt sick again, and Joel swept the hair from your shoulders to cool you down.
The attentiveness is…new. It’s interesting. It’s kind, in the same way that being told to say hi to whoever your grandma is talking to in the grocery store, is kind. Sweet, the same way that answering the door on Halloween to a bunch of kids you don’t know from a street you don’t recognize the name of, is sweet.
Whatever. It’s fucking weird, alright?
You’ve never seen this side of Joel. You didn’t know or even think, in your wildest dreams, that he existed. Let’s face it: you two have spent the entirety of your inhabitance next door to one another, antagonizing each other. Your favorite hobby has always been pissing Joel off – teasing him for having backache, seeing how far down his porch you can launch his newspaper and he’ll still go get it. Playing the same kind of music you heard him playing on his guitar that one time, full-volume from your kitchen window just to fuck with him.
And, likewise: his favorite hobby has always been…well, ignoring you. Doing everything he can not to engage. If it weren’t for that fucking cat lady and her jittery green Chevrolet, none of this would’ve ever happened. She was a catalyst where one was neither needed nor wanted. You would’ve gone about your life, pinning your underwear only slightly more carefully to your clothesline, and Joel would’ve gone about his, doing – whatever the fuck he does.
Sure, it’s weird. But it’s nice. It’s nice to have him on your side, turning to check on you rather than snap at you for something. Nice to have him talk – actual, rounded words in place of grumbles and mumbles and groans and sighs. Nice to hang out with him and watch him work and ask questions about screws and power tools and pretend to be interested just to distract from the weight of queasiness in your stomach.
Your hands trail down, cupping around your navel. Your stomach still feels like your stomach: still soft, still spongey under your touch. If not for the two more tests you’d taken this afternoon, perched on the bathroom counter waiting for Joel to unstick his gaze from his watch and announce, That’s three minutes – both also positive, by the way – you’d have no fucking clue.
You hold the bottom half of your tummy, fingers rubbing gently over the skin that will soon enough grow and swell and protect.
“Hey,” you whisper, staring at the stationary ceiling fan overhead. A pause. An awkward inhale. “…hey, little buddy. I don’t – know you very well, yet. I figure you can’t even fucking hear me, but whatever. Just wanted to say hi. I’m – Ew, no. I’m not Mom, yet. What the fuck. I don’t know who I am right now, so just…maybe go easy on me until I figure that part out. And after, too. Alright? Are we…we cool?
“You can’t tell me, I know. I just have to assume we’re cool. Okay. Well. Keep growin’. Keep…doing your thing. You’re doing great. We’re doing – we’re doing alright.
“Good job, kid. Good job.”
Joel tells Vanessa two days later. She takes it…about as well as you might hope.
He says they talked for four hours. Three cups of coffee and a drive to Taco Bell later, she agreed to meet you. Properly. Not across the cluttered dancefloor of Tommy’s wedding.
She –? Is – is that a good idea?
I don’t know, kid. It’s the best I’ve got.
Meet me? Like, come kick my ass for sleeping with her boyfriend?
Joel had sighed and deadened his eyes on yours. Not her boyfriend, he corrected, passing you a sweater folded a little slapdash for your liking, and wasn’t her boyfriend when we slept together.
You shook the sweater straight again and fixed his work, muttering to yourself that at least he’s a better builder than he is a folder.
Joel heard you, and let it go. Passed you another – unfolded – sweater to sit in your wardrobe. Let’s just see how it goes, alright?
Alright.
We’re really trying this again. It’s only been a couple weeks.
Okay.
And neither of us have had much luck in that department since we broke it off, y’know?
Joel. I said okay.
He held your gaze a moment too long. Okay.
You’re on your porch when he strolls over, wrist blocking the six o’clock sun from his eyes. Newspaper in his fist, wind licking the corners. “Forget somethin’ today?” he asks, meeting you at the top of the steps.
“Came out to get it,” you brace yourself on the railing, “felt sick. This is me workin’ up to it.”
“You want me to toss it back onto my lawn so you can go fetch me it?”
You smile, eyes screwing shut. “Was coming over to ask what time for tomorrow.”
The reminder snaps him from his happy daydream. He says, “I was comin’ to ask you the same thing. Seven work?”
“Seven’s good. Are we getting food?”
“You wanna get food? I figured maybe you wouldn’t be up for it, what with the, uh…” Joel gestures to your hunched position, your head low between your shoulders, your deep, deliberate breaths.
“Maybe just drinks,” you utter, gulping back the sharp taste of bile.
He nods. “Drinks it is. You okay? You need anything?”
“I’m good. Thanks. See you guys at seven.”
Four minutes early, there’s a knock at your door. You pull it open, and there they are. Picture-perfect, like they might be posing for a holiday card. A bottle in his arm, a bunch of flowers in hers. A timid but genial smile between her cheeks, a twinkle in her eye. That same circle of shining light around her head, brunette tresses curled into bouncing waves.
“Howdy,” Joel says, stepping into the space you create. He dips his head, kisses your cheek, whispers a brief, Y’okay? in your ear. You nod quickly, gently shifting him out of the way.
Vanessa lingers for a moment in the doorway. She glances from Joel to you again, blinking in the porch light. Her pale skin lit in an ethereal glow. She’s prettier up close.
Joel addresses you, hand brushing the small of your back, “…this is Vanessa.”
“Hi,” she says, and pushes the flowers towards you – a small bouquet of gypsophila and eucalyptus. Bright, polite. Each sprig laden with the burden of appearing simpatico, but important. Meaningful, in the airiest sense of the word. “Hi,” again.
“Hi,” you echo, and then feel stupid for having nothing more to offer. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, hot on your shoulder.
But Vanessa takes the weight from your chest. “It’s nice to meet you – officially. I saw you at Tommy and Maria’s wedding. You looked so beautiful.”
“Thanks,” springs from your tongue sooner than the rest of the sentence. Your brain scrams to find more words. “You looked – you looked great, too. Do you wanna –? I mean – Sorry. Come in. Obviously.”
She clicks over the threshold, her pale dress floating into your hallway like she’s part of a dream. She’s just as beautiful in this light, relaxed form – pastel blue and the glimmer of golden jewelry – as she was in the sleeker, more dramatic form you saw her in before. An aura about her which captures and tends to your attention. Intense, captivating, but not intimidating.
You usher them to the living room, offer them a space on the couch while you take Vanessa’s flowers to the kitchen. Joel follows you through, sets the bottle on the counter.
“Nonalcoholic,” he says, unscrewing the cap.
Your eyebrows jump. “Great. Thanks.”
“She’s nervous,” he murmurs, leaning in. “I know you are, too. Y’all are similar like that.”
You slot the stems into a vase of water one by one, carefully organizing a display. “She seems sweet,” you assure him. “She shouldn’t be nervous.”
“Neither should you.”
“Is this…totally weird for you?”
Joel breathes in deep, filling three glasses. “Yeah,” he says, eyes never lifting from the sparkling peach.
“Sorry.”
He angles his jaw. “Stop sayin’ you're sorry. I’ll kick your ass.”
Your head drops between your shoulders, eyes lifting only to his elbows. “Sorry.”
He scoffs, swiping the glasses and stepping back to let you out first.
“I’m trying not to make it weird,” you offer, slipping by.
“I don’t want you to try anything.” He kicks your ankle lightly and follows you back into the living room.
Vanessa sits forward and clasps her hands around her knee when you sit back down, shifting as though to reach for you before she stops herself. “How are you feeling? Joel said you’re a little…worse for wear, right now.”
“I’ve been better,” you say, smiling. “Just morning sickness. Which lasts – all day.”
She nods sympathetically. “My sister had it rough with her first. I actually…” She twists around, reaches for her purse, fishes out an orange packet. “I brought you some ginger tea. Kate told me it helped her a lot, so.”
She holds it out in almost trembling fingers. Likewise, you steady yours to take it from her, thanking her with a shy nod of the head. “That’s so kind,” you reply quietly, eyes darting to Joel. He’s staring at the pack in your hands, watching as you turn it over to read the back.
“And – listen,” Vanessa continues, the acceptance of her offering clearly fueling her assuredness, “I don’t want anything to be weird – between you and I, between you and Joel. I know this situation is…new. It’s, um…”
“It’s kinda weird,” you say, humoring. “It’s okay. I know.”
She breathes a relieved laugh. “It is. Thank God you said it.” She glances back at Joel, who smiles at her, slips his hand onto her knee. “But I guess,” a deep breath, “I guess it is what it is. And we’re all adults, you know? We can make it work, right?”
Your head switches rapidly between nodding enthusiastically and shaking enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yes. No, absolutely. And, you know, me and Joel – there isn’t – we’re not at all…”
“Oh,” she bats the idea away, “I know. I know that. He told me everything. It’s – You know, it’s just a timing thing.”
Joel’s staring down at his hand locked around her leg. Unblinking. Unmoving. His expression doesn’t shift until the two of you settle back into your seats; until Vanessa asks if he’d mind making you a cup of ginger tea.
You barely notice his absence, the way she takes you up in conversation. Like twirling you off in some kind of dance, each sentence strung safely to the next. There are no lulls, no awkward pauses. She asks about work, asks about your family. She tells you stories about her niece, who’s three now, and compares how you’re feeling to how she remembers her sister feeling.
Then her work, and the IT guy her friend hooked up with, and her class at the gym which she’s trying to convince Joel to come along to, and Kate’s hot yoga class every Thursday night, and the new sushi place which just opened downtown and You gotta try it some day; the nigiri is divine.
And you nod along, and you laugh at her anecdotes and tell your own, and Joel tells her to tell you about the jazz band who were playing at the restaurant they visited a couple weeks ago, and you offer to top her drink up and she says she’ll do it herself and she leaves you and Joel alone for the first time all evening, and – it’s weird.
Because – behind the veil of conversation you’re doing your best to uphold, sits an image of this very night – only, in Joel’s house. In Joel’s house, on Joel’s couch, drinking nonalcoholic wine with Joel’s brother. Joel and Vanessa leant against one another on one couch, Tommy and Maria on the other.
You can’t help it – you’re wondering what Maria thinks of Vanessa. How long they knew each other, if at all, before the breakup. Whether they hung out, whether they discussed sushi and yoga, or the housing market, or their Miller boyfriends and their annoying Miller habits.
Maria would’ve liked her, you think. Would’ve found her as lovely as you do. And the idea, the image of them giggling together at family parties and being Tommy’s Maria and Joel’s Vanessa – presses a firm, bullying finger into the bruise you thought had faded some from the other day.
And once they’re gone, once you’re left alone again – lying in still silence, closed in on yourself by the thick darkness of your room, nothing but you and your thoughts and your unborn child for company – it slips out.
“Fuck her, right?” You hold your hands out, addressing your stomach. “She was so fucking nice. Did you like her? Fuck me, I liked her. I hope they break up.”
And then, realizing who you’re talking to: “No. Sorry, baby, no. I don’t hope they break up. I want your dad to be really happy. But – Goddamn. She was so sweet. I thought she was gonna slap me, and she just – she brought ginger tea! Fuck. They look good together, don’t they?”
It’s just hormones. Just the emotional trip that is being four weeks pregnant. Everybody feels like this when they fall pregnant – sensitive, vulnerable, clingy. Right? Right?
Your words sit stagnant in midair. You swear you can see them, heavy and intruding. Awkwardly lingering someplace they don’t belong. Because none of it even matters – the hormones, the emotions. The weird knot burning a hole in your chest, shaped like a clenched fist, knuckles branded by the heat of longing. It can’t matter.
You’re where you are, he’s where he is. A pillow in your arm, Vanessa in his. Feet apart, bricks and mortar and something like twenty years and two dates too late separating you.
Both staring up at the ceiling, wondering who the other’s thinking of.
“At eight weeks, your baby is roughly the size of a raspberry.”
Your knee bounces, breath coming and going in shaky ripples. The rubber sole of your shoe cries against the sterilized hospital floor. Your chest hums anxiously and your throat catches when you swallow and are the lights too bright? The room too hot? You’re sweating. Why are you sweating? Can you breathe right now?
Joel nudges your arm and your eyes roll to the pamphlet in his hand, his finger tracing the words. “C’mon,” he utters, leaning in, “how can anything the size of a raspberry be scary?”
You squint under fluorescent white. “A raspberry that grows into the size of a watermelon, can break my ribs, make me throw up, make me lose hair, and then tear my vagina apart on its way out? That’s pretty scary.”
He smirks. “Not to me it ain’t. My vagina stays perfectly intact the entire time.”
“Oh, fuck off,” you reply, whacking him.
He laughs, swatting your palm away, keeping ahold of your fingers inside his own. “Speaking of – we gotta talk.” He elbows you, waiting until you’re looking again to speak. “We gotta cut the language.”
“Cut the language?”
“Uhuh. Rein it in. And by we, I mean you.”
“Uh,” you scoff, “I don’t think so. When you do the growing, then you can rein your own swearing in. Leave me alone, asshole.”
“Charming,” Joel says. “You know the baby can hear you? You want it to come out swearin’ like a trooper?”
You grin, tipping your head to him. “If it comes out and says anything, we’re rich. So – yeah. Let it.”
He opens his mouth to reply when a nurse emerges from a nearby room and calls your name.
“You’re up, kid,” Joel says, standing beside you.
You turn back, speaking before your brain settles on words. “I’m scared.”
“Hey,” he says, taking your hand. He squeezes it gently, uses the other to keep you facing him. “This is the easy part, right? We’re just going to meet them.”
“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, and wander over to meet the nurse. Joel’s hand a vice grip around yours.
She leads you into a similarly washed-out clinic room, only slightly dimmer with the lights turned out, and yanks a roll of paper across the bed. Tapping it twice, she smiles. “Hop up, darlin’.”
You settle into the crinkly paper, leaning back until you’re blinking up at the speckled ceiling. Another door opens and a woman in a white coat floats in, and you swear that if it weren’t for Joel’s Evenin’, ma’am when she greets the two of you, you’d believe she were a figment of your imagination. Another character in this fucking insane dream.
“Not often I do these past five o’clock,” she says, clicking her mouse and typing on her keyboard and fixing a hair grip back into her bun. Casual. It’s not even a thing to her, introducing parents and children. She does this all fucking day.
Joel tosses half a glance to you and then realizes you’re not currently in the room. He pinches your hand again. It grounds you for all of two seconds.
“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat, “work commitment. I couldn’t get away any earlier, so we’re havin’ to do this a little late.”
“What do you do?” she asks, staring at her screen. Her glossy brown eyes and rich, dark skin.
“I’m a contractor,” Joel replies, thumb stroking your shoulder.
Something bubbles in your stomach, something akin to jealousy, an urgency to tell her that right now, in this room, he’s mine. No more questions. Something which quickly dissipates when you remind yourself to quit being fucking ridiculous and that right now, in this room, he’s someone else’s, and the thumb on your shoulder is merely to hold you back from fleeing. Nothing more.
The sonographer nods. Her name badge reads Freya. Pretty name. Stop picturing what your kid would look like as a Freya. You are not naming them after the first sonographer you meet.
“Shouldn’t be too long, then y’all can get home for the night. You live nearby?”
“Twenty minutes’ drive. Not far, are we?” Joel asks you.
Your eyes shoot down to his. “No,” you push your cheeks up, telling Freya, “not far.”
She flattens her lips against one another, lending you a sympathetic smile. “You got nothing to worry about, honey. Promise. Gel might be a little cold, that’s about as scary as this gets. We’re just gonna make sure everything’s looking good, check your dates, check your measurements. You’re doing great.”
“You hear that?” Joel murmurs, settling down into the chair by your side. His hand hasn’t left yours. His voice is low, meant just for you, when he repeats, “You’re doin’ great.”
You huff a laugh, some nervous release from your lungs.
Freya smiles, face lit by the faint glow of the screen in front of her. “We ready?”
You roll the hem of your tee up when she motions, bunching it under the wire of your bra. She squeezes a bottle over your stomach, which tenses solid when the frozen bite of gel curls right below your belly button. Freya smiles apologetically when you wince. Told you, she murmurs, and your breath escapes in a slightly more comfortable laugh. Lighter, easier. Scariest part over.
She presses the probe to your skin and spreads the gel, coating the bottom of your tummy in a slippery slick which tickles with each inch she covers. Two buttons pressed, and a dark image appears on a screen opposite you.
A gray fan, speckled like the ceiling above your head. Dark, black shapes growing and shrinking at the turn of Freya’s wrist. She pauses, two blobs onscreen: the larger, black, round, home to a smaller, misshapen one. Flecked with white and silver and moving slowly, gently, but – right there.
“Mom, Dad,” she grins, “meet your baby.”
You and Joel move forward at the same time, drawn closer to the crunchy image as if by some kind of natural magnetism. Eyes never blinking, lips agape. The shapes flutter, the smaller dipping in and out of view.
“You see right here, right in the center?” A white cross appears over the blob’s middle. “That little movement? The kinda – pulsing?”
You each nod. Your nails dig so deep into Joel’s hand that you risk drawing blood.
“That’s the heart. Ticking away.”
“The heart?” you ask, watching the rhythmic flicker in the center of the screen.
“Yep. Perfect, too.”
She hits another key and suddenly the room is filled with a muffled thudding; a steady, energetic pulse in your ears. It matches the movements onscreen, the tiny throb of the baby’s chest, the shape of your womb moving like waves before you.
And suddenly, it's real – all of it: the screen and the room and the sonographer and you, and Joel’s hand encasing yours, holding your knuckles to his lips, and –
And the heartbeat. Right there, right in front of you. Shy, probably as nervous as you are to introduce themselves. Feeling your eyes on them, curled up somewhere safe inside you. Right there.
You turn to Joel, and his illuminated face is staring straight at the screen. Eyes soaked with tears, blinking as they form, cheeks dappled with wet. He draws his eyes from his child only to look back at you, only to mirror your stunned smile, your disbelieving laugh, more tears dripping down into his beard. He sits up, presses his damp lips firmly to your forehead.
Freya mutes the heartbeat, pauses the scan where the image is clearest, and sits back. “I’ll give you guys a moment to yourselves,” she says, wheeling back in her chair. “Take all the time you need. I’m right outside.”
“Thanks,” Joel mumbles for the both of you, sweeping hair from your face.
The door closes on your little bubble – you, Joel, and the grainy image of your baby. The evidence that – yeah, that night happened, and yeah, you’re forever changed because of it. The evidence that you’re about to become a mom, for real, no matter how much the thought makes you feel like your stomach is kicking around at your ankles.
And the evidence that, no matter how scared you might be, how unprepared and unworthy you feel – you fucking adore that little blob already.
Love it as much as Joel does, stood over you, kissing your hair and whispering words you’re only half-listening to. A quiet thank you, a shaky I can’t believe it. Something about showing his brother. And when you look up at him, blinking at one another, inches apart – he takes your jaw in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.
Different. Softer. No want laced through. No urgency. Nothing needed, nor requested, that isn’t already right here in this little bubble of yours.
He kisses you slowly, eyes closed, holding you until you pull away for breath. His nose bumps against yours and you laugh, heads together, eyes low.
“Still scared?” he whispers.
“Terrified,” you tell him.
“Me, too,” he says, and kisses you again.
You lean back against the bed, relief settling your bones and soothing your heartbeat. The notion washes over you that, if you could, you’d stay in this room forever. Staring at the screen, holding Joel’s hand. Whispering fears into his mouth and letting him swallow them in a kiss.
He hands you some paper towel and helps you drag it across your stomach, your eyes still fixed on the little shape opposite. He hooks his chin over your head – the fresh, woody smell of his cologne infiltrating your lungs and throwing you under the haze of something you’re not quite sure how to define.
“Duck,” he says, voice vibrating into your skull.
“Huh?”
“Start saying duck. Make the baby think we’re saying that, then you can say –” he lowers his voice, “– fuck, all you want.”
“The hell would I have to say duck for?”
Joel stands upright and shrugs. “I don’t know. Think of somethin’. A nickname, maybe.”
“Duck?”
He nods plainly, glancing over to the screen.
The pillow beneath your head sighs as you turn from Joel back to the ultrasound. “Baby Duck,” you offer, and he smiles.
Smiles in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile. Eyes glistening, cheeks swollen. Something innocent and earnest about it. Something pure.
He agrees. “Baby Duck it is.”
Joel insists that you spend the night at his place.
“It’s been a big day,” he reasons, fixing the bed in his guestroom. “Just – let me run around after you for a little bit.”
You fight your corner as much as you can be bothered – I gotta maintain my independence, I’m gonna be a single mom soon enough, you know – but, truthfully, you’ll take any excuse to have him rush around at your beck and call. Some days you open your mouth and he hears the wet click of saliva between your lips, and grabs a glass of water for you before you’ve even voiced the request.
He orders takeout, settles shoulder-to-shoulder with you on the couch, and lets you pick whichever movie you feel like putting him through until the food’s gone, he’s out of beer, and you’ve abandoned Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles for an argument about the best part of pizza.
You don’t like the crust?
Nope.
What fuckin’ age are you?
If it ain’t stuffed, it’s just not worth it.
At eleven, you bid him goodnight and wander upstairs, falling into a sea of navy-blue sheets to be delivered to sleep by the serene silence of Joel’s home. It takes no time for your eyes to flutter closed, the soft sheen of moonlight painted across the wall, sweeping from your view to be replaced in a whir by –
Lights. Overhead and all around and so bright and so close that you swear they’re etched on the inside of your eyelids.
You’re in the backseat, watching them soar by in blurs of white and red and amber and green, and your pulse is rattling through your veins and throbbing between your temples and you can’t focus on any one object for longer than three seconds, before your eyes roll and your head dizzies.
A word, slung from your lips in a half-wakened attempt to stop it. A word you barely recognize at first, don’t understand the meaning of. It’s been years. Why now? Mom.
You’re not sure why, or who you’re even reaching out to. There are two figures in the front seats, heads facing forward. She’s not turning around. She’s not even fucking moving, not reacting to the speed or the lights or your voice. Mom.
You scream it, the syllable ripping violently from your throat, and your tiny fingers reach for her swirls of hair. You pause, staring at the chipped polish on your stubby, kiddy nails. Mom, I’m scared.
The distorted blast of a horn scoops the car up in one motion, hurtling over itself along the freeway. You’re thrown to the roof of the car, plummet back down to your seat; the seatbelt throttles you, rips a burn deep into the skin of your neck. Back up again; your head hits the spongey roof of the car. Your stomach somersaults.
Mom, please, you wail, swiping for her hand. It’s lying limp by her thigh, dark droplets on her wrist. Mom Mom please Mom I’m scared Mom please I’m so scared I –
“Baby.”
His voice is low, earthy. It chews apart the high-pitched squeal of brakes and screaming. The glass smashing. The metal crunching.
You lift from the bed like it’s ice water, gasping when you finally surface back on Earth. Your chest heaves, it’s not sucking in enough breath; you can’t breathe you can’t breathe you can’t fucking breathe.
Joel whips the cover from your legs and you roll from the mattress, feet planting on the floor. You bend forward to grip onto the sheets, a choking rising up your throat, closer and closer until it tugs on your tongue.
“Icantbreathe,” you pant.
Joel’s body curves around yours. “You’re alright,” he’s telling you – urging you; one hand between your shoulder blades, the other holding your wrist for fear you might collapse. “I’m here, you’re okay. You’re at my place, you’re safe, but, kid – I need you to slow down. You’re hyperventilating.”
You work your breathing to the strokes of his hand up and down your spine: in out in out in and out and in and out and in, and out, and in, and…out…and in…and…out.
“That’s it. Keep doing that. You’re good, baby, I got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
In – and out. In – and out again.
The room slowly desaturates back into boring, moonlit blue. Feeling sputters back into your hands, clawing at the sheets once the sharpness dissolves. The cotton pets back, smooth under your quivering touch. Your lips stop tingling, your ears stop ringing. One after another, until your blood settles back to a steady stream and you straighten up.
“Can you sit down for me?”
“No,” you whimper, and Joel nods.
“That’s alright,” he says. “I’m gonna get you a drink, that okay?”
You grab his T-shirt. “No. Don’t leave me. Please. Sorry.”
He cups your frozen cheeks. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Just downstairs. You can come.”
He settles you at his kitchen table and shuffles over to the cupboards, rubbing his eyes. You feel the heat of embarrassment and guilt, watching as he settles down with a groan minutes later.
“Ginger,” he tells you, voice rounded by his mug, sliding one of your own over to you.
“Sorry,” you mumble, lifting it with two hands. The smell sharp, cutting up the remnants of gasoline and smoke.
“Many times do I gotta say it?” he asks dryly. “Quit sayin’ you’re sorry.”
You gulp nervously. “You got work in the morning. You’re gonna be exhausted.”
“And if I hadn’t let you keep me up watchin’ chick flicks, I’d be rested. That’s something I can deal with later. I got you to worry about right now.”
You shake your head; the ceramic hits the table with a sharp thud. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”
“Well,” Joel sniffs, “you’re carrying my child. I’ll always worry about you.”
You sit back, the curve of the chair cradling, your heart beating lamely against the wood. Joel’s jaw rests in the cushion of his palm, staring back at you.
“What time is it?” you ask, and he glances over his shoulder.
“Three. Take a sip.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sip.”
You obey, lifting the tea and swallowing harshly.
He watches every move, every shift reflected in his dark eyes, decorated by a tense, stony expression. “Does this happen a lot?”
“Never,” you say. “This never happens.”
Joel cranes his jaw, cracks his neck. “Alright,” he sighs, “that’s okay. Breathe again. You’re doing fine.”
But you don’t feel fine. The dregs of panic sizzle into something thicker, hotter. Anger. Frustration. “Why the fuck is this happening?” you hiss, fingers prodding into your eye sockets. “What the f–?”
“Easy. I don’t know. Hormones? Stress?”
“You sound like my fucking doctor.”
Joel smiles. Amusement, before concern wipes over it again. “Let’s just give it some time to pass, okay?”
You nod, hanging over your drink, the silhouette of your reflection staring back at you. The steam snakes up, seeping into your skin, bubbling under the surface. Wiping clean any memory of freeway or nail polish, like coating over a bathroom mirror. The shapes still visible behind, but blurred. Gone.
“How’s Vanessa?” you ask, an attempt to distract yourself.
Joel adjusts a little awkwardly in his chair. “She’s good. She loved the scan photo. Showed it to her sister. They’re sure it’s a boy.”
“Ha. Joel Jr.”
“Joel Jr.,” he agrees, and then attempts to distract himself. “So,” he says, “Allandale.”
“Mhm?”
“Wonder if I ever saw your mom or dad. When I was there visitin’ Sam.”
You shrug. “Doubt it. I mean, they always lived right next to the elementary school, if that helps. My mom was a first-grade teacher. The two of us used to walk there ‘n back together, every day.”
“First grade, huh? Best one.”
“Yeah. Yeah, and she was the best of the best. She used to go all out for her kids; used to go to Michaels and get all this crafty stuff so they could spend all afternoon making little houses or zoos, or – whatever she could think of. And she’d always keep some aside, bring some home for me to make one, too. One time, she came home with all this blue tissue paper and little foam fish, and we made an aquarium together.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Joel says.
“Yeah,” you say again, nodding eagerly. “She was so cool. And fun, y’know? I just remember her being so much fun. I always felt safe with her, felt loved. I actually used to think she hung the sun every morning, just for me.” You take a deep breath, replacing it with a broken sigh.
“What about your dad? What was he like?”
You frown. “He was…fine. Real quiet, reserved. A little grumpy, I guess. I always got the idea he couldn’t be bothered with me, young as I was. Always wanted to be left alone. I think my mom overcompensated a lot.”
Something flashes across Joel’s face that seems to say he knows – or, at least, he understands. Almost imperceptible, a quick flicker of annoyance. “You miss her?” he asks, switching back.
“My mom?” You almost laugh, gripping onto your mug. Staring at the slow swirl of ginger. A shrug which presents more like a flinch; an animal swatting a fly away. “I miss those parts, when I think of them. The aquarium, the walking to school. Miss the memories. But I don’t think I knew her well enough or long enough to miss her.
“I’ve lived way longer without her than I ever had her. Done everything without her, like –” gesturing down, “– this. But, sometimes…sometimes, I bundle the sheets up behind my back in bed, and I pretend it’s her. Pretend I have a mom, and she’s cuddling me to sleep. I dunno. Maybe that’s what missing her feels like.”
Joel soaks in every word you say, letting the shape of each one settle on the table between you before he speaks again. Letting them be spoken into the dead of night, collected by no one, and letting them fade into silence. Secrets sweeping off into starlight. Nothing you would admit in the daytime.
“What was her name?” he asks, voice timid and gentle in the dark kitchen.
You almost choke on your tea. “Shoot – I’m sorry. That was a lot. Sorry. She, uh – Her name?”
It brings the first genuine smile to your lips; the memory of your mom now clear behind your eyes. Her round cheeks, her fluttering earrings. The deep, dark curls of her hair, thick ringlets twisting and lighting in the sun. The gap between her front teeth, the purse of her lips as she kissed your cheeks, your hands, your tummy.
Her name like a melody in your head; a safe word, a calming mantra when the world becomes too noisy, too saturated, too sharp to bear. Two syllables. Two little beats, like a piece of her still lives in the sound of her name.
“Sarah,” you tell Joel. “Her name was Sarah.”
#*hits post*#*throws laptop from bridge*#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#the last of us#tlou#macfrog#neighbor!joel miller#neighbor!joel#babydaddy!joel miller#babydaddy!joel#tw pregnancy
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🏷️ mean dom!hyunjin, fuckboy!hyunjin, hyune has a big cock, one pussy slap, orgasm denial, overstim, subspace, pet names: doll, baby
hyunjin bullied himself deeper between your walls, the sound of your drawn-out moans music to his ears.
your hands grabbed at his shoulders, at his arms, searching for anything to hold onto while his thick cock stretched you out in a way you'd never experienced before. after his relentless teasing earlier, bringing you to the brink of orgasm with his fingers and tongue countless times (only to pull back and stop you from tipping over) you weren't sure how much longer you'd be able to hold out for.
"hnng — you-you're bigger than i thought, i'm not sure it'll fit —"
hyunjin grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the bed above your head, wrapping his long fingers around them with ease.
"stop squirming, doll. it's only halfway in. you were the one begging for it earlier."
"that… that was before i knew it was so big," you whined.
"don't say i didn't warn you."
he had warned you. multiple times. talking with his friends about their conquests, laughing at you rolling your eyes. fishermen's tales without a doubt, or so you'd thought. it'd always been hard to tell if he was speaking the truth. there had been a time where you'd thought he could be a lost romantic, with his love for the arts and the books he was always carrying with him. but there was nothing romantic about his addiction to sweet things, burning through them without mercy, throwing them away as soon as they lost their flavor.
it was one of the reasons why you tried to stay away from him. but still you'd ignored all the warning signs when he'd kissed you so sweetly tonight. you'd granted him the one thing you'd vowed you never would: allowing him to consume you.
"do you want me to stop, then?"
you avoided his eyes, fixating on the silver chain dangling from his neck. a long time ago you'd found his love for elegant silver jewellery irritating. as if he tried too hard at his carefully crafted persona. you're not sure when that changed.
"you've always been a shy little thing," hyunjin bend down and brought his face closer to yours. "it's cute. but i need you to tell me what you want, doll. need to hear you beg for it."
you licked your lips. you hated how beautiful he looked even with his hair mussed and his skin coated in sweat. hated how much of a wreck he'd made you. how powerless he made you feel.
how much you liked it.
"because i don't think you want me to stop. look how your pussy is drooling for it — soaked at the thought of being stretched by me. watch what happens when i pull out..."
he rolled his hips back, laughing at the way you tried to tug your wrists out of his grip, your broken whine when he slapped your clit with the head of his cock.
"hyune, please —"
"that's what i thought," he grinned, "i know what you want. you just have to ask nicely."
"w-want your cock, please, want it all," you whispered, heat spreading through your body, mortified by the admission. who knew how many women had been in this exact position before — on someone else's bed, loud music still playing downstairs while hyunjin made them beg for his cock. somehow it would've been better if he'd just taken it from you, no questions asked, only hushed moans and whimpers in the dark.
his satisfied smile told you he knew. he knew, and he loved every second of it.
but what he loved even more was the raw, unfiltered moan you let out when he forced his cock in fully, watching your eyes widen in realization:
"f-fuck, i'm - i think i'm —"
"are you really going to cum from me just putting it in? fuck baby, you're really that desperate, aren't you? poor little thing," he pulled out completely and slapped your cunt with his free hand, "if you're going to cum now you'll be in for a long night." he rubbed his fingers through the mess between your legs, arousal sticking to his skin.
after the earlier denial you were hurling towards your peak embarrassingly fast, and when he pushed back in you clenched around his cock in waves of pleasure, hips bucking into his. you sobbed when he started moving, unsure of where your body stopped and his began.
"'s too much, please, hyune…"
hyunjin let go of your wrists and pulled you closer, bending your knees and kissing the salty tears off your cheeks. you felt yourself slipping away into a floaty haze, the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you the only thing that mattered.
"don't worry, i'm not done with you yet, doll," hyunjin murmured. "we're just getting started."
#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids hard hours#skz hard hours#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#stray kids headcanons#skz headcanons#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin smut#dom!idol#sub!reader#;skz blurbs
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Hello! can you do a scenario where giyu is already promised to y/n by kagaya in an betrothed announcement in one of their hashira meetings, but every other hashira is trying to either convince force or kidnapped the reader into marrying them? This is due to y/n having the ability to heal others and kagaya wants more healers since no one has ever heard of such a power and the amount of slayers being killed. So in order to create more offsprings with this ability he sets up a betrothed that you and giyu agreed to. But the other hashira are jealous and want in on y/n’s whole future in the matter.
Healer’s Dilemma w/ Fem Reader | Yandere Demon Slayer
Kagaya wouldn’t forcefully marry you, even if that’s what someone in his position would do
You born without his curse illness and with some miraculous ability to heal
He’d rather not force you to hide your gift when you can help his other children or the world for that matter
But he knows how desirable you might be
Not only to Muzan as a link to Kagaya but to many who would intend to do exactly what you’d both hate most
Kagaya, your dearest Papa cares deeply for you
And he fights for your freedom
Even if it leads you to find a different kind of love with someone else
“Papa I wish to marry Giyuu Tomioka, the Water Hashira.”
“...This is your decision my daughter?”
“Yes, Papa. I want to marry him more than anything!”
“I could never fight your earnesty…then I give my blessing.”
He knows about the others obsessions
he doesn’t need to see it when he can feel it
Giyuu mentions the leave he’ll be taking at the next meeting
“Ah how unfortunate for (Y/n) to be married to a wet sack like Tomioka-san.”
“Tch sounds to me like ya knocked her up, to get that ring.”
“Sanemi!”
“Please everyone. Do not disrespect (Y/n)-sama.”
“S-sorry Tomioka.”
“...”
“Hah, but if that…requirement hasn’t been met then…if another did it’d surely nullify any other petty engagement…Right?”
“...”
“...”
“If any of you try anything I will decapitate you as I do demons. Don’t. Try. It.”
“Whoa so scary, Tomioka-san! Too bad no one was listening.”
It’ll be a collective effort to protect your engagement
It’d be even more interesting when the hashira soon realize just how determined you are to have your freedom
“My Papa let me choose. He promises to let me be free. I will not have any of you get in my way!”
#yandere hashira#yandere demon slayer#yandere kny#yandere kimetsu no yaiba#yandere giyuu tomioka#yandere kagaya#yandere uzui tengen#yandere mitsuri kanroji#yandere sanemi shinagazawa#yandere shinobu kocho#yandere gyomei himejima#yandere x reader#yandere x you#lovelyyandereaddictionpoint#yanderexrea#yandere#yanderes#yandere gyomei
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i would love a one shot of nat interacting w ronnie! maybe r is caught up doing a job for nat and nat has to pick ronnie up from school and domesticity w r ensues?
Title: The Carpool Lane [an Oversight Oneshot]
Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff
Summary: You get caught up while running an errand for Natasha and aren't able to pick your daughter up from school. You ask Natasha to do it and she has to grapple with some big feelings.
[a/n: Hello! I promise you all that the last official chapter of the Oversight is going to be posted soon. It is a very heavy one so here is some fluff in the meantime! Also, I'm opening my requests again, so feel free to send some my way.]
Warnings: None that I can think of other than horrible grammar, but please let me know if I need to add any!
Check out the full Oversight universe
[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven]
The air in the home office had become sticky and cloying. It often did when the sun decided to shine as strongly as it did. Natasha kept her books clean and clear of dust but often times there was only so much she could do. Large particles floated in the crossfire of a golden glow. It almost pained her to wrench the window open and disrupt the flow.
It was difficult for Natasha to keep focus when she could hear the sounds from outside and feel the soft breeze on her skin. She was often known for her dedication, for her focus and her ruthlessness. But on afternoons, she was stuck doing mountains of paperwork when she’d much rather be doing you.
Natasha often drifted into hazed memories of the whimpers that escaped you, your breathless swears interlaced with the intoxicating way you moaned her name. She liked teasing you until you begged for her, until you needed her more than you needed breath, until you arched your back and cried into the thousand thread count sheets.
Of course, her favorite thing was to bring you to the very edge with her just her delicate touch and her sultry words. You’d come undone underneath her, coated in sweat and ready to please as an orgasm rocked through- an annoying ringtone.
Natasha had shoved her phone into the bottom drawer of her desk to gain some focus. It clearly wasn’t working. Her nails scratched across the rich oak of the desks surface before she pawed around.
Yelena had set her ringtone to the loudest, most obnoxious blowhorn she could find. She claimed that Natasha was losing her touch and often couldn’t hear anything past her own thoughts. And so, what if that was the case? Natasha quite liked her thoughts lately.
“Romanoff,” She drawled, voice dripping with annoyance.
“Hi,”
It took one breathless word from you and everything else was forgotten. There was worry in that single syllable and it made Natasha’s world spin for only a second before she got her bearings. She could do this. She was in charge.
“Tell me where you are.”
“You know where I am, you sent me here yourself.” You chuckled in a low whisper. Natasha had sent you to collect rent from your usual charges. She knew your pattern and could hear the low hum of the row of washing machines behind you.
While she prided herself on her ability to train you into the perfect protector with a quick hand a vicious tongue, she wouldn’t dare change a thing about your soft spots. You had particular one for the family that rented the apartment above the Soapsuds laundry mat and ran it seamlessly.
It was nearly impossible for you to say no to the elderly woman that took up residence with her son. She’d make you tea and you’d indulge in cookies as she regaled you with her charming stories from the 40’s.
“She’s a trained killer, ma, she doesn’t have time for this!”
Natasha heard the son’s accented voice muffle it’s way through the phone. She scoffed, and switched her phone to her other ear. You must have put your palm over the receiver because you were garbled too.
“I absolutely have time for this Miss Vazquez.” You returned to your conversation, voice whispered once more. “I don’t have time for this, Nat. I don’t want to break her frail heart. Could you possibly… pick Ronnie up from school?”
Natasha had been rendered silent, which wasn’t a feat that was often achieved in a shocking manner. Usually, if a Romanoff was quiet, they were busy calculating and it was better to avoid the storm brewing behind their eyes. This wasn’t the same kind of soundlessness.
She had to pick her jaw off the floor. Veronica was your entire life, and though Natasha came in for a close second, you would do absolutely anything for that child. You’d walk through fire, and it was testament to your growing trust with Natasha, having her pick your daughter up from school.
“Nat, baby” your voice came through the phone “did I lose you? If it’s too much I can get Darcy to take a later lunch. It’s not a problem at all. I shouldn’t have asked, you’re a busy woman and-“
“I’d love to.”
“Huh?”
“I can pick her up, y/n, really.”
Her palms started to sweat, and Natasha never sweated. She stood up and started to pace the length of her office, entering and exiting the large stream of light that vented in through the window. She listened carefully as you told her word for word how to enter the car line, and what mothers to avoid entirely.
“I’ll call ahead, let them know you’re safe to pick up Ronnie. Thank you for doing this, Natty. I appreciate it.”
She smiled, biting her thumbnail. She stopped at the window and peered out at the newly installed swing set at the edge of the property. So many little things had changed in Natasha’s life over the last year. There were children’s books strewn over the tables and art supplies that Ronnie loved to draw with. This was an extra step. This was the extra step that made her fingers itch for the ring hidden in the false bottom of her desk.
“Darling! Would you like to hear about the night I had with Robert Kennedy?”
“I would love to, Miss Vazquez!” You called back, lowering your voice once more. “I love you, I’ll see you at home. Dinner is on me.”
You had hung up the phone a few moments ago but Natasha kept it against her face for a few moments as if it were an anchor. She had to pick up Ronnie. She had to pick up Ronnie. Natasha was on her feet now, searching the large living room and foyer, and even the nightstands by her bed before she grasped at her keys and sprinted out the door.
Veronia was a girl of very little words, but she was comfortable enough around Natasha to curl into her side during movie nights, little fist clenching onto the fabric of her shirt. Most of the time, she’d fall asleep before the end of the film and Natasha would stare affectionately as you scooped her up and took her to her room.
Now, Natasha sat in the parking lot of the school with blood rushing past her ears. Somehow, the gaggle of mothers that lingered by the release doors were scarier than anything she had ever faced before.
She’d been shot at least four times and had survived them all. She had pulled the trigger herself more times than she could count, but all of curious eyes landing on her sleek black car made her nearly sweat through her t-shirt.
Natasha stalled as long as she could before taking the tentative steps across the asphalt lot. There was a small patch of green grass that seemed to be overwatered if it still held its vibrant color during a late heated day.
Her sunglasses were down over her eyes and she feigned looking at her phone, though she eyed each and every parent that lingered. They were openly staring at her, and she heard a few hushed whispers, absolutely no attempt to muffle their judgements.
“Don’t pay them any mind.”
Natasha startled, not noticing the woman that had sidled up next to her. Her skin was pale, her hair a pitch-black color that must have heated her up on a day like this. She stuck her hand out and Natasha took it carefully, shaking it. “Jessica Jones.”
“Natasha Y/L/N,”
The woman was apprehensive to use her own last name. While she kept a mostly low profile, there were still some people who would clock the name as something familiar. The last thing she needed was someone targeting you, or God-forbid, Ronnie. The words fit perfectly into her mouth like a sweet candy.
“I’ve never seen you around here before, and apparently neither have the vultures with the way they’re circling.”
She couldn’t help but smile “I’m… new. My partner got a little tied up at work and asked me to pick up her daughter.”
“Ah, so you’re that Natasha.” She must have flushed awkwardly, nervously, because Jessica seemed to backtrack. “Nothing bad. There are moms like the women over there who put their entire being into making everything perfectly beige. Then there are moms like y/n and I. Imperfect.”
Natasha’s eyebrows lifted. Each woman that flocked towards the front of the glass doors, waiting excitedly for their children to spill out did have the same look about them. They all wore leggings and different colored pastel shirts. Each one had the same highlights and haircuts, and apprehensive stares.
“We’re out here a lot together, and it was pretty obvious when things started to change for her. With you around, the smile actually reaches her eyes you know?”
The statement warmed Natasha greatly and made the box in her desk weigh heavier on her mind. Of course, she didn’t want to think too much about it, but she also wanted to make sure that you were happy, something you reassured her of over and over again.
Natasha opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the barrage of tiny feet on the sidewalks and grass. There was a sea of runny noses and crinkled papers slathered in different primary colors.
A small boy with dark ringlets of hair crashed into Jessica’s legs clumsily and she let out a large huff of air in response, scooping him up into her arms. He had the most startling blue eyes like his mother and gave Natasha a gap-toothed-goofy smile.
Natasha was searching the crowd for your daughter. It wasn’t like she would call out, that was much too vocal for her and Natasha didn’t blame the girl in the slightest. Through the sea of kids, her eyes locked on Ronnie’s and she gave her an encouraging smile and a small wave.
Veronica’s expression lit up as she dashed the few feet that was separating them. Natasha had the foresight to lean down enough to dampen the impact of her hug. It was quite the rare occasion to be embraced by her, so she savored the spring scent of her.
“Your mama got caught up at work and asked me to pick you up.” Natasha explained, leaning back on her heel, she brushed a strand of hair behind Ronnie’s ear. “What’s that?”
Natasha gently pointed to the picture that was in Veronica’s hand. Her chest welled with pride at the drawing and she would say that it was miles better than any other kid she saw run out with their artwork. Yelena had been right; Ronnie had a beautiful gift that Natasha would pour everything into for as long as she wanted to call it her craft.
This particular scene was a rendition of the large house, too big to fit within the confines of the paper. There was six figures that vaguely resembled each person Natasha knew and loved. A clear grouping had been established.
Kate was smeared in a purple color with dark locks of hair.
Yelena had been drawn next to her, hand and hand.
Clint stood close to them- but not too close- with his signature deep look.
What called to Natasha the most was how Ronnie had grouped her. There was a figure by the edge of the page that was clearly you, down to a tea, and a shorter figure right next to you that was unmistakably Ronnie. The two figures held hands; and on the other side, with her signature deep auburn hair and green eyes, stood Natasha. Her fingers were wrapped around Ronnie’s in the photo, too smudges of color that made the enforcers heart thrum harder than it ever had before.
“This is beautiful,” Natasha breathed, struggling not to let the water that built up in her eyes drip down her cheeks. That would be weird. It would freak Ronnie out. “I love it.”
“You do?” The girl asked.
“I do. In fact, it’s getting framed and hung up immediately.”
It was rare for Ronnie to speak, but it was a prize each time she did. Just like you, Natasha had begun to understand her body language and everything she said with her eyes. It was something she would grow out of, or maybe she would speak with just her art.
Either way, Natasha read her loud and clear.
It was well past ten pm by the time you had pulled yourself away from the laundry mat. You ended up eating dinner with the family despite your repeated refusal. It was some of the best food you have ever eaten and though you missed the quality time with Natasha, the vodka coating on the pasta would have you reeling for weeks.
The house was mostly dark by the time you returned, and you were careful when you let your keys drop into the dish by the door. A soft golden light streamed down the hallway, leading to the kitchen.
Natasha would often partake in a glass of red wine, a record playing softly in the background. It was her time to unwind, to do the dished from dinner and breathe out the stress of the day. Just like any office job. Sometimes she’d use the time to scrub away blood from under her nails as you waited patiently and took sparing sips from her glass despite denying wanting one of your own.
The sink wasn’t on, and the kitchen was mostly silent save for a faucet drip here and there. Natasha leaned against the counter and stared at the moonlit swing set in the yard. It was bathed in just enough pale light to make out the shapes drifting in the light breeze.
You came up behind her, snaking your arms around her waist and resting your head on her shoulder. She shivered against the coolness of your skin, but hugged you tight against her center with a comforting and raspy hum.
“Thank you for picking up Ronnie today,” you mumbled into the side of her neck, “And getting her to bed. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
Natasha turned in your arms and had a bit of a pout to her expression that you weren’t expecting. You lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at her. You wanted to kiss that frown right off her lips. You wanted to lull her into a state of content after the long day you’d had.
Almost timidly, she said “We’re a family. That’s what we do.”
God, how long you’d wanted to hear that. This time, you didn’t hesitate to close to the distance between you both. You kissed her softly; you kissed her with so much love that it left you dizzy.
You’d scared away partners before with the prospect of having a daughter. Most of the time, you wouldn’t’ even bring it up until a third date, when you were close to sure. But even then, you’d be left at the restaurant, or the bowling alley, or the movie theatre by yourself once the words left your mouth.
Nothing about your relationship with Natasha had been conventional, however, and each day she shocked you with her tenderness and care for someone she had no responsibility towards. Just letting you and Ronnie move in had been enough. Parenting her? Loving her? It felt beyond reality.
She chuckled into the kiss, running her fingers down your jaw. “I love you too, detka.”
“Mm, seriously, thank you.”
“Do you want to see something?”
You lifted your eyebrows suggestively and earned a light-hearted smack to the shoulder. She wormed her way out of your embrace and crossed the large kitchen to the fridge. When you’d first moved in, it was blank. There was a single wedding invitation tacked up with a magnet for joining the Murdock and Natchios families in matrimony, but even that had been years old.
Now there was something new.
Something that had unmistakably been crafted by Ronnie. The photo was a beautiful mix of colors and mediums and at the very corner in, in blue crayon, were two words; My Family.
[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]
#Natasha Romanoff#natasha romanov#Natasha Romanoff x reader#Natasha Romanoff x you#Natasha Romanoff x y/n#Natasha Romanov x reader#Natasha Romanov x you#Natasha Romanov x y/n#Marvel Reader Insert#Clint Barton#Kate Bishop#Yelena Belova#Katelena#yelena x kate#Black Widow#Marvel#Hawkeye#Request#mafia au
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Really enjoyed your recent Jaehyun fic! Can I please request shower sex with Jaehyun + maybe a few more rounds after?
anon..i love this idea. i know im gonna have so much fun writing this. thank you for your request!!! <3
₊˚ෆ let me have you ₊˚ෆ
↬ jeong jaehyun
𓍯 pairing- nonidolbf!jaehyun x fem reader, established relationship, sweetdom!jaehyun x sub reader
𓍯 warnings- shower sex, unprotected sex(u alr know), multiple rounds, riding, lazy sex, dirty talk( jaehyun skhskwhsbsbwvam), multiple creampies, pet names (reader is called baby), needy reader & jaehyun, kissing, they are too horny bye, lmk what else
𓍯 a/n- im so sorry this is literally so late… I HOPE YOH LIKE (i was feral when i wrote this so im sorry if it is crazy idek.. lmk what u think)
you and jaehyun have been running around all day non stop. finishing errands you needed to get done. finally getting home around 7pm. both of you exhausted wanting to get into bed quickly.
of course jaehyun suggested you two shower together. so that’s exactly what you were doing. his hands were quick to start roaming your body.
“you look so beautiful.” he whispers in your ear as his hand rubs against your thigh. “jaehyun please.” a smirk against his lips as he kisses against your neck.
“tell me what you want baby.” his hand parting your legs as you grips your hip with his other hand. “touch me. i need you.”
his kisses against your neck are now sloppy as you feel his thumb against your clit as he pushes two fingers inside you.
“oh- jaehyun please more.” his smirk hasn’t left his lips. “you feeling greedy baby? want my dick already?” his fingers speeding up as he watches your eyes fall shut at the feeling.
“don’t you want to cum baby?” he teases as he slows his fingers. “i w-want to cum with you- fuck please.” he smiles pulling you into a kiss.
pulling his fingers out of you but not stopping his thumb against your clit. his other hand grabbing his dick. stopping his thumb to wrap your leg around his waist.
“look at me.” he says grabbing your face to keep eye contact with him. his dick slowly pushing inside of you.
“yeah- fuck baby. you’re so good for me.” your moans and whimpers already flowing out of you as he starts to rock his hips into you. the warm water against your bodies making your mind hazy.
his mouth is sucking your neck. he leaves nips against your shoulder, receiving a loud moan from you. the pace of his hips making you squirm. he grabs ahold of your hair making you kiss him.
your hips rolling to meet his thrusts. “yeah baby you like that? you’re so fucking wet.” he says with a small laugh, disbelief as he watches your eyes start to roll back. “my pretty girl gonna cum?” his voice almost making you cum.
“jaehyun p-please.” he grabs your neck with his free hand, gently pulling you into a kiss. “want my cum baby? tell me.” his tone shifting as you look at his eyes.
his dark eyes piercing you with lust as he grabs you hip to rock with his thrusts. “please cum in m-me oh fuck. i’m coming!” his mouth against your nipple sending you over the edge as you clench around him.
“yeah- fuck you take it so well baby.” you coming undone all over his dick. his hips stuttering shortly after. he comes so deep inside you, painting your walls as his hips sloppily milk his cum in you.
“you’re gonna be the death of me fuck y/n.” his hips slowing down as he pulls you into another kiss. “want to ride you so bad jae-“ he’s pulling his dick out of you slowly with a smile.
“anything you want baby.” he smiles as you two finally finishing washing your bodies. not like its gonna matter that you showered. he’s guiding you out the shower as he dries the two of you off. “come here baby.”
he says as he sits back against your headboard. you climbing onto his lap as quick as you could. “such a needy girl. come on baby you gonna let me have you? want you to be mine only. show me.”
his dirty talk going straight to your pussy as you line up his dick with your entrance. his hands immediately going to your hips as you kiss him softly. you rubbing against him painfully slow for the both of you.
“fuck baby don’t t-tease fuuck.” you stopping his thoughts as you lower yourself onto him. “feel so good jaehyun.” your eyes rolling back as you start to move your hips, jaehyun’s hands on your hips guiding you.
“just like that- fuck baby you’re so perfect for me.” both of your moans filling the room. “jaehyun- so deep- i can’t!” he shakes his head.
“take it baby shit- you gonna cum pretty?” one of his hands neglecting your hip to fondle your breast.
“want you to cum for me. make a pretty mess. can you do that for me?” his hips now fucking up to meet your movements.
“fuck you don’t know how hard it was for me not to fuck you in the car. you would’ve liked that huh? the possibility of someone seeing me fuck you so good. s-shit.”
you’re clenching around him as your hips stop their movements. his hips now fucking up into you as he hits the spot you need. you moaning out almost coming then.
“right there baby? you look so fucking pretty.” his words making you cum instantly. “f-fuck you’re so tight.” he lets out a deep groan as his load fills you. you fall against his chest as you try to catch your breath.
“you okay baby? you think i can get another round out of you?” you nod mindlessly as he lifts you off of his lap.
“you’re doing the work, my legs are burning.” he just laughs as he positions himself the lay behind you. he opens your legs, you feel his dick rub your slit teasingly.
“jaehyun- don’t tease please.” he leaves a few kisses against your neck. “you’re so impatient baby.” he laughs as he pushes his dick inside you. the third time you’re feeling this stretch. you’re not complaining though.
“fuck me jaehyun oh-“ his hips rolling into you slowly as he releases low grunts and groans into your ear. “you are fucking m-made for me baby.” his words making your arousal practically flow out of you.
“you’re so wet- im sliding right in baby.” you are so far gone now. his dick hitting the perfect spot over and over. his dirty talk and moans are intoxicating. you are so far gone you didn’t even get to warn as you came all over his dick.
“fuck- im coming. so fucking messy baby.” his dick twitches inside you as load fills you again. you moaning at the feeling of him fucking you through your highs.
“take it all- fuck you’re so perfect baby.” he pulls your face back slightly to kiss your lips. pulling out of you slowly him getting up to grab a rag to clean you. him coming back with the rag. cleaning you softly as he plants kisses around your body.
“you’re so pretty.” you blush smiling at him. he smiles pulling you into another kiss before finishing cleaning you up. climbing next to you to pull you into his arms.
#nct x reader#nct#nct imagines#nct smut#nct scenarios#nct fic#nct jaehyun#nct 127#nct u#jaehyun fic#jaehyun smut#jeong jaehyun#jaehyun#jaehyun scenarios#nct 127 hard hours
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can u write bbangsaz x fem reader bsdm non-con with like mommy kink? thank uu
-💋
these newjeans ones always be so kinky bro like not my babies! 😭
content - idol!bbangsaz x 6th member!reader (idol!au), not a lot of build-up or exposition/story, smut (threesome, non-con, blackmail, shower sex, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, bdsm themes, mommy kink, degradation, corruption kink, anal fingering)
wc - 2173
a/n - why is it so hard to find bbangsaz pics lmao, anyway I've been obsessed w this for days, minji and hanni are so fucking fine in this (unrelated to fic content but I needed to share :D)
hanni and minji were really good at acting like they liked you.
you were the last addition to newjeans after them already being 5 for a few months was decided. those two were deadset on them being complete at five members, but when ador told the girls that you would be added as a last minute addition, the two oldest girls were livid. dani, haerin, and hyein didn't mind, if anything they were excited to have another unnie. but bbangsaz felt threatened by your presence.
hanni was already the best vocalist and minji was a good contender for center, but both of those titles were swooped from their hands when you joined. not only had they assigned you as main vocalist, but also center. you were ruining everything the two oldest members had built in the amount of time they were five, and they had to stop you from getting too much power.
you three had left and went home after practice ended, the three younger members staying to get some extra practice in. you headed straight towards the shower and ran the warm water, getting in and letting it cascade down your bare body, relaxing under the warmth. suddenly, you hear the shower curtain slide open, feeling a strong grip around your wrists pinning you to the wall. your eyes shoot open to see a half naked minji towering over you, a half naked hanni outside the shower, holding up the camera you guys used for vlogs, arms crossed and a mischievous grin on her face.
"wh-what the fuck are you doing?!" you ask confused, raising your voice and trying to break free of minji's grip.
"putting you in your place princess! because that's what you are right, ador's princess?" hanni taunts behind the girl in front of you.
"what are you talking about?!" you continue to try and break free, turning red as you realize that you're literally wet and exposed to the two girls.
"stop being such a brat and quit fucking squirming my god, it's annoying," minji growls, digging her nails into your wrists, making you wince in pain.
"you took everything we worked so hard to get, I think it's only fair you give us something in return," hanni's voice echoes through the bathroom.
you panic and your heart beat starts to quicken with anxiety, "please! don't do this! stop, let me go!"
"shut the fuck up and just be the whore we know you are y/n. let us do what we want or else we'll make sure that video ruins your life," minji says lowly into your ear, her tone and breath making you shiver with fear.
"you heard her y/n-ie, just be our little slut and you'll be justtt fineeee," hanni says in a mocking tone, setting up the camera on the bathroom counter, entering the shower with you and minji.
your eyes start to water with tears as minji holds your hands behind your back and sucks at your neck, hanni's hands groping your tits and rubbing her thumbs roughly against your nipples.
"please stop!" you cry, sobs slowly starting to leave your throat.
hanni shuts you up by forcefully making out with you, shoving her tongue down your throat and whimpering in your mouth. you squirm in minji's hold and try to move away from the two girls forcing you into submission, but much to no avail as their touches and mouths just become more and more greedy with every kick of your legs and flail of your body. the tears that fall from your eyes join with the warm water hitting your cheeks as hanni pinches your nipples, making you scream on her tongue.
she pulls away and you sob hard, "please! let me go! what do you want, I'll do it!"
the two girls start to laugh on both sides of you, minji's laugh on your skin creating vibrations. she sighs, "you stupid little girl, can't you see we're already doing what we want and you're helping us. if you want to help even more, stop fucking resisting."
you close your eyes and hang your head in defeat, letting the tears escape and sobs leave your mouth. hanni continues to laugh in front of you, minji leaving hickeys wherever she wanted. you watch through clouded vision as the girl in front of you gets on her knees, parting your thighs and bringing her face close to your center.
"please..." you weakly sob out desperately once more, but it leaves in a whisper left ignored.
you feel a tongue flicking at your clit making you scream out and cry harder. joining hanni's tongue were minji's fingers, sliding between your entrance and teasing your hole.
she chuckles into your ear, "are you fucking wet?"
you shake your head, denying the accusation of the question. in truth, your body was betraying you, it was so sensitive to the girls' touches and advances so of course, the pleasure started building.
"no? why are you lying to me? you're obviously enjoying this if I could just slide right in..." minji slips two long fingers into your tight cunt.
hanni's mouth sucked so perfectly at your clit, tongue flicking against it inside of her mouth, minji's fingers found the delicious spot inside of you quick, curling her digits repeatedly against it at a pleasurable pace. you absolutely hated how good the girls felt fucking you as you sobbed with your head thrown back over minji's shoulder, biting your lip to suppress moans.
your body continued to betray you, feeling your hips grind down onto hanni's sloppy tongue and fucking yourself back against minji's skilled fingers.
the girl behind you whispers into your ear, "you like this don't you? your pussy just begging to get fingered and eaten out by us. bet you've been fucking yourself to the thought of this like the little horny bitch I know you are."
moans slip from your mouth and continue to fall out at her words, the feeling of her fingers now ramming into you and hanni's tongue spelling her name on your clit being so overwhelming. you feel the mouth on your pussy smile at your loss of control over your noises.
you begin panting and your moans get louder the closer to the edge they bring you. "wanna cum you little whore? want us to fuck you till you're begging for more?"
your eyes barely make out minji looking down at you. you don't respond, instead chasing for the release they built up inside of you. but of course, they take it away just as quickly, feeling the fingers deep inside slip out and the tongue swirling your throbbing clit slurp for the last time. you whine and whimper at the loss of contact and your thighs tremble, hanni holding your hips so you don't stumble and fall over.
you hear the sound of the water being turned off before they drag your drenched body into your room, manhandling you onto all fours. you're so dazed and confused, you barely process the lacey material tying your wrists together behind your back. your body jolts and you moan out as you feel a tongue thrust deep into your pussy, head collapsing against your mattress. someone pulls your head up by your hair and you open your eyes to see hanni sprawled out in front of you, legs wide open with her bare cunt.
"go on then, stop crying and put your tongue to good use," she says before forcing your face into her pussy, muffling your moans as minji eats you out from behind.
you go to work between her folds, sliding your tongue over her clit and burying your face between her legs, whining into her core as you feel the same movements being done between your own thighs. hanni moans melodically into the air at your tongue on her, giggling here and there at the reality of the situation, watching you intently eat her out like you wanted every bit of her cum down your throat.
she taunted above you, "thirsty there? and here I thought you didn't want this, turns out you just wanted to please us huh?"
you open your blurry eyes to look up at her, a sinister smirk on her lips, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. she caresses your cheek as another tear fell down your face, your crying never having stopped, petting your head with her other hand.
"keep going y/n-ie, turns out singing isn't the only thing that mouth is good for."
she suddenly pushes your head down into her, forcing your face further into her heat, making you insert your tongue into her hole and suffocate with your nose against her clit. her moans rile you on and you flick your tongue against her walls, whimpering into her pussy while minji continues to pleasure you from behind. you feel her thumb rub against your clit with her tongue mimicking the same movements inside your cunt, slurping noises and moans filling your ears as you fuck yourself back against her mouth.
hanni ruts her hips against you, her breathing picking up and head thrown back with her mouth wide open and eyes closed. you quicken your pace of your tongue, licking against her g-spot and humming into her pussy, rubbing your nose against her clit. her grip on your hair tightens and she thrusts herself into your mouth one last time, cumming down your throat as her thighs tremble around your head. you hear her heavy pants as you slow your movements, hands caressing your head and face.
you're so close to cumming too with minji behind you, but she suddenly pulls away, making you scream in protest. hanni's gentleness disappears right away, pulling you up making you face her, your back against minji's chest.
"what? you thought you were just gonna get off so easily? there are things you have to work hard for, you know that surely."
you sob uncontrollably looking up at her weakly as you beg, "pl-please! I'm sorry! fuck, just let me cum! I've done everything you wanted! I know I've been such a bad girl, but mommy, I deserve it! please just let me cum! please please! I can't take it anymore, just fuck me..."
you ramble with tears flowing down your face. hanni's eyes are wide with amusement and minji chuckles behind you, the two of them exchanging a look. they've ruined you, bad.
hanni pushes you back roughly against minji's chest, using her front to pin you against her.
"oh y/n, you really are just our little plaything now, aren't you? I hope you know what you're so desperately begging for."
you feel her fingers slip into your pussy and pump fast, screaming out at the sudden pace. your eyes shoot open as you feel fingertips circle your asshole, collecting cum and saliva around the area before pushing in, making you let out a deafening cry. both of the paces of their fingers in you are merciless, pumping in and out of you like they're taking turns. hanni's fingers would push in when minji's fingers would come out, pushing in with a harsh thrust when the other's fingers would come out.
minji's teeth sank into your skin, leaving indent marks all over your body, hanni leaving hickeys anywhere your skin wasn't red.
"fuckkkk!!! oh my god, yes give it to me!!!" you're so fucked out, tears a constant stream down your face, eyes rolled back, drool seeping out of your mouth hanging wide open, head thrown back.
they never let up with the speed of their digits. the squelching lewd noises coming from the sheer cum leaking out of your aching hole is so loud, adding on to the girls' heavy breathing and your blood curdling cries. the pleasure burns, your holes taking so much forceful pumping, but it hurts so fucking good. your back arches, pushing your tits against hanni, to which she pinches your nipples with her free hand, adding onto the blinding delight coursing throughout your numb body.
you feel your stomach churn at the feeling of your orgasm coming in fast.
"please don't stop, I'm gonna fucking-!" you never finish your whiney sentence, cumming with a scream.
your pussy squirts juices all over everything, hanni's arm and thighs are covered, your sheets are soaked, minji's knees bathe in the drenched material of your blankets. you swear you blackout, body jerking with every aftershock of pleasure that rolls over you. you let your body fall, collapsing against hanni, her pulling away and letting you flop onto the bed.
you feel minji's fingers withdraw from you, hearing the digits slip out with a pop from your asshole. you feel them both get up from your bed, leaving your limp and lifeless body to recover by itself, not even bothering to untie you.
as your vision and consciousness fades, you hear the faint voice of one of them say, "that better teach you to stay in your place."
#ffos reqs#newjeans#hanni#minji#pham hanni#hanni pham#kim minji#kpop gg#fanfiction#kpop#girl group smut#girl group fanfic#girl group x reader#hanni smut#hanni fanfic#hanni x reader#minji smut#minji fanfic#minji x reader#newjeans fanfic#newjeans smut#newjeans x reader#bbangsaz#danielle#haerin#hyein
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Left Hanging
Wanda Maximoff x F!R
Request | Wanda felt bad, truly, but how else were you gonna learn? | WC: 1,152
Smut: Mommy (W) | Fingering (R) | Teasing | Choking | Degradation | Orgasm Denial
18+ | Minors DNI
“Wet already?” Wanda quirked a brow at you, her devilish smile showcasing her budding amusement at your desperate state. “I see you're so eager, hm?” You rolled your eyes, and huffed: “See what a mess you've made me?”
Wanda’s soft touch dissipated instantaneously, she was finally giving into your needy ways after hours of relentless teasing and you want to get smart with her instead of appreciative.
——
“I could just go back to the party you know,” she mused aloud, but her fingers betrayed her threat as they plunged into your heat without any warning and your moans soon bellowed off the walls as she started off with a brutal pace.
“Please,” your hands clawed at the collar of her undershirt, the defiance in your eyes melted into the fresh tears that now lined your lashes. “I-I’ll be good now mommy, I-I swear to it.”
Wanda rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t keep up the facade for long. She wanted to fuck you dumb just as much as you needed her to, but that didn’t mean she had to be kind about it.
“You’re such a selfish brat Y/N,” she grunted against the skin of your neck, her tongue slid over the salty skin and she reveled in the way that she could feel your erratic pulse racing. “Just a desperate whore in need of her mommy to fill her holes, never caring about others.”
Suddenly you remembered the occasion, it was Yelena’s birthday, so you weakly tried to shove your girlfriend off of you, but you never shoved hard enough for it to mean anything. Remorse might weigh heavy on your heart for leaving your best friend downstairs, but you were too busy getting your very own roughly fucked.
The witch bit into the heated skin surrounding your pulse point and your walls fluttered with a warning that you wished the brunette ignored. “Pathetic,” Wanda huskily chuckled against the shell of your ear and you whimpered in a mix of embarrassment and despair as she was intentionally keeping you perpetually teetering.
Her free, deft hand snaked up your body as she marked what was hers with passionate grunts, and soon those nimble fingers replaced her hungry teeth and rid you of the air you craved. Wanda knew you desired this sensation much more anyways, you’d always been unable to hide your infatuation with all things morbid.
“Look at you,” she chuckled tauntingly, her grip around your throat tightened, “pathetic.” Wanda never failed to remind you of this fact every single time, because you’d yet to prove her wrong with just how quick you submit to her. Like now, just as she expected your hips canted up even faster as you chased your high.
It was actually quite hard for her to show her restraint here, she actually no longer even had to thrust her hand as you’d eagerly taken over the process of fucking yourself dumb. Wanda refused to let you cum though, so she watched closely as the haze in your eyes flourished, and just as your back began to arch off the mattress and your eyes fluttered shut she abruptly took her fingers back from your clenching warmth.
A flicker of defiance returned to your eyes, but her hand squeezed your neck once more as her head tilted and you settled into the expected punishment. You’d actually let yourself believe this time would be different—what a fool.
“Clean yourself up,” she commanded as the warmth of her body no longer hovered yours. You blinked a few times, mouth running as dry as your eyes when she moaned around her slicked up fingers. She winked down at you as she saw your thighs clench involuntarily. “We better not miss the cake cutting detka…”
You headed her warning, hopping up onto shaky legs and moving to pull your panties up. However a hand stopped yours, Wanda shook her head while maintaining eye contact with you as she slid them in the opposite direction.
Wanda slid her suit jacket back on, and folded your slick green lace panties into the perfect triangle that she slipped into her polo pocket. Then she extended her hand tainted with your scent to you with a stern gaze and you took it. Albeit reluctantly as she guided you back out, you gulped as the cold air highlighted the stark wetness coating your thighs, the trail leading up to your exposed cunt that squelched with each shaky step you took back downstairs.
At least the music was loud enough to shield the shred of dignity you clung to as the room full of your peers knowingly looked at you.
Natasha smirked over her glass as she took in the way you wobbled towards her sister, and then her eyes rolled when Wanda settled down besides her on the leather couch. “Are you sure it isn’t you who’s the brat here Wands?”
Wanda chuckled, “Takes one to tame one.” Then she proved the woman’s point as she stole her glass and polished off her cocktail. Natasha glared at her, but then she hummed her agreement, “Touché,” the redhead then beckoned her very own tamed brat over.
“Hey Wanda,” Maria politely greeted as she settled down onto Natasha’s manspread lap even though the couch had plenty of space.
Wanda smiled at her, and the three spent a few minutes chatting before she felt a pang in her chest at the sound of your distant laughter.
“It’s well beyond eleven Wanda, you can call it a night without being a loser,” Natasha teased her pouting best friend, to which she received a weak shove as the brunette used her body to propel herself off the couch. “Farewell asshole, I’m so sorry for your sake Maria. Godspeed.”
When you felt a hand on your waist you tensed as Yelena mindlessly droned on. This situation had been the exact thing that got you in trouble earlier in the night, but then you caught a whiff of your girlfriend’s spiced vanilla perfume that paired so well with her natural pheromones you couldn’t help but to melt right into her.
“You ready to go honey?” She lowly husked as her thumbs pressed into the exposed skin of your hips. “Mommy’s ready to reward you now if you’ll just say a proper goodbye to Lena.”
You lunged forward and embraced your bestie in a tight hug that she reciprocated, the blonde lightly chuckled as she felt your body buzzing.
“Happy Birthday Lena, see you later?!” You squished her cheeks between your hands, and she smiled knowingly. “Go on Y/N, someone should at least have fun in their birthday suit!”
Wanda rolled her eyes, and whispered to the blonde: “Kate’s only two eager seats away.” Then she whisked you off, practically carrying you to her car as your legs were still shaky.
You were in for the night of your life…
#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff fic#wanda maximoff oneshot#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x female reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x y/n#wanda x you#wanda x y/n#wanda x reader#wanda x fem!reader#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x maria hill#blackhill
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Part 1: Don't Be A Stranger
Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7
But if (my) world was ending, you'd come over right?
(In which UCLA anon's roman empire became this writer's roman empire and we've finally reached the beginning)
Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd
Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff
Words: 8.4 K (other parts will be shorter....maybe)
TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content
A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Gonna keep this as short and sweet as possible but we've finally, finally gotten to the UCLA fic. A huge shout out to UCLA anon, because this is their master idea. Couple of things, I've never been to LA or UCLA and therefore some things are out of whack. The timeline is also a little out of whack but I swear I will try to keep it as consistent as possible. In the mean time, just ignore some of the inconsistencies pretty please. As always, feel free to let me know what's bad, what's good and what else you'd like to see. I hope y'all enjoy this first part and let's get another W today!
August 2021
where are you
i literally have to be at the airport in an hour paige where are you
dude
are you on your way?
you better be driving and that’s why you’re not answering
PAIGE
i’m sorry about last night i shouldn’t have said that
but you said a lot of shit too so call it even?
this isn’t funny where are you?
i have to leave in 15 mins
are you actually not coming?
wtf????
this is actually bullshit
get over yourself bueckers
wow
fuck you
just landed
thought you might like to know
sorry my plane didn’t crash i guess
September 2021
dude enough okay
can you just call me back??
i just wanna talk
i know you're mad i get it but i miss you
November 2021
hi i’mma be in dc over christmas
nvm
idk why i’m trying again
maybe i should block you
this is kinda pathetic of me what the fuck
December 2021
i thought i saw you today but idk
couldn’t have been you cause if it was
would you really not even say hi?
i’m done trying paige
merry christmas i guess
March 2022
i misz you
lyke a wot
love uuuuu pppppp
even if ur a bwtich
pkese pick up
ignore that
people drunk text exes apparently i drunk text you
wait
i don’t need to tell you that
you already ignore it all anyways
August 2022
i heard about the acl
i’m sorry
idk if it means anything, but if you wanna talk
nvm
***
September 2022
When the doorbell rings, on a quiet Thursday afternoon during a rare moment of alone time, Paige expects it to be a lot of people. One of her parents deciding that they actually weren’t going to leave her alone. Someone else in her family showing up out of the blue to provide comfort. Maybe one of her teammates popping up to keep her entertained. She even thinks it might be some random fan who got too invested and figured out the address for her air BnB. It’s the saddest testament to how broken they are, that the idea of it being Azzi Fudd standing outside her door, never once crosses her mind. But there she is, when Paige opens the door, dressed in ripped jean shorts and a light blue tank top, the girl that had been her best friend, and maybe a little bit more.
Silence stretches between them as Azzi fidgets with her hands and Paige continues to stoically stare at her. It’s been almost a year since they’ve seen each other, even longer since they’d last shared a happy smile. And you’d have to go back to before she’d told her about her future plans, to find the last time Azzi had properly looked Paige in the eyes.
“Hi,” Azzi says finally, mustering up a small smile. Paige doesn’t know if hearing that voice, soft and subdued but still so familiar, fixes a crack or breaks her heart even further. She wills herself to be polite in response, to match Azzi’s polite greeting with a greeting of her own. But there’s clear discord between her mouth and her head, because her words are harsh and hollowed.
“What are you doing here?”
Azzi swallows, smile disappearing as she immediately digs her fingernails into her palms and Paige feels the guilt settle into her stomach. It’s like the night before all over again. If she closes her eyes, Paige can still hear her voice loudly echoing in Azzi’s childhood bedroom. She can hear the angry words that she’d hurled at her best friend, each one like a well-aimed arrow piercing the other’s girl's heart and tearing into Paige’s own soul. Some would call what she’d done self-preservation. She’d call it her biggest mistake.
“I um-,” Azzi sucks in her bottom lip, “I was in the area and thought, maybe I’d check in.”
“How did you even know where I was?” Paige hates how cold and accusatory her voice sounds. It’s a version of herself she doesn’t quite know how to deal with, one that hasn’t ever appeared for anyone other than the girl in front of her, “I know I didn’t tell you.”
Any semblance of calm is gone from Azzi’s face, as she seems to realise that she’s not going to be getting any cordiality from her old friend.
“And we’re off to a great start,” she mutters under her breath before replying to Paige’s exact question, “no you didn’t. Your dad-”
“You talked to my dad?”
“Yeah. I mean you know Drew looks up to Jon and José so much and they still talk and stuff and he came over- Drew I mean- and then your dad was there and we just got to talking and you came up and yeah. He told me and well I live here, kinda, so I thought- well I thought maybe you’d like some company?”
As Azzi’s rambling explanation comes to an end, Paige doesn’t miss the tinge of hopefulness in her voice at the last bit. The younger girl shuffles her feet, as she stares at the blonde expectantly.
“I don’t-” Paige struggles to draw in a breath as the voices in her head argue, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Her words are met with silence as Azzi stares at her blankly.
“I- you,” she blinks rapidly, clearly at a loss for what to say at the blatant rejection, “I can’t come in?”
“It’s just- I’ve had a lot of people visit you know,” Paige bullshits, suddenly feeling very exhausted, “and my family were here a couple days and my friends are coming soon and-”
“And I’m neither of those things,” Azzi says, her tone low and breathy.
“That’s not what-”
“It is,” Azzi closes her eyes for a brief second, when she opens them, the flash of hurt in them feels like a dagger through Paige’s chest, “it is like that and it is what you meant and it’s- it’s fine.”
“Az-” Paige chokes out, feeling her lungs collapse when the other girl moves to leave, “please,” and she’s not even sure she’s asking for, but it’s not this. It’s never been this.
Azzi stops and when she turns back around, there’s a determined look on her face.
“I just-” she rubs her face, composing herself before focusing her eyes on Paige, “you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re going to come back from this, better than ever. I know it. The whole world knows it. Because you’re Paige Bueckers. You’re something else. You’re the hardest worker, you’re just- you’re the best.”
“You don’t-”
“Just- just let me finish okay and then, then I’ll go or whatever but Paige, you’re all of those things you know? Strong, brave, the best fucking player- but, it’s also okay if sometimes-, if sometimes you aren’t. It’s okay because this- this is hard, I know it is. So if sometimes you’re not strong or-, or brave- or not feeling like working hard- it’s okay. And if there are moments where you- where you want to give up, that’s okay too. It doesn’t make you- it doesn’t make you any less than what you are. It just makes you human, and it’s okay you know- to be human. It’s okay if- if you hurt and it’s okay if you’re not okay. It’s- it’s okay.”
The two girls stare at each other, eyes shining with tears, as Paige let’s Azzi’s words wash over her. She’s been told a lot of platitudes about her injury, from her coaches to her teammates to her family. And she knows she has plenty of people in her corner, who root for her and who genuinely do believe she’ll have the greatest comeback ever. But the motivational speeches get draining after a while and all she’s wanted to do for the last couple of weeks is wallow. Then she felt guilty about wallowing, that little voice in her head yelling at her to be productive and work on getting back to herself because that’s what everybody expected. Paige hadn’t even realised how badly she needed someone to give her permission to not be okay, not until the only person who’d ever known that part of her, had finally said the words she so desperately needed to hear.
The thing is, when she was younger, Paige used to keep everything bottled inside. She’d always been hyper aware of her privilege and her problems had always just seemed so insignificant in front of her parents’ or her friends. So she’d kept them to herself, trapping herself in a web of her own burdens that sometimes threatened to strangle her. And then she’d met a girl at a USA basketball camp when she was 15, a girl who had gently flicked her fingers and Paige’s walls had fallen like dominoes. She hadn’t even known she was drowning, until Azzi had shown up with a lifeboat.
“I just-,” Azzi breaks Paige out of her trance by breaking the eye contact between them, “I didn’t know if anybody had said that to you yet and I just- I wanted you to hear it.”
In the span of a minute, a thousand and one phrases take birth in Paige’s mind and then die on the tip of her tongue. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to express even one of the myriad of emotions that are swirling like a tornado in her brain. But nothing comes out except a litany of incomprehensible noises. And Azzi seems to find the wrong answer in the silence, giving the blonde a timid nod.
“Take care of yourself P,” her voice catches on the familiar nickname, as she shoots Paige a sad smile, before beginning to walk away. When Azzi chose UCLA, she’d lit Paige's heart on fire. So, Paige had drowned their friendship. And while all this time Azzi has struggled to breathe, Paige has burned but god, is she so fucking tired of it.
“Fuck, Azzi wait,” Paige curses, hobbling to catch up to the brunette, who stops with a sigh but doesn’t make a move to return. Stubborn as always, Paige thinks, continuing her way over. When she does catch up, she’s not fully sure what to say and so, “I uh- I’m out of milk.”
Azzi raises her eyebrows in question, crossing her arms protectively around her chest.
“I can’t drive,” Paige explains slowly, “or walk obviously.”
Realisation dawns on Azzi’s face, “you’re asking me to drive you to the grocery store?”
“I guess,” Paige shrugs, trying to be nonchalant.
“Seems like the kind of favour someone asks of their family, or their friends,” Azzi emphasises bitterly, never one to let go of an opportunity for sarcasm.
Paige flinches, “right, I kinda deserved that one.”
She gets a raised eyebrow in response that very much says “ya think?”
“I’m trying here,” she says quietly, and Azzi’s hard demeanour softens, “I’m raising a white flag Az, calling a truce or whatever but it kinda needs to go both ways.”
“What do you think me coming here was supposed to be?” the younger girl says exasperatedly, but she’s smiling again. It’s the third one Paige has gotten out of her today, and finally, she smiles back. They look a little foolish, standing in the apartment hallway, cheshire-cat-grinning at each other like idiots, but it feels like something has clicked into place again.
“I’ll go grab my wallet, you go heat up the car.”
“It’s like 110 degrees dude.”
“Bro shut up, you know what I mean,” Paige huffs and when it makes Azzi laugh, she feels like she’s floating. It’s not as if she hasn’t been happy in a year because won’t you look at that, her world did keep turning after that one decision. But this is different. She feels airy and light, like she could jump off a cliff and fly instead of fall.
“Well hurry up, I have things to do outside of just being your chauffeur.”
“Poor passenger princess, how the roles have reversed,” Paige mocks and it earns her an ever so familiar fond eye roll and for the first time in a year, she feels free.
***
When she gets downstairs, Azzi’s leaning against her car door, a pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes. The hot California sun shines brightly against her tan skin, and Paige’s heart stutters because fuck, Azzi is golden. She looks every bit reminiscent of the girl Paige still has memorised and yet, every bit the promise of a girl Paige wants to learn by heart.
“Nice car,” Paige smirks, alerting the younger girl of her presence.
“It does the job,” Azzi says, looking up with a smile of her own, opening the passenger door for Paige to get in, “not all of us are raking in NIL deals to get the big guns, but we make do.”
“Steph Curry brand ambassador say what now?” the blonde girl teases as she slides into the car. When she looks up, Azzi’s frozen in place, “what?”
“Nothing I just-” she’s wearing sunglasses, but Paige knows Azzi's trying to avert her gaze, “I’m kinda surprised you know that.”
It’s Paige’s turn to look away, their newfound comfort giving away to that old awkwardness, “I keep up with most basketball news.”
To Azzi’s credit she doesn’t push. Instead, she makes her way into the driver seat without another sound. She’s about to connect her phone to the aux but Paige beats her to it.
“Hey,” Azzi squeals, making grabby hands, “my car, my rules, my music.”
“Nuh-uh injury privileges,” Paige gloats, sticking out her tongue.
“That’s not a thing.”
“Is too.”
“Fine, we’ll listen to your crap music.”
“I resent that,” Paige retorts, as Drake blasts through the speakers. The sound of it makes Azzi groan, and she dramatically bangs her head against the steering wheel. Paige spends the rest of the car ride singing at the top of her lungs. Azzi spends the rest of the car ride alternating between shaking her head and joining in with the singing. It’s like they’re back in 2020 all over again, back before they found themselves in the whirlwind of life, back when they were just Paige and Azzi.
***
Their trip inside the grocery store takes less time than the ride to get there, even if Paige takes her time dilly-dallying in the dairy section, pretending she’s going to get anything other than just regular milk. She’s overly conscious of the fact that their time together might be coming to an end, that this time she might actually have to deal with saying goodbye. But she’s not ready to go back to missing Azzi just yet.
“Maybe you can show me your dorm,” she says quietly, once they're both back in the car, playing with the hem of her shirt. Beside her, Azzi draws in a sharp intake of breath, clearly not having expected Paige to want that of all things. In all honesty, the idea of stepping into the world that had stolen Azzi from her is not all that appealing to Paige but she wants to hold onto this moment just a little bit longer.
“You wanna see my dorm?”
“A chance to see how the non-blue blood peasants live? I’d never pass it up.”
“Non blue blood,” Azzi scoffs, "Ever heard of John Wooden?”
“I was talking about women’s basketball but yeah I have heard of him. I won the award last year. Over you,” Paige smirks, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Not everyone’s a phenom their freshman year,” Azzi retorts fondly, unable to mask the hint of pride in her voice.
“Well we’ll see this year-” Paige stops herself, cold seeping into her lungs, as she remembers why she’s in the stupid state of California in the first place. The lighthearted mood in the car goes tumbling out the window as her words hang like a dagger in the air.
“Paige,” Azzi whispers, trying to wrap that one syllable in comfort. She reaches out to touch the blonde’s shoulder but must think better of it because her hand hovers mid-air for a second, before she pulls it back. Paige is suddenly hyper aware of the fact they haven’t touched yet. It’s a reminder of the fact that whatever progress they’ve made today, there’s still so much they haven’t even begun to unpack.
“It’s fine,” Paige’s voice is steely, “just drive.”
Azzi opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, before simply nodding and starting the ignition. She’s clearly holding back and Paige doesn’t know how to feel about it. There’s a part of her that wants Azzi to push her to talk like she would before, but there's another part of her that knows this new rope they’re trying to string between them is fragile.
They ride in silence to Azzi’s apartment, both of them too caught up in their own thoughts to bother with music this time. As the UCLA campus nears, Paige can’t help but hate it just a little bit. She’s aware she’s being petty. Acting like Storrs, Connecticut is some hub of beauty is probably a stretch of the imagination for anyone but she’s determined to dislike this place out of principle.
“Hmm not too shabby but like where’s the fucking cows?” Paige jokes, as the car comes to a stop in front of Azzi’s apartment building. She steps out gingerly, pretending to inspect her surroundings, making tsk-tsk noises at the most random things.
“I’ve seen your apartment Bueckers, don’t even try,” Azzi retorts.
It shouldn’t surprise Paige to see one of Azzi’s teammates when they enter her living room. It’s just like UConn really in the sense that there’s always someone there when you walk in but something about seeing Charisma Osborne just chilling in Azzi’s space suddenly makes it more real that the younger girl is definitely a UCLA Bruin.
“Oh,” Charisma gives Paige a once-over, clearly not having expected to see her, “hi Paige.”
Paige waves, shuffling her weight on her crutches, unsure what to say. It’s not like she doesn’t know Charisma, they’ve literally won a gold medal together for USA basketball. She’s even met the girl a couple of times after and she likes her, she does. But her bitter brain is focused on the fact that this is one of those girls who had gotten Azzi as their teammate, one of the girls who got to see Azzi everyday. All things Paige had not gotten.
“You didn’t tell me you were bringing company Az,” Charisma says pointedly, looking at Azzi and Paige bristles at the use of the nickname. She’s being all sorts of ridiculous but at least she’s self-aware of it.
“Last minute decisions,” Azzi replies airily. The two girls lock eyes and Paige can tell they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation and now the green-eyed envy monster is out in full force.
“I insisted on seeing her dorm,” she says finally, breaking into whatever staring competition the two UCLA guards are having.
“It’s not a problem,” Charisma reassures, standing up from her position on the couch, and coming over to give Paige a tentative hug, “I just didn’t know you were coming. But it’s good to see you, Paige.”
“Yeah,” Paige tries to muster up a proper smile as she leans in to return the hug but it comes out more like a grimace, “you too.”
“We’re gonna go chill in my room,” Azzi says, beckoning to one of the doors in the hallways and Paige obediently follows her, waving a half-hearted goodbye to Charisma. She’s secretly pleased to have Azzi back to herself.
The room is nothing out of the ordinary except it has Azzi all over it. She’s in the pink comforter that is thrown haphazardly over a clearly not made bed. She’s in the unicorn plushies laid delicately over a dark blue couch. She’s in the little flower stickers that outline the mirror on the far side of the room. There’s a wall dedicated solely to pictures and fairy lights on one side and Paige is immediately drawn to it. A familiar ache reverberates in her chest as her eyes flicker over the pictures of Azzi’s family. She’s missed them. Then there’s the photographs of Azzi in her UCLA uniform, her teammates surrounding her and Paige has to resist the dangerous urge to rip those off the wall. Be happy for her happiness, the logical part of her brain yells, not seeming to realise she’d left any chance of that in the dirt a year ago. As she tears her eyes away from those offending pictures, they land instead on a whole other set of photographs and she feels her heart catch in her throat.
It’s a set of three images of her and Azzi, taken at various moments. Paige brushes her thumb against the one of the two of them with their arms around each other at the Minnesota state fair. Azzi’s beaming at the camera and Paige is beaming at Azzi. They look so young, so naive, so happy.
“I’m on your wall,” Paige breathes out, turning to face her best friend, “Fuck, I’m on you wall.”
“Of course you are,” Azzi affirms, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but she shuffles nervously, giving away the reality behind her stable demeanour.
“I never answered your texts. I didn’t call you back,” Paige lists quietly as the first tear falls from her eyes; she’s been holding them back all day, “and I’m on your fucking wall.”
Azzi looks away, unsure how to deal with the fact that apparently they’re no longer tip-toeing around the past. She doesn’t know how to tell the blonde that there had never really been a second thought about whether or not those photos were going up on the wall.
“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs finally, “you’re my best friend. You’re always gonna be my best friend. Ride or die right?”
“Ride or die,” Paige repeats in a whisper before she all but throws herself at Azzi, practically moulding herself into the younger girl’s body. Caught off guard, Azzi stiffens for a second, before relaxing into it. It’s late outside and the sun has set, but in this moment, the world shines the brightest it has in a year as two stubborn girls finally find their way home to each other.
***
That night, Azzi asks her tentatively if she wants to stay over and of course Paige agrees. Lying awake next to a familiar stranger, she lets herself finally remember the day things had first started unravelling.
November 2020
“You’ll probably get one of the upstairs apartments, so we probably won’t actually be living together which is good because can you imagine if I had to see your goofy ass 24/7?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, as she leads Azzi into her room.
She’s too caught up in her excitement having Azzi at UConn, and planning what’ll happen next year, to notice that the girl in question isn’t participating at all in her enthusiasm. Paige has been waiting for what feels like a year (in reality it’s only been a few months) to finally have her best friend come visit. The minute the car had pulled up, she’d taken it upon herself to start her sales pitch all over again, missing the sympathetic smiles she’d gotten from the rest of the Fudd family as she pulled Azzi away to show her the glories of the campus.
“Did you see my assist to Christyn today?” Paige gloats, falling onto her bed with a smirk.
“It was pretty great,” Azzi concedes.
“It was fucking perfect thank you very much. I set her up perfectly, exactly how she likes it.”
“Right.”
“And then did you see how excited the team was for her? For everyone? Never gonna find a greater group of girls.”
“They seem wonderful P.”
Paige furrows her eyebrows as she catches Azzi still lingering by the door instead of joining her on the bed. The brunette fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, chewing on her lips.
“Are you allergic to my bed?” Paige waits for some smartass response. When she doesn’t get one, she frowns, instincts going haywire, “Az, you good?”
“I- '' Azzi looks away, swallowing nervously, “I need to tell you something and I- I’m not sure how you’re gonna react.”
“You get a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something in the last few months that I don’t know about?” She says it light-heartedly enough, but the thought of it sends a sharp sting through Paige’s heart. In hindsight, she thinks maybe she could have dealt with it having been that.
“What? No. Just- just don’t- dont take it personally okay. Like you can be upset about it but- but don’t hold it against me yeah? My parents- they said- they said you’d get it. You’d be upset but you’d- you’d get it because you- you get me right?”
Paige’s chest hammers as she watches the younger girl draw in a deep breath, “you’re scaring the shit out of me right now.”
“I’mcommittingtoUCLA” Azzi says all in one breath, the words blending together.
She’s sure she’s heard it wrong. There’s no way. After all this time, after all their conversations, all the pitches, how hard she had worked, there was no way this was going to be the end to all of Paige’s efforts.
“What?” she whispers, crossing her fingers that she has in fact misheard.
When Azzi averts her eyes, she knows she hasn’t, “I’m committing to UCLA.”
The first time Paige and Azzi met was somewhat awkward, what with Azzi’s shyness and Paige being slightly overeager to make a new friend. When they’d become bus buddies, they’d progressed to being casual acquaintances who could small talk and share smiles. And then the flight back to Minnesota happened and everything had changed. Every moment after was filled with conversation or laughs or a comfortable silence. Until this one, where the sudden silence between them foreshadows an ominous future.
“Say something,” Azzi says finally, her voice shaking.
Paige stares at her for a second before, “you named your dog Stewie.”
“What?”
“You named your dog Stewie. After Breanna Stewart who played at UConn. It’s not-” Paige wracks her brain, hands flying animatedly “it’s not Meyers or something, after someone who played at fucking UCLA. You named your dog after a UConn great. How are you going to take him to UCLA with you?”
Azzi stares at her, clearly not having expected that level of questioning of all things. Who could blame her when Paige herself feels a little insane.
“This is a joke right? You’re fucking with me? Ha ha ha very funny,” she claps deliriously, “hilarious prank seriously, like hats off you’ve outdone yourself but enough okay? Say sike right fucking now.”
Azzi makes a strangled noise, “it’s not a joke Paige. That’s- that’s my decision.”
“Then change it,” Paige yells, catapulting off the bed.
“Paige-”
“Have you told UCLA yet?”
“I wanted to tell my family and you first.”
“Oh wow, how kind of you. How fucking generous of you to do that Azzi,” Paige bites back sarcastically and Azzi flinches.
In a flash, Paige’s expression goes from angry to desperate, “you still have time to change your mind . Please just- just think about it again okay? You still have so much time and you know what, stay here for a couple more days. Spend time with the team, with the coaches, with me and you’ll see-. UCLA just sounds nice you know? California, the sun, I get it, of course it’s tempting. But just- just stay here okay? And you’ll see this is where you belong,” she leaves the, with me, unsaid.
“Paige,” Azzi’s voice cracks. She takes a step toward her and then pauses. It’s the first time in a long time that Azzi’s hesitated when it comes to Paige. It won’t be the last. And when she looks at Paige through her long eyelashes, tears threatening to fall from her dark brown eyes, Paige knows she’s lost.
“No,” she’s pacing now, chest heaving up and down in a combination of frustration, anger and misery, “this is not fucking happening. We’re not doing this. I made you a whole recruitment video. Did you watch it? Do you know how long it took me to make it? Has the last year been a fucking joke to you?”
“Of course not-”
“Don’t even. Because clearly- clearly it has. Must’ve been hilarious watching me beg and plead with you when you already fucking knew you were going to committ somewhere else.”
“That’s not fair,” Azzi’s voice rises at the accusation, “I had no idea where I was going until a couple of weeks ago. You can’t seriously think that low of me.”
“Not fair? You know what’s not fair, Azzi? We’ve been talking about playing together, about finally being on the same team, the same fucking state, for years. What’s not fair is you throwing all of that away on a whim.”
“I’m not committing to UCLA on a whim. This is my whole future we’re talking about. You don’t even know how much thought I’ve put into it. And I’m choosing what’s best for me. You can’t hold that against me Paige. You can’t.”
They stand on opposite sides of the room, taking in harsh staggered breaths and glaring at each other. The tension in the room is electric as the string connecting them frays. Paige and Azzi bicker, they don’t argue. Or at least, that’s how it used to be.
“Az?” their stare down is broken by a knock on the door as Katie Fudd lets herself in. Immediately, as she stares between her daughter and the girl who’d become just as important, Katie knows what has happened, “we’re going back to the air BnB, are you staying here?”
The answer should be obvious, like it used to be. Of course she would stay here. It was meant to be a no-brainer. But before Azzi can say that, Paige intervenes and the string snaps.
“She’s going with you,” the blonde says firmly, before turning her back. She won’t let Azzi see the tears, she won’t. For her part, the brunette stares at Paige’s back silently for a couple of seconds, before a mask of determination slips on.
“Fine. If that’s what you fucking want,” Azzi sneers before brushing past her mom, eager to get away and hide her own tears.
When Paige turns back around, Katie is already looking at her. The older woman walks the length of the room and pulls the younger girl into a hug that she readily melts into. Paige sniffles as Azzi’s mom soothingly rubs her back.
“We’re driving back tomorrow morning,” Katie whispers quietly into Paige’s hair, “I know you’re mad sweetheart but come say goodbye okay?”
And she does. She shows up with only half an hour or so remaining before Azzi leaves, but Paige shows up. They hug stiffly, exchanging maybe a sentence or two but in that moment it’s enough. They’ll call later when Azzi gets home and it’ll be awkward for a little bit but they’ll break through. They’ll figure out a way to go on without having to talk about the “big thing”. They’ll hold on as long as they can, until they can’t anymore.
***
September 2022
After the night Paige stays over at Azzi’s apartment, they're attached at the hip for the next few weeks, just like old times. They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. Azzi shows up without fail every day after practice to pick Paige up from her rehab, and then the rest of the younger girl’s time is Paige’s. The first time she’d seen the brunette leaning casually against her car, Paige had had to stop herself from jumping into her arms. She’d played it as nonchalant as possible, joking about Azzi being stalker, but inside, she could feel it again, the dangerously familiar tap of this is all I’ll ever need.
On days Paige doesn’t have rehab, Azzi still shows up right on time on her doorstep with a board game or food or something. It’s gotten to the point where every time the doorbell rings, Paige opens it expecting Azzi. The couple times it’s not, she tries and fails to hide the disappointment on her face. It earns her an eye roll from the delivery guy but it’s worth it for the laugh it elicits from Azzi when she tells her the story. They fall back together as if they’d never fallen apart. And what’s more terrifying than finding out that she’d never truly gotten over old Azzi, is realising how easy it would be to fall in love with new Azzi.
When Caroline, Nika and Piath come to visit the weekend after, all three of them can immediately tell that something's changed. Their teammate seems lighter, as if she’s finally found a sense of calm. But their incessant prodding and raised eyebrows are only met with shrugs from a tight-lipped Paige. It isn’t until Azzi calls, and Nika snatches the phone out of Paige’s hands, gasping at the callerID, that they finally figure out why their point guard has a new kick in her step.
“You should invite her out with us tonight,” Caroline is the first to speak, giving Paige an encouraging smile.
“Carol,” Nika hisses, “we can’t just invite the enemy.”
“She’s not the enemy,” Paige defends immediately, “we don’t even have a rivalry with UCLA.”
Nika scoffs indignantly, “of course she is. She picked a different school over us. Over UConn! That’s weird. Who even does that?”
“Lots of people do,” Caroline, who occasionally texts Azzi (albeit she’s kept that somewhat of a secret), supplies helpfully, shrugging when the Croatian glares at her.
Piath nudges Paige when she notices the other girl has gone quiet, “ignore Nika. She doesn’t mean it, you know that. If you wanna invite her, invite her.”
And she does, she wants to so badly. It’s insane really because it hasn’t even been a full day since they’d last seen each other but Paige swears something inside her has been missing since. There’s something awfully terrifying about letting Azzi back into the UConn version of her world, the world that the younger girl had once rejected. Still, if they’re going to try this again, she supposes sooner or later, it’ll have to happen.
“Put her on speaker,” Nika orders when Paige grabs her phone back from her.
“Nika,” Caroline, younger only by age, warns, pulling the other girl away, “we’re supposed to be cheering her up, not making life harder.”
Azzi answers on the third ring, her voice teasing “miss me already?”
Yes, Paige thinks, sometimes I think I miss you even when you’re right here next to me, sometimes I think I’ll miss you forever. But she doesn’t say any of that.
“Not a chance,” she scoffs instead, “besides you called me first.”
“Butt dial.”
“Mmmhmm I’m sure.”
“Shut up,” Azzi laughs and Paige is glad her teammates aren’t here to see the goofy grin that appears on her face at the sound of it, “I just wanted to see if we were doing something tonight?”
“Yeah- umm- you remember I told you about the girls coming down this weekend. They- uh- they wanted to go out tonight and uh- you could come along?”
There’s a pause on the other end and Paige knows Azzi’s going through the same thought process as her.
“I don’t wanna intrude on your time with your team P-”
“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Paige cuts in immediately and although she figured her teammates were definitely eavesdropping, Nika cursing about her being “pussywhipped” followed by in-sync shushing from Piath and Caroline, gives them away.
On the other end of the line, Azzi’s quiet again, “it’s okay P, you go have fun with your friends. We don’t have to spend every night together. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
What she doesn’t say is that maybe they need to learn how to live like that again, how to live apart again. Paige is almost done with the LA part of her rehab, something both of them are still in denial about. It’s only a matter of time before they return back to their two separate worlds and neither of them are sure they’ve managed to repair their friendship enough to not slip back into their foolishness again.
“But I wanna see you tonight,” Paige whines, her tone teetering on the edge of sounding like a desperate girlfriend, “please.”
“Paige-”
“Pleaseeeeeee. I’m literally injured and begging Az, it’d be mean to say no.”
“What does your injury even have to do with any of this?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, “but yeah okay fine calm down Bueckers. Send me an address, I’ll be there.”
“You don’t wanna come pregame here?”
“Dude, let's not push it, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah okay see you,” Paige pauses, “hey Az?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m really happy you’re coming tonight.”
“I’m really happy you’re happy P.”
***
Azzi Fudd is a menace. See, people often get fooled by her soft-spoken nature and shy demeanour, but Paige has been around her long enough to know the truth. In the beginning it was the witty quips the younger girl always had ready whenever they were having some ridiculous argument. After that, it was the direct pranks that wreaked havoc on Paige’s life. But tonight, in Paige’s opinion, tonight is Azzi’s worst offence. She had to have done it on purpose, had to have known the sheer effect it would have on Paige to see her dressed like that. The red criss-cross tank top fits her like a mould and the way her ripped jeans shorts cling to her hips leaves little to the imagination. Her diamond belly button piercing shines against her skin, taunting Paige. She wants to touch, she wants to feel, she wants to do all the unspeakable things in her mind but she’s forced to just watch.
What she hates most though, is that everybody else is watching too. Since Azzi’s walked into the club, Paige has had to fight the urge to strangle every stranger who had given her best friend an appraising once-over. Some of them let their eyes linger long enough to give her time to plot out the perfect murder strategy (it’s the only way she can stop herself from actually committing a crime tonight). And, as Azzi dances with Caroline, hips swaying to the beat and holding the other girl a little closely, Paige has the irrational urge to hit sweet, kind Caroline of all people.
The thing is, Azzi’s been a little too attached to Caroline since she got here in Paige’s opinion. And she gets it. Piath, bless her soul, is trying but has always been a little awkward around new people. Nika is definitely not trying, loyally holding onto a grudge on behalf of Paige. Which leaves Caroline, who’s already familiar territory and the younger girl has grasped onto her like a lifeline. But enough is enough Paige decides, as she slips out of her seat with a determined look. Smoothly, she cuts right in between Caroline and Azzi.
“Nika’s a little wasted and I don’t want to deal with,” it’s a blatant lie but Paige knows appealing to Caroline’s more motherly instincts will get her what she wants. She gets a raised eyebrow in return, her teammate clearly catching her ruse because Nika looks visibly fine. But it works anyway and Paige gets Azzi to herself. She reaches for the other girl’s hand, twirling her just so she can hear that stupid silly laugh, and then pulling her back so she’s facing Paige.
“You having fun?”
“Always have fun with you P,” Azzi replies. She’s clearly tipsy but there’s no hint of insincerity in her voice. It makes Paige’s breath hitch.
“Yeah?” she whispers, taking a step closer, “more than with Carol?”
Azzi giggles, “more than anyone.”
The song in the club changes and as the crowd adjusts to it, someone jostles Azzi and immediately Paige grabs at her hips to steady her. As she finds her balance, Azzi’s giggles subside, realising just how close she is to the blonde now. They’re stuck in slow motion as the world dances around them. The combination of adrenaline and alcohol pumping through her veins is what convinces Paige to test the limits. One hand still squeezing at Azzi’s bare waist, revelling in finally getting to touch, she brings up her thumb to trace around Azzi’s lips. The younger girl gulps, but when she doesn’t try to move away, confidence pulses through Paige. Her heart is beating frantically out of her chest, years and years of want and need that she’d shoved as far away as possible, desperately fighting to get to the surface.
Pushing herself closer, so their chests are now pressed to each other and Azzi’s hands have no choice but to latch onto her biceps, Paige places a delicate, teasing kiss to the corner of Azzi’s lips. She wishes she could record the whine it elicits and listen to it on loop for hours. Smirking, she moves to place another one on the other side, this time pressing her lips a little harder, a little longer. Azzi’s eyes are closed shut, hands gripping onto Paige so tightly, she knows there’ll be a mark on her biceps tomorrow. She cups Azzi’s face with both hands now, her own eyes shutting involuntarily, as she finally, finally brushes their lips together.
This time, the strangled noise that leaves Azzi’s throat, is one Paige wishes she could forget as the younger girl rips herself away from Paige, the force of it creating almost a foot of distance between them. It doesn’t take long for the familiar sting of rejection to make itself home in her heart. Azzi’s eyes are brimming with tears as she manically shakes her head. Without a word, she rushes through the crowd, making a beeline for the exit, leaving Paige confused and craving for another taste.
***
It takes Paige a second to gather her thoughts before following the brunette. She ignores the confused glances from her teammates, making some bullshit excuse about fresh air as she fights her way outside. When she gets there, Azzi’s leaning against the wall, eyes closed as she takes in long deep breaths.
“That’s not usually how girls react when I try to kiss them,” Paige says after a second, trying to make light of the situation, even if her heart is heavy with anxiety.
It’s the wrong thing to say because Azzi scoffs, “you kiss a lot of girls don’t you.”
“Yeah and most of them kiss me back,” Paige bites back.
She’s taken aback by the fire in the darker-skinned girl’s eyes as Azzi finally opens them, heaving herself off the wall.
“I won’t be one of your groupies Paige. I won’t be one of your desperate one night stands. I won’t be just some other hookup. I won’t!”
Frankly she’s a little offended Azzi would even think that of her. She’s aware of her reputation. In fact she’d probably fed into it a little bit, exaggerating her escapades to Azzi on the phone her freshman year, when they had been on the verge of combusing and she’d been desperate to get a rise out of the younger girl. Last year though, last year was different. But Azzi doesn’t know that.
“I don’t want you to be any of that,” she replies feebly.
“Then what, do you want me to be?” Azzi’s voice rises with each syllable.
Paige stutters, the words getting stuck in her throat. The truth is she wants Azzi to be everything. The truth is, Azzi already is everything. Except there’s too much between them and she just can’t say it. They stand in silence until Azzi finally breaks it.
“I think these last few weeks of summer might have been the best of my life,” she says miserably, “and that might be the worst thing ever you know? Because it’s not real. You’re gonna go back to your world and you’ll- you’ll stop replying to my texts and you’ll stop- you’ll stop calling me and I- I don’t know if I can do that again.”
“That’s an awful lot of assumptions you’re making about me,” Paige is on defensive mode now, feeling a fight brewing.
“Because that’s what happened. Go back through your fucking phone Paige. Look at all the times I tried. And all the times you never did. You just- you cut me out Paige.”
“That’s not fair. You chose fucking UCLA. Over me.”
“No,” Azzi corrects immediately, anger seeping into her tone, “I chose UCLA over UConn. You made it about yourself.”
Paige swallows back a bitter response in favour of trying to prevent a full-fledged argument, “okay, okay let’s not- let’s not do this okay. It’ll be better this time- I- I won’t ignore your calls or texts or you okay? Just- can we just go back inside please?”
“That’s the thing,” Azzi’s anger is gone, replaced by a sad wistful smile, “I don’t know if I believe that you will,” a single tear rolls down her cheek, “I- I don’t fully trust you and you haven’t fully forgiven me. So where do we go from here?”
It’s a lie what they say about the truth setting you free, Paige thinks as Azzi’s words squeeze at her heart, because all it’s done is unleash shackles of despair that holds them both hostage. It had been easy the last couple of weeks, to pretend the last year had never happened. It had been easy for Paige to pretend that she was over what happened, to ignore the part of her brain that still felt so utterly betrayed.
“Azzi, what are you saying? You don’t- you don’t wanna be friends?” Paige feels nauseous even saying it.
“No I-” Azzi chews at her bottom lip, “I’m saying this- us- we’re too fragile to complicate even more. I barely- fuck- Paige, I barely survived losing my best friend. I don’t think I could survive losing something more.”
The worst thing about it all, is that it makes sense. And really, Paige doesn’t know what she’d expected to happen if Azzi hadn’t pulled away when she did. They’d kiss, maybe give in and do more and then what? Shake hands and walk away? Or make false promises that would ultimately lead to resentment? No, Years and years of something deserved better than either of those masochistic endings. It makes sense, it does but it doesn’t mean Paige has to like it.
In front of her, all the fight evaporates from Azzi’s body, as the younger girl leans back against the brick wall of the club, sliding down and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks every bit as miserable as Paige feels and all the blonde wants to do is wipe away the stress lines creasing against the younger girl’s beautiful phase. She moves to sit down next to her best friend, shuffling so their shoulders are pressed together and intertwines their fingers together. A sigh of relief escapes her when Azzi doesn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she squeezes their hands tighter, as if she’s scared that if she lets go, Paige will disappear.
“You didn’t lose me you know,” Paige says softly after a second, nudging Azzi’s shoulder when the other girl lets out a noise of protest, “I know, I know it feels like you did. It felt like that to me too except- every time something good or bad happened to me, I heard your voice or- or maybe I just really wanted too. We got lost a little bit but I didn’t- I didn’t lose you and you didn’t lose me. There’s a difference. I don’t think we could ever lose each other like that. Not really.”
When Azzi turns to look at her, the golden glow of the street lights illuminate the emotions in her eyes. She gives Paige a soft smile, “well Bueckers, if basketball doesn’t work out, maybe you have a future in poetry.”
“I could do whatever I wanted,” except what I want to do the most.
It doesn’t take long for the Uber Azzi’s already called to start pulling up and that familiar ache of longing creeps into Paige’s spine. She knows tonight isn’t their final goodbye; they still have a couple more days. But those days will be spent ignoring and pretending, unlike tonight and the firm grip they have on reality. They rise off of the cold pavement together, dusting themselves off. It takes a second of awkward glances before they’re surging into each other’s arms, squeezing each other so tightly that it’s hard to breathe. Paige wills herself not to cry, hiding her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck.
“We’ll be okay,” she whispers, unsure if it’s more for her benefit or Azzi’s.
The unwanted beep of a car is the only reason they reluctantly pull away, hurriedly wiping away unshed tears, they pretend the other can’t see. Azzi musters up a brave smile, before slowly moving away and it takes everything in Paige not to crumble and begs her to stay. Azzi’s halfway to the car when she turns back and it feels like Paige can breathe again. The brunette’s face is conflicted for a second before turning determined, as she starts walking back up.
“Az-”
Paige’s confusion is stifled as Azzi fists her shirt, pulling her into a searing kiss. It’s desperate and needy and it’s only a few seconds before the dark-haired girl is pulling away again, but it sets Paige’s entire world off balance.
“I just-” Azzi’s breathing is rapid and uneven, “I’ve wanted to do that since I was fifteen and- just- fuck- I just-,” she blinks up at Paige, “I hate- I hate leaving things unfinished and for fucks sake if you don’t call me back this time Bueckers- just- don’t be a stranger.”
Paige doesn’t get time to answer, she doesn’t think she could even if she did, because Azzi scurries away almost immediately. She stops when she gets to the car, turning back to give Paige one final look, a look that will haunt Paige forever, before getting into the backseat. As Paige watches the back of Azzi’s uber gets smaller and smaller, her tongue darts across her lips as she tries to memorise the faintest taste of Azzi’s strawberry-flavoured lipstick. And she knows, she’s so utterly and completely and terribly fucked.
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THE LOLLIPOP
Pairing: y/n and Chris Sturniolo
Summary: You and the triplets had bought some stuff one of those items being a bag of lollipops. As you eat one of them Chris's mind can't help but wander....
Warnings?: smut, chris x fem!reader, pet names, teasing, touching. LOTSS of talking, most likely bad grammar, erm idkkk
Word Count: 752
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Chris, Nick, Matt, and I had just come back home after shopping for some stuff down at the corner store. When we got inside I scurried to the bags looking for a bag of lollipops I had bought. “Anybody want one?”. Chris nods. I threw him a lollipop and ran downstairs to his room. Chris comes down a few minutes later. I'm just scrolling on TikTok sucking on the lollipop, but I can feel Chris's eyes on me.
“Chris am I doing something?”. I asked. He jumps slightly in his seat. “W-what why do you say that?”. Sweat dripped down his face. He seems to be nervous... “Nothing it's just I can feel you hardcore staring at me". I said with a chuckle. “Oh, sorry I just can’t help but watch u suck on that lollipop”. He said practically mumbling “What was that?”. “Nothing!”. Minutes pass by. Still being able to feel his stare. From the corner of my eye, I can see Chris constantly repositioning himself and every time he does his hand is seemingly covering his crotch area. Strange... “Fuck I can’t do this anymore” Chris admits. “Sorry?” His words caught me off guard. “Ok uhm look” Chris groans in between breaths. “I just- “. He says before being cut off “Are you palming yourself?!” I yelled. “Shhh don’t let Matt and Nick hear you." silence filled the room "I am, I just can’t help it, you sucking on that lollipop it makes me feel things”. I blankly stared at him before having a seductive like look on my face. “You need help with that erection?”. Slowly walking into a crawling motion toward him in his gaming chair. “Yes, please anything I just need you “. he says practically begging. “Do you really need me to help you though you seem fine”. Atp I'm sitting face to face with his bulge. “I really do need you” I'm slightly taken aback by how bad he wants it but gave in. Taking his pants and boxers off. His dick has a little cum and has some redness to it from all the palming he did beforehand. “you really couldn’t help yourself huh.. well your in for a treat”. Before anything, you tease him a bit. Kissing his red tip and everywhere else. Licking around. “Are you just gonna tease me or what?”. Chris says barley containing a sentence. deep down ive been waiting ages to suck this man off so I quit the teasing and go all in. Slamming my mouth into his dick causing a loud moan to erupt from his mouth. slobbering his dick as I went faster, I look up to see him with his head thrown back and eyes practically in the back of his head from the pleasure. I couldn't help but pleasure myself too. Putting my free hand into my pants as I start moving my fingers in a circle around my clit. This causes you to moan a bit making it more pleasurable for Chris. “Fuck I’m close but just know when your done I’m moving on to you”. ”you can barely keep a sentence “hush ur mouth and enjoy”. I say breathing extremely heavily and barely being able to form a sentence myself. Without warning a white goop fills my mouth “your cum makes this whole thing 10x more worth it”. You say. Chris starts lifting his head up slightly enough for him to see me still touching myself. “Need a little help there baby??” He says. “What do you think?”. I teased as Chris lifted me by my hips placing me ever so gently on his bed. Not wasting another second, I am abruptly met with Chris’s middle and ring finger moving in me. Trying not to moan loud so Matt and Nick don't hear you two. “C'mon you can moan I don't care if the other two hear us”. I shake my head. This causes Chris to try and test me more by going faster and deeper. barely being able to take it anymore I let out the loudest moan “Fuck, Chris keep going ” A smirk is plastered on his face when u moan this. “Whatever you say". A familiar knotted feeling rises in my stomach. “Chris I’m gonna cum”. “Do it cum on my fingers for me” And so I did. Left breathing heavy I look up to see Chris licking his two fingers when u are finished. “This is All bc of you sucking a damn lollipop” he jokes out of breath.
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this was my first story so NTM and if you want to leave feedback feel free to do so! ( I had to cut like half of it because my freedom of speech is being limited 😭)
#chris sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#smut#y/n#chris x reader#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo smut
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okay since ur req is open rn i have an idea and ofc i don’t mind waiting, take ur time w it! basically it’s a neteyam x reader angst + fluff (oblivious idiots + opposites attract trope) whereby reader is loak’s bestfriend, who also has a crush on neteyam but keeps it a secret bcs she thought neteyam sees her as another troublesome little sibling like loak but what she doesn’t know is that neteyam also has a crush on her but he thought she sees him only as loak’s boring and non adventurous older brother. idk how it should go from that but can you please PLEASE ends it w fluff 🙏 thank you in advance! feel free to change anything and take as much time as you’d need bby 💓
Thank you for your request anon! 😁 I got on to this a lot quicker than I thought as my ideas for it came to me & boy did it just flow! I thought it was going to be a quick drabble, but holy moly, how have I ended up with 11.3k words of angst, drama, romance & sweet, sweet fluff! I hope you love it, anon! And I hope everyone else enjoys it too!
"Your Best Friend's Brother"
Pairing: Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya Reader
No warnings apply - Just a boat-load of angst, drama, protective & possessive Neteyam, romance & toe-curling fluff.
Again, I personally do not like the use of 'Y/N' so your name in this is 'Kalia' (pronounced KAA-lee-yah).
Language note - paskalin means 'sweet berry' and it's a term of endearment.
***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***
~~ Neteyam’s POV ~~
Neteyam trudged through the verdant underbrush of the woodlands following the sound of playful slapping and squealing in the distance where he was sure he would find you and Lo’ak. He rolled his eyes with a sigh, wondering what mischief and hazardous activities you would both be getting up to today. Fiddling with the string of his bow across his front, he readjusted his bow to sit more comfortably across his torso. The little leather pack that contained his carving implements and bow oil bounced lightly at his hip as he walked.
Granted, it was nice having days off from his warriors’ duties. Group hunts and patrols could be strenuous depending on the game being hunted and the distance travelled, so the days where he could just relax on home ground and let loose were appreciated. Until his parents foisted the responsibility of keeping Lo’ak out of trouble on him…
Lo’ak was only a year younger than him, but Neteyam often ruminated and marvelled at how his brother’s maturity level was still leagues behind his own. Of course, being the oldest child did force one to grow up a little too quickly, but at already seventeen years of age, one would think that Lo’ak would have a better compass and not such a huge proclivity for getting into trouble.
If Neteyam was honest, the only thing that made the days he had to babysit his brother bearable was you.
You and Lo’ak might as well be joined at the hip. The best of friends since you could both walk, everywhere Lo’ak went, you went with him. Every stupid little game or dangerous stunt Lo’ak pulled, you were right there beside him. You had always tagged along with Lo’ak and his other siblings. So, for the longest time, Neteyam had not thought much of the way things were and it had not bothered him; you and Lo’ak, the disruptive duo.
However, things had begun to shift ever so subtly for Neteyam as he grew older, as you all did, growing and maturing into young adults. The older he got, the more he noticed you. His body started to react and respond to you in a way that made him increasingly aware that he was a young man and you were a young woman.
Neteyam began to notice the way your beautiful braids brushed the small of your back. He began to notice the enticing way your slim waist flared out to the curve of your hips and your bottom; the soft rounds of your breasts behind your clothing…
It had hit him quite suddenly one evening and things had never been the same since.
*** FLASHBACK ***
“Kalia!” Neteyam heard Tuk cry gleefully. His little sister bounced through his family’s shelter to throw herself at you, uncaring of the thumping impact she made against your thighs. Your laugh was jovial as you bent to give Tuk a hug, expertly balancing the wooden platter you held in your other hand.
Neteyam watched as you greeted his parents politely at the threshold, stepping into the space only when his mother welcomed you in with a wave of her hand. Neytiri embraced you affectionately and returned your greeting, “Oel ngati kameie, Kalia. Come in. What wonderful food have you brought to spoil us with today?”
The wooden platter held two mounds, one much bigger than the other, both wrapped in cooking cloth. You gently set the platter down in the centre of the space where the food mats were, “Mother and I have been practising making tumpasuk (red-orange berry) sweet bread. This batch was quite successful so we thought we’d share.”
“Ah, you know your cooking is always welcome in my household.” Jake sniggered, patting his belly enthusiastically.
Reaching back towards the platter, you picked up the smaller wrapped mound of bread and rose to your feet. Neteyam saw you scan the vicinity and his heart gave an involuntary skip when your vivid green eyes eventually landed on him and your gazes locked. A small smile played across your lips and he was suddenly drawn to how succulent they looked, a thought that made his ears heat in embarrassment.
You made your way towards him and Neteyam had to make a conscious effort to close his mouth and school his expression into one of nonchalance, lest his face betray the sensual thoughts that his brain had begun to annotate about you as you approached. You had grown very pretty in recent years and despite the nuisance that you and Lo’ak always presented, Neteyam realised that you had always been a very sweet girl. A very sweet, very pretty girl.
“Hey Neteyam,” Your voice was a tender lilt in his ears and he lifted his hands to receive the small mound as you held the sweet treat out to him in both of yours, “This one is for you.”
Neteyam swallowed tightly, hoping the heat in his cheeks and ears were not colouring his skin too obviously, “Thanks, Kalia. I’m sure it’ll taste amazing, as always.”
The soft peal of your giggling tickled his ears then and Neteyam had to resist the urge to reach out and stroke your cheek. Your cyan skin looked so smooth and he was willing to bet that it would be warm and silken beneath his fingertips. The little points of your canines peaked out endearingly from behind your upper lip as you grinned and Neteyam’s nose was suddenly perceptive of an alluring scent that he knew was not the sweetbread in his hands.
“I put more dried tumpasuk berries in yours, as well a little extra rock sugar. I know you like yours sweeter.” You murmured quietly to him.
Neteyam returned your smile, silently allowing himself to bask in the feeling of being looked after specially by you. “I do, you’re right. Thanks again.”
“Hey!” Lo’ak’s voice grated from off to the side, “Why does Neteyam always get his own special treat? I thought I was your best friend!”
“You are, which is why it’s you and I that always get up to no good together.” You agreed heartily, “But your poor brother is the one who has to put up with our shit, so I figured we better thank him?”
Neteyam’s heart sank a little. Oh, was that why he always got his own treat? You were just thanking him as Lo’ak’s babysitter big brother. He suddenly felt a lot less special than he did a few moments ago…
*** FLASHBACK END ***
That had been just over a year ago and ever since then, Neteyam had grown more and more critical of your friendship with Lo’ak. Your spirited friendship with his brother seemed more at odds now to him than it ever had before. You had matured into a young woman who appeared to have her head screwed on the right way, kind-hearted and generous with good instincts. Yet all of this seemed to vaporise into thin air the moment you were around Lo’ak.
Neteyam did not understand why you persisted on accompanying his brother on his silly little escapades, playing stupid games like seeing who could pinch and punch the other the hardest. By Eywa, Neteyam had wanted to punch Lo’ak the day he had seen the bruises and marks he had left on your shoulders and arms. The thought of someone intentionally causing you pain and marring your beautiful skin made his blood boil, even though he knew that you had willingly participated in the ridiculous exercise.
But most of all, Neteyam hated the way Lo’ak’s recklessness endangered you.
Not that this meant he cared any less for Lo’ak’s safety than yours. He loved his brother and all his other siblings immensely and there was a natural desire on his part to keep them all safe. However, his impulse to protect you felt different. It was not rooted in the same place of familial love and affection he felt for his siblings. Instead, the strong urge he felt to protect you rather stemmed from his attraction to you as a male was to a female he was interested in.
If Neteyam had his way, you would never go on another irresponsible adventure with Lo’ak ever again. And this put him at odds with his brother. However, he acknowledged that getting in the way of your friendship would be wrong and he knew it would sour things overall for all three of you.
Neteyam had to find a way to curb this newfound possessiveness that he felt for you. You were not his and he was nothing more to you than your best friend’s older brother. His role was to keep an eye on Lo’ak; keep Lo’ak out of trouble and he would keep you out of trouble by default. Simple as that. Nothing more.
Your squeals and peals of laughter became clearer as Neteyam rounded the corner of a lush coppice into a glade of fyìpmaut (squid fruit) trees. Sure enough, as expected, there were you and Lo’ak, chasing each other round the glade with bits of squashed fruit in your fists, stained almost from head to toe in bright pink squid fruit residue.
Perhaps this was a good time to tell you both that fyìpmaut fruit juice stained almost permanently on whatever it came into contact with…
~~ Your POV ~~
“Lo’ak, you sucker!” You yelled out, darting out of the way as Lo’ak attempted to grab hold of you to smear you further with squid fruit, “I’ve got way more fruit on you than you have on me!”
“Yeah? Well I beat you earlier at seed-spitting, so we’re even.”
The glade of squid fruit trees were in high season currently, the trees around you bursting with bright purple fruit. The fruit hung in bunches, much like utumauti (banana fruit). Each piece of fruit was like a long, squidgy antenna, full of magenta coloured flesh that had five or six stony seeds in them.
Fresh from your run through the woodlands earlier with rumbling stomachs, it had been Lo’ak’s idea to stop and feast on your find. What had begun as a sweet and innocent snack-stop had soon turned playful when Lo’ak had challenged you to see who could spit the seeds the furthest. Seeds were spat, a winner was crowned and then you, against your better judgement, had decided to hurl a handful of pulverised fruit at him. War then ensued, which led you both to the present moment, sticky, breathless and dyed bright pink.
Lo’ak flung another piece of squashed fruit at you, which you only just managed to duck out of the way of, laughing, “Ok, alright! Truce?”
Your best friend snorted at the sight of you, “You’ve got it all up in your hair. You’re going to have to scrub your braids out and re-do them all!”
You launched yourself at Lo’ak, tackling him to the ground in a jumble of mock hisses and snarls, before a familiar voice plucked you both out of your tussle.
“Mum is going to twist your ears so hard they’ll fall off, Lo’ak.”
Startled, you shot to your feet at Neteyam’s voice. Self-consciousness overwhelmed you and you avoided meeting his gaze. Great Mother, you must look a mess… Did Lo’ak just say you had fruit in your hair?... You began a futile attempt to clean up by swiping at the bits of fruit on your arms and legs, trying to flick and rub the tacky mess from your skin and clothing.
“Ah, here comes the killjoy. Why is Mum going to twist my ears, bro?” Lo’ak queried, joining you at your side, following your lead and partaking in a fruitless attempt to clean up.
Neteyam’s toned legs came into your downcast view as he stepped up to the pair of you, and you instinctively looked up to acknowledge him. Your saliva dried up in your mouth as it always did when you laid eyes on him. Your quiet crush on him was getting rather out of hand in the confines of your own consciousness. You would never admit to all the times you had daydreamed girlishly of Neteyam, of all the things a girl wanted a boy she liked to do to her; holding his hand; a slow dance in the fading light of a dying bonfire; a kiss…
You had never admitted your feelings to anyone and especially not to Lo’ak. He would never let you live it down, crushing on his older brother. Though you knew Lo’ak had his suspicions about the way you felt.
Lo’ak thought his older brother was a dull and uninspiring killjoy, but if you were honest, you found that Neteyam’s maturity only added to the already large number of reasons you found him attractive. He was gentle, thoughtful, extremely loyal to those he cared about and one of the most skilled warriors the Omatikaya had ever seen. And he was very handsome… compassionate, intellectual, with a lovely deep voice… Your list went on.
“Squid fruit juice stains.” Neteyam stated matter-of-factly, “It’s going to take a lot of scrubbing to get it off your skin. As for your clothing, the stains will never wash out of cloth. These clothes you’re wearing are ruined, both of you.”
You heard Lo’ak bite back a curse as he fiddled with the fabric of his loincloth. It had been a lovely moss green before, but thanks to the addition of the squid fruit juice, it was now a rather unappealing shade of splotchy browns. You sighed, looking at your own ruined chest covering and loincloth. Your clothing had been a shade of lilac and while the magenta-coloured fruit juice did not contrast quite as jarringly against the fabric of your clothing as it did on Lo’ak’s, the stains were still clearly stains. There was no way the splodges would ever pass for artistic embellishment.
“At least, we didn’t get up to any dangerous shit today.” Lo’ak mused, elbowing Neteyam who sprang away lightly from his juice-covered brother with a chuckle.
“Good. We don’t need a repeat of the rock slide incident from the other week.” Neteyam cautioned, pursing his lips, “You could have both gotten really hurt from that.”
“Eh, it was fine. Kalia rolled out of the way in the end, didn’t you?” Lo’ak slapped you heavy-handedly on the back and you winced slightly in pain.
“It was a very close shave. And watch your strength, bro. Don’t be so rough with her.” The rebuke from Neteyam was delivered in an even tone, but there was an authority behind it that made Lo’ak roll his eyes.
“We should probably go and wash as best as we can before heading home.” You exhaled, feeling the stick of the fruit juice between your fingers, “The juice is starting to dry and it’s getting itchy.”
Neteyam was eyeing you up and down with an insouciant expression that betrayed very little of what he might be thinking and feeling in that moment. You were used to this. Neteyam very rarely displayed strong emotion or had dramatic reactions. He was always calm and collected. If Lo’ak was a jaunty and splashing stream, Neteyam was a deep and tranquil lake.
However, his intent gaze only fired the coals of your self-consciousness and you began to pick worriedly through the soiled braids of your hair. You realised then that there were small, drying bits of fruit still clinging to the backs of your fingers, and you stuck your fingers into your mouth one by one, trying to the best of your efforts to suck them clean.
You heard Neteyam suck in a deep breath through his nose and he spun away from you, beginning to amble back the way he came, “There’s a split in the stream farther back where you can both wash. Come on, we want to get back before eclipse.”
Heat flushed your face and ears and you swallowed the lump of shame in your throat. You probably looked absolutely feral, covered in gummy fruit bits and your hair all dishevelled. What girl ever wanted the boy she had a crush on to see her like this? You cursed your short-sightedness. You had known today was Neteyam’s day off and that you would likely see him.
You took a lot of pride in your appearance usually. Your mother always ensured your braids were impeccably done and you had an array of jewellery and clothing that you enjoyed picking through, deciding what you wanted to wear from day to day. Part of the reason was because you enjoyed being well put together, and the other reason was that you wanted to look good for your best friend’s older brother.
Following Lo’ak and Neteyam as they began their walk back to the stream, you mentally chastised yourself. Neteyam probably thought of you as a second nuisance. He already had Lo’ak to contend with from day to day and there you always were, getting into messy situations right along with him. You knew it did not make you look good, but you loved hanging out with Lo’ak. He was your dearest friend and he made you laugh with all his folly.
Reaching the split in the stream, Neteyam nodded towards one side, “Lo’ak and I will take this side. You can wash on the other. We’ll all meet back here when we’re done.”
“OK, got it.” You nodded in understanding.
“Kalia?”
You turned to face Neteyam at the sound of your name, your ears twitching curiously as you wondered why he had called out again.
Neteyam shot you a toothy grin and he chuckled, clearly tickled by something, “Make sure you wash your face really well. You’ve still got squid fruit pieces on your nose and forehead.”
Mortified, your hands flew to your face and sure enough, your fingers met something stodgy in the centre of your forehead. Cursing under your breath you turned on heel and strode for the stream on your side, secretly enjoying the sound of Neteyam’s husky laughter even though it made your cheeks burn in embarrassment.
Wading into the stream, you stopped once the cool water pooled around your hips, not wanting to go any deeper. You had never been comfortable in deep or rushing water. From childhood, you had always had an irrational fear of water. All attempts to teach you to swim had failed, as a result. You could tread water at best, but that could not be considered proper swimming. No matter, you had never held any desire to join the fisherfolk in their work hunting fish and gathering other river prey anyway.
Reaching to draw a cupful of water in your hands, you splashed yourself all over to moisten your skin. You began your arduous process of intently cleaning the fruit stains from your skin, knowing that this was the easy part. Washing your hair would be an even bigger task. You cleaned gently around a bad scrape on your left elbow, careful not to dislodge the healing scab that had formed there.
In the repetitive monotony of splashing, scrubbing and dunking, it was easy for your thoughts to drift back to that fateful day a few weeks ago when you earned that scrape. You had acquired several other grazes and cuts on your thighs and knees that same day too. It was also one of the few days you had ever seen Neteyam abandon his usually measured and composed demeanour in a rare display of emotion…
*** FLASHBACK ***
“I’ve got more rocks than you do.” You teased in a sing-song voice as you watched Lo’ak eye the broken cliff face before you, trying to decide which piece of rock he wanted to dislodge next.
“Yeah, but the rocks in my pile are bigger.” Lo’ak countered, “They’re riskier moves than the tiny little pebbles you’ve picked off.”
It was a dicey game you were playing, and once again it was all Lo’ak’s idea. There was an overhanging arch on the damaged cliff face that stood before you and the aim was to take turns dislodging as many rocks as possible before the overhang crumbled down.
“I thought that the person with the most rocks when the overhang crumbles, wins? Not the person with the biggest rocks.”
Sticking his tongue out at you, Lo’ak picked another hefty looking stone and set his foot on it, attempting to dislodge it with his body’s weight, “Nah, I’ve changed the rules. Person with the most amount of big rocks wins.”
Several smaller stones crumbled from the overhang, smacking and rolling loudly onto the ground in a precarious song of warning at the danger they were trifling with.
“That’s so unfair, you skxawng!” You whined peevishly, “You can’t change the rules partway through the game! Stop being a dick.”
“How about the both of you just stop entirely?” Neteyam’s voice called out as he appeared at the treeline. He had left the two of you for a bit to go down to the river to refill all your waterskins, and look what mischief you had both managed to get up to in that short span of time.
Lo’ak threw his arms up in the air, exasperated, “Nah, don’t ruin the fun, Neteyam. I’ve almost won anyway!”
“Are you kidding me, bro?” Neteyam exclaimed, aghast as he looked from his brother to you and then to your respective piles of rock, “Stop right now. That overhang is going to fall at any moment and it’s dangerous. Get away from there.”
“That’s the whole point, bro! We’re trying to see who can dislodge the most rocks before it crumbles.”
“Is it the most rocks or the biggest rocks?! You keep changing it!” You squealed in frustration. Both you and Lo’ak had strong competitive streaks, and neither of you liked losing.
Sensing your genuine upset, Lo’ak acquiesced and proposed a final tie-break challenge, “Alright, alright! How about this? You see that big rock over by you and this big one here by me? Whoever dislodges it first wins the whole game, once and for all. Never mind our piles.”
“No, no way. Stop it, both of you. We’re leaving now!” Neteyam hissed gravely.
However, neither you nor Lo’ak were paying him any attention. Narrowing your eyes at your best friend, you considered his proposal. You looked at the size of the rock Lo’ak had picked out for you, noted its position and then looked over at the rock he had assigned himself. Yours appeared to be in a better position. It was not wedged in as tightly to the cliff face as his was. You reckoned you could do it.
“Deal.” You called out to Lo’ak, who hooted in triumph despite Neteyam’s snarl of vexation at his side.
Both of you got stuck in immediately, feet and hands all intent on dislodging your respective rocks. Yours wobbled in its spot and you barked out a laugh of impending victory.
Several small rocks fell from overhead then and a thunderous crash echoed from above. What happened next happened so quickly that you were unsure if it had been your rock or Lo’ak’s that had caused the aftermath. The overhang disintegrated in a flash and a slew of mud and jagged rocks came pouring at speed over the edge where the overhang had been.
A cry of surprise left you and you stumbled backwards, tripping and falling painfully onto your side. Instinctively you rolled away from the surge of the rock slide and curled into foetal position, hands and arms over your head with your knees pressed to your chest.
The deafening roar of the rock slide dissipated, leaving a swirling cloud of dust and debris. Its gritty and granular texture stung your nose and you thought you could feel the grainy scratch of the tainted air all the way down your windpipe and into your lungs as you coughed violently.
Slowly uncurling your form, you tested your joints in small movements. You were scratched and scraped, but nothing felt broken or seriously injured. You could faintly make out Lo’ak and Neteyam’s worried voices as they called out to you, and you responded through a tickly throat, “I’m here! I’m OK!”
The rock slide was massive. It had divided you and separated you from the boys where you all stood in a raised wall of rock and mud. Thankfully you were out in the open and so you were not trapped. You just had to climb over the wreckage to get back to the other side.
You saw the rocks at the uppermost part of the wreckage shift and Neteyam’s head poked over the peak, closely followed by Lo’ak who cried, “Oh, shit! Kalia!”
The pair of brothers climbed gingerly over the apex of the wreckage, sliding downward on the slope towards you.
Neteyam reached you first though and you were gradually helped to your feet by his strong and firm hands. His eyes were wide and his breaths rushed from him in harsh pants while he checked you over. He circled you, gently lifting your arms as he went around, looking for any sign of serious injury. He crouched down then to look at the grazes on your legs.
You were a little shaken by the scare of the rock slide, but you were fine and you patted Neteyam’s hands where they clutched at your hips, his eyes focused on a graze along your thigh, “I’m fine, Neteyam. Nothing is broken. They’re only skin wounds.”
His eyes locked with yours for a few moments and they blazed with fury in their golden depths. He rose to his feet and you were prepared for him to berate you, but he swivelled around to Lo’ak instead and unleashed his ire, “You fucking moron! What were you thinking? No, I’ll tell you what, you weren’t thinking! This could have ended so much worse than it has! You should know better than this!”
Lo’ak shrivelled under his brother’s wrath and Neteyam returned his livid eyes to you, “You should know better. Both of you!”
Neteyam was almost vibrating with his rage. His nose was wrinkled and his upper lip was curled back in a snarl. You shrank at the sight, your shame consuming you as his words sunk in. He was right; you and Lo’ak had been extremely reckless.
Frankly, you were lucky to have escaped with your lives.
*** FLASHBACK END ***
That was another thing that you discovered you adored about Neteyam. He forgave easily and he never held a grudge.
You smiled to yourself at the thought. Neteyam had been angry for all of ten minutes at most, before he reverted to his usual caring and concerned self. You appreciated his kindly nature for what it was. Lo’ak, on the other hand, enjoyed pushing people’s buttons and you knew he took his brother’s forgiving nature for granted by always testing his boundaries.
The true blue of your own skin stared back at you as you surveyed your torso and your limbs. Your face felt fresh and your hair, though sopping wet, no longer felt tacky. Satisfied with your scrubbing efforts, you waded back to the mossy bank of the stream where your clothing lay. You had tried to wash those too, but no amount of scouring and wringing had freed the stains from the cloth.
Dressing quickly, you met the boys back at the agreed spot.
Lo’ak’s skin still looked purple in places and his jaw dropped at the squeaky-clean sight of you, “How’d you get all of it off you like that?”
You gloated a little at your job well done and smirked at him, “Good and proper scrubbing. Something you’d know nothing about. If you did, you’d smell better in general too.”
The comment elicited an offended gasp from Lo’ak and a hearty laugh from Neteyam who, despite having not partaken in their juicy fruit war, had also taken the opportunity to bathe.
“I don’t smell bad!” Lo’ak protested, chest puffing with indignance.
You laughed and teased your friend further, “No, you don’t smell bad, but you don’t smell good either.”
Neteyam stepped up to you then and your breath hitched on your next inhale. You hoped he had not noticed. Unlike his brother, Neteyam smelled very good to you. He scent was a clean musk like fresh forest greenery with a tinge of something spicy underneath.
“You did a good job scrubbing, but you missed a spot.” The rich depth of Neteyam’s voice swept over you like a warm caress and you held your breath like you had somehow lost the ability to respire like a normal person. You saw him reach out with a hand and then his thumb swiped slowly and deliberately at something high on your forehead near your hairline.
His hand pulled away and you registered a small pink glob of squid fruit on his thumb just as said thumb disappeared into his mouth to suck the digit clean. Neteyam’s intense gaze never left yours as he pulled his thumb unhurriedly from between his lips. A delightful shiver raced down your spine, and your girlish daydreams churned their way to the forefront of your mind when you saw his tongue dart out to lick his lips one last time.
Neteyam turned then to lead the trio of you away back towards home and you vaguely registered your numb and tingling legs following suit alongside Lo’ak.
A revolted groan sounded from Lo’ak and it pulled you back to reality from the daydream you had been immersed in. Your head pivoted to meet his face, which was contorted into a disgusted moue, “What is it, Lo’ak?”
“Stop eyeing up my brother’s ass.”
Your mouth dropped open in shock. Truthfully, you had been admiring Neteyam’s rear, but you were not about to admit that. Scrambling for cover and trying to worm your way out of the hole you had found yourself in, you stuttered, “I wasn’t! I was looking at his- umm, at his-”
“Ass.” Lo’ak supplied again, deadpan.
“No!” You hissed under your breath. Neteyam was walking a little way ahead of the both of you, but you were careful to keep your volume down. “I was looking at his tail!”
A sarcastic scoff was your best friend’s response and he eyed you calculatingly, his expression dripping with his disbelief, “Because tails are so interesting. Come on, Kalia, don’t lie to me. I know you find my brother attractive. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”
Stubborn and resolute in your plan not to admit the truth, you shook your head, “Nope.”
Lo’ak laughed, the stray beaded braid that wasn’t tucked behind his ear swinging charmingly with the movements of his head, “Oh, so I suppose you just look at everyone like that? All moony-eyed? Hell, do you look at my ass like that when I’m not looking?”
“Eww! No! Gross!”
What ensued was a series of pinches, slaps and squeals as you squabbled. Neteyam halted in his tracks and he turned to see what all the commotion was about with a questioning look on his face.
Unable to resist the opportunity for another jibe at you, Lo’ak called out to him, “Oi, turn back around bro. You’re ruining the view.”
You felt the blood rush to your face and ears and you knew instantly that you were flushing a deep shade of violet. You slapped the back of Lo’ak’s thigh hard and satisfaction bloomed within you when he gave a pained yowl in reaction to it.
~~ Neteyam’s POV ~~
Seeing that you were both just bickering again as you often were, Neteyam gave a weary shake of his head and resumed walking. He had missed the meaning of Lo’ak’s cryptic comment, but he had not missed the deep blush staining its way across your smooth cheeks. He smiled to himself. You looked so beautiful when you blushed.
The bright pink of the squid fruit juice against your blue skin earlier had also coloured your complexion a lovely purple hue and it had reminded him very much of your blushing skin. The fruit juice had been smeared all over you; in your hair, on your face, your neck, your chest… And you had looked like a mouth-watering mess to him.
Neteyam felt saliva pool in his cheeks at the memory. By Eywa, he had wanted to clean your skin off himself with his own mouth and tongue. He had wanted to kiss you and taste the sweetness of the squid fruit on your plump lips. He had wanted to lick the gummy bits of fruit from your slender fingers and trail his tongue over every stained part of you until you were clean.
When you had sucked your own fingers into your mouth in the next moment, his thoughts had darkened even further. The sight of your succulent lips wrapped around your fingertips had been incredibly arousing, and he had forced himself to turn away when the next image his very male brain had supplied was of your sweet lips wrapped around something else of his.
He halted his thoughts immediately at the recollection. This had to stop. He had to find a way to distract himself from hankering after you. You were his baby brother’s best friend, for goodness sake.
A feeling of futility swamped Neteyam when the next remark his brain supplied in response to his previous statement was ‘so what?’
***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***
A few months later
Neteyam sat leaning against the softer, peeling bark of kelutral (Hometree) on one of the upper boughs. He had returned from the day’s patrol not long ago and the soft light of partial eclipse streamed in dappled rays from the leafy canopy above.
Polishing the wood of his bow was one of the few things he found therapeutic in life. It was a mundane task and repetitive in nature, but it relaxed him and gave him time to just think and be. The slightly, nutty scent of the bow oil he was using was also a comforting smell that reminded him of who he was (a mighty warrior, firstborn son of the olo’eyktan) and it grounded him in those facts.
A much more saccharine scent tinged the air around him then and Neteyam’s ears twitched, alerted to the approach of someone from the branches below him. A loaf-shaped parcel, smelling absolutely delicious and wrapped in cooking cloth was carefully placed next to his thigh and he smiled, “Hey Kalia.”
Shifting to peer downward over the edge of his seat, Neteyam met your lovely green eyes which glimmered currently with something he could not decipher in their depths.
You grinned toothily at him and your tone was earnest, “Are you busy? I don’t want to impose.”
“Nah, I’m just chilling.” Neteyam replied, patting the space next to him and watching with a genial smile as you eagerly hopped up to join him at his invitation. He picked the loaf-shaped gift up and cocked his head at you, “What’s this for? It’s your birthday tomorrow, not mine. Why are you giving me a treat?”
Your teeth nibbled at your lower lip and you turned beseeching eyes at him, “I know you like utumauti cake so I set some aside for you from the batch I made this morning. I need your help.”
“Ahh, so this is bribery, is it?” Neteyam taunted mildly, regarding you through narrowed eyes.
“Well, kind of, but not really. I would have saved you some cake anyway even if I didn’t have a favour to ask.”
“I’m just teasing you.” Neteyam’s chuckle was warm, “You know you don’t have to bribe me to help you out. What do you need?”
Tender affection swelled in his chest as he watched you beam at him in excitement at what you were about to ask. Neteyam realised in that moment that he would do just about anything to see you smile, to make you happy. He enjoyed your cooking and the little treats you left him, but they were unnecessary. You had an unlimited supply of favours from him, as far as he was concerned.
You were almost bouncing next to him with your delight as you spoke, “The river trout are migrating currently and I want to see them tonight down at fkewkxor (mighty waterfall). My parents said I could go, but only if you came with me.”
The annual river trout migration passed through Omatikaya territory each year as they swam downstream through the nearby river. The migration was a stunning vision after eclipse at the falls, the bioluminescence of the masses of trout rippling in a multihued display as they made their journey down towards and over the falls before carrying on their way.
Neteyam’s agreement fell easily from his lips. He was more than happy to accompany you tonight, “Sure. Of course I’ll come with you.” However, before his imagination could begin to conjure up delightful little fantasies of how he would spend his time alone with you this evening, a maddeningly familiar voice called from below.
“Did he say yes? Can we go tonight?” Lo’ak.
Irritation flared through him and Neteyam almost sagged in disappointment. He was conscious of keeping his expression cool though. Of course Lo’ak would be coming. He was your best friend. But you both needed a chaperone to go out after eclipse and that was where he fit into the picture. It seemed you had picked up on his annoyance anyway and you wrinkled your nose sheepishly at him, eyes beseeching.
With a long-suffering sigh, Neteyam called down to his brother, “Yes, I’ll take you both tonight! I’ll meet you at the ikran rookery after last meal and we’ll go then.”
You let out a gleeful squeal and pumped your fist into the air, and Neteyam could not help the grin that wormed its way across his cheeks at your elation. You were thanking him profusely and were just about to slip off the bough to leave him to his peace, when he took your hand to get your attention. The little gasp of surprise you emitted was endearing.
Neteyam squeezed your hand gently, his thumb rubbing in fond strokes across your knuckles, “Only because it’s your birthday tomorrow.”
He released your hand and you thanked him one more time with an appreciative smile, “Thanks, Neteyam. It means a lot. I hope you like the cake.”
***~~~***
~~ Your POV ~~
The spectacle was breathtaking. The swell of the frothing rapids at the mouth of the waterfall was a foamy contrast against the rippling flashes of bioluminescent colour from the trout beneath the surface. You could not make out the individual fish, but the polychromatic mass of them made it look like the water was alive with colour. The entire waterfall glowed in the darkness of eclipse and you could hardly believe your eyes at what you were seeing.
Neteyam had led the three of you to an enormous tree that grew almost right by the mouth of the waterfall. The tree’s boughs and branches extended and hung out over the waterfall itself, making it a prime viewing spot. Your cheeks hurt at how wide you were smiling and even Neteyam seemed just as enamoured by the vision where he stood next to you.
The trout migration was a beautiful sight, but Neteyam was beautiful too.
Neteyam was entirely focused on the spectacle before him and it gave you a perfect opportunity to stare. You knew staring was rude, but only if you were caught, right?
In the low light of eclipse, his skin almost appeared a richer shade of blue, his darker stripes a complementary cobalt against his cyan skin. The bioluminescent tanhì (freckles) on his face sparkled bright like stars in the night sky like his own unique set of constellations. Your eyes tracked his tanhì on their journey down his striking form; over his shoulder, down his well-muscled chest and abdomen; down to his hip and toned thighs…
“I thought you wanted to come here to watch the trout.”
Your head snapped up to Neteyam’s face and you found him watching you, watching him. Mortification shot through you at being caught, and your brain was blank and useless in that moment, completely unhelpful at finding something to say. You must have looked very much like a trout then with your wide, unblinking eyes, your mouth opening and closing wordlessly…
Neteyam was still watching you intently, but there was a hint of something in his eyes, something you had not seen before; something playful and hot and utterly male. It made your skin prickle with a delicious heat and made flutters burst in your stomach.
You broke the eye contact, embarrassed, and your words finally returned to you again though they were not exactly coherent, “I did! I do- I am- It’s just- Just thank you.”
You chanced a glance at him again and a corner of his lips quirked upward. Neteyam dipped his head downward, his chin lowering, but his eyes never left yours as he watched you. You shivered at the look. He looked like a hunter about to capture his prey…
“Holy shit! You have to come up here. The view is amazing and there are no lower branches in the way of your eyeline.” Lo’ak exclaimed from several branches up, “Come on, guys!”
Excited, you climbed your way up to meet him with Neteyam following close behind.
The branch Lo’ak stood on was a younger branch near the top of the tree’s canopy. It was not as thick and impervious as the older boughs lower down, but it appeared to be holding Lo’ak’s weight just fine. You hopped nimbly up onto it and began gingerly making your way down it towards Lo’ak who had his hand waiting outstretched for you. The branch bowed ever so slightly and it swayed under your feet as it adjusted to your added weight. You halted your steps.
Neteyam’s voice was a low warning from behind you where he remained next to the tree’s trunk, “This branch isn’t going to hold you both. Come back this way Kalia.”
Lo’ak, as usual, held a conflicting opinion, “Aww man, don’t worry bro, yes it will. It’s a little bendy, that’s all.”
You looked between the two brothers who both had one hand stretched out to you now as you stood in the middle. Neteyam was shaking his head in a reiteration of his point, his golden eyes fierce, impelling you to return to safety. Lo’ak’s expression was nonchalant, his eyebrows raised awaiting your approach.
In the end it was Lo’ak’s next words that sealed the deal, “Come on, Kalia, don’t be a wuss.”
You never backed down from a challenge, especially not from Lo’ak. You were not a wuss and so you turned towards him and took the several steps required the rest of the way to grasp his hand.
The branch pitched downward with a little wobble under your combined weight, but it held.
A triumphant ululation trilled from Lo’ak and he laughed, “See? I told you it’d be fine.”
You breathed out a quiet ‘wow’ as the new vantage point afforded you a clear and unimpeded view of the entire waterfall in all its phantastic glory, just as Lo’ak had said. However the branch you were on was not wide enough for both of you stand side by side, and it was a little awkward peering from around his shoulder.
Seeing your position, Lo’ak looked up at the branch above him and he grinned at you, “Here, I’ll hop out of the way so you can see better.”
The next few moments passed in a sluggish blur for you, almost as if time had slowed to a snail’s pace. The last thing you heard was Neteyam’s panicked cry of, “Lo’ak, no!”, before Lo’ak sprang upward from in front of you, reaching for the branch above to pull himself up and out of the way.
The sickening crunch of wood splintering followed as the force of Lo’ak’s well-meaning spring shattered the weight limits of the branch beneath you. Abruptly, your feet were no longer grounded as you saw the broken branch fall away. Gravity sank its sharp talons into you and then you were plummeting too towards the majestic but treacherous waters that lay in wait below.
The last thing you felt was your breath tearing from your squeezing lungs and forcing its way up your throat in a choking scream.
~~ Neteyam’s POV ~~
The piercing sound of your terrified scream echoed through the woods and Neteyam watched, petrified, as your frame was swallowed by the thunderous falls.
“Fuck, KALIA!” Lo’ak’s own screech was hoarse as he pulled himself up all the way onto the branch above. He appeared a hair’s breadth away from diving in after you when Neteyam stopped him.
He was not about to let his brother risk his own life any further, but Neteyam held no such reservations about himself, “No, Lo’ak! Stay here, you skxawng! Call for help if we don’t surface!”
It was a perilous endeavour, but what choice did he have? There was no time to waste thinking. You were down there and he needed to get to you. With his heart galloping in his chest and his heart whispering prayer after prayer to Eywa to keep you alive, Neteyam leapt from the broken stump of a branch and into the raging falls after you.
Tucking his head as his body speared into a downward dive, Neteyam felt the force of thundering water hit him before he was submerged under the surface. All around him were roiling bubbles and scattering trout as they endeavoured to avoid the foreign creature that had just invaded their environment. There was no sense of direction; he had no idea which way was up and which way was down. Neteyam felt trapped in the never-ending churn of the water, but he reached and pulled against the water with his arms and kicked out with his legs nevertheless.
Neteyam’s sole concern was you. Great Mother, he had promised to keep you safe…
You had only been allowed to go out tonight because you were under his watch; you had been entrusted into his care. His thoughts were frantic… Please Eywa, help me… help her! Help me reach her!
Neteyam realised the trout around him were upright and swimming in the same direction, which was a good sign. It meant he was the right way up. Having regained his sense of direction, he doubled down on his focus. He could not see any sign of you beneath the water, though it was difficult looking through shoals of trout. Reaching the river’s bottom, Neteyam kicked off it and propelled himself towards the surface for a breath of air.
Breaching the surface, Neteyam’s head spun around looking for you. Nothing. He dove under again, continuing his search. All he could see was trout and his chest was tight with frustration and desperation. Please, Great Mother, please!
Something small and black drifted past his eyeline in a furry tuft amidst the writhing bodies of trout... Your tail! It was the tuft of your tail! With renewed vigour, Neteyam swam towards it with all his might, his hands reaching out until he could grasp it. The trout parted as he pulled your unmoving form towards him. His emotions were a contradiction in that moment. He was relieved that he had found you, but alarmed to see that you were unconscious.
Wrapping his arms around your waist, Neteyam kicked his legs, hauling you up to the surface.
Neteyam jostled your body roughly in an attempt to wake you when your face broke the waterline. He coughed, his frenetic words leaving him in wet gurgles as he cried out, “Kalia, wake up! Can you hear me? Breathe! Kalia!” You remained unresponsive; your chest unmoving as you drew no breaths.
The water was calmer here now as he floated downstream with you. Turning onto his back to keep you atop him, he frog-kicked towards the riverbank and thanked Eywa when he could finally touch the riverbed with his feet. Swimming back far enough until it was shallow enough for him to stand, Neteyam righted you in his arms, hooking one arm under your knees and the other around your shoulders so he could carry you ashore.
Delicately positioning you on your back on the muddy bank, Neteyam’s fingers flew to the crook of your neck where it met your jaw, probing desperately for a pulse. Nothing. Pure, undiluted panic shot through him. Placing his hands on your chest like he had been taught, he knelt alongside you and started chest compressions.
“Come on, Kalia!” Neteyam urged, “Come back to me, paskalin!”
Thirty compressions later, he pinched your nose, tilted your head back and sealed his mouth over yours. He gave you two breaths, feeling your chest rise slightly with each one. He checked again for a pulse.
Still nothing.
With a wild curse, Neteyam restarted chest compressions. He knew this was your only chance at survival and yet he was so afraid that he would break your sternum with the force of his compressions. Sixteen or seventeen compressions in, your shoulders and chest punched outward and your body gave a violent wretch. River water spewed from your mouth and you took a ragged but blessed breath in. A fit of wet coughs wracked you as your body ejected some more of the water from your saturated lungs.
A startled cry of relief left Neteyam and he propped you upright in his arms, pressing a kiss into the crown of your head, “Thank you, Great Mother! Keep breathing, paskalin. That’s it! That’s good.”
He cupped your cheek, forcing your gaze to focus on him. Your eyes were wild with disorientation and fear, and Neteyam clutched you to his chest as you began to cry bitterly. The sound of your crying was heart-wrenching, but it was welcome proof to him that you were alive.
Your drenched body quaked in his arms from the chill of the river water and Neteyam let out several trills and ululations, calling for his ikran. He needed to get you back to his grandmother. Quickly.
***~~~***
~~ Neteyam’s POV ~~
To say that Neteyam was angry with Lo’ak was a vast understatement. He was absolutely livid with his brother.
He and Lo’ak had fought countless times in their lives. It was the way of things when you grew up as brothers whose personalities were at such odds with each other. Countless disagreements and countless rebukes, but Neteyam had always been eloquent, even in his ire. He had always known how to scold Lo’ak; had always known what words to use to chastise him. But tonight had clearly been one step too far.
Tonight, Neteyam knew he was beyond angry because for the first time in their lives, he had no words. He had been silent ever since he had returned to kelutral with you in his arms several hours ago.
Lo’ak had taken full responsibility and had owned up to his reckless behaviour. Both their own family and yours had been horrified by the events of the evening as he had recounted the truth to them. Lo’ak’s immense contrition had manifested itself all night as repeated apologies to whoever would listen.
His grandmother had thoroughly checked you over when he had arrived home with you. You had sustained several shallow gashes to the skin of your back where you must have hit the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall. You had aspirated river water and there would still be excess fluid in your lungs despite you having coughed most of it up. Mo’at had prescribed bedrest and careful monitoring of you for the next several days in hope that you would not develop a lung infection.
It was astonishing how the axis of Neteyam’s entire world had shifted in the space of one evening. He had vowed to himself a few moons ago that he would find a way to stop his growing feelings for you. He had done this partially out of respect for your close friendship with Lo’ak and also because he was convinced you did not see him the same way.
But he had nearly lost you tonight. And there was nothing in life that gave a person quite the same clarity of perspective than the threat of imminent death.
So what, if you were his baby brother’s best friend? Tonight had taught Neteyam that life was too short not to go after what he wanted.
Neteyam kept silent vigil in the healers’ hut where you were now asleep again. He had not left your side so far. Part of him needed to see you, to hear you breathing to assuage the deep-seated apprehension in his soul that you might somehow stop breathing again. And what if no one was there to notice?
Out of the corner of his eye, Neteyam saw Lo’ak get up from his spot a little further away to come and sit by him again. Neteyam ground his jaw together so hard that his teeth started to hurt.
“Say something, bro.” Lo’ak pressed softly, keeping his voice down so as not to wake you.
Neteyam’s nostrils flared and he pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes in vexation, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know. You’ve said that a billion times already.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. Say you forgive me now, please? You were right, OK? That branch didn’t hold.”
Neteyam’s gaze had been alternating only between your prone form and his clasped hands in his lap up until now, but he turned incredulous eyes at his brother then. He gave a quiet scoff of disbelief, “By Eywa, that’s what you’re sorry for? For not listening to me? You think that I want you to apologise to me because you didn’t believe that I was right? Fuck, you don’t get it at all, Lo’ak.”
Lo’ak blinked several times and his brows knitted in a confused furrow, “What? I’ve already apologised. I don’t know what more you want from me.”
Neteyam’s nose wrinkled in a silent snarl at his brother, “This is your fault. It’s always your fault because your apologies are never backed up with a change of behaviour.”
“I know, bro. I promise I’ll listen to you from now on.”
“No! That’s not it!” Neteyam’s hiss was quiet but no less vehement, “It’s not about me being right or you not listening to me. It’s about you recognising that you need to think before you rush headlong into your fun and games! I won’t always be there to protect her!”
He saw Lo’ak’s eyes flick to your sleeping form and saw the recognition dawn on his brother’s face. Lo’ak had caught the inflection in his last sentence, “Oh, so this is just about Kalia, is it? You’d be fine if it was me that nearly drowned tonight instead?”
Neteyam growled a warning, “Don’t be unkind. This is about both of you.”
“Yeah, I get it.” Lo’ak said casually, but Neteyam could sense his brother’s rising temper, could see it in the impatient flick of his tail, “In general, you’re concerned about the both of us, but right now tonight, this anger of yours, it’s all about her.”
“Of course! She died tonight, Lo’ak! She was dead when I pulled her from the river! We’re lucky I managed to resuscitate her!” Neteyam snarled, his ears pinned and his own tail lashing behind him, “You put her in danger. You have done so, so many times with your recklessness! So help me Eywa, if you can’t comprehend in your thick skull that you need to grow up and consider your own safety, then leave Kalia out of it, at least.”
Lo’ak’s lips curled in a derisive snarl of his own, “You can’t have her, bro. I won’t let you.”
Neteyam clenched his jaw. This was not the direction he had wanted this conversation to go in, but at the same time, it was a conversation that had been stewing in the background for moons now. His brother seemed all too eager to jump on this train of thought, full steam ahead.
Lo’ak continued, “She’s my best friend. I see the way you look at her, Neteyam. You want her for yourself.”
Neteyam knew he had to tread carefully here and choose his words wisely. It was both dishonest and futile to deny his attraction to you now, but he did not want it to come at the cost of your friendship with Lo’ak. Swallowing tightly, he began in a measured tone, “I don’t want to take her away from you. I just want her to be safe. I want you to be safe so that she is safe with you. You’re not good for her if you won’t change your behaviour.”
Lo’ak was shaking his head now, his breaths puffing heavily from his nostrils as he got more and more agitated, “How about you stay away from her, bro. She’s my friend.”
“This doesn’t have to be a you or me situation.” Neteyam reasoned, “My interest in her and your friendship are not mutually exclusive things.”
“No, you can’t have her!” The words were spat from Lo’ak in a vicious growl, louder now than before.
“That isn’t your choice or mine, Lo’ak! It’s hers! But I have every right to express my wish to court her!”
“STAY. AWAY. FROM HER!”
“You don’t have any right to demand that!”
“Stop fighting.” The voice was feminine croak and Neteyam startled, his head spinning back to look at you. His brother’s head had swivelled around just as swiftly and he was sure he heard the vertebrae in Lo’ak’s neck pop.
~~ Your POV ~~
It had been the most impressive quiet argument that you had ever heard, if you were honest. The brothers had done well maintaining a hushed volume up until the last few moments. You figured it was time to intervene since the conversation was getting out of hand and it was also especially imprudent for you to be eavesdropping on a conversation about, well, you.
Your throat felt scratchy and your lungs felt sore, but you were fairly clear-headed otherwise.
“Shit, Kalia, sorry we woke you.” Lo’ak was by your side in a flash and one of his hands curled around yours, “Fuck, I’m so sorry about tonight. I really am.”
His tone was remorseful and you knew he felt awful. Lo’ak was careless but he was not callous by any means. He cared greatly for you despite him unintentionally contradicting that fact at times with his reckless behaviour.
Lo’ak’s eyes appeared a little watery in the flickering firelight of the hut and you reached out to pat his cheek kindly, “Hush, I know. I’m OK now. We live and we learn, yes?” He nodded mutely.
You saw Neteyam’s face swim into view beside Lo’ak’s and your heart gave a squeeze. An assortment of thoughts and emotions eddied around in your mind at the sight of his handsome face; gratitude, affection, remnants of your fright from earlier in the evening, and a kittenish shyness at what you had heard him say just moments ago.
Looking back to Lo’ak, you took the hand that was holding yours and kissed the back of it, “You know you’ll always be my best buddy, right? Nothing will change that. Ever.” You saw the slight pout of Lo’ak’s lips lift in a grin. You needed to speak to Neteyam though, alone, to thank him for rescuing you. Mostly to thank him, but you wanted to address a few other things too…
You cleared the scratch in your throat and shot Lo’ak a reassuring smile, “I’ll catch you in a bit, yeah? Could you give your brother and I some time? I’d like to speak to him.”
You had to fight the urge to giggle because when you saw Lo’ak’s grin pucker into an unimpressed moue. He looked from you to his brother and then back again and drawled sarcastically, “Yeah sure, I see how it is. You’ll be my best friend in the daytimes and then you’ll go and suck face with my brother in the evenings.”
Both you and Neteyam hissed Lo’ak’s name in shocked unison as he got up to give you both some privacy. He called over his shoulder as he disappeared out the draping flaps of the healers’ hut, “Don’t do anything gross in there kids, I’m just outside.”
Neteyam emitted an irritated huff and he rolled his eyes. His cheeks were purpling ever so slightly and you giggled, your own cheeks heating in response. You sat in silence for a few moments, neither of you really knowing what to say or how to begin.
You looked at Neteyam in the lambent glow of the firelight. He was looking intently at his folded hands in his lap and a frown wrinkled his forehead. He looked a little upset and you realised then that while it had been you who had fallen, gotten injured and had to be resuscitated, it was Neteyam who had had to live the waking nightmare of all those moments.
You extended the fingertips of your left hand and you stroked them gently against the back of his clasped hands, “Hey, thanks for saving me. I wouldn’t be here if not for you.”
“You weren’t here for a little bit.” The words were a broken mumble from Neteyam, who turned one of his palms out to twine his fingers with yours. He looked defeated.
“I’m here now and that’s what matters.”
His fingertips were warm against your cold ones and you instinctively sought out more of his warmth, sliding your palm forward to seat it fully against his. You felt his fingers wrap around your palm in return and the motion sent a thrill through you.
Neteyam took a shaky inhale and his exhale punched out of him in a defeated sigh, he shook his head gravely, “Fuck, Kalia you scared me today. You were gone. I had to fight to bring you back and-” He stopped suddenly and his eyes reluctantly fixed themselves on the dark purple bruising where the top of your chest was peeking out from the woven blanket Mo’at had wrapped around you.
“It doesn’t hurt much.” You supplied, “You did what you had to and I’m so grateful. I was stupid today too. It wasn’t just Lo’ak who didn’t listen. You told me not to go out onto the branch. I’m sorry too. I should’ve known better.”
He pursed his lips at you then, clearly agreeing with your sentiment, “Look, I’m not going to try and stop you and Lo’ak from hanging out, but you both need to be more careful. Think about what you’re doing, assess the situation. I don’t want to have to give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation ever again.”
“Not the kind of mouth-to-mouth you’d like to give me?” Perhaps it was the heady mix of tonic that Mo’at had given you as pain-relief. Or maybe it was the fact that you had overheard Neteyam admit to being attracted to you that emboldened you, but the quip was out of mouth before you could stop it.
Neteyam’s mouth popped ajar at your remark and he spluttered, “I-It wasn’t exactly a kiss.”
Your tittered even harder at his reaction and you countered with another quip, “No, I’d like to be alive when that one happens.”
He continued to gawp at you and you nibbled on your bottom lip bashfully. Eywa, you’d been crushing on Neteyam for a couple of years now, and to hear him say that he would like to court you was a girlish dream come true. You squeezed his hand promisingly and he chuckled.
He licked his lips and his eyes fell to his lap again. He shifted his other hand to join your already clasped ones and rested it over yours. Your hand was cradled between both of his now and the blazing heat of skin was electrifying. He lifted his eyes then to meet your gaze and admitted, “I didn’t think you felt that way about me.”
“And I thought you didn’t see me as anything more than your little brother’s annoying friend!” You exclaimed with a laugh, “By Eywa, I’ve been cooking you things and bringing them to you personally for so long now. I was convinced you just thought me a pest.”
Neteyam frowned and cocked his head at you, “I thought those were bribes and ‘thank you’ treats for keeping an eye on you and Lo’ak.”
“Well, they were, but it’s because I didn’t want you to stop coming.”
He smiled at you then, one of his beautiful, bright smiles that made you feel all warm and tingly inside. He brought your knuckles up to his face and pressed a kiss to them, and the soft velvet brush of his lips made your stomach quiver and your toes curl. He murmured, “So you’ll allow me to court you?”
You beamed at him with a nod and you wondered if he could see the happy stars bursting in the depths of your green eyes. A stupid part of you was a little disappointed that the first time his lips had touched yours you had not been conscious. It had not been a kiss, but still.
You wanted a kiss now and you never backed away from an opportunity to get what you wanted, “Kiss me, Neteyam, please?”
A corner of his lips quirked upward and his chin tilted down again, his eyes never leaving yours. You recognised that look. It was the same keen expression he had worn earlier that evening after he had caught you staring at him instead of the trout. Great Mother, that expression sent delightful shivers through you.
You saw him lean down towards you slowly, bracing his weight on his palms on either side of your head, and he smirked, “Lo’ak is going to be so annoyed.”
“Lo’ak knows. He’s known about my feelings for you for a while now. He’s just going to have to share.” You whispered, your heartrate quickening and your breath puffing in smaller pants of anticipation as Neteyam’s face neared yours. A husky chortle rumbled by your ear and you gave a small gasp as his hot breath tickled the side of your face.
Neteyam purred his response, “Well as long as I don’t have to share this-” He pressed a slow kiss to your right cheek, “Or this-” Another unhurried press of his lips to your left cheek, “And especially not this-” His smooth lips enveloped yours in a chaste, but lingering press, “Then I’m fine sharing. Happy birthday, Kalia.”
Bright and unbridled delight rushed through you in a series of flutters and flurries in your chest and in your stomach. You had almost forgotten. The darkest part of eclipse had come and gone. It was your birthday today. Your first kiss with Neteyam was without a doubt, the best birthday present ever. Neteyam was grinning smugly down at you and you reached up to loop your arms around his neck, pulling him down towards you again for another deliciously plush and moist meld of your lips.
It was a little uncoordinated and a little bit messy as the two of you continued your curious exploration of each other’s mouths. After all, you were both new to each other like this. However, the experience was no less stimulating. You had plenty of time to practise and get better, you mused.
Evidently Lo’ak had chosen the wrong time to peek through the gap in the hut’s entry flaps, and you and Neteyam broke away from each other laughing when his indignant voice sounded from outside.
“Eww, yuck! I SAID NO GROSS STUFF!”
***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***
Author's Note:
Ya'll this took on a life of its own, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoyed this little rollercoaster of drama!
I'd love to hear your thoughts & reactions. Reblogs are so very much appreciated. Share this piece if you loved it! 🥰Thanks for reading!
#neteyam#atwow neteyam#avatar movie#neteyam sully#avatar neteyam#avatar james cameron#avatar twow#atwow#neteyam x oc#neteyam x reader#neteyam fic#neteyam angst#neteyam x y/n#avatar 2#neteyam x omaticaya!reader#neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan#avatar#lo'ak sully#avatar: the way of water#neteyam twow#neteyam fluff#protective neteyam#lo'ak fluff#avatar fanfiction#avatar fandom#vivid-ink works
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[ 22:38 ] - b.sk
pairing : seungkwan x fem reader.
content : smut. literal pwp. (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT.)
w/c : 1.5k.
notes : i’m down horrendous for boo seungkwan and his fucking hands. what else is new? SMUT TAGS UTC.
notes 2.0 : my first timestamp! wow. how fun. (i honestly just needed to get this out of my system, so. sorry about it.) boosadans, u guys are are so starved. pls accept this little token of my love to you.
smut tags : soft!dom seungkwan, sub!reader. swearing (obv). physical restraining (if you squint there’s maybe the tiniest implication of a size kink but not really?), some possessiveness but it’s minimal and mc likes it, unwrapped piv sex (he pulls out but still. be safe out there team), nipple play, clit stimulation, praise, pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart), some orgasm control. LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT ANYTHING.
Both of your wrists fit so perfectly in just one of his hands.
It’s the best revelation he’s ever made. In the months you’ve been together, there have never really been any true power dynamics at play in the bedroom, both of you always too caught up trying to please instead of dominate. But when you release your hands from where they’ve been tangled in his hair and they fall onto the mattress just above your head, something clicks inside him. Seungkwan finds himself now gently pinning your arms down to your bed sheets as he leans over you, his long fingers spread wide to keep you in place, his hips rocking against you rhythmically. Just hard enough to rile you up. Just a little too slow to have you shaking.
It’s perfect, Seungkwan thinks, because it keeps his other hand free to use however he desires. He can cup your cheek, and murmur ‘my pretty baby’ at you as your eyes roll back into your head. He can toy with your nipples, if he wants, and tell you how perfect your tits look when he thrusts hard enough to make them bounce. He can grip your waist, holding you still as he fucks into you slightly rougher, watching your smooth skin depress under his touch.
He can even tease his fingers over your clit and make you squeeze your sweet little pussy around his cock. That’s his favourite, he thinks. By the way you react, it might just be yours, too.
“Harder,” you gasp as he readjusts his hold on your wrists, and he looks down his nose at you with that raised eyebrow, sideways smirk signature he has. You swallow, biting your lip briefly before you say, “fuck— please, Kwannie. Hold them tighter.”
“Oh, princess,” he coos, cock throbbing at how you sound so angelic and beautifully fucked out. More-so as you whine in desperation when his fingers curl more harshly, giving you enough pressure to immobilise your hands entirely. “Is this it? This how you like it?”
“Yes,” you tell him, nodding and tugging against his hold, testing it, but it’s to no avail as he presses you further into the sheets, rolling your clit now between his thumb and forefinger on his other hand. “Fuck, I’m—”
“Not yet,” he interrupts you, shaking his head with a pout that you’re almost inclined to believe is condescending. “You can’t come yet, okay?”
Well, fuck. You’ve never been too good at holding your orgasms off, and thankfully Seungkwan has very, very rarely asked you to try. He loves the way you feel around him when you unravel, and he’s always so eager to get you off before he does that the moment you tell him you’re close, it’s music to his ears. You’re just so velvety around him. So warm and wet and he sometimes feels bad that he can’t always last that long, but it’s all your fault for being so damn perfect.
You try your best, but you don’t even have anything to grab onto. You can only ball your hands into fists to try and anchor yourself as he snaps and snaps and snaps his hips into you, as he pinches and massages at the bundle of nerves between your thighs. That little smirk makes a comeback on his features, but you don’t notice. Not until —
“Wish you could see yourself right now,” he sighs as he angles his thrusts a little bit deeper and your eyes fly open, your lips parting in a squeak of surprise at how far up in your stomach you feel him. “God, you’re doing so well, baby. Feels like this pussy was made for me.”
It makes your head spin. This is the first time he’s ever said anything like this in bed — he’s usually so… shy, so decorous. But thinking about how every vein in his cock must surely leave imprints on your insides, how the fucking your cunt takes multiple times a week makes you inarguably his? You’ve only ever been turned off by a possessive man, before now, yet this, from your usually so sweet boyfriend? Sends pulse after pulse of pleasure straight to your core.
You think you need to try and bring this out in him more often.
Talking back to him is a waste of the effort you’re using to try and hold yourself back from the edge, so you just nod, pinching your lips together as you swallow the words. The issue here, though, is that in your silence, your ears are left to pick up on every single other thing. The lewd sounds of your hole sucking him in over and over. The way your old bed frame squeaks with every single movement. His breathy sighs and moans. The slap of skin on skin when he eventually uses that free hand to hike your left leg up around his waist and he manages to get even closer, still.
“Please tell me you’re—” you start to say, the fire inside you warmer than it’s ever been without you letting it consume you. “I don’t know if I can…”
“You really need it, huh?” he asks, dipping down to kiss your lips softly, slowing until he almost stops. “You gonna come?”
“Please,” you beg, trying to move beneath him, trying to fuck yourself on his length. You’re so close. You just need a little more. “Please, please, please—”
He lets go of your wrists altogether and immediately, you wrap your arms around him, pressing your fingertips into his back as he settles back into a delicious rhythm.
“Okay,” is all he says, the word hot as it fans over your parted lips, as his exhale disappears into your mouth. But it’s all he needs to say. Frankly, it’s all he gets the chance to; it happens before you’re ready, before you can communicate it, even though you’ve spent what feels like forever being built up to this. All of your muscles stiffen as it hits you and you’re seeing stars behind your tightly closed eyelids. Your breaths escape you in a series of moans and whines, each inhale more like a gasp. He feels you clenching around him, feels how you try to pull his whole weight down against your stomach, feels how much wetter your cunt gets and how your leg tightens around his waist to try and keep him buried inside you.
It almost tips him over the edge, too, and even though he stills, he finds himself having to go back naming all of his highschool teachers in his head just to try and keep a shred of composure while your walls do their best to milk him dry. Thankfully, it doesn’t take too long for your arms to go slack around him, and (though reluctantly) he hurries to pull out of you. Seungkwan takes his cock into his hand instead and he fucks into his fist at the same pace as before – and no, it’s not as plush or warm or tight as you, but it doesn’t need to be. You take him to the point of no return every time — this just needs to be enough, and wow, it is. In seconds, his balls tighten and his forehead scrunches and he grunts as he releases in spurts all over your stomach.
He comes, and he comes, and it feels a bit like he’s never going to stop coming. But whenever it does end, when his agonisingly sensitive length starts to soften, and squeezing out every last drop onto your waiting body is almost an impossible task, he feels exhausted. He made such a mess. It’s everywhere. All on his hand, on the sheets, on you; you’re lying there looking so fucking pretty, breathing like you’ve just finished a race, and your belly is pearlescent with his cum, and all he wants to do is go to sleep.
But you half-sit up and reach out to him, taking hold of his wrist, now. He lets you (he’d let you do anything in these afterglow moments, and he knows that you know it too), softening the muscles in his arm to straighten at the elbow, and he watches you. Watches you drag your tongue over the skin between his thumb and his pointer finger. Watches as you lap up and swallow back the cum he was about to get up to wipe up with a tissue. Watches as you clean up every trace he left of his orgasm on his own hand, before you flop back onto the pillows, giggling and licking over your kiss-swollen lips.
He almost feels like he could get hard again at the sight of it. But — much to his own dismay — Seungkwan’s refractory period has never been quick. Even if he did pop another hard-on right now, he knows he’d be way too sensitive to do anything with it.
“You can’t do that to me,” he pouts, leaning over you to the bedside cabinet to grab a few tissues to start cleaning you up. “Not without a warning.”
"A warning wouldn't help and you know it," you tease him. He gives a 'hmmph', pulling a few free from the box and rolling his eyes as you squirm, ticklish when he starts to wipe his release from you. “You’d whine about it anyway.”
“I don’t whine,” he-… well. “Come on. Get up — bathroom, baby.”
You think that this is supposed to be distracting, to stop you being able to call him out for his immediate contradiction. On the other hand, maybe this is just his way of looking after you — it could be both, even. But you reach both arms up, first, silently asking him to come down to you one more time. He does, rolling his eyes and meeting you in another kiss, the tissues still scrunched up in his palm.
“Two minutes?” You ask, locking him into a cuddle he could probably escape from, if his strength ever happened to overpower the love he has for you. Yet, he rolls onto his back and tosses the tissues with alarming accuracy into the bin next to your dresser, pulling you into his chest.
“One and a half,” he agrees, nodding up at the ceiling.
He can never say no to you. Not especially when you hum into his collarbone and drag your fingers down his arm to take hold of his (clean) hand.
thank u sm for reading!! as always, likes, reblogs & feedback are all greatly appreciated.<3
#seungkwan smut#boo seungkwan smut#seventeen smut#svt smut#seungkwan x reader#j writes.#*#timestamps.#sorry if the ending feels a bit all over the place i promise i agonised over it for like forty minutes lmao.#n e way bye <3
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Please don’t leave me || Gojo Satoru x reader
After Geto’s rampage, you start to fall into a pit of darkness. You want to leave the Jujutsu society but Gojo doesn’t want to. He wants you to be there for him along the way but can he convince you to if you’re so broken? Gojo will always be there for you, don’t you know that? Because between you and him, he is just Gojo satoru.
It’s been 3 weeks since the incident with Geto happened. 3 weeks since the massacre, 3 weeks of not seeing him, 3 weeks of more missions and 3 weeks of feeling lonely. The higher ups were not considerate, they had the nerve to give you more missions, not allowing you to take a break.
You’re done. You’re so tired, tired of the Jujutsu society. The higher ups are selfish and you will only witness more deaths before meeting your own doom. What am you even here for? You don’t even know, who am I doing this for? You can’t answer because there is no answer.
Sometimes you wonder what it’s like to live a normal life, to be so free and happy without witnessing death that just breaks you. Maybe it’s time to experience that and leave the Jujutsu world behind before it’s too late.
——————————————————————————————————
“Y/n…”
A voice calls out to you and you turn around to find Satoru sitting down next to you on the bench. You stare at him, knowing that he knows that you’re not ok.
Everyone knows, even Nanami who has been going distant. Shoko could tell that you were also not ok. Yaga was very worried about you but he couldn’t get anything out of you. Gojo decided to try to talk to you, he has the closest friend you had after all.
“Umm is there anything you want to talk about? You haven’t been yourself lately” he said, trying to find the right words to say.
Letting out a sigh, you decide to tell him because you’re gonna leave anyways. “I want to leave Jujutsu Tech”
You could feel the many different emotions that Gojo was experiencing. Shock, confusion and denial.
“W-what..?” He stutters.
“I want to leave Jujutsu Tech and the Jujutsu world, live a normal life.” You state.
“No..why? Is it because if the situation with Geto? Y/n please, as Jujutsu sorcerers this is expected, we’ll get through this y/n just please don’t-“
And that’s when you let out all the emotions that you’ve been feeling for the past few weeks. You stood up, “Because I’m tired! I’m tired Satoru, I’m tired of everything! Loosing people, witnessing my friends die, missions, I don’t even have a chance to fix myself! I’m just so sick and tired of everything! I want to live a normal life, I’m 16 gojo, I’m just a teenager yet I’m here saving lives, I should be studying, having fun with friends, going out, shopping, travelling…”
You turn away, not wanting to see his pitiful expression but a pair of arms wrap around you , making you turn, Gojo was hugging you, the strongest sorcerer.
Gojo knew that he could be himself around you, he could be Gojo Satoru around you, not the strongest. He doesn’t hesitate to hug you.
His hugging makes it impossible for you to escape.
“Y/n..i know that you’re devastated with everything happening right now but me, shoko and nanami are as well.. we need you y/n to be there with us, I need you! We’ll go through this together, we’ll find a way! I’ll do anything..absolutely anything! Just please….don’t leave me like everyone else…?” He lets his words and begging out without a doubt.
You start to resist, fighting back so you can just run away but Gojo holds you tightly, going even tighter as you wince.
“S-satoru..l-let go…y-you’re h-hurting m-me”
He softens his grip, still hugging you “don’t go y/n, please stay with me..”
“B-but I’m tired Satoru…” You say while a tear starts to escape your eye.
Gojo starts to rub circles on your back while you cry. “Y/n I have a dream, a dream to reform the Jujutsu world, I will become a teacher at Jujutsu tech and I want you to be there for me…if you leave, my dream will be incomplete so please, please stay with me…”
Your body feels light as you weaken, Gojo holds you in a bridal style now, you wrap your arms around his neck. “I..I don’t want to stay…I have no idea why I’m even doing this! Do you know how scary it is? We’re just here working until we die…”
“Then..stay for me!” Gojo declares “you have me, shoko and nanami here with you and I’m sure you won’t die, you’re strong and i would never let you die, i’m the strongest after all”
You let out a smile “fine…I’ll stay….just for you”
And from that point, Gojo carries you back to the world you hate the most, the world that you just can’t stand. But maybe it won’t be bad later on, as long as Gojo is by your side, he always will be, he’ll never leave you.
——————————————————————————————————
You smile at the photo card in front of you, the photo that you and Gojo created a week after you tried to leave. He was true to his word and was with you every step. Even when Geto’s death was announced, you felt no sadness. Just pity that things had to turn out that way.
You put the photo card back in your pocket and hear a notification from your phone. You open it to see a text from Gojo.
“Hey y/n ~~, amazing bestfriend Satoru here :], meet me at the park tonight at 7pm! No exceptions!”
You giggle at the text, leaving a yes reply.
Gojo will always be there for you, even if he’s always busy and being the strongest, he will always have time for you because between you and him, he is just Gojo satoru.
#jjk#gojo comfort#gojo satoru#jjk comfort#jjk headcanons#gojo x reader#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jjk angst#angst#gojo angst#geto angst#jjk gojo#satoru gojo#geto suguru#Gojo comfort
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After lots of hard work and a lot of consideration, may I present to you the rewritten version of my AU!
This sums up a lot of what it’s about (very fluffy but also angsty), and it’s had a lot of changes! Let me know what you think! Details will be below as well. ^w^
Now that the story/rough idea of the plot is out of the way, here’s some doodles.
Also the reason why he’s always seen drooling is due to when he first started panicking near the start of those three years (after Kris and their friends vanished) and started thrashing around in the strings, which got him completely tangled up, including some strings wrapping around his throat and causing damage (hence the drool and struggle to speak, though he mostly can’t speak because of the corruption and memory loss).
More details I feel I need to mention are:
If you like this AU and want to see more of it, feel free to ask questions here on this post or in my ask box, I’m happy to answer anything! :D
If you feel that the premise of my AU is similar to yours or someone else’s, please keep in mind that I did not copy directly off of anyone, but took inspiration from the Spamton/Deltarune/Addison fan community as a whole. If you find some things in this to be similar to another artist or writer please keep in mind that it is not intentional, I read a lot of Deltarune fanfiction and I frequent on Tumblr so it all just blurs together in my brain LOL. :’)
The Addison’s names in my AU are as follows:
Pink Addison = Link
Blue Addison = Reen
Orange Addison = Mac
Yellow Addison = Flash
Spamton NEO is very large in this AU (as you can see in the doodles), and though I believe I mentioned him being 10ft in an earlier post about this AU (before I had changed the story), I’m not too certain on exact heights and scaling just yet, bear with me. ;v;
ONE MORE THING!!
I really need help with naming this AU/Version of Spamton, whatever you want to call it, so if you have any ideas please let me know! ^^
Anyway, I’d love to hear feedback! I hope you guys like it!
#deltarune#spamton#spamton g spamton#art#ut dr#spamton neo#sneo au#sneo#addisons deltarune#the addisons
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For the lyric prompt, 'i have my sentence now, at last i know just how you felt, i dig my fingers in, expecting more than just the skin' with Zoro? I don’t have anything specific in mind for this one, so feel free to wing it 😅
confluence
anon your brain has sent me into a frenzy. this fic is absolutely getting another part or 2 at some point because i have some thoughtssssss!!! anyway, hope you enjoy!
zoro x gn!reader
c/w: fluff!! zoro is injured but what else is new :)
With the most wounded of the crew still out of commission for the time being, the reality is that, for now at least, everyone is okay. They’d come out stronger from worse many times before now, and the reprieve of that alone should be enough for any one soul to rest.
Though as soon as your tiny frets and forceful bouts of self-reassurance had qualmed enough for you to drift, taking the gentle hand of sleep’s guide and luring you off into an almost peaceful slumber does a swift series of rough knuckles rapping at the door to the tiny room you’d been given and a rumble of your name beyond it.
Your jaw tenses, the ever familiar tone of probably the single worst person to be up and about, and with haste you don’t expect, are you opening the door and looking right up at Roronoa Zoro. “What are you doing?” you lip sluggishly, brows furrowed in a strange expression that lies between annoyance and concern. “You know you need to be resting.”
“Feel fine,” he replies, pushing past you and just… allowing himself into the room. “Just tired.”
You click your teeth, but you just huff and close the door behind him. “At least sit, Zoro.”
He doesn’t just sit, but lays flat on the bed with a harshness you’re not sure he should be exerting, and you can’t help but to sigh and smile weakly. Zoro looks at peace, both eyes shut as he stretches out his limbs, all but covering the mattress. It’s not often he looks so relaxed
Kneeling next to him, you begin to lovingly run your fingers through his hair, and a warmth floods your chest when he emits a very pleased hum in reply. “How’d you even know which room I was in? You’ve been knocked out cold for the past week.” It isn’t an attack, nor is your tone aggressive at all. If anything, it’s soft.
He turns his head towards you, gaze locking onto yours as he feels the sensation of your fingers through his hair. There’s something in his eyes, something that speaks volumes about how much he appreciates this moment of intimacy - despite the fact that he usually wouldn’t show such vulnerability. Because even if he wouldn’t admit it, he is anything but ‘fine’.The extent of his wounds were enough to knock a fully grown elephant out for a week, let alone a human man. But what is Zoro if not durable? “Robin,” he answers, a short reply but one that makes sense the more you think about it.
“Fair,” you concede, leaning your head on the edge of the mattress. “But you didn’t think to ask where your room was instead?”
“Wanted ta see ya,” Zoro says casually, as if he hadn’t been on the brink of death mere days ago.
The admission hangs in the air between you two, and there’s a hint of guilt in his voice - guilt that he might have caused trouble by simply showing up unannounced like this. But then again, he never did follow social norms too closely in the first place.
He wanted to see you? He wakes up, aching and bruised, serrated with gashes and the first thing he means to do is to see you?
You feel your face flush, and you’re sure it's enough that even the incredibly oblivious swordsman would notice if his eyes were open.
Zoro lifts his hand and reaches out, grabbing onto yours, holding it tightly as if afraid that if he lets go, you’ll vanish before his very eyes. He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “Needed somethin’ real bad.”
There’s no shame or embarrassment in his voice; only raw honesty and desperation. And it’s clear that he meant every word he said - because despite how tough he pretends to be, deep down inside lies someone who craves nothing more than a little bit of affection and care.
"Anything," you reply, eyes fixated upon the man beneath the touch of your fingers. "Anything you need, Zo.”
He takes a deep breath, the grip on your hand easing. "Just... didn’t feel right waking up without ya." It's a simple explanation, but it carries so much weight behind it. Despite being surrounded by people he considers friends and family, there was something missing that only you could fill. And in that moment, as he opens his eye and gazes at you longingly, it becomes clear that Zoro sees you as something more than just another crewmate or ally - you're someone who has the power to make him feel whole once again.
You smile, and when you lean in to press a kiss to his forehead you feel yourself being pulled onto the bed alongside him. The surprise makes you gasp, though once you feel his arms around you and your back against his chest do you hum into him, enjoying the warmth he provides. "Just be careful, okay?" you murmur, snuggling into him carefully. "Don't want you to rip yourself open or anything on my bed."
Zoro chuckles softly, pulling you even closer and wrapping his arms around you tighter. "Trust me," he says with a confident smirk, "I won't rip myself apart."
His body is still recovering from the injuries he sustained while fighting, but he seems determined to push through any pain or discomfort for the sake of being close to you. And as he holds you tightly, it becomes apparent that Zoro sees this moment as a rare opportunity to showcase how much he values your presence in his life - something that goes beyond the usual camaraderie shared among pirates.
In this intimate moment, there's a depth of emotion that transcends words, leaving both of you lost in a sea of feelings and care.
It's soothing, being in his arms. You hadn't realized just how much you missed this. Your relationship with Zoro had become something soft like this, him joining you for rests, naps, and just wanting to be around you. It was something you had to get used to through his emotional misguidance, but when things had become normal you learned just how to be affectionate with him, and now it's something you cherish and love. And though it never went further and mutual sought comfort, and even if you do consider the idea at times, you’re more than happy to lie here with him like this.
Zoro's arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer as he feels the warmth radiating from your body. For a moment, he forgets about everything else - the pain in his side, the lingering exhaustion, even the fact that he's currently lying on top of your bed. All that matters is being near you, feeling your heartbeat against his chest and breathing in the scent of your hair.
As he holds you, memories flash through his mind - moments spent together over the years, from teasing banter to intense battles to quiet moments of respite like these.
Zoro smiles, and even if you can’t see it, you can feel it. It’s in his very presence around you, his joy, his comfort, his you.
"I missed you," you quietly admit into his arm, and as the words leave you his grip tightens around your waist. And, god, does it feel like home.
"Missed ya too," Zoro replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "Feels good to be back with ya."
He doesn't say anything more, but the sincerity in his tone speaks volumes. Even after everything they've been through together - the fights, the arguments, the misunderstandings - Zoro still finds solace in your presence, and he cherishes each moment he gets to spend with you.
And as you lay there together, wrapped in each other's arms, it becomes clear that your relationship has evolved into something far deeper than either of you ever expected. While neither of you may have explicitly admitted your feelings for the other, there's an undeniable connection that runs through every touch and every word exchanged between you two - a leash upon your hearts that defies definition yet remains stronger than steel.
Zoro closes his eyes, letting the warmth of your body envelop him as he slips into a peaceful slumber. His mind is filled with images of you - your smile, your laugh, your gentle touch. In this moment of relaxation, all thoughts of pain and exhaustion fade away, replaced instead by a sense of contentment and satisfaction.
For a brief instant, he feels like he's found what he's been searching for - a true sense of belonging and purpose within the chaos of the world. And even as sleep claims him, he clings tightly to the memory of your embrace, knowing that it will serve as a source of strength and motivation as he continues on his journey towards becoming the world's greatest swordsman.
You both drift off, falling deep into the exact respite that you had sought prior to his inclusion.
And it’s perfect.
—
You wake up slowly and twist around with care, taking in the sight of Zoro's face as he sleeps beside you. His features look so calm and peaceful, and you can't help but wonder if he's having pleasant dreams. Reaching out, you brush some strands of hair away from his face, stirring him from his slumber. "Did you sleep well, Zo? Good dreams?” you query as his tired gaze meets yours.
Zoro's eye flutters open, and he smiles weakly upon seeing you sitting up. "Yeah," he replies, his voice still slightly groggy. "You were in them."
The admission catches you off guard, but you can see genuine sincerity in his expression - a reflection of the depth of feelings he harbors for you despite not expressing them outright. "Thanks for bein’ here," he adds, offering a small nod of gratitude. "Makes everythin’ seem better."
You feel your face flush, his admission not just flattering you but truly moving you. Was it due to his most recent near-death experience that makes him fawn over you so? Whatever it may be, you smile and lean down to kiss his forehead - but you're taken by surprise when you're maneuvered downward until his lips press into yours in a bit of a forceful, inexperienced kiss, but one you reciprocate in earnest.
The kiss takes you both by surprise, but as it deepens, you can feel the passion and intensity that lies beneath Zoro's inexperience. He's always been fiercely protective of you, but now it seems like he wants to claim you in a way that goes beyond mere protection - to show everyone that you belong to him and only him.
Despite your initial shock, you find yourself responding to his kiss with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him closer as your hearts race and your bodies heat up. This unexpected moment of heightened intimacy feels both thrilling and terrifying, like stepping off a cliff into the unknown.
Zoro's kiss is messy, but it's full of meaning. Words he cannot say aloud are spoken though each smack of your lips and hums of joy, and as his hand finds its way to your neck to press you closer to him, you find yourself melting into his palm.
Zoro's emotions spill out through his actions - the desperate need to hold onto you, the desire to mark you as his own, the raw passion that burns within him. It's a declaration of sorts, one that speaks volumes about how deeply he feels for you even without using words.
Despite the intensity of the moment, there's also a vulnerability to it that reveals just how much Zoro craves your affection and approval. He wants nothing more than to make you happy, to know that you feel the same way about him, and as he breaks away from the kiss with a ragged breath, he looks at you with a pleading expression that seems to say, "Was that okay?”
You nod, eyes heavy lidded and lips glossed with saliva and puffy with love. And it seems as if that’s all it takes for him to continue, as at once is Zoro upon you again, this time with a little more ease. You sigh into him when his hands reach your hips, it feels so right and so good, like a long awaited tether tying you both into a knot. You want to kiss away his pain and discomfort, to hold him to you until he's healed and whole. To be his anchor and his safe haven. To just be his.
Zoro's hands grip onto your hips tightly, holding onto you like a lifeline as he pulls himself closer, seeking comfort in the warmth and safety of your embrace. He feels like he can finally let go of all the pent-up emotions and anxieties that have been weighing him down since the battle - and in that moment of release, he feels a profound sense of relief wash over him.
As he leans against you, he closes his eyes once again, savoring the feeling of being held so closely by someone who means so much to him. It's a moment of pure bliss, one that makes all the hardships and struggles worthwhile, and he knows that he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
#zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x you#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x y/n#zoro x y/n#zoro x you#zoro fluff#op fluff#x reader#zoro roronoa x reader#opla zoro x reader
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How Enhypen Ni-Ki would react when you are having a bad day
pairing: bf!Ni-Ki x fem!Reader
genre: fluff
warnings: none
Word count: ~approx. 0.3k [360]
Disclaimer: No images used in this post belong to me. All credits go to their respective creators. If you are the creator and wish for proper credit or removal, please contact me. Your work is valued and acknowledged.
Author's Note: hey, everyone! (ᵔ.ᵔ) hope you're doing well. thank you for reading! feel free to let me know your thoughts and suggestions; your feedback is highly appreciated! if there's anything you'd like to see in future stories, requests are open here! (^w^)
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Ni-ki's playful and energetic nature suddenly shifts when he notices you're having a bad day.
He becomes surprisingly perceptive, picking up on your mood almost instantly. His mischief is replaced by a genuine concern for your well-being.
Firstly, he'll likely bombard you with texts and calls in an attempt to get your attention. The usual playful and teasing messages are replaced by a more caring and soothing tone.
"Hey, Y/N, you okay?"
"Please answer, babe. I'm here for you."
He might even send a barrage of random and funny TikToks, not with the intention of annoying you but to bring a smile to your face.
"Look at this! It made me laugh; maybe it'll make you feel better?"
Once he's convinced you need some cheering up, he'll abandon any plans of annoying you and opt for a more comforting approach.
Instead of playfully poking your cheeks, he'll opt for gentle caresses and hugs.
His attention becomes solely focused on you, and he'll do whatever it takes to lift your spirits.
"Hey, come here. Let's just chill and forget about everything else for a while."
If he senses that you need space, he'll respect it but assure you he's just a call or text away.
Ni-ki might also surprise you by showing up with your favorite comfort food or snack, understanding that sometimes actions speak louder than words.
"Remember, I'm here for you. Whenever you're ready to talk, I'm all ears."
In the evening, he'll suggest doing something low-key and relaxing, like watching a movie or series you enjoy.
He might even pull out his phone and show you some of those funny pictures he has saved of you, hoping to bring a smile to your face.
And as the day winds down, he'll snuggle with you in your bed, not for his usual comfort but to provide you with the warmth and support you need.
Ni-ki will hold you close, offering silent comfort, and perhaps, he'll even reveal a more vulnerable side of himself, admitting that seeing you upset is something he can't stand.
"Hey, I hate seeing you like this. Let me know if there's anything I can do, okay? I'm here for you, always."
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#enhypen reactions#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen fic#enhypen fluff#enhypen members#enhypen fake texts#jungwon x reader#lee heesung x reader#park sunghoon x reader#park jongseong x reader#jay x reader#sunoo x reader#sunghoon x reader#riki nishimura x reader#sim jake x reader#jake x reader#kim sunoo x reader#yang jungwon x reader#sim jaeyun x reader#enhypen niki#enhypen heeseung#enhypen jay#enhypen jake#enhypen sunghoon#enhypen sunoo#enhypen jungwon#enhypen#trending#viral
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Hallo! I not sure request is open if is not feel free to decline this sorry! If is alright could i request 6 and medicine pocket separately with a shy and timid s/o who worries a lot and hides behind them doesn’t have any friends but likes to just be by their side most of the time and clings to them? Hope you have a nice day!
Woohoo! Back on that grind and cranking out requests!! They are open btw!!
Please forgive me if either of them are a little ooc! I don't have MP and I skipped through the story so I don't entirely know 6's personality all that well!!
Medicine Pocket & 6 w/a Timid/Shy S/O (separate)
Medicine Pocket is someone with a very flamboyant personality, always being able to speak their mind. They never quite understood why or how you could be so timid, but that didn't stop them from loving you all the same.
Their tall physic let off an intimidating aura to those who didn't know them properly, but to you it was a source of comfort. Their height makes it easy for you to hide behind, holding their hand or a part of their coat and trailing behind them like a child would play follow the leader. Of course Medicine Pocket had no issue with this, even taking pride in how safe you'd feel around them and only them.
No matter that you don't have many friends, neither do they due to how... Different they are to others, all they need is to be in your company they say. Others were frustrating and didn't understand what they were trying to say, what they meant, but you did. You always understood their words and actions, so you were the only person they truly wanted to be around.
Clingy? You? Clearly you've never met them because goodness only knows how much they love to be around you. Even if it were you just simply being in the same room as them, they want to be near you. You know them better than anyone else, understand their weird antics and never judge them for how they acted or what they did. That was something they held close to their heart, right next to you, so of course your affection is needed on a daily basis! Sit next to them while they work on projects or go through paperwork, lay your head on their shoulder, read a book on the couch they moved in the room just for you, take a nice nap, sit on their lap, let them sit on your lap! Anything, as long as you were with them.
6 is a person driven to perfection when it comes to his work, someone strict with his rules and follows them all to a T. You, are a slight exception though. Oh how adorable you are to him, holding onto his sash while standing behind him, cowering from the other numbers like a little kitten. He had a soft spot for you, that much was clear to everyone
Being of high status on the island, he was a busy person, usually so busy he comes off as a recluse. But never was he too busy to ignore you even for a moment. Come into his arms after a long day of interacting with people, sit in his lap and rest to regain your social battery while he works on equations and problem solving. Your battery recharges just as much as his does, so let him rest his head on yours for a moment but don't question his closed eyes. He's just letting them rest for a moment.
You need not worry about not having many friends, he wouldn't say he has many either, if any at all. You are his one and only, why pay attention to others when he has you to keep him company? He'd rather stay home with you by his side with a good book of philosophy rather than go out with others. His robes will keep you warm, so snuggle up to his side and read along with him if you do so please.
His personality severely contradicts your own, having a more serious and stern personality that goes against your timid one, but that never stops him from loving you all the same. Should the two of you be away from each other he'll leave a piece of him with you, perhaps something on his person he wears often, or maybe a book he knows you'd like. When he is with you he'll never mind you grabbing a hold of his hand, even when others are around. He finds it adorable how you seem to try and melt into his arm as you hold onto it while others are around and chatting.
#reverse 1999#r1999#reverse 1999 x reader#x reader#r1999 x reader#my writing#medicine Pocket#r1999 medicine pocket#6#r1999 6#chapter 5#6 the perfect number#medicine pocket x reader#6 x reader#reverse 1999 medicine pocket#reverse 1999 6
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