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queenshelby · 2 months

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The Unwilling Wife

Pairing: Dark Thomas Shelby x Virgin Reader

Warning: Arranged Marriage, Full On Non Con, Loss of Virginity, Tommy being horrible

Note: This was a request!

Growing up Gypsy, it was customary for young women like you to be married off early. But in the heart of the Midlands, amidst the smokestacks and iron foundries of Birmingham, you were to marry a man of power and influence, Thomas Shelby.

You stood at the altar, dressed in a gown that glistened like liquid moonlight under the chandelier's golden glow. Your heart pounded against your chest like a caged bird, desperate to escape. You knew not what awaited you in this new world, but fate dictated that you must submit to its cruel whims.

Standing before the officiant, you locked eyes with Thomas, his gaze cold and unyielding. "I now pronounce you husband and wife," the Gypsy man uttered, the words striking a death knell within your heart.

You turned to face Thomas, the air thick between you, heavy with tension and unspoken words.

"Come now, Love," he rasped, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine. He had his eyes on you for the past two years, but your parents insisted that he waited until you were ready for a union of such kind.

At twenty-one, your father passed away and you were no longer given a choice. You had to marry this man to provide stability to your family.

The weight of expectations bore down upon you, making each step feel like walking through mud. You'd never known much about love, having only felt the bitter sting of betrayal. You had no idea how this man, whose eyes held a wildfire of ambition, would treat you.

Thomas led you down the aisle, his grip firm yet gentle. "We are leaving now," he asserted, his tone hardening. You nodded, feeling the weight of the gazes upon you. Your heart hammered in your chest; the fear of uncertainty consumed you. The velvety darkness of night seemed like a safe haven compared to the storm brewing inside you.

You walked away from your familiar surroundings and the chill hung in the air, mirroring the icy sensation creeping down your spine as your husband led you to his car.

He couldn't wait a minute longer to claim what now was rightfully his and you soon began to notice the urgency in his demur.

It was all too late to do anything about it now though, as your hands shook and you found yourself staring back at him, paralyzed, even as you silently wished for a way out. In those moments, you remembered how different life could have been if your choices were truly your own. Yet, here you stood - defenseless, scared, and utterly alone.

"Your new home is only a short drive from here," he said abruptly, his tone devoid of emotion.

Despite the dimness of the interior, you noticed the hardness in his jawline, the intensity burning in his eyes. It was clear to you that he desired something far more than just physical pleasure. And as his hand found the small of your back, you knew that he wanted absolute control over you.

You followed meekly, stepping into the car as he shut the door behind you. The leather seats were warm against your skin, carrying a musky scent of polished wood and cigar smoke.

Thomas clicked the button to close the doors, and your stomach twisted in knots, the fear growing stronger within you. The car started smoothly, pulling away from the parking lot, leaving your old life behind. You watched the blurred lights pass by outside, trying to grasp the reality of your situation.

"So, tell me Love," Thomas broke the silence, "What did your parents tell you about me?" he wanted to know.

"Not much," you managed to croak, swallowing the lump in your throat. The air was thick with tension, the silence pressing down on you like a vice. You fidgeted in your seat, shifting in discomfort.

"Just that you are dangerous," you finally replied honestly, trying to sound indifferent. The truth was, you barely knew anything about Thomas Shelby beyond the rumors you had heard from others. You knew he was a prominent figure in Birmingham's criminal underworld, feared and respected for his ruthlessness.

Thomas chuckled, his deep laughter echoing through the enclosed space. "Well, I suppose that's true enough, eh" he admitted, a glint of pride in his eyes. "But you have nothing to worry about Sweetheart. I'm a fair man," Thomas reassured you softly, reaching across the distance between the two front seats to stroke your arm gently. His touch was soothing, yet there was something unsettling about it.

"If you do as I say and behave like a good wife for me, I will treat you well," he murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on your wrist. "And, considering the deal I made with your mother, I have no doubt that you will learn your place fairly quickly, eh," he said.

Thomas smiled grimly, his eyes flashing dangerously under the dashboard light. You tried to nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. Your palms were sweating against the satin fabric of your dress, and your heart raced wildly in your chest. You felt trapped, suffocated, and desperately yearned for freedom.

As the car pulled up to the entrance of an imposing mansion, the engine roared to a stop. Your breath caught in your throat; you had seen pictures of this place, but seeing it in person took your breath away. The house loomed high, casting ominous shadows onto the driveway.

Thomas opened the car door for you, offering his hand as if he expected you to jump straight into his arms. You hesitated, taking a moment to gather your courage before accepting his help. As you stepped out of the vehicle, the crunch of gravel beneath your heels echoed loudly in the silent night.

Inside, the mansion was magnificent. A grand staircase dominated the entrance hall, leading up to a second floor where countless rooms branched off. Each one seemed to hold its secrets, and you wondered what lay hidden behind closed doors. Despite the luxury surrounding you, feelings of unease crept into your mind.

"Frances will show you upstairs, to your bedroom," Thomas instructed, gesturing to a petite woman standing quietly near the entrance. Frances, you noted, was much older than you and appeared to possess a calm confidence you envied.

"Thank you," you whispered timidly, grateful for the reprieve from Thomas' intimidating presence.

With the slightest tilt of her head, Frances indicated that you should follow her.

"This way, Mrs Shelby," she called out to you politely, her tone as smooth as silk.

You trailed after her obediently, your feet whispering against the plush carpet beneath them. As you ascended the grand staircase, you paused to glance upwards, marveling at the glittering crystal chandeliers hanging overhead.

Frances shot you a smile, seemingly reading your awe-struck expression. "There's plenty to explore, Miss. But let's get you settled in first, shall we?" she said. "Mr Shelby will be up soon and my understanding is that he wants to consummate your union tonight," she added delicately but firmly.

You gulped, your heartbeat accelerating as Frances guided you toward a set of double doors adorned with intricate gold detailing. "Don't fret, Miss," she continued, opening the doors to reveal a stunning bedroom filled with luxurious furnishings. "In time, you may come to appreciate the finer things in life that Mr Shelby will provide for you," she told you and you knew the price you had to pay for what she was referring to.

As such, you didn't respond, instead choosing to focus on the plush red rug beneath your feet.

Frances saw through your feigned ignorance, smiling softly. "Mr Shelby has selected some clothing for you to wear," she told you, pointing to the white satin lingerie on the bed before quietly leaving the room.

You stared at the delicate garments laid out on the bed, feeling overwhelmed and anxious. The soft fabrics were unlike anything you'd ever touched before, and the thought of wearing them made you uncomfortable. You approached the bed cautiously, picking up the lacy bra and panties with trembling hands.

"I am not going to wear this," you muttered to yourself while sitting down on the edge of the bed.

Your fingers nervously toyed with the lace trimming of the underwear. You weren't accustomed to such luxury, nor the idea of being submissive to someone else's desires. Still, you knew you had little choice or control over your circumstances.

The clock struck midnight, and you heard footsteps approaching your door. Thomas entered the room, locking it behind him. The air crackled with tension, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

"May I assume that the garments I chose for you did not fit?" Thomas asked, breaking the silence and you flushed, averting your gaze.

"I did not try them on," you stammered, aware of the sudden stiffness in his posture and, unsurprisingly, your comment caused Tommy to sigh.

He stepped closer to you, towering tall over you as you remained seated, looking like a cornered fawn. His gaze swept over you once before speaking again.

"I am surprised you still hesitate," he began, running a hand through his dark hair. "I understand that you may be nervous, but I own you now. You are my wife and I expect you to do as I say," Thomas said, his voice low and steady. He reached out to caress your cheek, his touch sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. You flinched slightly, but you knew better than to pull away. This was your life now, and if you wanted to survive, you would have to play along.

"Now stand up and take off your dress," Thomas ordered, his voice hardening. You swallowed, knowing what he wanted.

You stood slowly, taking a deep breath and meeting his gaze. He appraised you coolly, a slight smirk curving his lips. You clenched your fists, hating the fact that you had no other option but to comply.

"Undress," he commanded again bluntly, watching you closely.

You hesitated for a few seconds before peeling your wedding gown off. It slithered down your body, leaving you bare underneath the flickering candlelight. You shivered, the goosebumps rising on your skin as you met his assessing eyes.

"Good girl," Tommy smirked and you could feel his eyes roam over your flesh, drinking in the sight of your naked form while you shivered fearfully under his gaze.

Your teeth gritted together, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

"Turn around," Thomas growled, his voice thick with lust. Reluctantly, you spun around, presenting your back to him.

His fingertips grazed your shoulder blades, tracing a path down your spine towards your waist. "You're beautiful Love," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "And I have been dreaming of this moment for two fucking years now," he confessed, moving closer.

You flinched when you felt his hot breath on your neck, but you bit your lip and held your ground. You could sense that he was aroused, and that knowledge made you feel nauseous.

"Please, I don't want to do this," you whispered, your voice quivering like a leaf in the wind. "I have never been with a man before," you pleaded with him as his hands roamed over your body possessively.

"And that excites me even more, knowing that I will be the first to have you," Thomas responded, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Now, turn around again and lie down on the bed for me, legs spread," he commanded you.

You hesitated, torn between your instinctive refusal and the stark realization that resistance would only invite punishment. After a moment, you reluctantly complied with his order, turning around and climbing on to the bed, lying down slowly but keeping legs firmly together.

"Spread your legs, I said," barked Thomas, his patience clearly thinning. You looked up at him pleadingly, but his expression was resolute. With a quiet whimper, you reluctantly parted your legs. The gap between them widened, and you quickly covered your exposed sex with your hands.

"Let go of yourself," Thomas snapped, grabbing your wrists roughly and pinning them down to the mattress. "I want to see what is mine," he declared, inspecting every inch of your body with a predatory gaze.

You struggled weakly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

"Please," you gasped, "I can't do this -- I've never done this before!"

To your surprise, the usually stern Thomas softened, stroking your cheek with the gentleness of a lover in the throes of passion. "Shh," he soothed, "Open your legs," he told you again and, nervously, you acquiesced, allowing him to guide your limbs apart.

"That's it, Love," he praised you, stroking your inner thigh. "Beautiful," he breathed, his eyes devouring you greedily. "I've never seen anyone quite like you," he purred, leaning down to kiss the tender spot where your thigh met your hip. "You are fucking perfect," he growled before he kneeled down, upright, in between your legs so that you could do nothing else but keep your legs parted for him.

Tommy unbuckled his belt next and pushed his pants down to reveal his erection, dripping with the pre-cum, eager to penetrate you. It was monstrously swollen, pulsing, and visibly leaking. You recoiled back, feeling terrified, and disgusted. You tried to look away, but Tommy grabbed your chin, forcing you to confront it.

"You belong to me now," he declared, his voice sinister and commanding. "Your sweet little pussy belongs to me. No one else will ever have you or touch you like I do."

"Now hold still," Tommy said, maneuvering himself between your legs. He gripped your hips tightly, guiding your body into position. The rough texture of his calloused hands made you wince, but you held your tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing your protests.

"Look at me," he demanded, his eyes boring into yours. You met his gaze warily, unable to tear your eyes away from his intense stare. His pupils dilated, reflecting the fire of desire burning within him as he aligned the head of his cock with your entrance. You tensed, feeling a wave of panic wash over you he started applying pressure that gradually increased.

"Relax," he urged as a bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, pooling at the base of your neck. The dampness was uncomfortably warm, adding to the mounting agony. You focused intensely on breathing evenly, attempting to distract yourself from the intrusion.

"I'm sorry, Love," he mumbled, his grip tightening around your thighs. "It is going to hurt, but you'll get used to it in time."

The words stung, a reminder of the brutal reality of your situation. You tried to brace yourself as Tommy continued to push, his cockhead teasing your wetness as it teetered on the brink of entry.

Your insides clenched involuntarily, resisting the violation. The muscles of your core contracted around his shaft, threatening to reject him entirely. You could almost imagine your womb recoiling within the confines of your pelvis, rejecting the foreign object invading your most sacred space.

"Relax," Tommy repeated, his voice strained but still calm. "And let me in," he growled, beginning to thrust harder, his cock slipping further into your tight passage. You bit your lip, suppressing a scream as your body stretched to accommodate him.

"That's it Love," Thomas groaned, his thrusts becoming more forceful. "Let me fuck that little hole of yours," he grunted, relishing the sensation of his member filling you.

You tried to focus on his words, willing yourself to relax and enjoy the experience. But the overwhelming sense of violation left you numb, incapable of experiencing any pleasure. Instead, you clamped tightly around him, squeezing his cock in a futile attempt to prevent it from entering deeper.

"Fuck you are tight," Tommy moaned, his eyes glazed over with lust. "I can't believe how tight you are," he hissed, his nostrils flaring as he fought to regain control.

He grasped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he attempted to plunge farther into you.

"Relax," he implored once more, his voice hoarse with desperation. "Let me push my cock all the way in to you," he snarled, plunging his cock into you with renewed vigor.

"That's it," he eventually groaned as he bottomed out against your cervix, "So tight," he panted, withdrawing partially before slamming back into you with renewed fervor.

The impact reverberated through your whole body, causing your toes to curl. You gasped, feeling helpless against his raw strength. He drove into you relentlessly, his movements building momentum with each thrust.

"My beautiful wife, you are taking my cock so well now," breathed Tommy, his voice husky with need.

You squirmed beneath him, your body racked with conflicting sensations. The pain was relentless, but somehow, the pleasurable hum of arousal grew louder, drowning out the cries of distress.

You swallowed convulsively, fighting back the tears welling up in your eyes. "No, please," you choked out, your voice cracking with desperation. "I can't handle anymore."

"I am almost done Love", Tommy whispered, burying his face in your neck.

Suddenly, you felt his thrust become shallow, and then he withdrew completely. You heaved a sigh of relief, thinking that it must finally be over. However, before you could fully exhale, Tommy flipped you onto your back and positioned himself above you.

"Oh god, please," you whimpered, struggling to escape his iron grip as he pinned your wrists down.

"Relax," he said through gritted teeth and, before you could argue, his cock slid back into you effortlessly, tearing a whimper from your throat. He fucked you mercilessly, unrelenting in his thrusts.

"I'm ready to finish inside you," Tommy groaned, his pace quickening. "And I am going to cum deep inside you, Love," he growled, his strokes becoming erratic before, with a loud groan, he buried himself deep inside you again.

"Fuck," he groaned as he began to spasm, releasing his seed in hot spurts deep inside you. You cried out in shock, your body arching uncontrollably against the invasion. The thick warmth filled you, spreading inside you until it overflowed, dribbling down your leg.

"My beautiful wife," he whispered in your ear, his breath hot and heavy as, finally, he pulled out.

You could feel his semen leaking down your thighs, a cold reminder of the act that had just transpired. The raw pain you felt was matched only by the shame and humiliation that weighed heavily upon you.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart" he mumbled, his voice sounding sincere but distant as he handed you a handkerchief. "I promise it won't be like this every time. Like I said, you will get used to it. Once you are broken in, it will be much easier for you, eh," your husband told you and you stayed silent, staring blankly ahead as he got dressed. The remnants of his seed dripped onto the sheets below you, staining the pristine white fabric with evidence of your desecration.

"Now get some rest," Thomas gruffly instructed you, brushing aside tangles of your long dark hair and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. He helped you scoot under the covers, positioning your body so that your legs were slightly parted. His firm hands ensured that you were tucked in properly, creating a cocoon of safety around you. "Tomorrow will be another day," he murmured, extinguishing the candles on the bedside table as he rose silently to leave.

"Goodnight, Love," he said softly, closing the door behind him, leaving you alone in the darkness.

Tags: @ietss@thorins-queen-of-erebor@cilliansbabe@calmingmelody96@lavender-haze-01@febris-amatoria@cursedalchemist @too-manyfandoms-help @sena-m @forgottenpeakywriter

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clairdelunelove · 3 months

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itadori "pay more attention to me" yuuji

itadori “pay more attention to me” yuuji who insistently demands your undivided attention. the two of you were lounging in his dorm room– basking in the presence of each other, a rarity that desperately needed to be celebrated. a break from the mundane cycle of school, extracurriculars, and life. you’re curled up in his bed, flipping through a small novel while he’s scrolling through his phone. he’s not on any of his social media accounts, however. no, yuuji was spellbound by how informative having a phone could be. he’s never had one (didn’t have a reason to buy a phone) so when the academy placed it into his hands– he’s taken advantage of it for your benefit. his fingers persistently scroll through a website that’s titled ‘list of potential date spots that your significant other might like.’ nose upturned as he raises the screen closer to his face to read the small print. it’s cute and you notice how his voice rises in excitement. “look at this place,” yuuji’s mouth opens in awe as he continues reading straight from the article, “it’s a cafe that also has a gaming room in the back!” he tilts his phone so you’re able to view his screen but you’re snugly pressed against the plush, maroon pillows that are piled at the head of his bed. your eyes dart to what he’s showing you before going back to your book, “it looks fun, yuu. you always pick the best places.” immediately, his lips pull into a frown at your nonchalance and he presses his forearms against the side of the bed to lean closer to you.

he tries again, however.

“or there’s this hiking trail we can do,” he underlines it with his finger, “you know how you said you wanted to get out more? we could do this!” and he’s so precious. wide, beseeching eyes that inquisitively follow you to be aware of your likes/dislikes. you’re almost finished with your book though and the story’s resolution eases into the final moments with your favorite character. so you wave a hand at yuuji’s suggestion, “sounds good to me.” and it’s not how you’d typically react to his words. you’re generally keen about the topics he talks about, a warm glint in your gaze as he rambles about the latest movie he’s watched or how his science class is kicking his ass. he heaves. runs an exasperated hand down his face to maintain his composure. is compelled to sort this out. gritting his teeth, he shuts off his phone and tosses it on the carpeted floor.

then, he moves all at once. knee wedged beside you, yuuji’s strong arms are thrown around you as his face dips into the slot near your neck. his fingertips maneuver to press against the sliver of uncovered skin beneath your shirt. a delicate spot that manages to pull a gasp from your glossy lips when he touches you there. “yuu, what are you doing?” you mumble, all too aware of how the both of you are sprawled on his small dorm bed. surprisingly, he draws gentle patterns against the small strip of your bare skin when he hears your candied voice. he’s quick, precise, and uncannily quiet. before long, his lips are pressed against your jaw and his warm breath caresses your skin. he reaches out to close the book in your hand; made sure to bookmark and place it on his desk. this’ll take a while. “oh,” his dark brows drew together as he chuckled, “so now you wanna talk to me.” his voice borders a lighthearted taunt, a tone you would’ve scolded if he didn’t nip at the dip of your collarbones. feverishly, his lips find yours– the safe haven that he desperately chases. “pay more attention to me,” he murmurs into your mouth before tugging you closer to him, “will ya?”

#jujutsu itadori #jujutsu kaisen #yuji itadori #itadori x reader #yuuji itadori #yuuji fluff #itadori x y/n #itadori yuuji x reader #jjk x reader

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earthtooz · 1 year

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x : PUNCH TO THE HEART ! :*+ﾟ

in which: rin shows up at your place at 2:35 am, desperate for some first aid and your love.

warnings: BOXER!RIN AU, 2.2k wc, gn!reader, mentions of blood, HURT/COMFORT, reader patches rin up, ooc!rin possibly but this is my fantasy and you all are living in it!, ambiguous relationship; u can perceive it however u like :>, unedited, a lot of intimacy, one suggestive line.

a/n: this wasn't meant to happen, but there were quite a few people who wanted this to happen. i will be tagging the accounts, and you should all thank @limitlesshq for making this happen. i'm gonna go eat my laptop now bc i want this man so badly.

it’s 2:35am when you hear the furious rasping of knuckles on your door.

you’re a little terrified, rooted to where you were currently standing in the kitchen when you hear the intrusive noise. on the journey to retrieve a glass of water, you really were not expecting an unknown assailant to disrupt this methodical routine of yours.

willing yourself to move, you approach the door as carefully as possible, holding your breath whilst you peer into the peephole. the sight you’re greeted with causes you to stumble a little, face scrunching into an unpleasant expression as you lean on the door for a bit more stability.

when you open the door, you don’t know who looks more shocked to see the other.

“rin?” you greet after a brief moment of silence, his teal eyes cutting into yours.

his eyebrows furrow, the shock melting away from his face. “did i wake you?”

“no, i was- uh, doing my work.”

“at 2:30? you should be getting some sleep-”

“can we not talk about my bad habits right now? not whilst you’re looking like…” you gesture to his face, “this.”

there’s streaks of blood on his face, his hair sticks to his forehead due to sweat, he has a bust lip along with a few other cuts scattered along his skin and the drowsiness in his eyes is making you feel fatigued too.

but there’s a part of you that twists in discomfort just thinking about what he’s been up to tonight, where he’d been tonight. the bulge in the pockets of his jacket confirm your thoughts and you wonder how much cash he could’ve racked up tonight to look this disastrous.

rin frequenting boxing matches as a fighter for a little extra cash was something you learnt about him ages ago, but ever since knowing it, you don’t recall him being beat up too badly. something about ‘being too good for lukewarm dipshits’.

rin rolls his eyes. “i’m coming in.”

he pushes open the door a little further to accommodate his frame before stepping through as if this were his home, causing you to stare after him in bewilderment. where was this attitude coming from? why was he acting so weird tonight?

slowly, you shut the door and lock it, turning around to confront rin who now sits on the edge of the couch, forearms resting on his legs as he sighs heavily. walking over to his pitiful figure, you stop a few feet short.

“is something wrong?” you ask, voice practically a whisper as to avoid shattering whatever fragile state rin was in right now.

“‘m just really tired. nasty fight tonight.”

you don’t say anything, not wanting to force rin to open up. instead, you take a hesitant step forward to card a hand through his messy hair and the sound that leaves him is close to a groan of relief. it hurts, really, rin’s double life stresses you out to the point that it causes physical aches in your chest simply thinking about what he has to go through. he says it’s a nice stress relief and the money doesn’t hurt, but because he ‘enjoys’ the activity, he never knows how to stop.

his hand weakly reaches out to grab at you, pulling you closer once they close around your waist, allowing him to lean against your stomach. the dark-haired soaks up whatever affection you give him and with each stroke of your hands through his hair, he leans himself further into you, using you as a crutch, a lifeline, a safe haven.

when you step away a little to take a look at his injuries, you don’t miss the way his hands clench onto your shirt, holding on to the fabric with a vice grip as he stares up at you.

“where are you going?” he asks, voice ragged.

“nowhere, why?” you answer. rin’s grip lets up a little, but he pulls you into him effortlessly, causing you to grab onto his shoulders for stability.

“i don’t want you to go. need to be with you tonight. need to be with you all the time.”

the way your heart flips over and over again in your chest should be illegal because you feel like you’re about to be sent into cardiac arrest. rin is most beautiful when vulnerable, you think, and as concerning as your confession may sound, you mean it well. he bears his shield and sword, wields them so well that he forgets to drop them sometimes, that there is so much more to see when your view isn’t obscured by self-reliance and independence.

your hands travel upwards to cup his cheeks and he sighs, closing his eyes to relax against you.

“i’m not leaving, i just wanted to check out your injuries. speaking of which, you really need to wash up. let me take care of your wounds.”

“they’re fine. i got some first aid already.”

“then why didn’t they wash the blood off your face?”

“i left before they could. wanted to see you.”

“you’re so bothersome,” you scold with a small smile, patting his cheek affectionately. “i’m tired too, i want to go to bed so it’s either you wash up or i’m leaving you on the street.”

with a grunt, rin stands up, surrendering to your pleads as he lets you drag him in the direction of your bathroom. “go shower. i’ll take dress your wounds afterwards,” you command, dropping a spare towel in his arms.

the dark-haired glances up at you with an amused look in his eyes. “not gonna join me?”

“you belong on the streets, don’t make me actually throw you out.”

he rolls his eyes. “aye aye captain.”

closing the door behind you, you dutifully retreat to your room where you had last left your laptop running with the document of the assessment you had to complete by the end of the week. killing time by working a little more wouldn’t hurt anyone, you think, before opening another tab, music still softly playing from your laptop speakers to set the ambient mood.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

a stern voice disrupts your train of thought, the sound of furious typing on keyboard suddenly halting when you see itoshi rin in your doorway, dripping water from his hair with nothing but a towel to cover his body, chest on display for your viewing pleasure.

not that you indulge him.

you breathe out roughly, rubbing your face. “oh good, you’re done. c’mon.”

standing up from where you were working, rin doesn’t let you walk too far out of your room, using a toned arm to stop you as it winds around your torso, bringing you to him effortlessly. you feel the post-shower warmth from his chest radiate off him, almost lulling you to sleep with how heavy your eyelids feel.

“you’re not overworking yourself again, are you?” the dark-haired asks quietly, his hand now tracing circles at your hip from where it snuck underneath your clothes.

the yawn that escapes you gives you the only answer he needs. “it’s just tonight, i promise.”

“you say that all the time. you need to take care of yourself, y/n. these habits aren’t healthy.”

“i know, i know. rich coming from you,” you mutter. “can we talk about this another time? i’d really like to clean you up and get to bed as soon as possible.”

you feel him nod from behind and soon enough, the grasp he had around you loosens, allowing you to step away and guide him to the bathroom. there, you sit him down on the toilet seat and furrow through your cabinets for the first kid, grabbing some antiseptic, cotton pads, and a variety of bandaids.

the remaining mist from his shower lingers in your bathroom and the smell of your products remain heavy in the air- heavy on rin too.

the whole process you spend it in silence, letting the tension accumulate on its own as you brush away still damp spots with a dry cloth and squeeze some antiseptic onto his wounds before placing some bandaids over some of them. he’s not very reactive throughout the process, but his indicators of pain flash across his expression from time to time, even if just for a second. especially prominent when you dealt with his bust lips.

your heart aches.

when pressing the last dressing onto a cut on his cheek, you instinctively bend down to place a lingering kiss over it, as if the one action will communicate all the concern and affection you held for him.

as if the love you feel for him will be branded onto his skin.

it’s with an air of reluctance and melancholy that you pull away from him, not meeting rin’s eyes as you go to put the supplies back in the cabinet and wash your hands.

you easily preempt the two arms that wind around you and the familiar chest that presses itself to your back once again. it seems to be rin’s favourite position, especially with how liberally he rests his chin on your shoulder, staring at your reflection, waiting for you to look back at him.

you don’t cave. otherwise you might break.

“talk to me,” he whispers next to your ear, tightening his embrace ever so slightly.

the silence is deafening, especially to rin who grows more and more concerned over it.

“y/n.”

“i don’t like it when you show up like this,” you confess in an exhale, reaching for a towel to dry your hands with. “it hurts seeing you hurt with blood all over your face, all bruised.”

now it’s his turn to be silent. you finally bring your head up to look in the mirror but the sight only makes you realise how much of a mess you look. your hair is ruffled, your eyes are drooping, and you look a little crazed.

yet rin looks at you like you are some iridescent, all-knowing being. like you weave the strings to his life. like you command the outcome of his life. the twisted part is that he would. he would allow you to do all of the above, because “you’re the only place i can go.”

what he means to say is that you’re the only place he wants to go, but the confession causes a hiccup (something that resembled a quiet sob) to escape your throat. rin holds you tighter to him, pressing several kisses on your neck, trying to distract himself from your grief because otherwise he thinks he’d crack too.

“rin.” one quiet syllable of his name causes him to stop and look back up at you, those usually indifferent, cerulean eyes containing so much intention and devotion.

he loves you, he realises.

“i’m glad you trust me and i trust you too, but seeing you hurt and broken down hurts me too.”

you love him back, he realises.

“you talk all the time about taking care of myself, but what about you? you can’t expect people to do the things you can’t, rin.” you’re not looking at him again; it kills him. “i know i can’t stop you from going out every so often, i don’t have a place to tell you what to do- am i making sense right now?”

he gives your waist a squeeze. “you are. you’re right, i’m sorry for making you feel this way-”

“you don’t have anything to be sorry about. this is all just in my head, i’m sorry, i just need to sleep the day off and then-”

“-stop invalidating yourself. you’re right.”

“i don’t mean what i say from a ‘you’re bothering me’ kind of way, i don’t mind it when you come to me for help- i’m more than happy to! it’s just… i’m not as strong willed as i like to be sometimes.”

you turn around in his grasp and he presses you into the ceramic of the bathroom counter, rubbing comforting circles into your skin. “i know, i know,” he repeats. “it’s okay. thank you for being here, that’s enough for me. you make my nights so much easier, don’t you know?”

his forehead rests against yours.

“best part is being able to know that once everything is over, you can be there to make life so much better.”

with a shaky exhale, you begin laughing. “what if i’m actually asleep though and don’t wake up to answer the door?”

“i thought you were going to be asleep tonight.”

“then why did you come?”

“i didn’t mean for you to answer. i just wanted to be near you.”

the weight of his confession is hefty, but calms the ponderous storm of your mind nevertheless. you laugh even harder. rin’s ears turn bright red. at least you’re smiling again. he would fight in countless matches and get several punches to the jaw if it meant he could see you all happy and radiant in his arms.

you retreat out of the bathroom to find appropriate clothes for him to wear so he can be in something other than a towel.

then soon enough, you’re both curled up under your covers with rin holding you to him in a vice grip. when he’s sure that you’re fast asleep, he breathes a quiet, but meaningful ‘i love you’ into your skin, branding you in return before succumbing to unconsciousness with all he could ever want in his arms.

#itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin x you #rin x you #rin itoshi x you #blue lock rin #itoshi x reader #blue lock itoshi rin #itoshi rin drabble #itoshi rin #itoshi rin bllk #blue lock

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benkeibear · 6 months

Text

⋆꙳✧༄ Over the edge

❖ Character: Sanji

❖ Reader: female | AFAB

❖ Wordcount: 1.2k

❖ Summary: You had your fun teasing and edging your cook all day long after catching him touching himself to the thought of you.

❖ WARNINGS: dom!reader, masturbation, edging, oral (reader giving and receiving), ruined orgasms, cumming untouched, handjob, overstimulation,

Being with Sanji felt like a dream come true, ever thoughtful it felt like he knew you better than you know yourself. Gentle hands caressing your skin with utmost care after a long day just to help you get rid of the tension residing deep within until you fell asleep in his arms. Being with Sanji felt like a safe haven, strong arms keeping you tucked away from the world and always making sure you're protected - he would gladly give his life for yours if your life should be at stake. You're his goddess, his one true love and he made sure that not a single day goes by where he doesn't express this to you and the world. Oh how obsessed he was with you, your name tumbling off his lips like a lewd prayer, whimpers to be heard from the quarters and you knew exactly what he was up to when you peaked your head inside. The blonde laid sprawled out on his bed, one leg hanging halfway off the mattress when his pants were shoved down just enough to reveal his aching cock, his shirt pulled up enough to save it from his upcoming release. Just as he started to thrust back into his own hand so desperately you called out for him “Sanji dear? Nami and I are quite hungry… would you mind if we access the fridge?” You asked through the door, acting like you didn't just watch him jerk off. With a small whine your beloved tucked his aching hard cock away and came out of his room to give you an innocent smile “I'll make a snack for you two. Don't worry your pretty head about it” he mused and kissed your forehead gently, not letting you know just how desperate he was for you and as much as he'd love to take you to bed with him he felt bad for always wanting you - especially since you woke him up with a mind numbing blowjob this morning… one that you didn't finish. Sanji didn't think you'd be cruel to him like that, thinking nothing bad when you pouted at your oh so aching jaw which he cupped caring only to press the most loving kisses to it “thank you my darling” he hummed a little out of breath. This second ruined orgasm left him wired, fearing he'd go up the walls if he can't stroke himself to completion soon only for you to hug him from behind.

A poised grip on his ever aching cock snapped him out of his thoughts, the knife dropping from his hand as his head leaned back, a shaky breath escaping him. “Mellorine… please” he whispered, knowing that you can feel how hard he is. “Here? In the kitchen? you're so naughty” you giggled into his strong back, your hand slipping into his pants but not stroking him yet. “Go on, you were making food” you mused, forcing him to continue the task on hand while your hands gently fondled his balls that were threatening to burst if he wouldn't find release soon. A sharp hiss escaped his lips when you finally started stroking just the tip of his cock, smearing the pre cum over it but when you felt him twitch you removed your hand from his pants, making him squirm as the softest whimpers escaped him - you ruined yet another orgasm. Smirking you took your food from him and shot him a wink “meet me in your room in an hour… and don't touch yourself again” you hummed amused as you left the kitchen, letting him know that you caught him red handed but the way you promised him release pushed all thoughts of embarrassment aside, his erection starting to become painful.

On the minute Sanji showed up in his quarters, already hard again from the anticipation but his eyes went wide when he found you touching yourself on his bed. In a matter of seconds your hand was replaced with his, skilled fingers bringing pleasure to you in ways you could never achieve and his soft lips wrapped around your sensitive clit, tongue flicking over the tiny nub in desperate ways. The way he ate you out shouldn't have surprised you like this, especially since he always ended his long days with a mouth full of your sweet pussy, needing to taste your arousal as if you're the best dessert anyone has ever tasted. It was the speed he came at you, the desperation clear behind every swipe of his tongue, working for his reward - your orgasm. Maybe if he gives you enough pleasure you will finally let him have his high, mind going numb when your thighs squeezed around his head in sync with your walls fluttering around his slender fingers. Sanji’s soft moans against your hot cunt let your clit vibrate in the most delicious ways, finally tipping you over the edge, your juices coating his tongue and eliciting a satisfied hum from the cook as he lapped your arousal up before looking at you with teary eyes.

A small giggle erupted from you and you gently spread your legs further to pat the spot in front of you and your loving boyfriend immediately sat down, his back resting against your chest after he shed his clothes. Your hand wrapped around his leaking tip right away to smear his pre cum over him, using it as lube as you started stroking him at a slow pace, focusing mainly on the tip where you made sure to massage his sensitive frenulum, your other hand wrapping around his torso to tease his pebbled nipples. His pebbled pink nubs were begging for your touch, his back arching when you pinched one of them ever so slightly before rolling it between your thumb and index finger, keeping up the lazy strokes on his cock. The moment you felt him twitch you pulled away once more, both your hands now playing with his nipples “don't cum… not yet” you whispered into his ear when he was reduced to a panting mess, hips bucking up in the air when you kept playing with his chest and before either of you could react, shots of his hot cum pained his toned abs, leaving him whining and squirming at this untouched orgasm. Sanji’s head was resting on your shoulder, eyes shut tightly as he just let it happen, only to moan right into your ear when you reached for his sensitive length “I told you not to cum… didn't I?” You asked slightly disappointed and your grip on him tightened, jerking him off at a fast pace as he tried to bend and escape your grip “don't tell me you can't handle this… you wanted to cum so badly now I'll make sure you get what you want” you mused and he nodded eagerly, his hands looking for support on your thighs with a tight grip. “H-hah Mellorine… please” he begged, his head screaming for more, yearning for your touch on him despite how sensitive he was. The way he could become so pathetic under your touch enchanted you every time… and all you had to do was to edge him a little bit.

Networks: @enchantedforest-network

#one piece x reader #one piece smut #sanji x reader #sanji smut #one piece sanji #—Rhys Kinktober 2023

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joelsgreys · 11 months

Text

a safe haven l seven

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: Yours and Joel’s romantic relationship progresses; Ellie confronts you about Joel in stables and encourages you to make a choice; when Joel gets injured while out on patrol, it leads to a confession.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SMUT. unprotected p in v sex (as always, wrap it before you tap it), oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation (if you squint), Joel and his big cock can go multiple rounds because i said so, creampie (these two really are just going at it without a care in the world), Joel gets injured (gunshot wound) mentions of blood, MEDICAL INACCURACIES (per my research, the way gunshots wound are treated depends on a number of different factors, but we are going full hollywood here). Luke and Joel have an interaction (that is a warning in itself).

word count: 8.4k

September, 2024

“Oh fuck Joel, please don’t stop. Please don’t fucking st—”

You stop short and bury your face into the blanket underneath you in an effort to muffle the loud moans and cries of pleasure spilling from your lips.

Although the chances of a single soul being out of bed and outside near the barn at this godforsaken hour in the middle of the night are slim, it’s better to be safe than sorry. But keeping the noise to a minimum is a challenging feat when Joel Miller is positioned behind you, fucking you into oblivion.

You can’t hold back, not when his long, thick, calloused fingers are gripping your hips like a vice, digging deeply into the soft flesh as he brings them back, slamming you against him with each thrust of his own. Not when every inch of his throbbing cock is stretching your cunt, filling you up and satiating your unbridled need for it. Your need for Joel.

Over the last few weeks, he’d shown you what real pleasure could—and should—be. Sex isn’t an obligation a wife has to her husband, and a woman deserves to enjoy it as much as a man does. Joel made making you feel good his goal, his priority, and there’s no coming back from it. He is the only man you want to touch you, to satisfy you, now, and for the rest of your life.

You lift yourself off the blanket, your teeth sinking hard into your quivering bottom lip as you desperately drive your hips backwards and meet his thrusts halfway out of your own burning desire to feel more and more of him. Arching your back, you squeeze your eyes shut and relish in the sweet, heavenly sound the backs of your sweat slicked thighs make as they slap roughly against the front of Joel’s over and over and over again.

Joel's grasp on your hips tightens. “Yeah, that’s it baby. Fuck, that’s my good girl,” he pants from behind you. He picks up his pace, delivering smooth strokes that gradually become harder, sloppier as that sweet release draws closer for both of you. But somehow, he’s still careful. Even when he’s lost in the heat of the moment and his mind is in a cloudy haze, he keeps himself grounded, at least enough to make sure he isn’t being too rough. He can’t bear the thought of crossing the line between pleasure and pain, not with the woman he’s grown to care about more than anything. But you make being careful difficult. Pleading and begging for him to fuck you harder, faster, you bring out the primal in him and he can’t say no to you, much less when he’s buried balls deep in your cunt. “What a good fuckin’ girl. Y’take my cock so fuckin’ well, sweetheart—s’good for me, baby. So, so fuckin’ good.”

“Joel,” you moan his name, forgetting all about staying quiet. You drag one of your hands down the length of your body and dip it between your thighs, rubbing quick, firm circles around your clit as your desperation to come mounts. Luke didn’t like it when you would touch yourself, he never allowed you to explore your sexuality or your own body, nor did he allow you to chase your high when you were together—but Joel?

He encourages it. Adores it.

He fucking adores you. And he always he makes sure to show you just how much he adores you.

“Oh fuck, that’s it baby, fuckin’ touch yourself—touch yourself while I fuck you.”

You swirl your fingers around the sensitive bud harder, the tension building in your core.

“Fuckin’ Christ, peach,” Joel groans behind you. “S’like this sweet little pussy was made for me. She was made just for me, y’know that?”

It’s hard to decide what does you in more when it comes to intimacy with Joel—is it when he’s soft and gentle, whispering beautiful, sweet nothings into the hollow of your neck while you’re underneath him, hands locked together and fingers interwined as he slowly slides in and out of your heat?

Or is it when he puts you on your hands and knees, obscene filth rolling off his tongue as he takes what belongs to him from behind?

He knows how to make love, but god, he also knows how to fuck and you can’t decide which side of him you prefer because they’re both perfect.

Unbelievably, devastatingly perfect.

“So fuckin’ tight, you feel s’good—” Joel grunts, driving himself deeper and deeper, hitting that spot inside of you that drives him just as wild as it does you. One of his hands abandons your hips and he glides it down the softness of your lower belly. What has to be one of your least favorite parts of yourself is one of his favorites and every night, Joel makes it his mission to prove to you just how flawless he thinks every inch of your body is. Lovingly, he caresses your tummy with his palm, and then trails his hand further down, slipping it between your thighs where his fingers join yours. Together, they circle your swollen clit and you hear the sound of your own blood rushing in your ears.

“Joel, fuck, I’m so close—I’m gonna—” Your own gasp cuts off the end of your sentence. You try to warn him again, but your words are washed away by the wave of pleasure that crashes over you as one final stroke tips you both over the edge you’ve been teetering and you both come in tandem. Fisting handfuls of his blanket, you mewl out his name as your orgasm tears through your body, making it shudder.

Behind you, Joel releases a low, guttural groan, his chest heaving as his balls tighten. He spills into you and his eyes pinch shut when he feels you convulse around his cock, your cunt milking him for all he’s worth. “Fuck,” he chokes as he leans forward and drapes his body over yours, his length twitching and filling you until it leaks out of you, dripping onto the blanket. His breaths are ragged and labored, but eventually steady. Instead of pulling out of you, he gingerly pushes his hips into you once more. Feeling your walls clench around him, Joel drops his head and snickers, his warm breath tickling the damp skin on your back. He opens his eyes. “Feels like you’re ready for more, sweetheart,” he mutters, planting a tender kiss between your shoulder blades. “Jesus. Didn’t know I had me such a greedy girl, peach. Guess that innocent little angel face of yours had me fooled.”

You’re about to retort but when he bucks, all you can do is exhale sharply. Your pussy involuntarily flutters around him and though you can’t see it, you can picture the smug little grin on his face—he knows he’ll have your body begging for more if he keeps it up and so do you. He’s been insatiable tonight, wanting more and more and more, and you’re not all too sure if you have it in you for another round.

“We’ve still got some time left for one more,” Joel says. He peels himself off of you and palms the curve of your ass, kneading at the perfect mound with his fingers.

“Joel, I’m not sure I can handle it,” you mumble tiredly, shaking your head. “I think I’m all fucked out.”

He laughs softly and pulls out of you.

You breathe out an audible sigh of relief welcoming the emptiness for once. Just as you’re about to get off of your hands and knees, Joel slides his index finger up your puffy, swollen slit and the arousal pools itself in your lower belly all over again. “God, no, please don’t,” you whine. “I can’t take anymore, Joel. I really fucking can’t.”

“Y’sure ‘bout that, darlin’?”

“Yes, I’m sure—”

The lustful moan that echoes throughout the barn as he pushes his finger inside you says otherwise and you silently curse your own body for its cruel betrayal.

Joel hums. “Hm, doesn’t sound like you’re sure,” he teases, slipping a second finger into your pussy. He leans down and trails a line of hot, open mouthed kisses down the curve of your spine. He stops at the small of your back and murmurs against your skin, “I just fuckin’ know my sweet girl has one more left in her. I can fuckin’ feel it.” He curls his digits, eliciting another gasp from you. “Tell me, peach. Y’think you can be a real good girl and give me just one more?”

It takes less than a minute before you’re whimpering in defeat.

Of course you can give Joel one more—you can give him as many as he wants you to give him, as many as he can possibly coax out of you.

“Yes,” you breathe out in reply. “I’ll give you one more. But I just hope you know that I’m probably going to need you to carry me back across town after this.”

“Hm, I reckon I can handle that,” Joel muses with a small chuckle. He withdraws his fingers from you, his hands spreading your ass and revealing your needy, dribbling cunt. Glancing over your shoulder, you see his lips part slightly as he stares at you in complete awe.

Your face floods with heat, and though he can’t see your insecurity, but he feels it.

“She’s too fuckin’ pretty,” he remarks, admiring the way your folds glisten with your own wetness and his come. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze. “You’re s’goddamn fuckin’ beautiful, baby. Promise I ain’t ever gonna let you forget it.”

Your heart flutters wildly.

Before you have the chance to respond, he shifts his position, moving off the large bale of hay you two have been using as a makeshift bed for the last several nights. He lowers himself down onto his knees behind you. Joel looks at you and smirks when he sees the expression that crosses your features—it’s one of utter disbelief. He’s devoured you plenty of times before, but not in this position, and certainly not when you’re dripping, leaking with his come. His smirk widens. “Somethin’ the matter, darlin’?”

“Joel, I—I’m a mess right now,” you stammer out, nervously. “Are you sure you want to—?”

Joel flashes you an amused grin. “That a serious question, peach?” He chuckles when you nod in reply. “Well then, here’s my answer.” He buries his face into your cunt and swipes his tongue over your seam, flattening it out as slowly begins to drag it up and then down again. Joel groans into you, savoring the taste of you and your sweet muskiness combined with him and his slight saltiness. His tongue slips between your folds, eager, hungry for more.

“Joel,” his name tears from the back of your throat in a strangled cry. “Oh, fuck.”

He’d left you so sensitive. Your body involuntary jerks forward, squirming to get away from him—but Joel is having none of it. You can feel him grinning into your pussy as he wraps his hands around your thighs, curling his fingers as far as they can go around them.

“C’mere,” he says, his voice muffled between your legs. He tugs you back towards him and tightens his grip on you, holding you firmly in place, right where he needs you. He wraps his lips around your clit and swirls his tongue around it before engulfing the bud.

He might have teased you about being greedy, but truth be told, he’s the greedy one. Knowing his time with you is so limited only makes him even greedier.

Joel feasts on you, his desire to have you fall apart on his tongue again driving him to ravage you as if his very fucking life depends on making you come. The sounds of your whimpers, which are on the verge of turning into full blown sobs of pleasure, only spur him on. It’s more than just sending you home satisfied—he wants to make certain that, even when you’re apart from one another, you’ll still feel him. His tongue on your cunt, his cock buried inside of you, his lips and hands all over your body.

He can’t leave his physical mark on you to remind you of him when you’re not together, but he can, at the very least, leave you with a yearning for more of him.

You raise a tightly curled fist to your mouth, biting into it to keep from screaming out.

It’s too much for you to handle.

But somehow, it’s still not enough.

You want him to stop.

And yet you need him to keep going.

“Fuckfuckfuck—Joel, please! Please!”

You beg him out of desperation, although you’re not really sure what you’re begging him for at this point—for him to make you come or for him to stop before you dissolve into nothing but a pathetic, whimpering mess. One of his hands abandons your thigh and without warning, he pushes two fingers into you, pumping them in and out of you all the while his tongue laps at your clit. The muscles in your stomach contract and you explode, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you come undone all over again. There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t shaking, trembling—it takes you a minute to even realize Joel’s on his feet, helping you turn around to lie on your back.

“S’alright. I got you. I’ve got you, sweet girl.” Joel climbs onto the bale of hay and nudges your thighs apart with his knee, settling himself between them. Planting his hands on either side of your shoulders, he dips his head and peppers gentle kisses all over your neck and chest, giving you the chance to ride out your last high before it’s time to get up and start getting dressed.

After a minute or two, you find your voice.

Or at least, a tiny, meek version of it.

“Joel?”

He hums, his nose skimming along your jawline. “Yeah, baby?”

“I think you really are going to have to carry me across town.”

Joel chuckles, gingerly nipping at your chin with his teeth. “Best cut that out, peach. S’gonna start gettin’ to my head real fast.”

You giggle. “Yeah, you’re right. Don’t want you getting too cocky, Miller.”

You bring a hand up to his face, cupping it in your palm. Gazes meet in the moonlight and you give him a soft, contented smile. You sweep your thumb across his bottom lip.

Joel’s breath catches in his throat.

Those eyes. That smile. Oh, that fucking smile. He wonders if you've figured out by now just how effortlessly you do him in.

Joel’s throat bobs. “Peach?”

“Yeah?”

He hesitates, then admits, “There’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to tell you.”

Your body stiffens underneath him, your eyes widening slightly.

“What is it, Joel?”

Again, he hesitates.

Joel’s been trying for some time now to say it—to tell you that he loves you.

But whenever he thought he’d finally mustered up enough courage to spit it out, he loses it the second those three words are about to fall from his lips. He can’t figure out for the life of him what he’s so afraid of. It’s obvious, to both of you, that he loves you, and he has no doubt in his mind that you love him too. But neither of you seem to have the guts to say it.

“Joel?” you say his name quietly, interrupting his train of thought. “Are you okay?”

Letting out a small, frustrated sigh, Joel shakes his head. “M’sorry, darlin’. S’just that—”

He stops short and shakes his head again, cursing himself for being such a coward.

You understand him, though. “It’s okay, Joel. I know how hard it is to say it. It’s really not as simple as one would think.” You laugh in spite of yourself. Grazing his beard lightly with your fingertips, you manage to give him another small smile. “Please don’t worry about it. It doesn’t have to be right now. It doesn’t have to be tomorrow or the day after that. I’m not going to pressure either of us into saying something if we aren’t quite ready to say it. It should wait until you are good and ready—until the both of us are good and ready.”

“You’ve gotta know how much you mean to me—”

“I already do, Joel.” You drop your hand away from his face and place it on his bare chest. His heart thrums steadily against your fingers. “And I feel the same way about you. You do know that, don’t you, honey?”

His heart skips a beat at the pet name. You feel it.

Joel leans down, brushing his lips softly against your forehead. “‘Course I do,” he murmurs. He then pulls back slightly, assuring you, “Couldn’t be any fuckin’ clearer to me.”

You press a delicate kiss to the tip of his nose and the little token of affection prompts his dark eyes to flutter closed. “Good.” You start to drag your fingernails and scrape them lightly down the length of his chest. They move lower, gliding over his soft belly and the coarse hair below his navel. With a tiny, innocent smirk, you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking it until he begins to harden in your palm. “Oh? What’s this?”

His eyes snap open and he groans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “Christ, baby,” he gruffs. “What happened to not havin’ it in you for more?”

“Mm, I lied.” You run the head of his cock between your folds, moaning as you tease your sopping entrance with it. “I’ve got one more in me. Do you think we have enough time?”

Joel bucks his hips into yours and slides into you in one swift, smooth motion. Moaning, your back arches off the blanket, your breasts pushing up against his chest when he bottoms out. “Oh, I reckon we can make it happen, my sweet girl.”

“If you smile any fucking harder, your face might actually fall off,” Ellie quips.

You look up from the clipboard you’re holding in your hands and glimpse over Duke’s back, only to see Ellie smirking to herself as she runs a brush across the brown and white spotted Appaloosa’s side, its stiff bristles clearing his stunning coat of dirt and debris.

Clearing your throat lightly, you try, but fail, to wipe the stupid grin off of your face. Not that it would make a difference, because it’s been plastered on your lips all morning long. You raise an eyebrow at her, questioning, “I’m sorry, is there something wrong with me being in a good mood today, missy?”

“Of course not.” Ellie briefly pauses and her gaze meets yours. She shrugs. “It’s actually really nice to see you so happy.” Her attention shifts back to the task at hand. As she continues to brush the horse, her smirk widens. “So I’m guessing last night with Joel went pretty well then, didn’t it?”

You don’t even flinch. Thanks to the warning Joel had given you a few weeks back, she hadn’t caught you too off guard. More than anything, what surprises you most was the fact that it’s taken the teenager this long to confront you about it.

“Ellie—”

She snorts. “Don’t bother trying to hide it. Look, I know you two have been meeting up in the middle of the fucking night for the last couple of months,” she states in a blunt, matter of fact tone. “And I also know that the two of you know that I know. So let’s not beat around the fucking bush here, sweet cheeks. Are you two like in a relationship or something? Or are you just—what do the kids call it these days? Hooking up? What exactly is the deal with you and Joel?”

Gasping, you’re quick to shush her. “Ellie!”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, relax princess. It’s close to lunchtime, there’s no one in here but the two of us. So fucking spill it. What’s up with you and my old man?”

You sigh. Setting your clipboard down on top of the mounting block beside you, you step around Duke and approach Ellie. Even though you know everyone else in the stables had taken off to the mess hall for lunch hour, you keep your voice low and hushed. “Yes, okay. We’ve been meeting up at night and seeing each other.” You’d tried your best to prepare yourself for this, made a list of things you could say to her to make the fact that you were having a full blown secret affair with the man who’s essentially her father seem a bit less shameful. But it was useless. No matter which way you could try to spin it for her, the bottom line was that you are a married woman who is cheating on her husband.

And you’re cheating with Joel.

“Listen, what we’re doing, it’s not right—”

Ellie lifts her hand and interrupts you.

“You guys make each other happy, don’t you?”

“I can’t speak for Joel,” you reply tentatively, shifting your weight from one muck caked boot to the other. “But he definitely makes me happy. He makes me the happiest I have been in a long, long time.”

She chortles. “Oh, come the fuck on, you know you make his crabby ass happy too,” she tells you. She grins and continues to say, “Seriously dude, if only you could see him in the mornings after he’s been with you. Picture it, he’s getting ready to head out for patrol and he’s going about the kitchen smiling like a fucking idiot as he makes his coffee.”'

“Really?”

“Really,” Ellie confirms. “It’s fucking sickening.”

You can't help but chuckle at her remark.

There’s a brief bout of silence, but Ellie’s quick to cut through it. “Can I ask you something?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Figured,” you sigh. “Alright kid, go ahead. Ask away.”

“Do you love Joel?”

Anxiously, you nibble on your bottom lip. “Yes,” you admit softly after a minute. “I do.”

Ellie glances down at the brush in her hands. She fiddles with it, running her fingers over the coarse, stiff bristles. “Wow,” she murmurs, quietly. Any trace of humor had completely vanished. “It must really fucking suck having to hide being with the person that you love, huh?”

“Yeah, it does. It really, really fucking does.”

Ellie opens her mouth to speak, but then hesitates.

Frowning, you take a step closer to her. “What is it, Ellie?”

“You could leave him, you know. Luke.”

“What?” Your mouth dries. “What are you talking about?”

“You could leave him,” Ellie repeats. Pausing, she chews the inside of her cheek. She seems nervous as she shuffles from foot to foot, something you find strange considering how brazen the girl can be. “You could move in with us into our house, you know?” For as tough as she could be, it tugs at your heart strings whenever her innocence peeks through, much like it is now. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

You smile wistfully at the thought.

A life where you can openly be in a relationship with Joel—take your place by his side and live a life of peace with him and Ellie?

Of course you do.

But it’s a dream that’s too far out of reach.

“I would love that,” you murmur, reaching up to tuck a loose lock of her hair behind her ear. You let your finger graze the softness of her cheek before dropping your hand back down to your side. “You honestly have no idea how happy that would make me, Ellie. But it’s not all that simple—it’s much too complicated for me to leave Luke.”

“How the fuck is it complicated? You aren’t happy with a man you aren’t even really married to. The world fucking ended, it’s not a real marriage. Just take off the ring, pack up your shit, and it’s done. I don’t see what’s so fucking complicated about it.”

You sigh. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Because you’re not even giving me the chance to fucking understand,” Ellie shoots back at you, anger and frustration glazing over her brown eyes as she tries to make sense of it all. “You could actually be happy with Joel—and with me. We could be a family, a real fucking family.”

Caught off guard, you stare at her in complete shock. It’s not like you aren’t aware of how close she’s grown to you since you’d met, but you never expected her to see you as family.

“Ellie, please. You have to believe me. Nothing would make me happier,” you choke out in reply. You furiously blink back the hot, stubborn tears that threaten to fall and hold it together for her sake rather than for yours. “Being together with Joel—being with the two of you and living life together as a family would be incredible.”

“Then why won’t you just fucking leave him?” she demands, growing more irate. “Why miss out on the chance to be fucking happy for once?”

Her questions are met with silence.

How do you even begin to explain it to her?

How do you tell a teenager that you’re trapped with no way out? How afraid you were of your husband?

You don’t. You can’t.

“Well?” Ellie impatiently prompts you after a minute. “Come on man, just tell me the fucking truth already. Why can’t you leave Luke?” Her gaze finds yours and her eyes widen when the realization suddenly starts to sink in for her. “Oh shit.”

You quickly shake your head. “Ellie, wait—”

“It’s because he won’t let you leave, isn’t it?”

Fuck.

For a second, you feel like you’re going to be sick all over her sneakers.

Before you can even think of how to respond to the accusation, the sound of Tommy Miller’s voice echoes through the stables. “Ellie!” he shouts. “Ellie! You in here?”

Relieved, you call out to him. “Hey, Tommy! Yeah, she’s here—she’s with me in Duke’s stall!”

Scowling, Ellie points a menacing finger at you. “This conversation isn’t over,” she mutters. “Far fucking from it, princess.”

Tommy rushes into the stall, his chest heaving. He’s out of breath and sweating profusely, his curls plastered to his forehead. His light blue denim shirt is stained with crimson and so are his hands—he’s covered in blood.

“Tommy!” you gasp out his name and run up to him, grabbing onto his arms. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m alright! Blood ain’t mine,” he says, giving you a reassuring nod as he wraps his hands around your forearms, smearing your skin red. He then looks over your shoulder at Ellie. “It’s Joel. He’s been shot.”

Your nails dig into his arms, a chill running down your spinal cord.

“What?” Ellie cries, running up to the two of you in a panic. “Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck happened? How did he—is he okay? Is he alive?”

“He’s alive,” Tommy tells her, eliciting a breath of relief from her, as well as from you. “He got hit in the shoulder. I had to come find you and tell you right away,” he explains to her. “Needed you to hear it from me and not from anybody else.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s down at the clinic. I can take you there now—”

Ellie drops the brush in her hand. “What are we waiting for? Let’s fucking go!”

Tommy nods and lets go of you. He whirls around on the heel of his boot and leads her out of Duke’s stall.

You start to follow behind them, but freeze.

What business do you have seeing Joel?

As far as Tommy’s concerned, you’re nothing to his brother. Just a neighbor, maybe an acquaintance. The veterinarian his kid works for, if anything, but certainly nothing more.

“Wait.” Ellie halts in her tracks and turns back to you, beckoning with her hand. When you don’t move a muscle, she rolls her eyes and hurries over to you, taking your hand in hers. “Come on!”

Tommy shoots her a confused look.

“Ellie, what are you—?”

Ellie’s head whips around and she glares at you, as if telling you to be quiet. “I need you to come with me,” she says. “I’m going to need you for uh—you know, for emotional support and shit.”

It suddenly clicks. You know what she’s doing.

She’s giving you the excuse to see Joel.

Squeezing Ellie’s hand in a silent thank you, both of you follow Tommy out of the stables and across the commune towards the clinic.

“Tommy, what happened out there?” you ask him.

“Raiders,” Tommy answers over his shoulder. His long strides are difficult to keep up with, and you and Ellie are forced to break out into a jog just to keep up with him. “Motherfuckers came outta nowhere and ambushed us. They got Joel in the shoulder, hit Carl in the stomach. Peter got shot in the chest—he’s in real bad shape. We don’t think he’s gonna fuckin’ make it.”

Your stomach churns. Peter. Marther’s husband.

“Anyone else wounded?”

He shakes his head. “No, but we did lose two of our horses. Daisy and Cash.”

“How could this fucking happen?” Ellie demands furiously.

“We think it was that same group we were trackin’ back a few weeks ago.” Tommy’s voice is strained. He tightly shakes his head, his hands curled into angry fists at his sides. “They must have realized we stopped with double patrol. Those fuckers caught us with our guard down. I fuckin’ knew we shouldn’t have eased up with patrol duties, I should’ve had every able bodied patrolman man out there day and night—”

You frown at the back of his head. “Tommy, please. You can’t blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known they were still out there after all this time.”

“Tell that to Martha,” he replies bitterly. “Tell that to Carl’s wife and to his daughters.”

Knowing there isn’t anything you could say to console Tommy or ease the guilt he’s feeling, you clamp your mouth shut.

Now isn’t the time to even try.

The three of you arrive at Jackson’s clinic.

Before the outbreak, the building had served as an urgent care facility for the town.

Abandoned and picked clean over the years, it had taken a lot of time and effort for the community to restore what was left of it into a safe, reliable place that could be used for healthcare services. It still wasn’t much even after the fact, but the clinic boasted three examination rooms for patients, and its shelves, once bare, were now decently stocked with precious medical supplies such as bandages, vials of penicillin, and clean syringes.

Tommy leads you and Ellie inside and the first thing the both of you notice are the trails of splattered blood on the speckled linoleum floors. You pray none of it is Joel’s.

In the first exam room, you can hear Carl, a man who used to work in the stables with you before he’d be assigned to be a patrolman. He’s sobbing, screaming out in agony as he begs for someone to help him. In the second exam room that’s just across the hall from the first, you can hear Luke. He’s speaking to someone, presumably one of the nurses, instructing them to hand him more gauze, along with a scalpel.

“Joel’s in here.” Tommy walks to the last door at the end of the brightly lit hallway and opens it, stepping aside to allow you and Ellie into the room. “Hey, big brother. Got someone here who wants to see you.”

Your stomach churns, breath hitching in your throat when you see him perched on the examination table without his shirt on, firmly holding a bloodied cloth to his left shoulder to conceal his wound.

“Shit,” Ellie breathes out, dropping your hand. She hurries over to his side. “Joel, are you okay?”

Joel glares at his brother. “Thought I told you not to fuckin’ bring her here, Tommy.”

“I had to.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause she’s your—” Tommy pauses, searching for the right word. “She’s your Ellie. She should be here with you, Joel.”

“She doesn’t need to fuckin’ see me like this—” He stops abruptly when he finally sees you standing there at the door looking like you’d just seen a ghost.

Noticing that he’s about to question what you’re doing there, Ellie cuts him off and pins him with a stern look as if to tell him to shut the fuck up. “I asked her to come down here with me,” she says, raising an eyebrow at him and hoping he’ll get the hint. “Hope that’s okay?”

His eyes flit back over to you and he gives a single, subtle nod of approval. “You can come in,” he tells you. His gaze meets your own, but he’s careful not to let it linger for too long. “S’alright. Come on in.”

You stand there frozen. It’s not until Tommy puts his hand on the small of your back and nudges you forward that you you finally move. “Hey,” you say to Joel, your voice small and feeble. Cautiously, you approach him, your mouth and throat dry. Resisting the overwhelming urge to throw your arms around him, you fall into step beside Ellie. She reaches for your hand again, holding it in hers as she gives your fingers a comforting squeeze.

“M’okay.” Joel looks from you to Ellie, nodding his head in reassurance. “M’gonna be okay. Ain’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

“Anyone been in here to see you yet?” Tommy asks.

“It look like anyone’s been in to see me yet?” Joel deadpans.

Ellie frowns. “When is someone gonna take a look at him? He’s been fucking shot!”

“We’ve only got one doctor and two nurses,” Tommy reminds her gently, placing his hands on his hips. “They do what they can, kiddo.”

Letting go of Ellie’s hand, you stand in front of Joel and gesture to his shoulder. “Mind if I take a look at it?”

Reluctant, Joel’s lips purse together. “Y’sure you wanna do that?”

You nod.

“Go ahead then,” he murmurs.

Carefully, you peel back the blood soaked cloth from his shoulder to inspect his wound.

“It’s right there—the bullet. I can see it. It looks like it’s still intact as well. The good news about that is that it’s going to make extraction a lot easier since the bullet didn’t break off into fragments.” You manage to keep a calm, cool and collected demeanor. On the inside, you’re anything but. Words could not even begin to explain how fucking terrifying it is to see Joel injured, covered in his own blood. Still, with Tommy in the room standing just feet behind you, there’s no choice but to stay composed to avoid raising any kind of suspicion.

“And the bad news?” Ellie prompts worriedly.

“Well, he could get a serious infection if that bullet doesn’t come out of his shoulder. It needs to be removed and his wound needs to be flushed out and cleaned. It also looks like something we can stitch up. He will be fine but he needs to be tended to sooner rather than later.” You glance back at Tommy. “He can’t just sit here like this for much longer.”

“Luke’s still workin’ on Peter. Carl’s next in line since he got hit in the stomach. Luke said he needed to tend to the injuries in order based on how bad the injury is. Said it was called triage or somethin’ like that—”

“Well, what about Donna? Or Rose?” You refer to the two nurses who work in the clinic alongside your husband. Every nerve in your entire body is on edge. All you want is someone, anyone—even if that fucking means Luke—to tend to Joel. It’s quite selfish on your part considering the severe nature of the other two men’s injuries, but you can’t help yourself. You need Joel to be okay or you won’t be okay. “We can have one of them do it. I’m sure they’re capable of an extraction.”

Tommy runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I know Donna is helpin’ Luke with Peter. Rose is in the room next door tryin’ to stop Carl’s bleedin’—”

Your emotions boil over and finally, you snap. Turning to the younger man, you nearly shout at him in frustration. “He can’t just sit here with a fucking bullet lodged in his shoulder, Tommy!”

Taken aback by the outburst, Tommy raises his eyebrows but he says nothing.

“Wait a minute.” Ellie grabs your arm, garnering your attention. “Didn’t you take a bullet out of one of the horses once?”

“Yeah. She did,” Tommy realizes. “My horse, Ranger. He got in the shoulder durin’ an attack a couple years ago. She took the bullet right out and had him all patched up within an hour.”

Your eyes bounce between them in absolute disbelief. “Ranger’s a horse.”

“How different could it be?” Tommy wonders out loud, raking his hand through his black curls once more.

Furiously, you shake your head. “I’ve never treated a human wound before, at least not one like this. Cuts and scrapes, sure. But this is a gunshot wound, guys. I can’t—”

Ellie’s fingers dig anxiously into your arm. “Please do it,” she whispers, her eyes looking up into yours pleadingly. “You’ve got to help him. Please.”

Slowly, you turn to Joel, who hasn’t uttered a single word. “Would be kinda nice to get this fuckin’ thing outta my shoulder,” he remarks after a minute. He brings his gaze to meet yours and holds, forgetting all about subtlety. “I trust you.”

“Joel, I can’t. I’m not capable—”

“Oh fuck that, you are capable,” Ellie insists, shaking her head at you.

Helplessly, you turn to Tommy for backup.

“I’m gonna have to agree with with the kid, little lady. You’re capable. I just know it.”

“Please,” Ellie begs you. “It could be fucking hours before Luke gets to him. You said it yourself just a minute ago, Joel can’t just sit here with a fucking bullet in his shoulder. He could get an infection. Please, you have to do it. Do it for me.” Do it for him, she wants to say. But she knows she can’t.

Hearing the desperation in her voice, you don’t have much choice but to reluctantly agree to it. “Okay. Fine. I’ll do it,” you relent, exhaling a sigh of defeat. “But if I’m going to do this, I would rather do it without an audience watching me.”

“Say no more.” Tommy gently takes Ellie’s arm and starts tugging her towards the door. “C’mon. Let’s wait out in the hallway, kiddo.”

“But—” She begins to protest.

“Ellie.” Joel grits out her name. “Listen to Tommy.”

Annoyed, she huffs, “Jesus, okay. Fine.”

As soon as they disappear and close the door behind them, you turn back to Joel, your heart slamming against your ribcage.

“I trust you,” he repeats, firmly. “Alright?”

Swallowing harshly, you nod. “Alright.”

Walking over to the opposite side of the room, you begin digging around through various cabinets and in drawers, searching for the supplies that you would need—a bottle of saline solution, a pair of surgical forceps, and a clean needle for the stitches. You toss them onto a small silver tray along with plenty of gauze and a packet of nylon sutures that had expired well over fifteen years ago. The only thing you can’t find are gloves, and while you were sure there had to be a box somewhere in the clinic, you don’t have the spare time to search for them. You wash your hands as thoroughly as possible with warm water and a bit of natural, handmade antibacterial soap one of the women in the commune makes and sells in her apothecary shop on Main Street along with her healing ointments and salves.

Your mind spins as you dry off your hands and pick up the tray, slowly making your way over to Joel. You set it down on the exam table and stand in front of him, inhaling a long, deep breath through your nose. Exhaling it slowly and steadily through your mouth, you ask, “Are you ready?”

Joel places his hand on your hip, his fingers brushing the skin that peeks between the waistband of your jeans and the lace hem of your yellow camisole. “Think I should be the one askin’ you that question, darlin’.”

You could have laughed. “Of course I’m not.”

“You can do this, baby. I know you can.”

“How can you be so sure about that, Joel?”

“‘Cause. I know my girl,” Joel murmurs, softly. He makes certain to keep his voice low, just in case Tommy and Ellie happen to be standing too close to the door. “And I know she’s capable of a hell of a lot more than she thinks she is. I believe in you, peach,” he asserts, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. “I trust you with my fuckin’ life.”

Your eyes glaze over with tears and you exhale a shaky breath. It’s not just his words, it’s the sincerity behind them—he means it when he says he trusts you with his life. If it ever came down to it, he would put it right in your hands.

“It’s going to hurt like hell,” you warn him. “I don’t have any anesthetic to numb the area.”

His hand falls away from you and he curls it into a loose fist on his thigh. “Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse, sweetheart.”

Reaching for the cloth on his shoulder, your hands threaten to tremble but you will them to stay as steady as possible as you remove it, setting side before picking up the bottle of saline and a piece of gauze. The bleeding had ceased. You clean the area well and give yourself a clear view of the thumb sized projectile. “It’s pretty superficial,” you observe, wiping at the wound and causing him to wince. “It doesn’t look like it caused any kind of severe damage, either.” Throwing the used gauze aside, you take the pair of forceps and show them to him. “Ready?”

“Ain’t got much of a choice, do I now?”

“Nope.” You flash him a tiny, wry smile. “Okay, I’m going to count to three and begin the extraction. I need you to stay as still as possible, alright?”

Joel nods grimly, his jaw clenched and lips pressed in a tight line.

“One, two, three—take a big, deep breath in and let it out slowly through your nose.”

He does as you instruct him, his fist tightening on his leg as he braces himself.

Firmly holding the forceps, you carefully insert the jaws of the instrument into his wound. Although you want to get the painful procedure over with as quickly as possible, you have to be careful not to cause any kind of further damage to his shoulder. “Fuck,” Joel hisses through gritted teeth, his eyes pinching closed. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Didn’t think it’d hurt this fuckin’ bad.”

You manage to get a good grip on the bullet with the forceps. “Almost done,” you assure him. “I’m going to pull it out now. Take another deep breath in for me and hold it.”

He nods and inhales, his chest expanding.

“On three, let it out—one, two, three.”

Joel exhales sharply as you swiftly pull the bullet from his shoulder. “Fuck!” he curses again, shaking his head. Even though his shoulder feels like it’s on fire, he does feel a huge sense of relief as soon as the round comes out.

“Got it,” you say, lifting the forceps. You show Joel the projectile clamped in the instrument’s jaws. It makes you sick to your stomach to think that there was even a slight possibility that the bullet you’re holding in your hand could have hit him somewhere else—it could have been a fatal shot. Shoving the nauseating thought out of your mind, you set it down on the tray and pick up the bottle of saline and a couple pieces of clean gauze. After flushing the wound and cleaning it a second time, you take a closer look at it just to be sure there’s no serious damage to the tissues in his shoulder. “Everything looks alright from what I can see. I cleaned it as best I could, but there’s always a risk for infection so you’ll have to take a round of antibiotics. You’ll also have to wear a sling for about four to six weeks. Doctor’s orders,” you add with a tiny, jeering smile when you clock the disdain on his face.

“Shit. That mean’s Tommy’s gonna pull me off of patrol,” he realizes, miserably. “What the hell am I gonna do for four to six weeks?”

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him. “Recover from being shot?”

“Yeah I s’ppose I am,” he mutters with an eye roll.

Calm, tranquil silence falls over you as you prepare the suture, looping it through the needle. The moment you start stitching him up, an emotional lump rises in the back of your throat and you’re not sure why. Joel is fine. He’s alive. He’s going to be okay, and yet, all you can do is think about how frightened you’d been when Tommy ran into the stables covered in blood and said that Joel had been shot. How terrifying it was to think he was dead.

He says your name softly.

When you don’t acknowledge him, he reverts to his nickname for you. “Peach.”

You hum, trying to stay focused on finishing the task of closing up his wound. “Hm?”

“Look at me, baby.”

“Joel, I’m kind of in the middle of someth—”

“I love you.”

Stopping mid stitch, you look at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

“Darlin’, I can’t count the number of times I almost fuckin’ said, but couldn’t. How many times those words have been right there on the tip of my tongue and just when I’m ‘bout to say them, I lose the nerve. After what happened today, m’gonna stop bein’ such a fuckin’ fool. M’gonna tell you every chance I get,” Joel vows, his gaze piercing into yours. “You had my heart from day fuckin’ one and you’re gonna have it for the rest of my life, sweet girl. I love you.”

His declaration knocks all of the wind out of your lungs and leaves you breathless. Speechless.

“AIn’t gotta say it back to me until you’re ready,” Joel reassures you. “Y’know how I feel ‘bout you—but I think it was time you finally heard it.”

You choke down your emotions—now isn’t the time to break down, not when you have a needling poking through his flesh. It’s not exactly how you pictured you professing your love for each other, but it feels right. “I love you too, Joel,” you whisper back to him. “I’ve been wanting to say it to you too, but I’ve just been afraid.” You pause and realize, “I’m not afraid anymore.”

Joel tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “Do me a real big favor darlin’ and finish stitchin’ me up quick ‘cause I’m fuckin’ dyin’ for a kiss.”

Letting out a tearful little laugh, you carefully finish pitching him up. As soon as you finish with the last stitch, Joel wraps his uninjured arm around your waist. “C’mere baby,” he murmurs. He tugs you forward so you’re standing between his legs and tilts his head up towards yours.

You smile at him before leaning in, molding your mouth to his in a sweet kiss.

As you do, Luke’s voice echoes loudly out in the hallway. “What the hell do you mean she’s—”

Jerking away from Joel, you jump back just as the door swings open.

Luke bursts into the examination room with Tommy and Ellie behind him. His dark green eyes flit from you to Joel and then back to you again.

“Joel!” Ellie shoves past him. “You okay?”

“M’alright,” he replies stiffly, his eyes carefully trained on your husband.

“Tommy told me you were treating Joel’s wound.” Luke approaches you, and while he is keeping a collected composure for the sake of not causing a scene in front of the other people in the room, you know him better than that. He’s furious, but he’s masking it well.

Nervously, you nod. “Yes. I extracted the bullet from his shoulder, flushed and cleaned the wound, and stitched him up.” You notice the blood on his light blue medical scrubs and glance around him at Tommy. “How is Peter?”

His expression is grim. “Didn’t make it.”

“God,” you mutter, your heart clenching in your chest as you think of Martha. She’s just lost her husband.

Luke walks over to Joel, whose hands are curled into fists in his lap. He inspects his shoulder, observing the work you’d done. He then looks over his shoulder at you and frowns. “You shouldn’t have done this,” your husband chastises you, shaking his head tightly. “You aren’t a trained medical professional. Do you even realize—”

“Your wife did a good fuckin’ job,” Joel cuts him off. “She knew what she was doin’.”

Luke’s head whips back around and the two men’s eyes meet in a tense exchange.

“Give her some more fuckin’ credit than that. She’s amazin’,” the older man states, his nostrils flaring.

“Yeah,” Ellie chimes in agreement, crossing her arms over her chest. She narrows her eyes at Luke. “She’s fucking amazing.”

Luke turns to her and arches an eyebrow. Before he can say anything, the sound of Donna’s voice comes from the room next door.

“Luke! I need a little help in here!”

Lips pursed together, Luke takes a step back from Joel and turns on his heel to leave. As he passes you, he stops briefly, long enough to whisper to you quietly, “We’ll talk about this at home.”

A chill runs down your spine.

You know exactly what he means by that.

Luke tosses you a subtle glare and stalks out of the room.

“I should go and find Maria,” Tommy states with a sad sigh. “We’re gonna have to break the news to Martha about Peter.” He gives you a nod. “Thank you, little lady. For takin’ such good care of my big brother.” He disappears, closing the door behind him and leaving the three of you alone.

Ellie comes up to you, curling her arms around your waist. “Thank you. We fucking owe you one.”

You say nothing as you hug her back, holding onto her tightly.

You try not to think about what’s in store for you later that evening at home.

#joel miller #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x oc #joel miller hbo #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal characters #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #fic: ash #fic: a safe haven

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sweetracha · 8 months

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Can i request a smut and fluff of hyunjin where he fucks her for the first time? So he is her first. But his cock is really big so he asks her if she really wants to do this. After she said yes he started to fuck her, but after he went a few times in and out she is begging him to stop with tears in her eyes cause it hurts her so much. He stops and gives her kisses. As they saw that blood was on the condom she was trying to apologize cause she was embarrassed but he wasn't bothered and cleaned up everything. After that they cuddled a bit until she fell asleep with tears in her eyes on his chest. Are you feeling okay to write this? I would be happy if you do it, but if you don't feel comfortable then drop it.🩵

Hello Honeybun!

Sorry, this request has been sitting for a while! I believe I understand the ask, so hopfully I did it justice.

Pleasure Doesn't Have to be Pain: Hwang Hyunjin

Sugar Content: Sugar Sweet (Fluff), Spicy Sweet (Smut)

Allergy Warning: Mentions of Blood, Painful Intercourse, Reader blaming herself.

The setting was something out of a movie. Vanilla bean and cedar candles lined the ledges of the room. Soft lights twinkled through the sheer curtains. A small opening in the window lets the music of the city escape into your private haven. A safe place where you and your lover were tangled up in cold silk sheets that soothed your flushed skin. Hyunjin's fingers danced along your body like it was his own. Every touch was a part of his carefully executed choreography. Paris was the city of lovers. You wondered if it was named specifically for you two.

"My muse, look at you. Your skin is blushed. I don't think you understand how beautiful you look right now." Hyunjin spoke in a soft cadence as his lips trailed your neckline.

"Hyune, please." Your back arched off the bed as you begged for more of him.

"Shhh darling" large hands sunk your hips back to the sheets. "Let's not get carried away. It would be a shame to end the night so early." Your brain was dizzy from his kind yet condescending tone.

Slow hands removed what little clothing you had left. Your legs were spead for you and your ankles were held in place. Hyunjin just stared in awe for a moment. Before you could speak, he did.

"Such a tiny pussy. It amazes me every time." One long finger began to move up and down your slit, with no intention of pleasure, rather testing the water. He smirked at the gasp that left you when his pointer hooked your clit.

"Desperate thing. My desperate thing"

To follow his statement, Hyunjin claimed you by sliding in two fingers. He could already feel the stretch but the way you whined was telling enough. This was not new territory for you two this was quite common. Tonight however you finally wanted to feel him. You wanted to be fully intertwined with him. You wanted to be loved by him.

"More." A quiet request ghosted past your lips. Hyunjin looked up to see if it was you speaking. "More, need more"

A third finger started to poke at your entrance but was quickly stopped.

"No Hyunjin! That's not what I want!" You sounded like a brat but in reality, you were already overwhelmed by him.

"Words Darling, I need to know what you are talking about" He pushed deep inside you and began to stroke your favorite spot.

"You. I need your cock. Please"

Hyunjin was shocked by your statement. His fingers curled unexpectedly and slammed into your sweet spot. You cried out and shook on his hand while completing your high. When you opened your eyes, you saw a very dazed lover.

"Muse, I don't think this is a good idea." He hated that he could see tears welling in your eyes.

"Please! I can take it. I know you've been stretching me out each time. I'm ready." The poor boy was embarrassed that you knew his secret.

"Okay okay, shhhh. Pretty baby, we can try, okay? But you need to promise me you'll stop me if it hurts."

"I will-"

"No, I need words"

"I promise, Hyunjin"

A kiss to the lips and a silent thank you was the last exchange you two had before his covered tip was at your entrance. Just the head alone felt heavier and had more girth than what you were expecting. It slipped in with ease but Hyunjin haulted at your gasp. He searched your eyes for discomfort before moving a bit more. Behind the pain of the stretch laid a feeling of pleasure. You kept thinking to yourself, pleasure is pain. You had to endure to feel good. That's what you always heard.

Then he got halfway. A searing ache ran from your cunt to your lower stomach. You wanted to double over and cry, it was something you never felt before. Hyunjin instantly knew something was wrong, your body clamped around his cock, denying it any more access. To be honest it hurt him too but he was only focused on you.

"Oh Darling, shhhhh it's okay. No more. Just breathe." His hand cradled your tear-streaked face.

"No please, I can take it."

"No, you can't muse. It's okay. I'm not mad. No one is mad here, baby. Relax a bit for me, I'm going to pull out now." When Hyunjin retreated we saw a thin line of blood on the condom. He knew it wasn't anything bad but he didn't want to know what it would have become if he were to continue.

"The night" You were able to stumble out in despreate breathes.

"The night? Muse, what do you mean?" Hyunjin pulled you into his body and situated you sideways in his lap. He cradled you while rocking slowly. His hand brought your head to his bare chest while sweetly nosing your hair.

"It-" you began to hiccup as your breathing slowed. "It ended--early" A single tear fell from your eye and soaked into his skin.

"That is where you are wrong little muse." Hyunjin hummed as he spread your legs and gently began to wipe you clean.

"I get to spend the whole night taking care of you."

The Sweetest Batch: @goblinracha, @xx3rachaslutxx, @j-onedrabbles, @lixiesweetbrownie, @marrivmel,@lyramundana, @lixiestarryhallows, @raaaaaaahhhh

#stray kids #skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #🍑 answers #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader

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theladyofmanyfandomsafterhours · 5 months

Text

More Than We Thought.

Shanks x Reader

Explicit | NSFW | 18+ only

Warnings: Heavy (but ‘delicate’?) smut under the cut - trust me. There’s no build up, we just dive right in.

A/n: It’s purely self-indulgent. I’m hiding under my covers so you can’t see me - is it working?

Inspired by Dirtier Thoughts by Nation Haven.

I’ve written clean fanfic over 6 years so I’m terrified to post something so explicit. But we’re allowed to branch out right?

For less steamy fics, try the main blog.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Shanks pressed his hand just under your belly button, his fingers lightly tracing the outline of where his hard length had entered the most intimate part of your body. He could feel himself squeezed inside. He moved forward slightly and saw the bulge underneath his palm follow the movement.

He glanced up at you and saw your head laying on the mattress, chin tilted up and lips between your teeth. He pushed in deeper and the bump grew slowly. You hummed at the sensation. Heels adjusting on the edge of the bed as you spread your legs as much as you could to let him in.

Taking the positive signs, Shanks kept going further - keeping an eye on the way your hand gripped the sheets. But his main focus was seeing how high the bulge under your skin could go before there was no more space. He wanted it to reach your belly button but even the human body had its restraints.

Bit by bit, he pushed until you let out a soft gasp when he had hit capacity. Shanks looked down at where you were connected, a small frown settled on his face - there was still a bit more of him left.

“Shanks.” You whispered. “What’s wrong?”

The Red-Haired pirate smiled. “I’ve filled you but I...” he leaned forward to kiss your neck. “I’m bigger than we both thought.”

There was a pause before you gave a breathy response. “Push it in.”

Shanks peppered another slow kiss beside the first letting his tongue linger just a little. “Are you sure?”

Looking down, you finally met his eyes since it all started. “Push it in and then repeat it.”

Shanks laughed softly and caught your mouth with his. Nipping the bottom lip when he pulled back. “You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow if I start.”

Lifting your head up slightly, you copied his kiss and tugged at his lip lightly. “I dare you to have me not walk for a whole week.”

The grin on Shanks’ face distracted you for a split second until there was a sudden harsh pressure in your core as he forced the rest of himself inside you. The fit was undeniably tight and Shanks knew it. He hit the one sensitive spot that made you react in a way that made his heart race. Head thrown back, eyes closed, your mouth opened but was unable to voice a desperate scream. Only managing a short and sharp, “A-Ah!”

“Are you okay?” Shanks asked just to be sure.

You took a few seconds to catch your breath and adjust to his size. “Fine - a little warning would have been nice.” You told him honestly. When his smile dropped a little, you grabbed his chin and smiled. “But where’s the fun in that, right? Do your worst.”

“Looks like you’re not going to be able to talk for a week either.” Shanks returned with a smirk.

He pulled out carefully and when his hips moved a second time, he slammed himself into you - this time getting one hell of a scream from your lips. Then he did it again - pulled out to the tip before ramming back inside - and then again, determined to make your legs tremble until they wouldn’t hold you upright for the next week…or more.

Each thrust sent your voice screaming spirals into the air sometimes as a cry of pleasure other times just his name - and it only spurred him on. When Shanks started to speed up, your hands found his body. Nails clawing into his skin with a dull pain but it was nothing compared to what he was pounding into you.

If it became too much, you would shout the designated safe word but until he heard any part of that phrase, you were at his mercy. His hard length diving in and out of your body -

…until you couldn’t speak.

…until your legs quaked.

…until you had no more of your juices to release.

…until your insides were drowned in his hot spend.

And until your body was newly shaped to fit all that he was squeezing.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

A/n: Still in shock I wrote that. Sweet dreams x

#opla!shanks smut #opla!shanks x reader #opla!shanks imagine #akagami no shanks smut #opla shanks imagine #opla shanks x reader #shanks imagine #shanks imagine smut #shanks x reader smut #shanks smut #shanks x reader #opla imagine #opla smut #opla x reader #one piece x reader #one piece smut

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vasito-de-leche · 2 months

Note

iff its still alright for requests then maybe somethingg small n maybe sleepy with forget me not ? nothing specific otherwise just

sleepy eeby forget me not fic. either that or wrangling his soggy ass to sleep(for once

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "five minutes"

Forget Me Not x Reader. 2.8k words fluff Being in charge of The Walden has its ups and downs - Forget Me Not enjoys being the conductor of an orchestra composed of dying men and women, even if it costs him hours of precious sleep. You make sure to remind him that even the most powerful broker in Chicago deserves a little nap.

this mf has been fighting me for a month or so, it's so hard to write him SLEEPING, HE RLLY DOESNT WANT TO. I HAVE 3 DIFFERENT DRAFTS GRAAAA so here we are. I fought tooth and nail for this, theres 4 different drafts just about FMN getting some fucking sleep. this one even has like, a different version where you fall asleep on his lap instead bc he keeps FIGHTING ME

either way, ty for the request, nonnie! your ask was the perfect excuse to get this done. sorry it ended up being longer than my usual stuff, I just really love the guy

The amount of work needed to maintain an establishment like The Walden often goes unnoticed.

Its elegant ambience and decor, all the powerful and influential people to rub shoulders with, the precise and meticulous organization behind every single detail and decision - all of it can be attributed to a single man, the very same who leads the crowd and makes their drinks.

When the night arrives, he and The Walden come alive.

Hundreds of desperate rats crawl into his den, searching for things they don't deserve: money, fame, fortune, connections, assets. They want to find their place in the world before they're long forgotten, and this is when Forget Me Not steps onto the stage and finds himself in his element, surrounded by all the people who look at him in fear, disgust and awe.

Do they know? That at the end of the world, he holds their fate in the palm of his hand? Him, a simple broker, a middle man.

An inferior, an arcanist.

Of course, the high fades as soon as the sun rears its ugly head over the horizon, his spirits plummet to the ground when the world returns to that monotonous routine. All Forget Me Not can do now is wait.

He would never dream of being so careless as to have his own residence right above his workplace, but he rarely steps into his home in the first place. It's too much trouble to commute back and forth, wasting time in a building that is as devoid of warmth as the blood running through his veins. That private office nestled somewhere within The Walden has become his new safe haven, in fact - with one too many couches to lounge around and no bed in sight.

Not that he sleeps anyway.

Forget Me Not always fancied the most convoluted route into an early grave, and thus has replaced the bottle for something else: endless paperwork.

It's getting harder and harder to conceal the dark bags under his eyes for a semblance of professionalism. How very fitting that, despite all of his efforts and accomplishments, his quality of life continues to deteriorate. What a depressing thought.

The leather of his seat squeaks as he shifts, leaning backwards to fully take in the piles and piles of files atop his desk. His gaze turns to the clock just to confirm what he already knows - it's a little past 6 AM, the cold breeze of the early morning keeping him wide awake. A brand new shipment of materials will arrive in two hours, they will need to be stored but it's an easy enough job for the Disciples. This means that the next important event on his schedule is the meeting at 11 AM. Forget Me Not's face sours right away at the thought, and he reaches for his drink.

And just like that, without any sort of warning, the door to his office is flung open. It's a good thing that despite his awful, awful health, his grip is as steady as ever - not a single drop is spilled. If else, Forget Me Not remains still as a statue, retaining that air of composed aloofness as he raises an inquisitive eyebrow towards the intruder.

It's you, standing perfectly by his door frame. He almost drops the glass once he recognizes your face, but conceals his little slip by settling it back down on his desk.

"Ah, how rare to see you during the day, you're always so busy with errands. To what do I owe this loud, impromptu visit? Keep in mind, I don't start serving drinks until 8 PM."

You don't wait for him to finish, marching towards the small lounge in his office and picking up a small, decorative pillow before dropping backwards onto one of the sofas. A shadow passes over Forget Me Not's eyes - he doesn't know whether to resent you for knowing you have the freedom and privilege to act like this around him, or whether to feel insulted for the way you ignored him just now. He settles for his usual third, secret option - resignation - and makes his way towards you.

Unlike you, Forget Me Not has mastered the art of concealing his presence and so he makes no sound at all when he approaches. He stands right next you, leaning ever so slightly to hover above your face, as if his piercing grey eyes alone could pressure you into speaking.

It doesn't work, at least not right away. You hide behind that useless pillow, then you shift and turn to lay on your side, all while he simply stands in perfect silence. It's a battle of attrition, one he intends to win.

"I slept like shit, okay? Just give me five minutes here and I'll go back to work." Your voice is muffled, but he hears how tired you are anyway.

It's easy to forget that people aren't nocturnal like him, at least not by choice. It's easy to forget about humanity when most of his coworkers are puppets held by strings and ink, mindlessly following orders. When you curl up on the sofa, Forget Me Not remembers just how tired he is and sighs. Soon, he's walking towards the door.

This makes you sit up in a hurry, clearly misinterpreting his actions. "Five minutes, promise! Don't kick me out!"

There's a faint click, it's the lock on the door. Forget Me Not returns to his desk, making sure not to look your way lest his eyes reveal those wretched feelings bubbling in his chest. Did you seriously think he had the nerve to throw you out so carelessly?

"Ten minutes. Make sure not to waste them with chitchat." He can practically sense you silently cheering and getting comfortable in his office. On his couch. It's insufferable, the way you always get what you want while he slaves away with work.

But it's only ten minutes, he can tolerate you for that long.

Three minutes pass, and Forget Me Not realizes that he's spent more time glancing your way than reading the document in front of him.

From his spot, he can only see the top of your head, just a glimpse of your form as you rest your eyes. But every time you move, no matter how subtle, he notices and turns his attention back onto you.

Seven minutes, he only needs to focus for seven minutes. The document in his hand is important: he's negotiating for better materials for his potions at a cheaper cost. This simple deal could mean a lot for Manus Vindictae, always so low on funds, resources and support.

Six minutes. Forget Me Not hears you hum and he slowly turns his head on instinct. You're staring right at him, face resting on the armrest, squishing your cheek against the plush cushions.

"You have four minutes left, are you sure you want to waste them like this?" He lies, as if he wasn't ready to ignore the passage of time to give you a few more extra minutes, expecting you to comply. But you get back at him with a question of your own.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Three minutes." It comes out as a warning. You ignore it.

"I'm serious! You look awful from here." By now, you're sitting down and he knows that if he doesn't stop you, you'll make your way to him. To invade his personal space, cradle his face in your hands and torture him with your gentle touch. "You're always here when I start my shift and when I finish. Where do you get the time to go home and all of that?"

Forget Me Not would rather swallow his own tongue than to openly admit that he essentially lives here. That he has spare clothes in the drawer by the window, that he showers, eats and sleeps in this office of his. You might've figured it out by now, but with his pride and dignity at stake, he pretends to ignore you in favour of work.

"Hey, c'mon. Don't just go back to work like I'm not even here talking to you!" He does exactly that, picking up a pen to sign a few documents. "Drop that. Drop the pen. Hey!"

You talk to him the same way one would talk to a misbehaving dog, and he hears that whiny, frustrated tone in your voice that he's come to appreciate. There is a pause and Forget Me Not does as told - the pen now resting neatly on the desk.

He finally deigns himself to look at you, returning a small smile.

"Thank you, now, like I was saying-"

Thud!

With his free hand, he stamps a document, never breaking eye contact. The pettiness is always worth it, but this time even more so when he sees that tic in your eye and the way you inhale sharply, absolutely done with him. You sit up, consider laying down again in frustration, then simply cross your arms like a child throwing a tantrum - seeing you get worked up over the smallest of things is always such a treat.

"Fine! Be like that! But don't come running when you- Uwaaah!" A yawn interrupts your words, you barely have time to cover your mouth.

Oh no. It's contagious. He feels that tell-tale tingle in his nose, and just like that, he yawns as well.

"Aha! You are tired, I bet you haven't slept properly in days!" An accusatory finger is now pointed at him, and Forget Me Not fights the impulse to roll his eyes.

"That's quite the leap to make over a simple gesture like that. Your time is up, by the way - please, go back to work."

"I'm telling on you, Forget Me Not. I'm so telling on you."

He gives a raspy laugh at this. "And who will you be telling about my horrible sleeping habits? The waiters? The delivery boy? Our esteemed guests?" The latter would definitely eat up any sort of information about his private life, especially if it was something to ruin his reputation, but he doesn't share this out loud.

"Ahh... So, you admit it, then? Having the worst sleeping schedule known to mankind?" Touché.

Before he can even reply, your mouth opens in a feigned yawn and Forget Me Not seethes when he finds himself imitating you. He seethes even more over the smug smile on your face. And he wishes he could just die on the spot when you scoot over and pat the empty seat next to you. Him? Rest? With you? Absolutely not.

"Ten minutes," a tight knot forms in his throat when you start to coax him in. "I'm sure you can spare that much, since you've been indulging me for this long! If you were actually busy, you would've just sent me home to rest. C'mere, sit."

What is the point in keeping track of time by now? Forget Me Not will be by your side until you decide to leave. Indulging you and your stupid ideas, your well-meaning and annoying habits, your reactions - all of it, they're his favorite vice and he never learned how to quit.

"Five minutes." He sits next to you.

"Fair enough." You scoot closer to him.

He watches when you link your arm with his, not bothering to ask for permission. Typical. Your palm is warm as you rest it over his forearm, fingers drumming idly over the soft fabric of his shirt. But you don't linger for too long, and slide down until your index and middle fingers reach the bare skin of his inner wrist, over the pronounced vein there. Can you feel his pulse? The shameless and frantic beat of his heart?

Forget Me Not is so entranced by this simple action that he fails to notice the sudden extra weight - your head rests on his shoulder, with your cheek pressed against the prominent bone. He knows it's an uncomfortable position, because you shift and nuzzle closer to his chest, the top of your head and your hair now tickling his neck and jawline. The knot in his throat returns and he holds his breath on instinct, like an animal at the verge of being devoured.

Nevermind the constant cycle of violence and doom he's turned his life into, these are the horrors that keep Forget Me Not up at night: your body against his, your displays of affection.

"Your eyes," the soft murmur of your voice pulls him from the awful, nonsensical noise in his mind. You're looking up at him. "You're meant to close them. That's what this whole thing is for. Unless ...you can sleep with your eyes open?"

"Don't be ridiculous. As if such a short amount of time could make me fall asleep." He huffs, a way to conceal just how out of breath he is. Part of him is afraid to close his eyes, knowing that he will feel each and every little thing you do - only tenfold. And what would he do with himself then, when all he can focus on is your finger tracing shapes over his palm? It tickles. It's distracting. It's unbearable.

His hand flinches, just barely, and you interlock your fingers with his in response.

"Hush and close them!" Always so obedient to your commands, Forget Me Not does as told, cursing you in his mind.

He gives you an inch, and you take a mile - the moment his eyes are closed, his body turns rigid but you still coax him backwards, so that he can lean on the backrest of the couch. It takes the coordinated effort of every single muscle in his body not to melt on the spot, to remain in a proper, sitting position. With you nestled so comfortably by his side, Forget Me Not makes the worst mistake in his life: he turns his head towards you, his nose now buried in your hair.

The content and pleased noise that leaves him is something that feels alien, entirely out of character for someone like him. Right away, he feels the tips of ears burning with shame and his body uselessly recoils away from you, trying to revert back into that persona he's created for the world.

It backfires immediately.

"...Hm? Is your arm getting numb? Here, let's switch." You move away, all while your hands cradle his face in order to guide him over to your lap.

It's a painfully slow process that is simultaneously over in the blink of an eye. Forget Me Not doesn't know what's worse, the fact that he didn't put up a fight or the way he feels so incredibly small, being held so lovingly by you.

He's laying on his back, hands resting uselessly over his chest like a corpse in an open casket funeral. If he glances upwards (a difficult thing to do, because you flick his forehead whenever you catch him wide awake) he can see you hoarding all the pillows available within your reach to support you as you lounge about, still hellbent on sleeping in with him.

Did he die at some point throughout the day without noticing? Is this his own personal Hell? Forget Me Not wants to speak, to say anything and regain control of the situation, but nothing comes out. All there is to do is to lay there, with your hands combing through his hair.

His heart might as well burst out of his chest. Even better, crawl up his throat and choke him from inside out.

Without thinking, he sits up. It's a nervous impulse. You can't see his face with his back turned to you and he's grateful for the small moment of privacy, as he steels himself to send you away. Or to fuck off into The Walden and walk around aimlessly to cool off, and then avoid you for a few weeks. Whichever comes first.

"Oh! Want a pillow or something? I kind of just took them all without thinking." He doesn't deserve this sort of contact, this domestic bliss - he doesn't want it either.

"Hey, do you think we could do this more often? Just... make some time for me in that busy schedule of yours?" And why would he? You're already pretty skilled at turning his life upside down with your constant nagging and your antics.

"Sorry for being this sappy so suddenly, it just came to mind...Oh, oh! Wait! While you're at it, mind closing the window, please? It's getting a liiittle cold in here."

Forget Me Not leaves his glasses on the table and lays back down, this time making sure to wrap his arms as tightly as he can around your waist, his face hidden in your stomach. What he receives is a weak chuckle, a weak complaint and a weak attempt at pushing him away. You don't mean it, of course - the same way he never means any of the things he thinks.

"Hm, I believe it's perfect like this."

"You're just saying that because you're going to leech off my own body heat, you little snake."

There's a hint of victory in your voice, you've won once again against him but you're always too nice to rub it in. Instead, you caress the scales on his neck, now on full display for you. It's a heavenly sensation.

"Perhaps," he murmurs, eyes closed. "But what are you going to do? Kick me out of my own office?"

"I might if you don't get some rest. Sleep, now."

And just like that, Forget Me Not unravels - he's been waiting so long to be given permission, for someone to allow him a moment of peace despite all these restraints holding him back.

He knows that the moment wakes up, he will act like none of this happened, that he will stubbornly deny everything until his very last breath, but right now, he clings onto you like his life depends on it.

And he falls asleep with your name on his lips

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #r1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #reverse 1999 forget me not #forget me not: i fucking hate this world #forget me not the moment you walk in: OMG!!! YIPPIE!!!!#mf is so scary and deranged until youre right there reminding him that hes EXTREMELY touchstarved

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teyamsatan · 1 year

Text

Illicit Affairs | Chapter V: All Too Well

Pairing: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: Neteyam's life changed when you came into his life the first time, and is now bound to change again, in ways neither of you could have ever predicted.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, descriptions of ptsd flashbacks, cursing, blood, descriptions of surgical procedures, some fluff.

Word Count: 9k words (wow)

A/N: Chapter 5 is coming out a little earlier than expected because I am too excited to wait. We finally get to discover a little more about what Neteyam's gone through and his decision to leave, so super chuffed about that. I am working really hard trying to balance writing for this and being a PhD student, but I am happy with the progress I am making and hope to be done with Chapter 6 in a couple days' time. Things are quickly unfolding, and there is a looot happening in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy <3 I'd love to hear your thoughts x

From when your Brooklyn broke my skin and bones I'm a soldier who's returning half her weight And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue? Just between us, did this love affair maim you too?

“Fuck, fuck fuck!” Neteyam ran faster than he knew he could and kneeled next to you. He was panting in heart-stopping fear, watching your shaking form and hearing your pained wails that were opening out so many holes in his chest, the pain was unbearable. He forced himself to try and remember what to do; this wasn’t your first flashback, this wasn’t the first flashback he’s had to walk you through. One, do not touch the person experiencing a PTSD flashback. Done. Two?

“Y/N. It’s me, it’s Neteyam, listen to me. You are with me in the the forest a couple clicks North-west of the village. It’s just you and me, there’s nothing happening to you right now. You’re safe. It’s just you and me.”

Just you and me. Just you and me. Just you and me.

Everything hurt. You just wanted it over, you wanted everything to be over. You couldn’t hear or see anything around you, except yourself in a past you’d do anything to forget about.

Just you and me. Just you and me. Just you and me.

“It’s me. Hey, it’s me. You’re ok. We’re ok. You are with me now, you’re safe. Please come back.”

You’d recognise this voice anywhere, for the rest of your life, this voice was going to be able to pull you out of the deepest shadows and into the light. You opened your eyes and willed them to focus past the tears, past the blood you could feel on your hands and feet and focus on the blue form talking to you.

“Breathe. Take slow, deep breaths, can you do that for me? I need you to give me a sign you can hear me, Atan (light). Please, please.”

You tried your best to do as you were told. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Remembering his request, you nodded almost imperceptibly.

“I’m here. You’re safe. Please come back. It’s just you and me.”

Just you and me. Just you and me. Just you and me.

Neteyam…

You slowly moved your hands, searching, desperately needing the feel of his warmth on you. He knew, he always knew. Without the smallest hesitation, he grabbed both of your hands in his. You looked at him, finally able to see in front of you, see what was real. He was real. Your tears fell freely down your cheeks, and without a second thought, you removed your hands from his and felt your arms reach out for him, for all of him. You hugged him tightly and sighed a breath of relief when he closed whatever space was left between you and held you close. Your new body fit into his like the final piece of the puzzle you were both trying to solve all your lives.

You didn’t say a word. The world was moving on around you, but not you. You and Neteyam stood there, in the little corner of Pandora that suddenly felt a lot like a safe haven in the storm.

“You’re ok to get up?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Do you want me to carry you back?”

“No, thank you. I can walk.”

It was too late to continue training and you silently made your way back to the village. You felt embarrassed, and so you walked with your head down the whole way back. You knew there was nothing to be embarrassed about, there was nothing to be ashamed of, and yet, going back on your first day in this new body, having been given a second chance at a new life, you were disappointed that your nightmares didn’t seem to care which version of you they had to go through to resurface.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Neteyam. I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m sorry you always seem to be around when these things happen.”

If only you knew how sorry he was that he was always around when these things happen.

He couldn’t be sure, but he can guess what triggered your flashbacks. He couldn’t lie and say that day didn’t haunt his dreams, too.

Neteyam made his way back to the village that evening shaking and in tears, and wanted nothing more to take his Ikran far away to a place no one would be able to find him. But alas, he took his bow from the stand in the family tent and slipped out unnoticed while everyone else was having a communal dinner by the bonfire. He walked furiously, still shaking, still crying, until he reached the training grounds he used to go to every day when he was younger. He saw broken arrows on the ground next to some of the targets and felt it was fitting for how he was feeling. Broken, like no amount of care could ever bring him back to the arrow he was currently holding in his hands. He made quick work of the targets he could easily spot, then worked his way through the harder ones until his body ached and his fingers bled from all the now-opened scabs.

“Ma ‘itan (my son).” He heard a voice break through the shadows of the now fluorescent flora surrounding him. He saw his mum’s steps before he actually saw her, and turned his back to her before she could see him, truly see him.

Neytiri approached him slowly and gently took the bow from his hands. She placed it around her body and placed her arms on her son, one on his back and one on his chest, above his heart.

“What is the matter, son?”

“Nothing, mother. I will come home soon, I promise.”

She reached over and wiped away her son’s tears with her thumb.

“Please, tell me what happened.”

Neteyam couldn’t hide anymore when a small guttural cry escaped his lips. His mum slowly moved him away from the practice area and sat him down on the grass, that illuminated under their weight.

“Mum, I’m killing her.”

He was bawling now, bringing his knees to his chest and settling his head on them. “I feel like my being in her life will kill her.”

“Y/N?”

“Every time we are together, something happens to her that breaks her even more. She found her dad, mum. She found her dad’s skeleton racing me through the forest. I almost killed her once because I wanted to get her out and show her the forest, so I almost killed her on my Ikran.”

“Ma ‘itan…”

“She wouldn’t go outside if it wasn’t for me. I push her to go, because I hate seeing her like this, seeing her wasting away in a lab, I just want her to be better, and happy and free, like she used to be when we were kids. I push her to go, and every time it ends up making it worse.”

Neytiri waited for her son to release all the worry plaguing him. Her son kept everything inside, but if you were patient enough with him, he would let you in eventually.

“Neteyam… you can’t blame yourself for these things. You had no way of knowing how these things would turn out. Yes, it was irresponsible to take her on the Ikran, but you were a child. You wanted to help, and she loved being on it. She told me it was the best thing she had ever done, and that she is grateful that you thought to take her with you. Your strong heart saved both of you from Toruk. I am sorry about what happened today, that must have been really hard on her, but you were just walking trough the forest together. Any other place on Pandora, and this wouldn’t have happened. This was just a horrible misfortune, but it’s not your misfortune to bear.”

Neteyam was crying so hard he felt himself running out of breath.

“You didn’t see her, mum. I saw her, laying unconscious on the ground. I saw the blood, so much blood I didn’t even think such a small person could carry it. I thought she died. I have nightmares about that night that I will never be able to outgrow. You should have seen her today. She was shaking and screaming and clawing at her feet so hard, she won’t be able to walk for weeks. Why must everything bad in the world must happen to her, mum?”

“We don’t know what Eywa has in store, ma ‘itan. She protects the balance of life, and maybe there is a reason for all this hurt. We can only help her the best way we know how, by loving her and being there for her. We have to hope that that’s enough.”

“I don’t think I can do that anymore, mum. I don’t think I can watch her suffer anymore. It’s killing me. I love her, mum. I love her so much and there is nothing I want more in the world than to take her hurt and make it go away.”

“Neteyam, I think sometimes it is better to realise a hard truth early than live with a comfortable reality until the cracks in your heart are too deep to ever be able to be mended. Maybe both of you just need some time apart, to grow and heal on your own. I know you love her, Neteyam. But she will never be yours. She’s not one of us, son. You will never be able to be mated. I know you love her, but she is human. So maybe some time apart will allow you to move on, and then you can be there for her, as her friend, as someone who can help her navigate this life whilst living your own.”

“Your dad and I have not said anything until now, because we know. We’ve always known how you felt for her. And we wish that she could have been Na’vi, that this could happen for you, son, but maybe this is a sign from Eywa to look towards the future, to start finding your true mate, one who will not make you feel like this when you are around her. Love is not supposed to hurt, my son.”

He looked over to the girl walking close to him, the girl who was now no longer just a human, but an Avatar, a girl who had a chance to be one of the people one day, but whose demons did not diminish over time at all, and he wondered if they ever will.

Soon enough, the lights of the village came into view and you were not ready to have to talk to anybody, explain to anybody when there were no words to describe the pain and anguish inside your heart. You wanted sleep, a deep sleep that wouldn’t cease in the morning.

“How about you just go to your tent for the night? You can catch up with the family tomorrow morning. I will tell them you worked really hard and since this was your first day in a new body, you just need some rest.”

You let out a big sigh of relief, and nodded silently at Neteyam, grateful and unnerved at his uncanny ability to understand your needs almost better than you were able to understand them yourself.

“Irayo (Thank you).”

Your tent felt cold and uninviting when you entered it, but you couldn’t be bothered to think about it too hard, and, as you let yourself collapse on the mat that would qualify as a bed for the foreseeable future, you thought about all the new challenges that dawn will bring.

“That’s right, come on back, Ace. That’s it.”

The light was blinding you, as your eyes adjusted to your newfound environment. You groaned slightly and removed the metal cage trapping you to the linkpod. With heavy legs, you got up and stretched your body as well as you could, trying to ignore the tingling of your limbs as the blood flowed through them properly for the first time in over half a day.

“So, how was it?” Norm was almost besides himself excited, and you knew you had to lie, because telling him it was one of the hardest, most excruciating days of your life might dampen the current mood.

“Hard, but a lot of fun! I learnt to ride a Pa’li, and Tsaheylu is unlike anything I have ever experienced. There really is nothing like it in this body that can compare.”

“Ah, I’m glad to hear it. Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

“I think just more of the same? I’ll start learning how to shoot a bow soon, too. I, for one, think I’ll kick ass at it.” You said, hoping your amused tone and sly comments were enthusiastic enough to be perceived as authentic.

“I’m sure you will, Ace. You off to bed?”

“Yeah, I’m exhausted.”

Your human face staring back at you in the mirror looked somewhat better than the muddy, cried-out one you left behind at the village, but that doesn’t mean much when both bodies shared a soul, one that looked much worse than either of them could ever reflect.

You couldn’t take another dream, another anything, so, popping two Xanax pills, you crashed your head into the pillow and hoped for a peaceful blackout.

The next day, you were back in your Avatar body before dawn, and made your way towards the Sully tent, dedicated to make this work. It took a while to get the mud off your body at the nearby river, but eventually you thought you looked presentable enough to go ahead with the day. You promised Lo’ak, and Jake, and Norm, and yourself, that you would make this work, or at least give it a good college try.

“Can I come in?” You remember to speak in Na’vi, and find the family eating breakfast around the fire.

“Lo’ak you skxawng, you stepped on the herbs I spent all of yesterday collecting.” Kiri was screaming at Lo’ak and hitting him across the arm while he was trying to defend himself as best he could from the continuous onslaught.

“Ow, ow, ow!! Kiri, stop that! They were next to my sleeping bag, don’t leave your shit everywhere if you don’t want people to step on it.”

“NOT PEOPLE, LO’AK. YOU! IT’S ALWAYS YOU!”

“Bro, remove your girl before she maims me.” Lo’ak directed his attention to the human boy sitting in the corner, just laughing and enjoying the show.

You couldn’t help laugh at the scene, fondly remembering all the times Lo’ak and Kiri bickered like twins - there was no doubt in your mind these two were made to be siblings.

Neteyam, sitting in a corner in silence, sharpening his knife, glanced up at you inquisitively. You didn’t like how intimate his gaze felt and with the perspective of a new day, you knew it was a mistake to allow him so close to you yesterday, to allow yourself to touch him and hug him and pull his body close to yours like he was your life support machine. A mistake. You don’t make mistakes.

“Maite, come, sit, eat.” Neytiri came in and pushed you closer to the fire, placing her hands on your shoulders and forcing you to sit. She gave you fruits and seeds and motioned for you to go ahead. “Tell me how yesterday went! Neteyam told us you are much better at your Pa’li training than their dad ever was.”

“Hey, I can hear you, you know?” Jake said, taking a break from cleaning a rifle to scowl lovingly at the mother of his children.

“Well, I can’t speak to Jake’s proficiency, but I think it went well. Great Mother, the Tsaheylu was one of the most incredible experiences of my life, I never knew it was possible for a feeling like that to exist.”

“Wait til you bond with an Ikran.” Lo’ak interjected. “It’s fucking awesome.”

“LANGUAGE!” Said Jake at the same time Neytiri sent a hiss in her younger son’s direction.

You and Neteyam made your way to the archery practice area. There were many people there, most of them accompanying their young kids learning to use a bow and arrow for the first time, learning to one day be able to pull their weight for the sake of the village and their loved ones. You stared in awe at the determination these children had, how unwavering and brightly it shone. It must be nice to be sure of the life ahead of you, be sure of your purpose and your future.

“Right. Unlike Spider, you have not had any practice with our bows, so we have to go back to basics. There are things you always have to keep in mind when you shoot an arrow, and these things will take time. In time, it will become second nature to you, but practice makes perfect - although true for anything, it is especially true in this case.”

“First, your stance.”

He removed his bow from around his body and demonstrated. You couldn’t help stare at him, couldn’t help trace your eyes all over his body, that was now fully on display for you, and adjusted your posture to now accommodate for the heat you felt in between your thighs at the sight. Fuck.

He smirked at you and dropped the stance. “I’m going to need you to focus. Can you do that?”

You raised an eyebrow and looked at him, an annoyed look crossing you features. “Yes, I can do that. Don’t patronise me.”

He raised his hands, as if relenting, and apologised with a small smile.

You raised the bow you were holding in your right hand and try to mimic his posture the best you could. He circled you, analysing every aspect of your stance, his gaze pausing on some aspects more than others.

“Your knees are too straight. You have to bend them a little.” You did as you were told, no questions asked. You trusted he knew what he was talking about more than you’d ever be able to argue him on.

One of his legs made his way between yours and slightly tugged at one, and you hissed at the contact. “Your feet need to be aligned with your shoulders.”

“Your feet also need to be parallel to the target.” You adjusted your feet slightly, focusing on trying to assimilate everything he was saying. You were nothing if not a good student.

“Good. Remember, good stance means good posture, means consistent good shots.”

He was a good teacher, you noted. Calm and patient, he took his time and never talked down to you. He explained well and was attentive to details, and you couldn’t help think this is, once again, proof of Neytiri and the clan’s influence on him. Whereas his two younger siblings were chaotic and a lot more human in their demeanour and behaviour, Neteyam was quiet, focused and determined. A true leader, a true warrior. The perfect son, Lo’ak words ring in your ears.

He circled you once more, and you noticed your arms were starting to get tired. You didn’t complain, though. You were not going to be weak - couldn’t be weak.

He placed a hand on your back and the other on one of your shoulders, willing them back in a straight position. Your body buzzed at the contact and you had to suppress a shiver running down your spine. “Your back always has to be straight. Not hunched, but not over-arched, either.”

He placed both his hands on your hips, and you froze into place. His figure was towering over you, you could feel him, feel his warmth radiating on your back. He kept his distance, so as to not attach himself to you, and gently pulled your hips backwards. Your breath was laboured now, you knew, and let out a silent prayer that he couldn’t hear you, couldn’t hear your heart beat that you were sure was so loud it was noticeable within a 2 click radius.

“Your hips have to be straight, too. No bending them forwards or backwards.”

This went on for a while, just a slow torture that you thought was never going to end, until at some point, a few hours later, he finally allowed you to shoot an arrow. The pain you felt in between your shoulder blades and arms was nearing unbearable, but still, you soldiered on. You tried to keep in mind everything he told you all at once, and with a (hopefully) correct stance, posture, grip and bow arm, it was time to work on your release. Your fingers were cramping from holding the bow so tightly in between them, and with a slight whimper, you let go.

He followed the arrow with his eyes, all the way through the air and past the target, getting stuck on the ground somewhere beyond view. He turned his attention back to you.

“That was not horrible. Your arm is too low.” he says while gently placing a hand on your arrow-holding arm and moving it upward, furthering the pain you felt in between your shoulder blades. He moved his hand downwards and placed it on your abdomen. You gulped, and saw the ghost of a smile on his face. “Your core is not engaged, Y/N. Take a deep breath.” He waited for you to do as you were told. “Hold like this. Txur nì'ul. Stronger.”He didn’t remove his hand, that damn hand, until he was satisfied with your form, then let go. “Again.”

You spent your days like this, training, running, discovering Pandora’s flora and fauna, not as a scientist, but as a hunter and as an apprentice, with timid curiosity and appreciation for the life in front of you. For the first time in your life, you tried to see beyond the science and really see the miracles happening around you. Neteyam told you something on one of your walks that stuck with you.

“When you see nothing, you will see everything.”

You see more and more why scientists, why your mother or Grace, or Norm or Max, could never make it here. It wasn’t because of survival, or training, or skill. You saw it in yourself and your day to day struggle to empty your cup, your mind always looking for meaning, and answers, and ways to fix and analyse and quantify. Always requiring proof, never being able to just be and watch and observe things and beings for what they are, not what they could be. This was all so unfamiliar to you, so strange, and you wondered if you were ever going to be able to see.

After a while, the novelty of you, your alien body and blood ceased to be news to people and you were able to now be in the village without as much attention drawn to you, although the eyes never stopped completely. Not when you were always surrounded by at least one Sully, more often than not the two Sully brothers, the heirs to the Omatikaya rule. There was chatter in the village, you knew, about whether you were ever going to make it as one of the people, and how that would impact the future of the clan. Would they want yet another former Sky Walker as an integral part of their life, as their Tsahik, perhaps?

The whispers of the people bothered you, but not enough to do anything about it. You knew they were baseless and premature, and had no intention of entertaining them. Lo’ak was your best friend, your brother that you loved and you knew loved you, and whatever other feelings he might have, you knew were just a side effect of hormonal growing pains. Lo’ak would outgrow you in time, and you were there to support him whenever he found a love worth harbouring. Neteyam, on the other hand, was a completely different story. The resentment you felt has never diminished in time, although the ice did melt a little after your fateful first day together. You made no efforts to engage with him outside of practice and he reciprocated the effort (or lack thereof) with the same enthusiasm. He was gone most evenings while you had dinner with his family, and would only come back soon before you made your way to your tent. You didn’t hate each other, but that was about the extent of your relationship. The intensity and heat you felt every time he touched you or looked at you in a certain way has also never diminished in time, but you knew yourself and your body enough to be able to resist him, at least until nighttime, when you were a human again and had a bed to yourself.

You spent your nights mostly by yourself in the lab, determined to not fall behind on your lab work. You found having to have two completely different approaches to life very difficult, but in time, it was like you became two different people. You don’t think they’d like each other very much. Your life was split in two, and the bodies you inhabited made it easier on you to differentiate between the two halves. Your human body was weak, progressively weaker as time went on and you forsook the time to exercise it. In it, you were weak, plagued by all your insecurities and fears and nightmares, all of which came out at night. Your Avatar body was strong, progressively stronger with every day you spent running and training in the forest. In it, you were strong. A warrior, proud and determined and eager to learn. You laughed, and danced, and made conversation and learnt how to craft your own necklaces with Kiri whenever training with Neteyam got too much. You took Lo’ak by the hands and dragged him through the forest, laughing and swinging through trees. You took to Mo’at and tried to learn the healing ways of the Tsahik, as opposed to your mother’s medical training. Life was heaven in one body and hell in the other, and you couldn't tell which one haunted you more.

“Again.” Neteyam spoke over the voices of kids practising their target practice next to them. He had to admit to himself he was impressed with your progress. He knew he shouldn’t be, you were the most impressive and stubborn person he had ever met. He used to watch you patch and suture the Avatars in the lab when you were 13. They said your stitches were the best amongst the remaining humans. He watched you go from a child to a woman who seemed to know everything there was to know about everything. He didn’t know why he didn’t realise before this was going to be the same. You were irksome.

You shot another bullseye and turned around to face him, smiling cockily and did a curtsy, he thought it was called. He rolled his eyes, but smiled at your satisfaction.

“You can keep me here all day, I’ll just keep doing it, if not for anything else, just to spite you.”

“Fine, we’re done. You are dismissed.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, in that way you always did, that way that drove him fucking crazy. Being next to you every day was driving him crazy. He didn’t know what hell he must have inflicted on a past life to warrant this. Always watching you, and knowing that stolen glances will always have to be enough.

You started making your way back towards the village, and he followed you. It was such a stark contrast to your first day in this body. You looked confident, and happy. He wondered if it was real, if it was possible that it was indeed that easy, and being here, outside with them was enough to wash your nightmares away, to heal you. He felt a flicker of hope raising in his chest. Stop, Neteyam. What the fuck are you doing?

The village was quiet at this time of day, most people gone on hunts or rides or training. Neteyam heard his dad’s voice booming in the family tent and knew Lo’ak was in deep shit again. He sighed. Baby brother, why do you always have to make things so hard?

“Dammit, Lo’ak, we went through this for a month. A whole ass month. What is this called?”

When you and Neteyam entered the tent, you found the two Sullys sitting on the ground, with the patriarch towering over Lo’ak with a gun in his hand.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“I don’t want to hear that. Do you fucking understand what we’re doing here? Do you understand the humans could be back any fucking day now? War is coming, do you understand this, boy? And you will straighten up, Lo’ak, or I swear to God you will not be allowed to ride an Ikran again for the rest of your life.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Neteyam felt you wince at his dad’s words, and he knew you felt bad for his brother. He did so, too. But also understood that his dad is only trying to make sure they are ready for the time they will inevitably have to go to war. He can’t imagine the pressure on his shoulders at training his own kids to be prepared to avoid their own death and bring death upon others.

“Now, we went through this multiple times. What is this gun?”

He felt the silence bearing down on him, and then heard your voice raise above it.

“It’s a M69-AR, sir. It’s a machine-gun.”

All eyes in the room snapped shocked to you. You shifted uncomfortably in place, but your gaze did not falter from where you were looking at Jake.

“How do you know that?”

You looked down at the ground, and hesitated before speaking again.

“I have trained with guns I have found over time for a few years, sir. My dad and the other soldiers in the unit left manuals, training videos, ammo in the lockers. I have found it and learnt about it. I never expected to get an Avatar, but I did not want to be defenceless.”

Neteyam saw his dad and realised he can’t tell what he was thinking at the moment. A mixture of fear, confusion and awe was what he was able to spot.

“Alright… what’s the caliber of this gun, kid?”

“.50 caliber BAT.”

“Ok, walk me through the gun’s characteristics.”

You didn’t flinch under the scrutiny of his gaze.

“Well, it has a camera sight on the top for better aim and targeting. It has a second grip for better firing stability and has a long barrel that allows for higher muzzler velocity. Like most weapons used by humans, it can also fire 0226-LSAR ammo, and a grande launcher can be attached to the second grip.”

Lo’ak’s face dropped, and although he had better control over his emotions, Neteyam realised he was also staring at her with a similar expression plastered on his face.

“Did you ever shoot it?”

“No, I haven’t. I only shoot a standard 8mm handgun, in the woods next to the lab whenever everyone’s preoccupied or out. But I know how to clean it, field-strip it and load it.”

“So nobody knows you’ve been training on guns for years?”

“No, Sir.”

“I can’t describe to you how stupid and dangerous this was. I didn’t think you of all people were prone to life-threatening idiocy.”

You felt your gaze harden under his scrutiny and the familiar feel of anger bubbling in your stomach.

“I’m not a little girl anymore. I will not stand and watch as the humans come back and ruin everything my mother’s fought for and I will not apologise for it.”

You saw Jake stand up, straighten his back and for the first time in your life, you feared the man sitting in front of you.

“Don’t you dare bring your mother into this. Your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to put your life in danger carelessly, getting involved in things you know nothing about. She asked me to take care of you, to teach you. All you had to do was fucking ask. All you had to do is come out of that damn lab and allow us to be part of your life, the way we have wanted to be for years.”

You felt tears pricking at your eyes and without another word, you turned on your heels and left.

You entered your tent and closed the flap shut as well as you could, half-considering using one of the suture kits that now resided in it to sew it together so no one can open it. You fell on your sleeping mat with a huff, and took hold of one of the books you have brought to your tent in the couple months you have been here. Your gaze stopped on one of your favourite poems, and repeated the lines to yourself, like a litany needing to be uttered.

“I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted

To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.

How free it is, you have no idea how free——

The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,

And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.

It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them

Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.”

You stared at the page for a long time, and let your mind wander. Why would he talk to you this way?

Because he cares about you.

You thought he would be happy, proud of you for being strong, being independent and self-sufficient. You took care of yourself, you would be able to take care of others, of the people you loved.

But maybe he doesn’t think you should have to do this by yourself.

Why should you be ashamed of that? Ho doesn’t understand you, never tried to see things from your perspective.

Maybe cause you never allowed him to know you enough to be able to understand.

He’s not your dad. He has no right to talk to you this way.

He wanted to be your dad, you just always kept him at arm’s length. You’ve always kept everyone at arms length.

You wanted to slap the version of yourself talking back to you. You really are such an annoying person, sometimes. And you hate that you make sense when you didn’t want to make sense. You wanted to be mad and tell him to keep his bossing around to his own children and leave you be, but you couldn’t. Not when the annoying you was right - Jake has tried to be your dad for a long time and you just couldn’t bring yourself to allow that kind of love in your life anymore, not after knowing what it’s like to lose it.

A scream coming from the village pulled you out of your train of thought, and you made your way outside in a hurry.

“Help! Help!!”

You recognised the voice; Ewoaì, one of the most talented hunters of the village, was running holding a motionless body in his arms. His young brother, you noted.

“He can’t breathe, he stopped breathing. Please, someone help! Where is the Tsahik?”

Jake and the Sully boys emerged from inside their tent with a concerned look on all their faces. Neteyam spoke. “The Tsahik and tsakarem are away, at the Tree of Souls. They will not make it back in time.”

Fuck, you thought.

“Bring him here, NOW.” You spoke over the commotion. All the people who had gathered to see what was happening turned their gazes to you. Ewoaì ran to you. “Place him on the ground.”

“Lo’ak.” You looked at the young boy, trying to assess the situation the best you could. You heard Lo’ak make his way towards you.

“In my tent, there is gauze and disinfectant, it has the name 2% chlorhexidine isopropanol, find it and bring it. There should also be a yellow injection that says EPIPEN on it. Bring a syringe as well, no needle. Hurry.”

You turned your attention to the man holding his younger brother in his arms. “Remove his necklace, now.”

You started to check for signs of what was causing his asphyxiation. You opened his mouth and looked inside the best you could for food, or anything else that could be blocking his airways. You didn’t see anything. He didn’t seem to be having an anaphylactic shock; no rash and his heartbeat seemed strong. You were going to have to figure out the cause at a later time, but for now, your best bet, his best bet, was a tracheotomy.

Lo’ak scrambled out of your tent, almost dropping some of the things on the way. He put them next to you in a hurry.

You removed your hands from the boy’s body and moved quickly to apply some of the antiseptic on the gauze and wipe his throat with it. You got up, removed your knife from the holder on your chest, and made your way towards the nearest fire. You placed the blade over the fire and hoped that would do enough to sterilise it. For good measure, you also wiped it with the solution currently still on the gauze.

You made your way back to the boy and lifted your gaze to his brother.

“This is going to hurt. I don’t have the tools to put him to sleep. I need you to hold him tightly by the arms. I need you to be strong for him. Strong heart. Neteyam, hold his feet. Don’t let go.”

You took your knife with one hand, whilst your other hand, tried to find the cricothyroid membrane, hoping it would be in a similar location to a human’s. Pushing the knife against his throat, you applied pressure and made a cut. The boy tried his best to recoil, but the men did a better job at keeping him down than you thought they would. You took the knife and placed it on the ground, then took the syringe Lo’ak gave you and hollowed it out. Carefully, you placed it inside the hole you made. You lowered your body and placed your mouth on the syringe. Sucking on it, you were relieved to feel air coming out, and you started breathing into the tube until you felt the boy starting to breathe again on his own. You removed yourself from his proximity and monitored until you were sure his breathing was stabilised.

You let out a huge sigh of relief. You finally felt like you could look Ewoaì in the eye. “He’ll be fine.”

His brother let out a shaky breath and extended his hand in front of you. Smiling softly, you took it in your own and felt his grip tighten at the contact.

“Thank you. You saved his life. Thank you.”

“You can take him home. I’ll come by later and check on him, and if he’s breathing right, I’ll take it out.”

You rose from the ground and tried to get your laboured breath to slow down. You did it. Tears started pooling in your eyes and you realise your hands were shaking when you went to wipe the them before they fell. Your attention turned to the Sully men waiting by your side. They all looked like they were -

-in awe. Neteyam was in awe. You were breathtaking. He heard this English word, angel, from his dad, a long time ago, and when he asked what it meant, his dad told him it was someone pure and good, who helps others and brings comfort in times of hurt…someone whose light can illuminate the darkest times. He didn’t know what that meant until he met you. You were an angel. There was so much hurt and darkness in you, but somehow you managed to spread light everywhere you went. No matter how hard life got, you never lost the desire to do good, to be good, and Neteyam didn’t think he could love you any more than he did right at that second.

You gave him a quick look and he could see the fear in your eyes and the unshed tears, and the trembling hands. You were scared. Before he could move a muscle, Lo’ak took you and encircled his arms around you in a bear hug. You stood there in shock for a second while it registered, then slowly brought your hands up to his back to reciprocate the hug. You closed your eyes and nuzzled your head in his neck, and Neteyam moved his gaze to his feet, feeling the now all-too-familiar darkness of jealousy spread through him like poisonous gas.

Eventually, Lo’ak let you go, and you moved closer to Jake. You were trying to meet his eyes, but he could tell you were scared… or ashamed. He saw you take a big breath and swallow audibly.

“Jake, I am…”

“I know, Kid.” Neteyam was surprised to see his dad’s gaze, so angry and unflinching just 30 minutes ago, soften when his eyes looked at you. It was his turn now to hug you.

“You did good, kid.”

You let out a soft cry and he saw the tears fall freely from your face. You smiled, and for the first time since you were back in his life, saw that you looked actually content.

“Come.” Jake released you from the hug and made his way towards his tent. You followed suit and saw him picking up a gun from the floor and pointing at another. It was a standard assault rifle and you kneeled down next to it.

“Put it back together.” You did as you were told, skilfully putting each component of the weapon in its place. Before you moved on, you made sure everything was in order, and then you picked the appropriate 6.2x35mm 80-round magazine from the mix that was on the floor. You attached the magazine and took two more of them and placed them on your person.

“Good. Let’s go.”

You and the three Sullys walked steadily for a while. Lo’ak and Jake went ahead while you and Neteyam stood back. He was close to you, too close, and you felt his right hand almost brushing yours. You looked up at him, and saw he was already watching you. His expression instantly sent shivers down your spine - it reminded you of how he used to look at you before. It was intense and soft and loving. You saw his eyes dropping to your lips, which parted in response and felt so exposed, so vulnerable… so fucking mad. He did not get to do this. He did not get to give up on you are like were a bad drug and then come back and give you this look.

You expression hardened and you removed your eyes from his and stared at Jake’s back, which was all of a sudden a lot more interesting than it had been 5 seconds ago. You crossed your arms over your chest and walked in silence the rest of the way.

You reached the spot soon after, and you noticed it was a similar training area, like the archery one, but this one had targets made of shrubbery that resembled a person, which had remnants of bullet holes in them. I see…

“Ok, kid, let’s see what you can do. Shoot the target in front of you, head and chest.”

You took a big gulp and positioned your body. This was a lot of pressure, with the eyes of Toruk Makto and his heirs staring right at you. You took one last look at the weapon, then loaded it. You aim, then shoot. The gun surprises you a little, as you find the recoil a lot stronger than the handgun you usually practice on and the fire rate unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Still, you adjust fairly quickly, then try again. Within 3 tries, you were able to hit the target exactly where Jake asked you to, and as to not waste any more ammo, you stop.

Lo’ak is ululating and clapping, so happy for you, even though he was probably going to get in trouble for not being a better shooter than a girl who spent her whole life in a lab. He didn’t care. He loved seeing you do well, seeing you adapt. He couldn’t wait for the day you two would go on Ikran rides together and he could show you all the beauty of this world, the way you deserved.

“I see. Neteyam, from now on, I want you both at gun practice and lessons, do you copy? She can learn everything else in the spare time, but I want her there. She’s way too good to waste on Pa’li training.”

“Yes, sir.”

In the evening, you went by Ewoaì’s tent and checked on his younger brother. His airways were clear again so you were able to remove the syringe and stitch up the tracheotomy incision you performed earlier. You sat with them whilst inspecting the child’s condition. He wasn’t well. He had a fever and intermittent shortness-of-breath. His abdomen was in pain and he had a laceration forming on one of his calves. You made a note to bring some more supplies from the lab, and with that, took your leave.

Dinner was pleasant, you ate with the Sullys in their tent, as you do most nights these days, and enjoyed the conversation that did not include you. It was nice to just be around their family and experiencing their tight-knit unit up close. There was laughter, and bickering, and animated discussions about what went on and what’s to come. Jake told Neytiri, Moat, Kiri and Tuk about Ewoaì and his brother, about the guns and the target practice, and they all looked at you with admiration. You blushed and thanked them, deciding the floor was particularly interesting tonight.

“I think Y/N should sing for us! I haven’t heard her beautiful voice in such a long time!” Said Neytiri, smiling fondly

“Oh, I don’t have my guitar!”

You saw Neteyam’s eyes go wide, a rare sight for a man who prides himself on his composure. He stood up from his place around the fire pit, and went to a part of the tent that had a hidden nook in it; you’ve never seen what was there, but assumed there lay the family trinkets, Jake’s guns, clothes, etc. Neteyam came out from behind it holding… a guitar, you realised in shock. A big guitar, that would fit your new hands perfectly. Too stunned to speak, you just looked at him with your mouth agape, and he laughed at your expression.

“This was supposed to go slightly differently, but alas, it’s as good a time as any to give this to you.”

“It was supposed to be done for your birthday, but it took me a lot longer than I thought carving the wood.”

Your eyes flickered between him and the guitar, and then turned to look at Kiri, who had a big smile and waited expectantly for your response.

“…you made this?”

“Well, me and Norm.” He looked almost bashful, and he reminded you so much of young Neteyam that your heart ached and you hoped you could prolong this moment forever.

“He helped me with the design and the metal work, I had to hunt a few good animals to get the gut for the strings, but I think it turned out alright! He tried it and tuned it and it seemed to sound good, but I guess we’ll see when you play it.”

You were still unsure what to say, unsure how to speak or form words or thoughts.

“Neteyam, I don’t know what to say…”

“Say you’ll accept it? And that you’ll forgive me for what I said on your birthday? I really am a kurkung (asshole) sometimes, and I am sorry.”

You nodded almost imperceptibly. His face broke out into a smile, a stupidly handsome smile that stopped your world and shifted it on its axis and you knew, you knew he was doing it, the impossible, he was getting you to forgive him, to forget the hurt and pain he put you through. And you hated yourself for being weak, but you also just allowed yourself a second, just a second to remember what it was like to have him in your life, have him radiate his warmth like he was the sun your soul orbited around.

“Will you sing now?” asked Tuk innocently, and you had to concede.

You toiled for a while with ideas of what song to pick. There was only one that came to mind in this exact moment, thinking of the man you still loved so much, loved as much as you did when you were 10 and he brought you the bracelet, at 13 when he took you on your very own magic carpet ride, at 16 when he held you while you cried in his arms after your dad, and every day in between, the man you needed like air, like that damn oxygen pack you hated, whose touch made you come alive and set your mind ablaze.

You picked up the guitar and tuned the chords, slowly caressing them to get the sound just right. It was perfect, much better than the guitar you had at home. It was perfect. You started strumming a familiar song, that you never sang to them, to him, before, that you sang to yourself in that year apart and you wanted him to hear it, wanted him to know.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit

Having adventures on your own

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home

We never painted by the numbers, baby

But we were making it count

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now

You looked at him, and sang to him. He looked sad, like it was hurting him to watch you, hear you again. You used to play just for him all the time, singing feelings you never had the guts to say out loud, and here you were again, confessing something probably better left unsaid.

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family

And it would've been sweet

If it could've been me

In my defence, I have none

For digging up the grave another time

But it would've been fun

If you would've been the one

You finished the song and heard clapping from all around you and knew you had to acknowledge the others eventually. With a last look at Neteyam, you turned around and smiled and did a little hand curtsy as a joke.

It was a good night.

You made your way to your tent quite late that night and you saw Lo’ak waving at you until you entered, placing your new guitar slowly on the ground. You lay down and tried your very best to fall asleep, which you felt was impossible, considering you were still reeling after the day you had. Eventually, sleep came, and you woke up back in the linkpod, with Norm’s face coming into focus slowly.

“Hey, Ace. How was your day?”

“Eventful, to say the least. One of the kids in the village needed an emergency tracheotomy. Thank God I had some supplies in the tent, which reminds me - I need to prepare more that I will come to pick up tomorrow, or you can drop to my tent if you make your way to the village.”

“Jesus. What the hell happened?”

“I think it’s this damn virus, Norm. I monitored the kid for an hour in the evening, his airways cleared, but he still had shortness of breath, a fever, gastrointestinal symptoms, and this weird laceration on his calf. His brother’s not sick, so the virus is not transmitted through air - at least I hope not, considering I shared the air in the tent with the guy for a while.”

“Fuck. I will go check on him tomorrow and maybe take some blood. You can run some tests if you want to and have the time.”

“I have some blood from someone else with similar symptoms. I will run the tests tonight, can’t really sleep anyway.”

“Ok, be careful, alright? This is not a joking matter, especially to us.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

You changed in some clothes better suited for a night working in the lab, put on your goggles, lab coat and gloves, and got to work. You were half paying attention to prepping the laminar flow hood and half thinking of the crazy day you had, thinking of Neteyam and his smile and his apology and ugh, you hated him.

You didn’t realise you forgot to put a mask on in your distracted state, and with the hood prepped and ready to go, you removed the blood from the fridge where you kept it while everything you ready and made your way to your work station.

In a second, everything changed. That’s all it took, a second for your whole life to completely turn upside down, yet again. It always only took a second. A second for your mum to take her last breath, a second for you to fall off an Ikran, a second to step on your dad’s remains, a second to lose the love of your life, a second to watch the vial drop and shatter all over the floor, splattering blood all over your body and on your face, in your open mouth that screamed in shock at the instant loss of a future.

Tag list: @nuhteyam @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi

#neteyam #neteyam x human!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfic #neteyam reader #neteyam sully #avatar #avatar twow #avatar fanfic #neteyam x avatar!reader #neteyam sully fanfiction #neteyam angst #awow #awow neteyam #loak reader #avatar loak

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the-20something-cat-lady · 1 month

Text

An Open Letter to the Man Who Will Never Read It

I’m not sure what I’m trying to accomplish by writing this. And I have that sinking feeling that I still won’t know after everything has been said and done. Maybe this won’t accomplish anything, and it’ll turn my own life upside down. Regardless of the outcome, I know it really doesn’t matter at this point because my life has clearly gone down a road where we might not meet again. As of writing this, this is a truth I still need to come to terms with whether I like it or not. I can’t say that I haven’t had my eye on you. Granted, I had eyes almost everywhere, so people were keeping tabs on you whether I wanted it or not. And of course, I didn’t want that to be the case as time went on. I genuinely want to forget about everything that’s happened, but obviously I can’t because the purpose of this memoir is solely on our story during that point of our lives. I can safely say why I’m writing this, but I’ll probably never be able to answer the “what am I trying to accomplish with this?” because nothing really matters in the end. It happened, we can’t change how it turned out, and now we’re just living with the consequences of our actions. I’m sure you’re living your best life wherever you are, but as I write this, I’m just now starting to dig my way up from the hole I dug myself into. I’ve only recently started “living” my life, and that’s all because I decided to change jobs. Now, I have all this time to myself but with no clue on what to do about it. I have a few ideas on what to do, but so far, I’m at the “humble beginnings” stage of this new life I’ve carved for myself. It’s not so bad thankfully, but I know I could be doing better with myself. It’ll take some time, but I’m confident that I can navigate through this. I know I’m not alone in this life, and I’m fortunate for that. But this is one of those instances where I have to traverse alone because frankly, the ones that initially knew about our story have a genuine disdain for you. And rightfully so since your ass still owes me an apology. I’m still living life without it though so it’s not like I desperately need it to live. I’m not stating all this solely for the possibility that you’ll eventually find this and read it for yourself. This has been something I’ve been meaning to get off my chest and process it, and this just so happens to be the medium I decided upon to finally process this part of my life. Art has been ruined for me, and I can’t seem to pick it back up like I once did in high school. But writing seems to be my only safe haven that’s been untouched by expectations from an overbearing father. And if writing is eventually ruined for me, I know I’ll find another mode of expressing how I feel. It’s just time-consuming since I’d have to go through the trouble of seeing what works, cutting out what doesn’t work, and so on.

I guess this is just the long version of “this is my truth, whether everyone likes it or not.”

#my post #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #romance #romantic #personal #personal musings #memoir #love #lovers #sad thoughts #breakup #couple #relationship #intimate

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sparrowrye · 1 month

Text

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 14

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 14: blood and fire

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was sitting on a rock with a sketch pad in my lap. Reagan and her friends, mostly those a few years younger than her, were casually looking through the water for sea glass or pretty stones. The littles had really clung to her since she started helping Ms. Vivian with classes.

I spoke to Althea about the strain on my mind. She had instructed me to pick a mundane skill that didn't take much thought. She offered sketching and something inside me flipped a switch. Sometimes, when the floor was dirty enough in my cage, I would draw figures. When I ran out of room I would draw in the dust outside my cage.

I had asked Alastor for a simple sketch pad and pencil to which he complied without a sarcastic response. In fact, he didn't even ask why.

I made it a habit to spend time with Reagan in the early evening. I had my afternoon session with Lucifer or Alastor, depending on the day, followed by the still slightly uncomfortable afternoon snack with the latter, and then spent time on the shore with Reagan sketching.

I had fallen into the schedule with ease. I liked being busy and I liked being around different people. Husker was still my morning buddy and that gave me plenty of time to pepper him with questions about a certain pink and white Demon.

We stayed down on the shore until dinner. Like usual, I was quiet while Vivian and Althea did most of the talking. Since my incident, I found it quite difficult to socialize. I was always so tired. I never wanted to talk but I still craved other people's company.

After dinner, I said goodnight to Reagan and walked back up to the house. As soon as I stepped through the threshold, something felt off. I reached out my magic sense and knew there was something not right with Alastor. The house was dark and quiet, the brooding aura coming directly from his room.

I tried dulling my magic so he wouldn't sense me and crawled up the stairs. A red light emitted from underneath his door. The hallway felt heavy. I couldn't hear him moving around and I didn't dare try to reach out with my magic to feel for him. I kept myself small and quiet, carefully tiptoeing to my door and grabbing the cold handle.

Alastor's hand suddenly appeared next to mine. He towered over me from behind, leaving maybe an inch of space between us. The hair on the back of my neck rose and I wrapped myself in a protective shield of magic. His hand hadn't touched mine yet, surprisingly, but I could see it shaking against the metal.

"Alastor?" I called softly, my voice daring to shake.

"Your blood is like nothing I've tasted before," he breathed into my ear. It flicked in response and I tried to inch away unnoticeably. My heart was punching the inside of my chest. Surely he could hear it. "The cravings have returned, my dear. Painfully so." He drew a strained, shallow breath. It sounded painful. "Per our deal, will you let me satisfy this pain?"

He peeled his claws off the handle one by one, moving his hand to hover over mine and awaiting my response. He was shaking. Everything in me was screaming to run. He was dangerous. He was desperate. Even if I wanted to run, could I? I could only imagine what he currently looked like, all disproportionate and covered in green X's. His breath was hot on my ear and it was an effort to keep it from moving each time.

"S-sure."

He didn't hesitate. His hand clamped down on my own, pinning it to the handle, and sank his teeth in the spot between my neck and shoulder. I yelled and grabbed his hair with my other hand, slicing my skin on one of his antlers. He squeezed my wrist to force my fingers to let go and pulled it away. He withdrew his teeth slightly then sank them back in to get more blood. The pain flew down my arm and into the tips of my fingers.

This wasn't what I had expected. "That hurts," I gurgled.

I bent my knees and felt his teeth slip out of the injury. He audibly growled as his hand left the door handle to wrap around my torso, effectively trapping both my arms against my body. His other hand snaked up to my chain and held my head to the side for easier access.

He dragged his tongue across my skin, eliciting a whimper from me at the sensation. I squeezed my eyes shut, clenched my teeth, and tried pulling on his arm that was trapping me. He sank his teeth back in his bite mark, sending another wave of pain down my arm. I couldn't breathe.

I put my foot on the wall and pushed. It did nothing. I put up the other but his black tentacles came out to hold them down. My cries for him to stop landed on deaf ears, though I felt his magic abide the pain to a lesser degree. Tears were steadily streaming down my face at this point.

I started to feel extremely tired and lethargic. I tried digging my claws in his arms to stop him but even my fingers felt heavy. He was taking too much blood. It didn't feel like he was in any rush to stop, either. I tried to build up my energy and briefly saw an image of drawing a few shadowy souls through the gold and purple barrier. I sent a wave of shock or electricity from my body into his, making him go rigid from the pain. He slowly lifted his head.

"Stop," I panted, "please. Too much."

I heard him lick his lips. He moved his hand down my neck and healed the small wounds. I felt my energy, or maybe it was his energy, returning as he unwrapped everything from me. I spun fast to slap him with the back of my hand but he caught my wrist. His eyes narrowed.

"I see I lost myself," he admitted. "My apologies, dear."

I wrenched my hand from his grip and rubbed the sore spot. I quickly locked my bedroom door behind me and huddled in the bathroom corner. I pressed my claws into my head and kept it between my knees. My body was shaking but there was a deeper, strangely more pleasant, feeling buried deep in my mind, deep in my bones, that I refused to let into the light.

****

"Why did you want me to come, boss?" Husker asked. He and Alastor were standing in the shadows of a small alley.

"Two Overlords went missing," Alastor explained, "and my contact said Blackwater is behind it."

"Who's Blackwater?"

"We're going to find out." Alastor glanced at the bar as two people walked in. "Our favorite little Dragon mentioned the name to me some time ago."

"Speaking of which, what exactly happened between you two?"

"What do you mean?" Alastor turned back to him.

"She said something happened with you that she doesn't want to talk about, and it upset her a lot. So, what was it?"

"That is for me to know," he answered, looking back at the bar entrance.

"It would help me help her to know what exactly you did."

"As she said, it's between me and her."

"She and I are very close."

"My answer is no, Husker." He casted a red glare over his shoulder.

"I'm not above risking my life for her if you forced yourself on h—"

His green chain appeared around his neck and cut off the end of his sentence. Alastor yanked the cord and held up the shorter man so their noses were inches apart. His eyes were dark with red dials, his antlers stretching above his head.

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing," he spat. "I'm disappointed you've let someone you've known for only three years sway your judgment of me." Husker had a claw on the clamp around his neck and the other at his side, desperately trying to keep his hands off his boss. "Accuse me of such a thing again and I will pry your soul out of your body and stretch it across my radio frequencies for all to hear."

Husker swallowed. "Got it."

The green light dimmed as Alastor straightened up and dissipated the chain. He fixed his coat flap and looked at the group entering the bar. He was about to move when he felt a presence on the edge of his mind. He knew it was me and willingly drew me past his shields, but still shallow enough that I couldn't see his memories. I watched the world from his eyes, thrilled at the discovery of a new skill.

That's my girl. He stiffened at his own thought. He was grateful I couldn't hear his thoughts at the level he was holding me at. He shook his head and mumbled a curse to himself. As he stepped out into the light, his Demon appearance melted away to reveal his Human one. Husker followed suite.

Alastor walked in first and Husker veered away from him a few tables in. They both ordered something from the bar but Husker found a small table in the corner to observe the room. Nothing revealed itself for half an hour. However, Alastor noticed a steady string of people entering the bar and immediately going into a side room. Two guards stood at the entrance checking a slip of paper each person or couple pulled out.

Alastor ordered a short drink and let his shadow loose. He stayed along the wall and melted with another person's shadow as they entered the room. A set of stairs stretched to his immediate right. At the base of the stairs was a small room crammed with round tables and dozens of chairs. A small, wooden stage with a red curtain stood at one end. Alastor's shadow found a perfect spot in the corner where his eyes wouldn't be noticed.

After another half hour or so, it began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you have waited long enough." A man in a black suite and slick blond hair walked on stage with his arms outstretched. "Blackwater is proud to open his latest invention to his devote followers."

Well, I'm exactly where I need to be. Alastor thought to himself.

Another man walked on stage carrying a small, metal backpack. He placed it on a round table and opened the latch, revealing a mix of wires and dark filled tubes.

"Not only is this more compact than the last version," the announcer went on, "but it provides the user another element to use." Murmurs erupted. "May I have a volunteer? Someone who wields only one element?"

No one raised a hand for moment. Then an older man, with white hair on his head and face, offered his hand. The announcer excitedly motioned him up to the stage and helped him take his coat off. He put the backpack on the old man and lifted an object to the back of his neck. The man made a pained noise as the thing hissed when it connected with his skin.

"As always, give your body a moment." The announcer helped the man into a chair the lackey pulled up. The man was visibly struggling, his body contorting inward. It lasted a minute, maybe two, before the old man was able to sit up straight. "Now, with powerful Demon's blood flowing through your veins, you can use any element you wish. Give it a try."

The old man remained in the chair but slowly lifted his hand. He casted wind around the room then a small jet of flame from his palm. He looked surprised, thrilled even, at the ability to wield more than what he was used to doing.

"No longer are we restricted to our own limits," the announcer went on. "Blackwater has made it possible to put us on the same level as every Demon. Keep this around and filled, and you'll be able to keep yourself and your family safe from any threat. How about another volunteer?"

The crowd erupted in applause and several people shouted to try. Alastor's shadow snuck back up the stairs, careful to avoid the eyes of the guards standing at the base and entrance. It slid back to its owner and melded into his Human shadow. He stood up, leaving a tip for the bartender, and casually walked out of the bar with his hands in his pockets. He went back to the alley and waited for Husker to join him a minute later.

"What was it?" Husker asked, morphing back into his Demon form as Alastor had done.

"He made a device that allows Humans to wield more magic," he answered. "Which means he used the Overlords to make it."

"He's using..." Husker fell silent, unsure of what to say next.

"We're going to wait," Alastor dictated, "and we're going to find out where his factory is."

"Why not just try to find Blackwater himself?"

"I will. But I'm going to take down his assets first."

The two of them waited for an hour before everyone dispersed from the meeting. Alastor's shadow hid easily in the dark shadows to watch the announcer leave the bar from the back door. Husker climbed onto the roofs while Alastor went to meet the man in the back street.

The light flickered over the man's head. He noticed and looked around at the empty street, seemingly aware that someone was watching him. He stuffed his phone and gloves in his pocket, fingers extended. His walk was slow, eyes scanning, as he started the walk back to his apartment.

He made it to the next street before Alastor appeared under a dim alley light. The announcer stopped dead in his tracks, blood running cold. Alastor's shadow grew along the wall and opened his wide, sharp mouth in a hungry laugh.

"What do you want?" the announcer demanded. Alastor knew the tone of feigned confidence.

"I won't have to move from where I stand if you tell me where Blackwater's factories are."

"I'm more afraid of him than you. He'll kill me if I tell you anything."

Alastor clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Fortunately for me, I am about to prove you wrong."

Alastor's shadow yanked the man's foot out from under him. He dragged him down the street and pinned him against the wall. Alastor was taller now and his stitches were desperately trying to keep his limbs attached to his body. His mouth grew wider and teeth sharper, eyes turning into his usual black and red dials.

He place a huge claw over the man to further hold him in place. He curled his other claw near his face and proceeded to pull the man's living soul out of his body. The man screamed but it came from his soul, not his physical mouth. Alastor knew what the man was 'seeing'. He was watching all the other trapped souls scream and reach for him, a fresh soul with new energy. He would merge with them, melding into the hive mind and losing his individuality.

"I'll tell!" the man wailed. Alastor let go of his soul and it slingshotted back into his body. He grabbed at his chest, eyes wide, and tried to calm down. Alastor stood there and waited for the panic attack to subside. The man couldn't stop shaking and he pulled his arms and legs tight to him like a scared child.

"Go on, then. Tell me," Alastor beamed. In his usual form, he bent at the hips so his face was level with the man's. He loved this.

"He-he...he uh...the-the coordinates. Truckers give receipt..." He fumbled with his coat pockets until he drew out a crumpled piece of paper. Alsator's shadow took it from his unsteady hand and unraveled it before dropping it in his claw. Like the man said, the paper was a receipt and at the bottom was the factory name and coordinates.

"Thank you, my good man," Alastor's voice turned chipper as he looked back to the man, "Do give Blackwater my regards. I'd love to meet the big man in charge."

He slipped into the shadows to join Husker on the rooftop. He grabbed his coworker's shoulder and focused, mind fixed on the image of the world. He found the coordinates, surprisingly not far from where they stood, and teleported them. He climbed through the shadows to enter the small factory and watched from a dark corner.

Belts of machinery were stretched across the whole factory. Workers stood on the side inspecting or crafting the pieces. There were at least fifty currently being worked on and there was a stack of crates in the one corner where the trucks picked them up. He continued to look around, mostly in search for Blackwater himself or the Overlords he had captured. Yet neither was here. He would have to find his other factories.

It took nothing for Alastor to start a fire. The workers attempted to put it out but they were all Humans with Slight magic. The fire grew too much for them to handle, forcing them to leave the factory to save their own lives. He melted the foundation and watched the whole thing topple inward on itself.

He appeared next to Husker who was hiding in the safety of the forest's shadows. "Satisfied?" Husker quirked an eyebrow up at him.

"I will once this man is dead," Alastor said. "I need to speak with the other Overlords. I need to know who let him get to this point unnoticed and unchecked."

"I'm sure that'll go well."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

I noticed that I was a bit more sadistic in the very first chapters of this series and needed a small taste of it again. I sure hope you all enjoyed the taste of 2 chapters :P

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #hazbin husk #reqs open #hazbin hotel husk

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egcdeath · 10 months

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Hi! If you are not comfortable with this request then I totally understand but what about a Joel x reader where he has a nightmare that he can’t snap out of and he accidentally hurts the reader (like he grabs onto her and won’t let go) and the reader is okay but Joel freaks out and tries to break things off and its hurt with a lot of fluff. Thanks!

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: joel gives you both a scare when he wakes up hurting you in his sleep.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: full disclaimer: joel chokes the reader in his sleep. brief violence (unintentional), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship

author’s note: this is a little darker than what i usually write, and it’s a little different from your request. i still hope that you enjoy <3 i’m also still taking drabble requests for any pedro pascal character!!

Twenty years ago you stopped dreaming.

Then, you finally found a safe haven in Jackson, Wyoming. Slowly but surely, you regained the ability to hold onto your dreams, building beautiful worlds in your mind and being able to recall them hours after you dreamt them.

You didn’t always have the best dreams, but you were having one now; a pleasant dream taking place in the stream that you and Joel often stopped to take baths in on your smuggling runs. You lounged out on a familiar rock, basking in the sun while Joel cleaned himself diligently just a few feet away. You listened to the soft rustling of the leaves from the trees above you, then the song of chirping birds. You were at peace in a way you hadn’t known was possible since the world ended—but that peace didn’t last long.

You couldn’t be sure how, but you’d fallen off of your rock and into the water, where the current had suddenly picked up. You began to bob above and below the water rapidly, choking as you fought to stay above it. But it was too late. Your nose and lungs were filled with water, the liquid burning you the more that you coughed. Your arms flailed as you desperately tried to swim, but it was clearly no use.

You woke up with a gasp, then shot up as you coughed violently—the same way you’d been coughing in your dream. You instinctually brought your hands up to your throat as you coughed, the scratching pain almost unbearable. Your heart and mind were racing, so much so that you’d completely missed the horrified look on the face of the man in bed beside you, or the way that he seemed to be paralyzed in his position.

“Fuck, are you alright?” he finally said after your coughing had subsided.

“Yeah, it was just a bad dream,” you dismissed, finally looking back at Joel, who still seemed a bit off. “Could you grab me a glass of water?”

“Of course,” he said, his voice a little flatter than usual. He still got up, still made the floorboards creak as he walked down the stairs, and still came back with a distinctly guilty look on his face.

“Honey, are you okay?” you asked once he sat down, looking like he was in a state of pure shock.

Joel seemed to gather himself, he took a few deep breaths, attempted to adjust his slumped shoulders, but still looked down and away—notably not at you.

“I think we should break up,” he said quickly and quietly.

“What?” you gasped, in complete and utter disbelief of what he’d just said to you. “Because I disturbed your fucking beauty sleep by coughing? I mean, what the fuck, Joel. I’ve done way worse shit than cough around you!”

“No, because I was choking you. In my sleep. That’s why you woke up coughing. I’m so sorry,” his voice slightly broke as he admitted what had happened.

“…What?” you were in disbelief, but your hand raised to your neck to feel it once more. Without the abrupt shock of waking up from a nightmare, you were now able to feel the warmth that had obviously come from an injury from an outside source.

“I can’t… I don’t want to be a danger to you in your sleep. Maybe we should go to the infirmary too. But I can’t have you with me if I’m going to accidentally kill you in my sleep.”

You attempted to look into his eyes, but he looked distant and far away, clearly more shaken up by this whole ordeal than you were—which meant a lot, considering that you were already quite shaken up.

“I can probably wait until the morning. I feel… alright. What happened?”

“I was dreaming and you and I were on patrol, a clicker came out of nowhere and grabbed you and you’re just screaming and wailing and it’s the most horrific sound I’ve ever heard,” he stops himself to gulp, to calm down a bit, and you gently reach out to touch his arm. Joel rejects your sensitivity, clearly feeling like he doesn’t deserve any sort of empathy in the moment. “So I come up behind it and grab it, like I’ve done a million times before, and its face slowly starts to warp into your face, and then I just abruptly woke up, and saw me choking you. I don’t- I don’t actually know how long it was going on. So maybe we really do need to go to the infirmary.”

The plea in his face told you that it was likely better to go than to sit here and argue about going. At the very least, it would give Joel the peace of mind to know that you weren’t as injured as he thought you might be.

The two of you walked over to the infirmary in your pajamas, your house slippers becoming outdoor slippers as you drug them through the snowy ground. On your short walk over, Joel rejected every single advance you attempted; he wouldn’t hold your hand, he wouldn’t let you wrap yourself around his arm, and he wouldn’t even let you rest your hand on his back. For all you knew, he completely believed that it was over between the two of you.

After waking up the receptionist at the desk who was lightly snoozing, you were able to see the doctor who seemed just as tired. After a few rounds of testing, she decided that you were good to go—though you’d already suspected that was the case.

Once you arrived back at your home, Joel made a beeline to the couch, where it seemed he was dead set on staying for the rest of the night.

“I’ll talk to Tommy about which buildings are vacant, and be out of your hair as soon as possible,” he told you in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Don’t you want to talk things out first?” you pleaded.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You’re not safe around me,” he dismissed, trying to be as firm in his words as possible as you sat down next to him on the couch.

“I am safe around you, Joel. Do you know how many times you’ve saved me? Do I need to remind you of those smugglers who tried to keep me hostage?” you hoped that the mention of the memory would do some work in taking Joel down memory lane, to one of the many times in your lives where he’d come to your rescue.

“I mean, yes, you did choke me in our sleep. That’s terrifying, obviously, but I love you. I can just sleep in the guest bedroom from now on,” you insisted, setting a hand on his knee that he finally accepted without trying to flinch away. “We both have a lot to work through. I’m not just gonna abandon you,” you insisted.

“How am I ever gonna trust myself again?” Joel murmured, looking up to the ceiling to avoid eye contact with you.

“Joel, you were asleep,” you pushed, “and for all intents and purposes, you were trying to save me in your dream. And the doctor was pretty unfazed by my injury. I believe her exact words were, ‘It looks fine to me.’”

“Our doctor was half asleep,” Joel halfheartedly argued.

“Well, true… but I feel fine. And nothing has changed between us. Other than the fact that I think it’s probably time we both start seeing the therapist.”

Joel finally began to look like he believed what he was saying. Of course you didn’t want to be attacked in your sleep, but you knew that it was never his intention to hurt you. Obviously, it would take a bit of time and separation to make sure that he could get his sleeping habits in check, but you weren’t lying when you promised him all of those years ago that you would be with him every step of the way.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us fanfiction

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writing-with-sophia · 9 months

Text

Dialogues

Sad:

"I never thought I would end up alone, but here I am, drowning in loneliness."

"Sometimes the hardest part is pretending to be happy when all you want to do is cry."

"I trusted you with my heart, and you shattered it into a million irreparable pieces."

"The pain of losing you is unbearable. I can still hear your voice echoing in my mind."

"I thought we had forever, but forever turned out to be just a fleeting moment."

"I miss the person I used to be before life broke me."

"I wake up every morning hoping to find a reason to smile, but all I find is emptiness."

"I gave you my all, and you left me with nothing but a broken heart."

"In the end, all we had were shattered dreams and unspoken words."

"Sometimes, the saddest stories are the ones that are left untold."

"I built my world around you, only to watch it crumble to ashes."

"The tears I cry in solitude speak volumes of the pain I carry within."

"Love has become a bittersweet memory, a reminder of what could have been."

"I was once a flame, but now I am nothing more than a flickering ember."

"The silence between us is deafening, drowning out the love we once shared."

"I thought I knew what happiness was, but it slipped through my fingers like sand."

"The ache in my heart is a constant reminder of the love I lost."

"We were two broken souls, trying to heal each other, but instead, we only caused more pain."

"I am a prisoner of my own emotions, trapped in a never-ending cycle of sadness."

"The world keeps moving forward, but my heart remains stuck in the past."

"I long for a love that will never fade, for a connection that will never be severed."

"I thought I had found my forever, but forever turned out to be temporary."

"Every goodbye feels like a small death, a part of me fading away."

"The nights are the hardest, when the darkness matches the emptiness within my soul."

"The weight of my regrets is suffocating, a constant reminder of my failures."

"I am tired of pretending that I'm okay when all I want to do is fall apart."

"I used to believe in happy endings, but now I question if they exist at all."

"I am drowning in a sea of sadness, desperately searching for a lifeline."

"The world feels colorless, as if all the joy has been drained from my existence."

"I am surrounded by people, yet I have never felt more alone."

Happy:

"I can't believe we made it! Against all odds, we've achieved our dream."

"You make me feel like the luckiest person in the world, just by being by my side."

"This moment right here, with you, is pure bliss. I never want it to end."

"Remember when we used to dream about this? Now, it's a reality!"

"The world is full of possibilities, and together, we can conquer them all."

"Every time I see your smile, I'm reminded of how beautiful life can be."

"Today, I choose happiness, and I choose you to be a part of it."

"No matter what challenges we face, we'll overcome them together, hand in hand."

"I never thought I could feel this much joy until you came into my life."

"In your embrace, I've found my safe haven, my own little piece of paradise."

"Just being with you makes even the simplest moments feel extraordinary."

"Life is a journey, and I'm grateful to have you as my favorite travel companion."

"You are the sunshine that brightens my darkest days. Thank you for being here."

"Let's dance like nobody's watching and savor every beat of this magical rhythm."

"I believe in us, in our love story. Our future is filled with endless happiness."

"With you, even the ordinary becomes extraordinary. Every day is an adventure."

"Love is the melody that fills our hearts, creating a symphony of pure joy."

"You complete me in ways I never knew were possible. Together, we are whole."

"The world may be chaotic, but in your arms, I find peace and tranquility."

"Let's chase our dreams fearlessly, for I know that with you, anything is possible."

"Life's challenges may come our way, but our love will always light the path ahead."

"I can't help but smile when I think about our future together. It's filled with endless possibilities."

"Every time I look into your eyes, I see a reflection of our love, and it fills me with pure happiness."

"You are my greatest cheerleader, always encouraging me to reach for the stars. I'm grateful for your unwavering support."

"In this journey called life, I'm grateful to have you as my partner, my best friend, and the love of my life."

"Together, we create a world that is filled with laughter, joy, and unconditional love."

"Thank you for loving me just the way I am. Your acceptance and love bring me boundless happiness."

"Let's celebrate every milestone, big or small, with laughter, hugs, and a toast to our beautiful journey."

"With you, I've found my happy place. It's not a location but a feeling, and it's with you wherever we go."

"The greatest adventure is loving you, and I'm excited to see where our love story takes us next."

Angry:

"I refuse to be treated like this. From now on, things are going to change, whether you like it or not."

"You've underestimated me for the last time. I'm about to show you just how strong I can be."

"You think you can just get away with everything? Well, I won't let you destroy me any longer."

"You've taken advantage of my kindness for far too long. Prepare to face my wrath."

"I won't stand by and let you manipulate everyone around you. Your games end here."

"You've hurt not only me but also everyone who cared about us. I won't let you get away with it."

"You've awakened a fire within me, and I promise you, it's a fire you won't be able to extinguish."

"You've shown me your true colors, and I'm disgusted by what I see. I want nothing to do with you anymore."

"Your actions have consequences, and I'm going to make sure you pay for what you've done."

"You think I'm weak? Well, get ready to witness the strength that comes from being pushed too far."

"I'm not going to let you ruin my life any longer. I'm taking back control, starting right now."

"You've broken my heart, and now you're going to feel the weight of my anger."

"You've manipulated everyone around you, but I see through your facade. Your reign of deception ends now."

"You've caused so much pain and destruction. I won't rest until justice is served."

"You thought you could destroy me, but you've only made me stronger. Brace yourself."

"I'm done playing nice. It's time for you to face the consequences of your selfish actions."

"You've pushed me to my limit, and now you're going to see just how fierce I can be."

"You've underestimated my resilience. I won't let you break me. I'll rise above it all."

"You've shown your true colors, and I'm cutting you out of my life for good."

"You've hurt the people I love, and for that, I'll make sure you regret it."

"You've betrayed my trust, and trust me, you'll regret the day you crossed me."

"You've played your games for far too long. Now it's my turn to play, and I guarantee you won't like the outcome."

"I can't believe you betrayed me like this! After everything we've been through!"

"You think you can just walk all over me? Well, think again because I'm done being your doormat."

"You've crossed the line, and now you're going to face the consequences of your actions."

"I trusted you, and you shattered that trust into a million pieces. I'll never forgive you."

"Don't you dare try to justify your behavior. There's no excuse for what you've done."

"I'm sick and tired of your lies and deceit. It's time for me to walk away for good."

"You've pushed me too far, and now you're going to see a side of me you never wanted to witness."

"You've hurt me in ways I never thought possible. I hope you're happy with yourself."

Fear:

"The thought of losing control terrifies me. I'm afraid of the chaos that could ensue."

"I fear the consequences of my actions, of making the wrong choices. It keeps me awake at night."

"The fear of rejection stifles me. It makes me question my worth and keeps me from pursuing my dreams."

"I'm afraid of the monsters that dwell within me, the darkness that threatens to consume my soul."

"The fear of being vulnerable, of opening myself up to hurt, is overwhelming. It makes me want to retreat."

"I'm afraid of the past catching up with me, of the mistakes I've made coming back to haunt me."

"The fear of losing my loved ones keeps me up at night. I can't bear the thought of life without them."

"I'm afraid of losing myself, of not recognizing the person I've become. It fills me with terror."

"The fear of failure is like a constant weight on my shoulders. It makes me question my every move."

"I'm afraid of being forgotten, of fading into oblivion. The thought of being insignificant petrifies me."

"The fear of the supernatural, of things beyond our understanding, sends chills down my spine."

"I'm afraid of the future, of the uncertainty that lies ahead. It makes me question if I'll be able to cope."

"The fear of being judged, of not living up to others' expectations, is crippling. It stifles my true self."

"I'm afraid of losing my sanity, of the dark thoughts that haunt my mind. It's a constant battle within."

"The fear of losing control over my own life terrifies me. It feels like walking on a tightrope, one misstep away from disaster."

"I can't shake this feeling of impending doom. Something is not right."

"The darkness is closing in on me, and I feel paralyzed with fear."

"I'm terrified of what lies ahead. The unknown is haunting my every thought."

"I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I'm being watched."

"Every step I take is filled with trepidation. I'm afraid of what might be lurking in the shadows."

"My heart is racing, and my palms are sweaty. I'm consumed by a sense of dread."

"I fear that if I let my guard down, I'll be swallowed whole by the horrors that await."

"The fear of failure is suffocating me. It's paralyzing my every move."

"I'm afraid of losing everything I hold dear. The thought terrifies me to my core."

"The nightmares haunt me even when I'm awake. I can't escape the grip of fear."

"I'm afraid of being alone, of being forgotten by the world. It petrifies me."

"Every creak and whisper sends shivers down my spine. I'm on edge, afraid of what's lurking in the darkness."

"My mind is filled with irrational fears, consuming my every thought. I can't escape them."

"The fear of the unknown is paralyzing. I'm afraid of what I can't see or understand."

"I'm afraid of taking risks, of stepping outside my comfort zone. The fear holds me back."

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