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torukmaktoskxawng · 1 year

Text

'anla - part two

Series Masterlist

Summary: Life on the reef has started to change the Sully kids for the better, while a storm looms overhead. Certain teenagers are in denial of each other.

Pairing: Ao'nung/Fem!Na'vi!Sully Reader

Warnings: Mature language, teenagers acting their age, time skips, strict parents, puppy love, canon compliance, slow burn, etc.

Word Count: 5k+

Tag: #'anla ao'nung fic

Na'vi Words: nivi - hammocks, marui - homes, ilu - dolphin like creatures, tulkun - whale like creatures, tsurak - skimwings, Sänrr Rong - the Glow Tunnel, spä - jump, olo'eyktan - clan leader, sa'sem - parents, Iknimaya - Rite of Passage, tsahik - spiritual leader, tsakarem - tsahik in training, tsmukan - brother, Utraya Moktri - Metkayina Spirit Tree, kuru - braid neural queue, fpxafaw - medusa

Taglist (red indicates "could not tag"): @timotheechalametishot @ghost-lantern @shadowmoonlight0604 @melsunshine @ocd-onut @purennn @themostegotisticalgirl124 @notsochillnerd @athenachu @yhern05 @amortencjja

A/N: I tagged everyone from the comment section of the first chapter who was excited or asking for part two. I couldn't respond to them in the comment section because this is a secondary account, so if you do or don't want to be on the taglist, please let me know via ask box or dm, thank you!

read it here on ao3

(I do not consent to my works being reposted or copied)

Kiri had woken shortly after, crying, but was otherwise unharmed and showing no signs what happened had affected her. They gave her a day to recover in their home while the rest of the Sullys went about their day normally, sending Norm and Max away with heartfelt goodbyes and returning to the sea life they had started to grow accustomed to.

Lo'ak and Y/n were put in charge of plucking barnacles off the bottom of canoes for the afternoon, and the young boy takes the time to avoid silence and boredom, "So what are you doing with Ao'nung?"

Y/n doesn't react or even bother looking up from her handiwork, "What do you mean?"

"I mean when did you guys become friends?"

She looked up then, puzzled as she stared at her younger brother, "I'm confused. Weren't we trying to all be friends?"

Lo'ak paused from working for a moment, shrugging, "Well, we were trying to just earn their respect and get along, but yeah, I guess we did come out as friends."

"I guess we're full of surprises."

"But the other night, you guys were being... weird."

Y/n huffed with mirth, "Look who's talking."

"Shut up." He snarled, "Have you guys been hanging out a lot?"

"Not really. Just a few times lately."

"Is that where you were the other night? This... Arch?"

"Yeah. Ao'nung said he had something to show me."

Lo'ak's expression goes blank, "Y/n. Dad taught us to literally never follow someone just because they said they have something to show you. He called it 'stranger danger' or something like that."

She tossed a barnacle at him, "Is this coming from the boy who willingly followed Ao'nung and his friends beyond the reef?"

"... Okay. Fine. You win."

"Besides, Ao'nung didn't phrase it like that. It was a lot less creepy."

"So why didn't he invite the rest of us to the Arch?"

"You guys had already gone for the day so he just took me." Y/n then reached over to mess with Lo'ak's hair, earning an annoyed hiss and she smiles, "Don't look too closely at it, alright? We're friends now."

~~~~~~~~~

A peaceful morning where the Sullys find themselves rolling up their nivi after a night's rest is interrupted by a horn, followed by whoops and hollers of celebration coming from outside. Confused and on edge, Jake and the kids emerge from the marui, looking around as the Metkayina jump around and dive into the water, making the newcomers curious as to what was going on.

Their answer came in the form of Tsireya, astride an ilu as she waves down her people from the water below their homes, "The tulkun have returned! Everybody! Our brothers and sisters have returned!"

Y/n looked up toward the atoll walls protecting the village from less docile nature. Emerging from the tunnels and pathways were rolling waves indicating something large underneath the water. Spurts of seaspray spring out like geysers from beneath the ocean's surface. It was a large pod of whale-like creatures, massive and slow. Their descent onto the village was graceful and one that brought much joy to the Metkayina as they couldn't get in the water fast enough.

The Sully kids couldn't wait either, jumping from the walkway around their home and into the water below. They scatter, exploring the new creatures one way or another. Tsireya had grabbed Lo'ak when she spotted him and pulled him onto her ilu, swimming away to introduce him to her Spirit Sister. Jake summoned his tsurak and both he and Neytiri take off to observe the sacred animals themselves. Rotxo had come around and pulled Kiri and Tuk away too, leaving the twins to their own devices. Ao'nung was not far behind his friend, inviting Neteyam and Y/n to come along with him to find his own Spirit Brother. All three teenagers grab an ilu and take off, making a game of chase with Ao'nung in the lead.

They weave through and around the large bodies of tulkun, dodging other ilu and Na'vi while keeping close to Ao'nung the entire time. He leads them through the chaos expertly, the three teenagers swimming quickly around a particular tulkun. Kiri, Tuk, and Rotxo were hanging onto the bull's fin and gliding peacefully through the water, the tulkun likely the reef boy's Spirit Brother. Neteyam and Y/n are only able to catch a glimpse of this as they swim by, keeping close to Ao'nung's tail until he slows down in front of a particular bull. This tulkun didn't have tattoos yet, much like Ao'nung as he signed to the twins, "My Spirit Brother."

Neteyam drifts close to the creature's eye, signing, "Greetings, mighty tulkun."

"I See you, Forest Brother." The tulkun sang as his form of speaking, and luckily, having had enough lessons, Neteyam and Y/n were able to grasp the old language.

Y/n ditched her ilu and swam up next, signing effortlessly, "I See you, Great Spirit Brother of Ao'nung."

"Hello, Forest Sister. I See you."

Ao'nung's hand gestures were too fast, and the twins were unable to read them but they had no need. The signing was not for them as Ao'nung was trying to relay a season's worth of events to his Spirit Brother, more excited than either Omatikaya have ever seen him. Ao'nung was smiling softly, and brightly as he tried to tell a story only to stumble over his own way of telling it. The tulkun in front of him chimed in as his way of laughing, urging the Na'vi boy to slow down. Y/n managed to pick up some of the gestures after Ao'nung slowed, not missing the words 'Sky People', 'Forest People', and 'new friends'.

Neteyam took a break to swim up and get some air, but Y/n managed to stay underwater a little longer. She didn't want to miss a second of this adorable interaction, and somehow found herself roped in it when the tulkun turned its eye to her.

"Ao'nung tells me that you are a mighty warrior, Y/n te Suli Neytiri'ite."

"He's being nice in your presence," Y/n signed back with a grin, "I have seen war but not been a part of it. I am too young. I am a hunter at best."

Neteyam, still treading water at the surface, takes a deep breath and simply dunks his face underwater, looking back down to locate Y/n and Ao'nung. He found them below, right where he had left them with the bull tulkun. Y/n was signing to the creature, keeping herself swimming next to his eye while Ao'nung floated off to the side, watching them. Neteyam didn't miss the way Ao'nung was staring at her, yet again, when she was not looking. The reef boy's face was calm, his lips relaxing into a soft, carefree smile, never taking his eyes off the Na'vi girl.

That evening was full of celebration, music and dancing a central part of it. Bonfires lined up the beach where the village people could still be close to their ocean brothers and sisters. Late night dives through bioluminescent waves, sending scattered stars up to the sky whenever a splash was made or a tulkun jumped through the air, cascading back down into the water.

Ao'nung kept Neteyam and Y/n with him most of the evening, adamantly talking about his Spirit Brother and the stories exchanged between them. At one point, the three of them were sitting on the edge of a rock fixture, their toes in the water below as they watched the tulkun dancing around in the distance. Neteyam rolled his eyes lightheartedly at a certain part of Ao'nung's story where his mischief had got the best of him. The Omatikaya boy took a moment to glance at his sister, then looked away-- only to double-check when he saw something that intrigued him.

Y/n was watching Ao'nung with a tender expression, her smile sweet and fond as her eyes locked onto every hand gesture and every laugh Ao'nung made, who was clearly unaware of her stares throughout his story-telling. She laughed and nodded whenever she was supposed to in between tales, urging the boy on when he knew he had an avid listening audience. Neteyam smiled, too, though he was sure it wasn't for the same reasons his sister was smiling.

~~~~~~~~~

After that fateful day, Ao'nung invited Neteyam and Y/n to everything. They spent whole afternoons together, sometimes sitting around on the rocks, soaking up the sun while they exchanged stories. After hearing all of Ao'nung's tales between him and his Spirit Brother, either one or both twins would tell him stories from the forest growing up. They told him everything, from their childhood to recent events before they had left their home. Ao'nung was actually a good listener if one sat him down to do so. He nodded in acknowledgment and asked questions between appropriate breaks in the stories. Neteyam could tell how much Y/n appreciated this side of Ao'nung, the girl perking up and gladly answering whatever questions he had. At the end of the day, Neteyam couldn't recall if he ever answered any of Ao'nung's questions himself, but he didn't have the heart to care.

The three were also fond of hunting together and sometimes brought Rotxo and Lo'ak along, this time within the reef and with higher spirits. Some days they would mess around too much and wouldn't catch anything, other times they used their newfound friendship and teamwork to coordinate and bring home enough fish to feed all their families combined.

Ao'nung and Y/n decide to bring all the kids to Sänrr Rong. Tuk was the more ecstatic out of all of them, but everyone was delighted by this new place they could use as a hideout away from their parents. This time, they got a chance to cliff dive from the very top of the arch. The reef kids showed them the path up but were shocked to watch the Sully kids effortlessly climb up the rock as if they were born to do so. Even Tuk showed zero signs of exhaustion as she took a stable vine hand and scurried up it like a monkey. The Omatikaya children were clearly faster and more agile climbers than the Metkayina and therefore made it to the top before the locals even had a chance.

"We'll throw you down a vine so you can catch up," Y/n jeers as she pointedly climbed over Ao'nung.

The reef boy hissed, though it appeared to be playful as he makes a point to tug her tail as she passed him. Y/n hissed back and made sure to gently shove his big forehead with her toes as she climbed before leaping out of reach. They all eventually make it to the top of the cliff, hair whipping wildly in the unforgivable winds, then the reef kids stood over the edge, looking down at the ocean water below.

"Okay! Everyone ready?" Tsireya beamed with excitement.

"For what?" Lo'ak questioned.

"SPÄ!" Rotxo hoots to the clouds as he jumps off the ledge, straightening his legs and stiffening his posture as he falls-- falls-- falls--

SPLASH.

"Who's next?" Ao'nung grinned.

Lo'ak was closest to the edge, peering over and even squinting when he couldn't spot Rotxo all the way down there, wadding in the sea, "Has anyone died doing this?"

The reef boy laughed, "If you wanna be the first, then don't stiffen your form as Rotxo did. Flail about like a screaming baby."

"Me next!" Tuk squealed.

"NO!" All four of her siblings, including Tsireya, shout in different ranges of emotion, such as fear, amusement, and seriousness.

The little girl stomps her foot, pouting as she crossed her arms, "Then why am I even here?"

"To keep me company," Y/n cut in, tugging her baby sister's arm until the shorter girl is pressed into her side. Y/n holds her tight while carefully watching the cliff, being sure to stay close to the middle and away from all edges.

"Aw, Forest Girl, you are scared," Ao'nung laughs, clapping his hands together once in amusement, "I thought you liked to fly?"

She glares at him, sticking her nose up in the direction of the cliff's edge, "That's not flying. It's falling."

Needless to say, Y/n and Tuk didn't do any cliff diving and left that to their other siblings. Kiri went first after Tsireya offered to go with her. Holding hands, the girls jump, screaming and laughing with both delight and horror. Neteyam paced along the edge of the cliff until he watched Kiri's head rise from the water, then relaxed. Once Ao'nung dared the Sully boys to race to the bottom, they were suddenly all for it, jumping off at the same time. Ao'nung took his time and teetered over the edge, grinning when he watched how nervous Y/n shuffled, keeping Tuk close to her side. The future olo'eyktan pretended to lose his balance, earning a laugh from Little Tuk and a scowl from Y/n before Ao'nung also jumped, hitting the water with practiced ease and a laugh still bubbling in his throat.

They climbed up and jumped back down several times, each time trying to persuade Y/n to jump. She put her foot down every time, even when her twin Neteyam offered to either go with her or stay with Tuk. Still, Y/n would not give into the peer pressure and Tuk was miserable by the time they returned home, squawking to her parents while stating that no one would let her cliff dive. Jake and Neytiri exchanged looks and appeared grateful when they nod to their older children with approval.

~~~~~~~~~

The Sully kids' lessons continue as usual, the older ones now granted permission to hunt in groups outside the reef if they pleased. Once they were fluent in signing, they learned to strengthen their knowledge in communicating with the tulkun for the next time. Their knowledge was tested when Tsireya, Ao'nung, and Rotxo refused to talk to them unless they used and perfected the language through signing. When Jake and Neytiri call their children home every night, they often find them sitting silently among each other, only using hand motions to communicate.

Many times, the group of friends return to the Glow Tunnel, to have fun or to enjoy the silence. Each time they all gathered at the center of the village, ready to go back to the Arch, everyone was so eager. All except one particular day, when Lo'ak was nowhere to be found once it was time to go. His absence did not go unnoticed. While Kiri decided to bring Tuk home, the others volunteered to go look for him, and hopefully, he wasn't in trouble like last time. With their newfound hunting party privileges, they go swimming beyond the reef in search of the Omatikaya boy.

They stumble upon Lo'ak by chance, and he wasn't alone. Swimming around him was an impressive tulkun, the left side of the bull scarred and missing a fin. Payakan. Neteyam and Y/n look at each other, worried, while the reef children watch curiously. Payakan and Lo'ak swam around each other like dancers, graceful and practiced. Then, the tulkun turned, fully facing Lo'ak, and opened his mouth, jaw unhinging to reveal the dark cave within. Lo'ak willingly swam in, and Payakan closed his mouth behind him. The twins went to scurry out of hiding as they watched this happen, but both Tsireya and Ao'nung stop them while Rotxo looked on, amazed.

Tsireya went on to further explain that Payakan had chosen Lo'ak to form tsaheylu, and while she appeared proud and excited at the idea, Ao'nung and Rotxo exchanged uncertain glances. Y/n had noticed this exchange, reaching out and grabbing Ao'nung's shoulder, forcing him to look back at her. When the reef boy met her curious gaze, she made movements in the water with her hands, "What is wrong?"

Ao'nung shakes his head and signs back, "Sa'sem will not be pleased."

They definitely were not. Once Lo'ak returned home with the other teenagers, word spread fast and reached Tonowari's ears. Together, he and Ronal round up the teens and brought them to their marui to have a stern lecture, berating the Metkayina children for allowing Lo'ak to bond with the tulkun outcast. It didn't go well as Lo'ak was adamant about Payakan being misunderstood and how he wasn't a killer, even by the Tulkun Way. Jake Sully refused to let his son explain and took him away to straighten him out, but the damage had already been done. Neytiri gathered the twins and followed the father and troubled son home.

They hadn't gone to the communal meal that night, instead, they ate together at home, as a family. Jake was certain that the Metkayina would only receive Lo'ak coldly should they turn up there now, so he suggested that they wait until things cooled down before returning to the village dinners. The Sullys' absence was missed that night, mostly by the children who had slowly become their friends.

Y/n was distressed when her family stayed close to their home the next morning, her father ordering the children to stay near and don't go further beyond the walkways of the village. It felt like a prison sentence to be stuck in one place when it was such a beautiful day out. Neytiri promised her children that they can move on with their lives tomorrow once Jake had calmed down and she spoke to him, but for now, "Listen to your father."

"I see that if one sibling gets punished, we all get punished now," Y/n snarled to Neteyam when she found a moment alone with her twin. Neytiri took Jake hunting with her so that they may talk, while the twins were ordered to look after their younger siblings for the night. Lo'ak and the girls went to sleep not long after their parents had gone, but the oldest son and daughter remained wide awake, talking quietly to one another just outside the marui.

Neteyam exhaled air through his nose, squinting at the dark ink of water in the distance, absently swinging one leg off the side of the walkway, "You don't mean that."

"No?"

"You're just saying that because you've been stuck here with all of us today, unable to go anywhere."

He turned and clocked the snarl on her nearly identical face, her eyebrow hairs furrowing together while she looked away, rocking herself by her heels, "I hate it."

Neteyam smiled fondly, "I know you do. You always hated small spaces. I can see why you like this place better than home."

A pregnant pause hangs in the air over the twins, the only sounds around them being the water and the village, still stirring with life as things begin to settle down. Y/n doesn't look back at Neteyam, sitting on his words for a moment until she slowly turns back, expression blank and immovable, "I don't like this place better than home. I miss home."

"Of course you do. Doesn't change the fact that you're far more free here than you were back there. You've adjusted well here, even if Dad doesn't see it," Neteyam leans over and pats his sister's knee, "He doesn't see how fast you caught onto the Metkayina ways, he just sees all the times we screwed up."

Her ears flatten as she glares at him through her eyelids, unimpressed, "You mean how Lo'ak screwed up."

"We, Y/n. We."

She rolls her sharp, yellow eyes, "If anything, Dad should be proud of him. Bonding with a tulkun is a young Metkayina's first step to their Iknimaya."

"And only you would know that because you've gotten so accustomed here."

She winced, batting his hand from her knee, "You can't talk like this when one day we're just gonna be heading home again. Stop it now. Talk less about how much we like this place and it might hurt less when we eventually leave."

"Do you want to leave?" He cocks his head, eyes scanning her face for an answer.

"... I want to see the forest again."

"That's not what I asked."

"... Do you?"

"Yes."

Y/n's eyes squint, confused, "Why?"

"I have nothing here."

"You have us. You have our friends."

"Yes, but that's all," Neteyam looks around and Y/n follows his gaze, "You have the ocean, the plant life, the sea life. The ilu, the Sänrr Rong-- everything. You love everything about this place. I only love the people. Don't get me wrong. It's a beautiful paradise and I loved experiencing every part of it... but I want to go home. I felt more at peace there."

"At peace?" The twin girl scowled, "We were at war, 'Teyam."

"Yes." She doesn't miss the way his eyes darken a shade, expression hardening into stone as he glares back out to the sea, "But war is what I was trained for."

The silence is chilling this time, Y/n's heart dropping to her stomach as guilt runs through her veins. Even as twins, Neteyam was still the older brother. He and Y/n might have been conceived during a war, but Neteyam had been bred for it, whether or not their parents realized this. Before Kiri was in the picture and before either she or Y/n had their own voices, Y/n was the one expected to be the next tsahik. With Little Y/n learning the Will of Eywa from her grandmother, Neteyam was learning to be the next olo'eyktan. He had to learn to be strong quick, to hunt quick, to think quick. Even when Y/n finally put her foot down and passed the torch of tsakarem to Kiri, she couldn't catch up to all Neteyam had already learned. She wasn't able to share that burden with her twin, and that guilt hung heavy in her heart.

"... That's not a good thing, tsmukan." She spoke gently, even her whisper sounding like a drum in the silence, "There's more to life than fighting."

"I know," Neteyam's posture shrinks, defeated, his smile not quite reaching his eyes when he glances back to Y/n, "But I haven't found what that 'more' is yet. Not for me at least... You did."

"I did?" She tilts her head curiously.

A glint sparkles in Neteyam's eye, like he knew a secret that not even his twin knew. His tail swings behind him with interest, teasing when he nudged her leg with his shoulder, "Ao'nung is good for you. And you're good for him."

He caught the flash in her eye. The flash of understanding behind the meaning of his words. The flash is there one moment and then gone the next. Y/n shifts uncomfortably in her sitting posture and nods, "He's a good friend."

"He is." Neteyam chuckles, "For me. For Lo'ak, and Kiri, and Tuk. But not for you. For you, he's 'more.'"

Quiet surrounds them once again, Y/n glaring down at her feet as if she had been caught stealing treats from Norm. She looked ashamed and belittled, likely wishing her own brother didn't know everything about her even before she knew those things herself. She swallows down whatever emotion came to mind before she looked up, stubbornly staring Neteyam down,

"I don't need 'more'. I just need this. This family is all I need."

~~~~~~~~~

The Sully family had been tense ever since Lo'ak bonded with Payakan, speaking few and far in between words to one another if found in the same space. It wasn't much significance to them whether or not Lo'ak had bonded with the outcast, but to Jake, it was all about principle. Whether or not the family was proud or disappointed in Lo'ak's accomplishment had not been said, but something heavy was floating in the air, like the calm before the storm. The idea of war was still fresh at the very back of their minds, ever looming like a vulture, waiting to strike. Something had changed the other night, shifting into place, deciding the Sullys' fates. Although, no one knew what kind of fate, and that unsettled them.

Unlike the rest of her family, however, Y/n wanted to do something about it. She started by finding the one person she knew would help her, "Take me to the Cove of the Ancestors."

Ao'nung looked up from sharpening his spear, ears immediately rising to the sound of her voice. He tilts his head and forms a closed-mouth smile, though his eyes squint in confusion, trying to solve whatever puzzle he found on Y/n's face, "Why?"

"Because you said you would take me there," Y/n quipped back, taking the spear out of his hands and backing away, "I'm cashing in the offer."

"What is 'cashing?'" He stood up, following her with his arm out, only half-heartedly trying to take the spear back from the Omatikaya girl.

When she purposely kept the weapon out of his reach, Ao'nung smirked, taking a huge step forward so he could stare smugly down at her with their subtle height difference. They were close, close enough to share the same air, and despite Neteyam's words playing back in her head, despite the shame and guilt in her gut, Y/n stomped it down and stood strong.

"It means I want you to stand behind your word." She matches his grin with one of her own, ignoring the heat threatening to rise up to her face as she purposely kept eye contact, "You promised to take me to the Cove. I want you to keep your promise."

She stepped away then, never taking her eyes off him until she fully turned back in the direction she came, walking away with the spear still in hand. She could feel his eyes on her, a thrill running up her spine at the mental image of it. An even bigger thrill, the one led by a horn of victory in her head, went through her whole body when she heard Ao'nung dutifully following her without complaint and without question.

They summoned nearby ilu and fled without another word. They dive down deep into the water and only resurfaced when they had left the sea wall and village behind. Once Y/n inhaled the crisp air, she tosses the spear back to Ao'nung, who effortlessly caught it with a grin of excitement and promise, "Follow me."

~~~~~~~~~

A feeling of familiarity took hold of Y/n when she emerged from the water and looked up to find floating islands all around her. An instant smile graces her face, looking around at all the floating rocks, surrounding a wide circle of water at the center of spectacularly arched rocks easily identifying this sacred place. It wasn't entirely like the Hallelujah Mountains. These floating islands were smaller and floated horizontally, like large stepping stones leading up to the heavens above.

Ao'nung emerged and looked around, unimpressed, "This is it."

"It's beautiful."

He shrugged, "It's not much."

"To you, maybe," she grinned while pointing up at the floating rocks, "To me, I see the potential of kicking your ass climbing up those islands."

He laughed, "Careful what you wish for, Forest Girl."

"Is the Tree on one of those islands?"

"Nope." He smiles slyly, "I'll give you another guess though."

She flashed an odd look before looking around, finally staring down below, into the water. Ao'nung dismounted from his ilu and drifted over to Y/n, "Remember, I'm just acting as your diving partner today. We always have to pair up here. One has to watch over and monitor the other while they connect to our ancestors. Got it?" She nods. "Let's go."

The Na'vi girl sinks into the water with him and they submerge after she takes a deep breath. They swim down, side by side, as they approach the large, underwater Spirit Tree. Instead of limbs hanging down like Y/n was used to, this tree's arms reached up, flowing in the water like an overlarge, glowing anemone. Y/n reaches out and gently touches one of the luminous, graceful fronds, smiling to herself when it tickled her palm to greet her.

Ao'nung chirps low in his throat, like a baby crocodile, to grab Y/n's attention. When she turned her head in his direction, he moves his hands about, "The Tree is called Utraya Mokri. It gives breath when the kuru is connected."

Y/n nods in understanding, reaching behind and taking her braid in hand. She gently offers the tendrils to reach out and curl into the ones belonging to the Tree and closed her eyes.

Ao'nung dutifully keeps watch while Y/n connects with his ancestors. The Tree glows and looms beautifully over him, but he's not paying attention. He's seen the Tree hundreds of times and while it is beautiful, it's nothing new. Y/n, on the other hand, is new, and his attention would rather fixate on her than the Tree he's grown bored of over his young life. Her braided hair floats around her like fpxafaw, and her tail, usually dormant, twitches occasionally in response to the bond. Her fingers, all five of them, still delicately hold her braid to the Tree's fronds. Her hands weren't as strange as Ao'nung initially thought. In many ways, he reasoned the extra finger was good for some things-- like the punch Lo'ak fooled him into taking. If nothing else, an extra finger just means more to hold.

Y/n's body jolts and Ao'nung is torn from his traitorous thoughts. He swims forward and wraps his whole hand around her arm and then her kuru lets go of the Tree. Y/n's eyes flutter, still closed, a little dazed and overwhelmed from the whole experience as expected. With Ao'nung's support, she's brought back up to the surface and she slowly remembers to breathe again, now that she didn't have the Spirit Tree to aid her. The two young Na'vi stay there, treading water as Y/n catches her breath, and once her head is no longer foggy, her eyes appeared saddened, an expression that irritated Ao'nung for some reason.

"Not what you were expecting?" He asked light-heartedly.

"It's just..." she shook her head, bottom lip pouting with her eyes lowered, the water reaching up to kiss her chin, "I was hoping for answers."

He didn't ask, but maybe he should have. It's something that would continue to gnaw at him as the rain clouds float overhead. It would gnaw at him as he expressed on returning home before the storm, it would gnaw at him as their swim back resulted in silence and pouring rain. It would continue to gnaw at him as they approached the village, his ears rising to attention when the horn sounds, his blood cooling in fear and worry.

"Find your family."

"Why?" Y/n asked as her ears lowered in concern, loose hairs plastered to her forehead, "What's wrong?"

"It's a war cry. My father has called for a war meeting."

A/N: Not sure when 'part three' will be out, but it'll likely be longer than normal. Thank you so much for all the support and love I have seen from my very first Avatar work! It motivates me to continue doing what I love!

part three

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ruskaroma · 1 year

Text

ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 1: written in blood.

Warnings: this series will include highly disturbing/dark topics such as stalking, unhealthy obsession, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, manipulation, gaslighting, large age gap, emotional/psychological abuse, dom/sub undertones, bad BDSM etiquette, etc.

this is a dark fic, written in john's pov and a glimpse of how his mind works. if you still continue to read and get triggered, that is not my responsibility.

Summary: John finds himself a new obsession.

Author's note: this is my first ever fanfic for this fandom and i am beyond excited to share this with you guys! though i must say before you begin, english is not my first language and there might be a few errors in my writing here and there, so i apologize in advance.

but either way, i still hope you enjoy this piece, and i can assure you that once i finish writing this series there will be more to come! i really enjoy writing john wick be a merciless bastard who kills everything that breathes, and i hope you enjoy it too as much as i did.

please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think in the comment and reblogs and likes would be so appreciated. it motivates me to write even more :)

(also this is not edited so all mistakes are on me and i apologize)

Word count: 8.1k

also read on ao3.

It’s one of those days again.

The sound of his watch ticking is the only thing keeping his car from being too quiet. His eyes watch every single movement of his target, never leaving his sight. It won’t be too long for John to finally strike, he just doesn’t want too many civilians seeing the horror that’s about to happen right before their very eyes.

His mind is thinking of many things he could do with this target in particular. A lowlife thug that got himself involved with a very dangerous Italian mob, but then again that’s not the reason why John’s murderous intent is at its peak at the moment.

He’s angry at something, he just doesn’t know what. And this target of his isn’t helping his situation at all. Reading his criminal record made John think this could be a chance to cure his boredom. This man is not only a sex trafficker, but also a pedophile who has a history of targeting teenagers to rape and sell to the black market that’s as fucked up as him.

He doesn’t normally take his time thinking of ways to kill his targets. He points, shoots, leaves. This one in particular though, got him facing a side of him that John himself doesn’t want to face.

He would start by breaking every single one of the man’s fingers. And if that doesn’t do any justice, he’ll cut them off.

One by one, let the man savor the feeling, let John relish the nightmare.

He could slit the man’s throat, watch as life drains away from his body, watch as the man clings to his legs for mercy. John could even pull out the man’s dick, step on it, fucking cut it off and shove it so far down his own throat that he couldn’t scream for help if he tried.

It’s John’s version of Colombian Necktie. A classic, only ever tried it out four times, hopefully this would be the fifth.

John is never the one to take pleasure in killing people, but these past few months have proved him otherwise.

Maybe it’s because of Helen’s death, and the way he was basically forced to sculpt the demons he buried back into himself. His only remaining bit of humanity was taken from him, and he’s coping in the most unhealthy way possible. Perhaps Winston was right about dipping his pinky a little too much into the pond, but it was inevitable.

John has gone back to his old ways. Taking contracts here and there to distract himself from the void in his heart. He remembers how burying a knife into someone’s throat for the first time in many years has ignited something in him he didn’t even know he had.

That’s why he’s here, exiting his car in a swift move, following his target as quietly as possible into a narrow alleyway that stinks of garbage in piss. This would be a nice place to kill a guy like him – right where he belongs.

John’s movements are so discreet the man couldn’t even sense him until John wrapped his right arm around his neck and his other hand went to cover the man’s mouth. He walks them both to the back of a building as the man struggles, where John’s sure no more people are present, and he kicks him on the jaw to stop the man from making any more noises.

John can make this quick. Pull out his gun and blow his brains out. But there’s that sinister glint in his mind that’s telling him to do something unimaginable – grotesque even – a death a man like him deserves.

The man tries to swing his arm at John but misses pathetically. The poor guy’s already shaking and John hasn’t even begun.

John doesn’t respond to the pitiful attempts of questioning who he is and who sent him here, he simply pulls his knife from his pocket and wastes no time slashing it against the man’s throat, the blood spraying all over his face. The man tries to stop it by shakily covering the deep cut with his hand, but it’s useless.

He’s gargling, choking on his own blood, and John’s watching it all unravel with a familiar glint in his eyes.

John is contemplating if he should follow the plan he made in his head or just leave it like this. Somehow, the sight looks rather incomplete to him. He knows what he’s done is not enough, but that could be just the rage talking. The man’s already dead, and surely cutting off his dick and shoving it so far down his throat it comes out of the wound would leave an ugly reputation on his name.

Would that be a good thing? John is already feared enough, would it be a good thing to make people fear him even more? But then again, this won’t be the first time he’s done it. Doing it again one more time wouldn’t make any difference.

He glances down at the dead body on his feet before he kneels down to do the unforgivable.

Slicing off a man’s cock is easy. Too easy. John’s knife is perfectly sharpened and stoned, he merely uses any strength to cut it off. The sight is so fucking ugly, too much blood, but nothing he can’t handle.

Once that’s done, John uses his other hand to force the dead man’s jaw open, immediately greeted by the foul stench of blood as he shoves the unpleasant dick into the man’s open mouth. The genitalia is definitely not long enough to reach the throat, but that won’t be any problem for John.

He grits his teeth as he forces his hand in there, not bothering to care even if the jaw breaks and the hole becomes even wider, his goal is the only thing in his mind.

The blood continues to drip and he has never been so grateful for wearing an all black uniform for this occasion. Soon enough, after a few minutes of such a brutal wrongdoing, John sees the tip of the cock reaching the deep wound on the man’s throat as it continues to peak its way out.

A sick, small smile spreads across John’s face. The smile is barely there, but he’s fucking enjoying this more than he’d like to admit. He can only imagine how the news would spread across the assassin underworld like a wildfire.

The Boogeyman’s back in business and he’s scarier than ever.

Perhaps this might be the way to lay his point across. This is a way to show them that it was not a good idea pissing him off, killing what’s his, and bringing him back in business. They’d regret it, but it would be already too late for that.

John uses his other hand to pull the cock right out of the man’s throat but not completely. Half of it is hanging out and John thinks he could even consider this as a masterpiece. There’d be flies and maggots that would make the scenery better, but the cleaning service is there for a reason. He can’t just not use it.

John stands up from his position, pocketing his knife back into his pocket before retrieving his phone with the other. He dials a number, waits for them to pick up, all while admiring his work on the ground.

His previous contracts these past few months all ended in such an unimaginable, ugly way. He figured that by showing them that he’s capable of such brutality, it would increase the numbers of people calling him in for more jobs, because this is exactly what they wanted. They wanted Baba Yaga, the ruthless killer of the underworld who stops at nothing to finish his job, and he’s simply giving it to them.

Someone picks up the call and he straightens his posture, checking the time on his watch before speaking.

“This is Wick. John Wick, yes. I would like to make a dinner reservation for one.”

The news spread faster than anticipated.

The notorious man John Wick, the hot topic of the criminal underworld at the moment, even gained the attention of The High Table, and it all happened in the span of one day. That’s how quick the news spread amongst his fellow assassins, though that’s exactly what he was going for.

John expected it so he isn’t surprised when he receives a call from Charon saying Winston wants to meet him.

He inserts a coin in the door and the small window opened briefly. The guy on the other side immediately recognized him, not wasting a single moment to open the door and let the man of the hour in. All eyes are on him the moment he steps into the club, but no one dared to murmur anything to anybody – not when the man himself is here.

They know better.

John spots Winston at his usual spot drinking his usual order, signaling John to sit beside him where a glass of bourbon is already present.

“Jonathan,” Winston greets, raising his glass. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“I figured,” John replies, though not interested. He slides himself to the booth and takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t understand why though.”

“Are we really playing this game, Jonathan?” The manager raises a brow.

“I was just doing my job.”

“In a way you don’t normally do,” Winston then adds. “Or should I say, in a way you don’t even do.”

John gives him a look, but he could tell Winston doesn’t know how to interpret it. His face remains emotionless, not letting the mask slip and grant Winston the privilege to take a peak. John will continue to play this game until he’s satisfied, until he feels something again. Surely he’ll find what he’s looking for while doing the only thing he’s ever good at – slaughtering.

“Let’s just say I was trying out a new technique,” John says, voice deep and almost sinister. Winston’s scared, though he doesn’t show it, John knows.

“I have known you ever since you started, Jonathan. Not once did it cross my mind you would do something so.. horrifying as this. You discarded the body like he was some sort of pig, so believe me when I say I couldn’t believe it at first.”

John has no idea why Winston’s whining about him being horrifying, when that’s all they’ve been saying about him ever since he joined. He didn’t gain this reputation for no reason, now he’s just simply showing them what more he’s capable of.

“You should’ve seen his record.” His tone is menacing, swirling the drink in his hand as he stares deeply at Winston’s eyes. “He’s worse than a pig.”

The drop of the curse word takes Winston by surprise. “So is that what it is, then? You killed him that way because you think he deserved it?”

“Not really,” John simply sighs, leaning back on the leather seat as he takes another sip of his bourbon. He really isn’t planning on staying longer, but Winston seems to be taking his sweet time asking him a bunch of stupid questions. “I couldn’t care less of what he’s done. I was simply… bored. Saying that I did that because I think he deserved it gives people a reason to think that what I did was justifiable.”

The look on Winston’s face says enough. He’s afraid of John, afraid of what he has become. Hearing John say he did such an unforgiving thing just because he was bored is beyond frightening. No man has ever inflicted so much fear on him before – at least not until John.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” Winston finally says, not wanting to hear any more disturbing thoughts of John, but he remains polite and calm for the sake of their friendship. “You have a good night, Jonathan.”

John gives him a nod, standing up from his seat and downing his drink in one go. “Goodnight, Winston.”

He exits the club with an eerie aura following behind him, not caring about the way people are looking at him like he’s got Death himself walking beside him.

It makes him wonder that maybe death doesn’t follow him after all.

Maybe it is him.

Someone offered him five million to fuck up a man who allegedly stole a fuck ton of kilograms of cocaine from their warehouse, and really, who is John to decline the offer?

Hunting the man is easy. It didn’t even take a day to locate where the man lives, and John’s already breaking into his apartment to shoot the guy and leave. There’s no point in rummaging the place for the cocaine, all of it is already up the man’s system by the looks of it, and killing him is John’s job.

John wants to finish this one fast, he’s got other business to attend to. As he backs up the frightened, pathetic excuse for a man against the wall, he takes his gun out of his holster and aims directly at the head, right between the eyes, and he watches in great pleasure as the residue of his brains splatter against the walls and the floor.

This man didn’t even put up a fight. John thinks this is a waste of time.

He exits the apartment with disappointment heavy on his shoulders, slamming the door shut. Although the gun he used has a silencer, the rooms are too close to each other. He’s sure there might be other people who heard the shot of his firearm.

The apartment building is located at the filthy side of New York, where most known drug dealers and junkies do their nasty deals. It’s no surprise that as soon as John steps a foot out of the worn out building, all eyes are on him, but mainly on the clothes he’s wearing. They’re planning on mugging him out, and John would like to see them try.

Just as he’s about to walk to his car, his phone rings abruptly in his chest pocket. He retrieves it in one swift motion, not noticing that a gold coin fell out as he does so, and he continues walking to not waste any more time.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir, you dropped something!” John hears from behind. He doesn’t bother looking.

The call isn’t nearly as important as the business he needs to attend to, so he hangs up the call and pushes his phone back into his pocket. As soon as he does that, he feels a small hand touching his shoulder.

John’s hand immediately flies to wrap his large hand around the person’s wrist, turning around to see a young woman with a bewildered expression on her pretty face, little fingers holding his golden coin that looks far too big on her hand.

She looks scared, terrified, and oh how fucking awful that makes John feel. Like he’s been punched right in the fucking gut. He’s enthralled.

“I wasn’t–you dropped it and I’m just giving it to you, I promise!”

She’s looking at John with big, doe eyes. She also looks freshly showered, wrapped in a black puffy jacket that makes her even smaller than she already is. John lets his eyes linger on her lips, so plump and glossy. Her voice sounds sweet, soft, something John isn’t used to hearing.

John can’t help but to stare.

“Are you–are you gonna let me go, mister?”

The way she stutters triggers a hot feeling in John’s guts, and can’t help but to rub his thumb on the girl’s dainty wrist before slowly letting her go.

So delicate, he could snap them in half.

“Sorry,” John apologizes, taking the coin from her hold, and his fingers itch at the way her skin feels so soft against his rough hands. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles a little, and there goes that hot curl in John’s stomach once again. “That thing looks expensive so be careful next time.”

Just like that, John doesn’t get the chance to reply back. She makes her leave and patters away from him, and he watches. He watches until she’s out of the view, taking a turn to a corner, leaving John with something he can’t quite figure out yet, but he soon will be.

For the first time in a while, he feels something new.

Suddenly, everything is too good to be true.

John will find himself staring at his hands for too long, still feeling the ghost of her soft skin on his fingers, fantasizing about her pretty face and soft, plump lips.

It’s scary for him to feel something again because that only means destruction. John likes to believe he has a gift of ruining everything he touches, especially the pure ones – like her. It’s a proven statement. Just look at Helen and Daisy.

This little one won’t be any different, he’s sure of it. John’s whole body is heating up everytime he thinks about her. The look on her face when she saw John’s chilling expression, her wide eyes, so glossy and innocent.

John wants to see her again.

His fingers itch, yearning to touch her again.

Why he’s suddenly interested in a young woman he just met a few days ago, he has no idea. John’s a bit confusing – fucked up, even. He long accepted the fact that his mind is nowhere near healthy years ago. He tried to push those thoughts away when he met Helen, but now he’s out of his shell and back in business, there’s no need to.

He’s always been one of the wolves, and now that he’s laid his eyes on his next meal, he will make sure there’s not a single thing that will get in his way to hunt her down.

He had a crisis for two days before doing the unexpected. It didn’t take long for John to find her.

Now, John has been following her around for a week, and he noticed a certain pattern his little one likes to follow as she goes on her day.

The very place where they met is where she lives, surrounded by a bunch of goons who have no idea what to do with their lives. John begins to wonder why she’s living in a place like that. He could take her, put her somewhere safe, under his care and protection. Make sure no one will dare to lay a finger on her.

John knows where she works. At a veterinary clinic not too far from her apartment, which is why she walks to work every three in the afternoon, but not without stopping by in her favorite deli and getting a large order of her favorite sandwich. She’s a part-timer. She’d be at school from seven to twelve, and at work from three to eight.

John finds the little things she does amusing. He’d be seated in a cafe right across from her work, watching how she moves around her office through a big window, petting and cooing at the animals who come and go.

She’s so perfect, so pure, so naive. She has no idea that a monster is lurking ten feet away from her, watching her every move like a hawk, thinking about the ways he could destroy her, make her his.

John is not delusional. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing and he’s aware of what people might call him.

Stalker.

Creep.

They don’t know him though. They don’t know why he acts this way. They’d do the same if they were him, that’s for sure. He’s not the bad guy here, he’s simply just protecting her little one, even from afar. John went as far as destroying a whole Russian Bratva for a mere puppy and a car, he’d do even worse if she’s somehow taken away from him.

John sees her exiting the building and his first thought is to follow her. He stands up from his seat, the cup of coffee long forgotten as he makes his way out of the café and keeps a safe distance between the two of them. It’s risky, especially in the broad daylight, but John knows she’s too oblivious to notice.

She’s with her friends this time, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by John how she clings at the shirt of her co-worker as they cross the street, small hands fisting at the fabric. He thinks about how he won’t ever let go of her hand once she’s his. He’s not big on physical affection, having to grow up with no parents and a rather strict orphanage, but maybe he could be gentle. Engulf her hand in his, stroke it with his thumb, tuck her hair behind her ears, show everyone that she’s already owned.

They wouldn’t dare to lay their hands on her again.

John walks in the middle of the sidewalk, not bothering to move away despite seeing people approaching. He doesn’t need to, the look in his face is enough for people to give him the way. It’s interrupted however, when someone does try to get in his way, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back a little.

John clenches his jaw, pissed. He takes his eyes from his little one and on the person who so rudely interrupted what he’s doing – it’s Marcus.

“John? I was just looking for you at the Continental.” Marcus has a small smile on his face, clearly not aware of John’s expression.

His eyes dart behind Marcus, where his little one is supposed to be, but she’s gone. John feels something curl in his stomach, his fingers itching again, eyes rapidly searching for her in the sea of people.

He looks at Marcus again, deciding he’ll just find her later, but he worries that something might happen to her now that John’s attention isn’t on her.

“Why?” he almost snaps, voice deep and laced with no emotion.

“Why? Because it’s been quite some time, John. I haven’t heard from you since the Iosef situation, but I did hear you’re back in business,” Marcus replies, but when he sees how distracted John looks, his voice falters. “You working?”

“Yeah.” The lie comes off smoothly. “I’ll see you around.”

John taps Marcus’ shoulder, trying to sound as polite as possible even though he badly wants to break a couple of his teeth for taking his attention away from her. He knows Marcus is probably noticing something, but John’s never the one to care.

Marcus drops the subject. “Alright, John. I’ll see you around.”

With that, John disappears in the crowd with no looking back.

It’s been awhile since John last took a job.

He can’t seem to take his eyes away from his little one. He can’t stop fucking stalking her from morning to night time.

John’s afraid that once he takes his attention from her even for a second, something bad might happen to her. It’s engraved in his mind that she can’t protect herself and he’s solely there to be the protector.

No one would understand. He’s doing this for her own good.

John’s absence at the Continental doesn’t go unnoticed by Winston and Charon. They’re his favorite, after all. Watch his every move carefully ever since that ugly murder John did. Perhaps he could make his next kill even uglier. To them, it’s vile and grotesque. For John, it’s special and unique.

This time, it took a good self-beating before John decided to take a contract. Three million to hunt down a rival crime lord, nothing he can’t handle, but somehow it brings an unusual feeling on his shoulder he isn’t fond of. Perhaps because John’s leaving his little one for a while and he isn’t quite sure what to feel. Worried and pissed – but mostly worried.

That is why he hired someone to trail his little one on his behalf. Everyone in business would do anything for a coin despite how fucked up disturbing it is. John offered a generous amount of coins to keep the assassin’s mouth shut, but he also held him at gunpoint and gave him a good talk before he sent the dog out in the field.

His only job is to keep an eye on her, report everything he’ll see to John, and maybe even take pictures for safety purposes.

John has been overseas in the last three days, and everything that’s been sent to him has been his only form of entertainment. There’s videos of her giggling with her friends, videos and photos of her in the library, outside her school, her work, and even in her apartment. There’s also information sent to him about the background of her friends – every single one of them, because John didn’t pay so much for nothing.

There’s one particular friend that ticks off John in all the worst way possible. He’s young, around her age, and the way he hugs and touches her just fucking sets him off. John wants to break his fingers in half. He reminds himself that once he’s home, he’ll make sure to take care of that boy himself.

“What else have you got?” John questions through the phone, and it doesn’t take long for his precious dog to respond.

“Oh, he is one creepy motherfucker. I’m starting to understand why you’re so riled up with this guy, boss. The urge to strangle him every time he gets in the picture gets stronger and stronger everyday.” He hears a laugh at the other end. The guy that’s working for him – Alex, if he remembers correctly – is young, new in business, knows not to fuck with John so he keeps his job adequate. If Alex ever notice how fucked up John is for making him follow a young woman to keep his life in order, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Just tell me when I can shoot this guy and I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Leave him. Keep an eye on him, but don’t kill him,” John advises, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll handle him myself when I get back. For the meantime, focus on Y/N and keep any troubles out of her way. Fail that task and I’d serve your head hot on a platter.”

“You got it, boss.”

John is playing nicely.

He’s not going to force his way into her life. He’s gonna be welcomed, with open arms, desired.

There are times he’d thought about giving in to his desperation and act with his dick instead of his head. There are times he’d thought about following her to a dark street, where no one’s around, he’s on the prowl and ready to pounce. He’d put a fabric against her mouth and nose, laced with enough chemicals to make her pass out and for him to carry her in his car with no problems whatsoever. John thinks about how he’d make it look like he’s just picking up his very drunk and passed out girlfriend and no one would know a goddamn thing.

John would keep her in his house where she won’t need anything but him.

But of course, he’s not that cruel.

They’re only thoughts. Thoughts that he tries hard to keep away, but at the end of the day he reminds himself that he’s better than that.

John is not going to force his way into her life.

He’ll make sure to get her addicted enough to come crawling at his feet herself. She’ll be dependent on him, won’t be able to live without him. John will make sure his plan will go out smoothly or otherwise he’ll be the one bringing Hell with him on this land and seek as much havoc as he possibly can.

The death emissary himself will strike tonight.

A Friday night out with her friends has John on high alert. That’ll only mean she’s constantly surrounded with people, god knows what could happen if John even takes his eyes off her for a second. He lurks on the side, blending himself with the crowd as much as he can all while keeping his gaze on her.

He doesn’t need any drugs to keep his mind insane, because the sight of a specific man getting very close to what’s his is enough to make him visualize all the ugly and twisted ways to kill a man.

She’s wearing a thin silky dress that’s low on her cleavage and shows her perky breasts. She’s currently the flame in a room full of moths, John included. Everyone’s eyes are on her, observing the way she sways her hips and sings along to the loud music – John’s fingers itch.

The itch to kill is back again, driving into his veins, his hands twitch on the table. John wants to pull out his gun and shoot everyone in this fucking room. He wants to stab them in the eyes one by one and make them feed it to themselves. He wants to grab this guy on the neck and slam his head against the wall repeatedly until his brain scatter all over the fucking place and there’s nothing left for him to ruin.

This guy is getting on his fucking nerves.

John watches as the man smoothly brings his arm on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear that doesn’t make her look so impressed. In fact, she looks disturbed, uncomfortable, tense. Despite the guy being her friend, John could tell she doesn’t feel comfortable with the way he’s showing her affection.

It’s hard to see her like this, but he knows he can’t just jump in between the two of them and beat the shit out of the guy until he chokes on his own blood. He’ll have to wait, maybe after this party, he’ll strike and discard the body in a way that’ll make even Winston spook in his sleep. It’s not a major offense to kill a man that’s not in the game anyway – or at least that’s what John tells himself.

This guy wouldn’t be able to be three feet near his little one once John’s done with him. He’ll be six feet under.

John sees her swiftly moving away from his touch, trying to make her rejection look as polite as possible, which receives a not-so-amused reaction from her little friend.

This guy doesn’t deserve her at all. No one does. Except maybe John, but that’s because he knows he’s capable of actually taking care of her and keeping her safe. Nobody would understand what he feels, what he yearns, what he wants.

Good girl, John thinks. Walk away.

His gaze follow her as she makes her way to the backdoor and out to the cold air of the city. John follows in a hurry, keeping a safe distance between the two of them, then opens the door as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t let his presence known.

There are a few people on the street, either having a smoke break or making out against the piss stained wall, but she stays just beside the busy road as she wraps her arms around herself.

His gaze burn daggers on her exposed back, the urge to cover her up with his jacket and take her home. A drunk man comes stumbling out of the club, accidentally tripping over his steps and he pushes her hard enough to make her yelp as her heels lose balance and almost making herself get run over by a passing truck.

Almost.

Everything happens so fast. One moment John is standing five feet from her, the next is he’s grasping her wrists in his hand and pulling her back to her feet and dragging her back to the curb. He was already on the act once he saw the man exiting the club, he knew exactly this would happen.

The scene looks strangely familiar, one John could never forget. The same position, same hand placement, same rough fingers around her wrist and dark eyes boring into hers – their very first meeting.

“You!” she gasps, not caring about the fact that she almost just got hit by a fucking truck. “I know you! You’re the guy outside my apartment that day! What are you doing here?”

John stares. Predictable. Of course she’s talking to him like they’ve known each other for years. She’s too friendly.

“Hello to you too,” John replies, though his tone is blank as well as his face. “You remember me.”

“‘Course I do,” she giggles, a little tipsy, pupils dilated and licking her lips nervously. “You’re pretty hard to forget. I remember asking my neighbors around the area if you’re new there, turns out you were just visiting.”

John furrows his brows, hand still not letting go of her wrist. What does she mean by she’s asked around the area about him?

His face must’ve looked confused, he sees her grinning childishly. “It’s a coincidence that I see you again!”

Not a coincidence, but fate.

John doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in fate. Fate brought him Helen, and now fate is bringing him another angel. If she really went as far as asking the neighborhood about his existence, then it must be fate.

“I’m Y/N. I figured if we keep bumping into each other then you should at least know my name,” she says, completely oblivious that John already knows everything that has to be known about her. From her little mannerisms to the last name of her fucking grandmother. “May I know yours or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“It’s John,” he gulps, not wanting to look like a loser in front of her, not after everything he went through for her. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

He sucks at this. He fucking sucks at this.

“You haven’t answered my question, by the way. What brings you here?”

It hangs in the air, John lets go of her wrist. Luckily, he thinks fast enough and says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Work.”

“Ah, work,” she nods. “You work here? In the club? What are you, a bouncer or something?”

“I don’t. Someone I work with is in the club.” A lie, but it’s not like she would know. “We had a talk.”

“Not really a man of words, eh?” she raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“This is the most words I’ve said in the past few days,” John says. “I’d say you’re special.”

The look on her face is enough to make his entire night even better. Blushing, lips opening and closing, not knowing what to say. John wants to graze his thumb on her lips, thinking about how good it would feel stretching over his cock.

He blinks. Where did that come from?

“For someone who doesn’t talk much, you sure make it sound smooth when you do. Are you always this slick, John?” she giggles again, music to his ear. “That’s actually better than what I heard from my friend earlier, so thank you.”

“That’s good to know.”

Before she could say anything back, the door of the club opens once again and her friends appear, waving a hand at her and beckoning her to get inside. She looks at John, gives him a sympathetic look, as if apologizing that their talk gets cut off too soon.

“I’m really sorry but my friends want me back in there. Hopefully we can continue this again, yeah?” she smiles cheekily, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If you want, you could give me your number so we can talk someplace else? You know… with no one bothering us and all that.”

There it is. John didn’t think it would be this easy to sink the hook in. All he needs to do is pull and take what’s meant to be his.

“Sure.” He enters his number swiftly, feeling that familiar burn in his guts once again when he sees the wallpaper being her pretty face. “Feel free to message me whenever you want. I’ll make time for you.”

She looks at her phone and smiles before starting to walk away from him, waving a hand goodbye, but it doesn’t feel like a goodbye. John knows it isn’t. She’s already his the moment she started talking to him again.

“Of course! Get home safe, John! I’ll see you soon!”

“You too.”

She doesn’t know John won’t be heading home any time soon until he knows she’s safe and sound in her apartment.

Jay Lopez.

The name burns on his tongue. Bitter and resentful. He stares at the photos his precious dog sent to him and he has to stop the impulse to burn every single one of them.

Jay Lopez is the guy that’s been leeching on his girl since the dawn of time, and thankfully John is here to put an end to it.

He’s hideous. It’s interesting how John stooped this low that he’d be willing to kill a college student for being too near his little bambi, but alas, he’s never the one to care for such things. Morals and righteousness have never been in his book, not now, nor ever.

It’s only a matter of time until he gets rid of this pest. He’s fucking creepy, follows around not only Y/N but a bunch of other women.

John doesn’t want his death to be quick and simple. He wants to do it in an ugly way, make sure his body will never be found, make sure he’ll never get to lay his hands and eyes on what’s his. The way Jay stares at her in these pictures ignites something evil within John’s veins. It’s been awhile since he felt something like this.

“Alex.” he looks at his pet standing by the door, waiting for the next command. “Bring him to me alive.”

“Can I at least rough him up a bit?”

John doesn’t answer at first, looks back at the photos on his table. “Do what you want, just make sure he’s still breathing when you bring him here.”

“On it, boss.”

Truth be told, John doesn’t need a pet to order around for this job. He has himself – a labeled attack dog of the Tarasovs for years, their hellhound, chained and muzzled unless they need him to kill. He’s a one man army as some would say, he doesn’t need Alex running around doing tasks for him, but it sure does make the job a lot faster.

It’s not a way to downgrade his reputation nor skills to hunt, he really just needs this Jay guy gone as fast as possible.

On the same day, Alex manages to haul a very brutally violated Jay to the floor of his basement. He stinks, pants wet from piss and a face John is having a hard time recognizing.

“You said rough him up a bit, not make him look unrecognizable.”

“Same thing.”

Jay is sobbing his eyes out, his cries of pleas falls to deaf ears and John just wants to fucking bash his skull with his own foot. “W-who are you guys?! What the f-fuck did I do?! Get me out of here or I’ll tell the fucking police–”

John kicks him on the chin hard to stop the goon from rambling. “You’re not telling anybody any shit, tough guy.”

“So, what are you planning to do to him? Can I watch?”

“Can you handle it?”

Alex shrugs. He’s in the presence of the most dangerous assassin in the underworld, wouldn’t hurt to learn anything from his skills and techniques, doesn’t matter how fucked up it is.

John nods towards the chainsaw sitting at the corner of the room, and Alex turns to face him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ, man. You serious? Last time I heard you’re a hitman, not a serial killer.”

“Same qualifications. Same thing.” John grabs the man by the arm then drags him to a chair. He takes a rope from the table and swiftly ties him up securely. “We start with the head, then arms and legs. It would be hard to put his entire body in a drum full of acid, so we need to cut him off one by one.”

Alex looks like he’s about to run off somewhere safe from what he’s witnessing. “You’re talking like you’ve done this before, holy fuck.”

John gives him a look, and Alex immediately shuts his mouth. Right. He’d done this before. This is completely normal.

“I’ve been following you for a while, Jay. You’re a creep who befriends pretty girls, then you’ll drug them and make them have sex with you,” John taunts, the sound of his heels hitting the concrete floor is enough to send shivers down his spine. “Is that what you’re also planning to do with Y/N? Be her friend and fuck her once she’s drugged up and vulnerable?”

It’s a bold statement coming from John himself since he’s no better man than Jay, but at least his intentions come from a different place.

“You-you’re fucking sick!” Jay spits.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one going around making girls uncomfortable now, am I?” he picks up the chainsaw, then watches in enjoyment as Jay widens his eyes in fear. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, Jay. You won’t be able to use your pathetic little dick of yours to any woman ever again, and most importantly –”

John fires up the chainsaw, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he sees the horrified look in the man’s face as he tries to get up and scream for help.

“I can finally sleep well at night knowing you’re not in Y/N’s life anymore.”

As John steps into the light, a roaring chainsaw in his hands, Alex could only watch in horror as the basement gets painted with blood in mere seconds.

There’s a vacant apartment just across her room, giving John the perfect view of what she’s doing while she’s alone.

Most of the time, John will pull up a seat beside the window and take pictures. The other half of the time is just him staring, observing. It seems that she’s too comfortable knowing there’s no one across the building so she doesn’t close the curtains, leaving John no choice but to keep his eyes on her.

He found this place just three days after following her. He couldn’t help it. Following her to school and work suddenly wasn’t enough for John that he had to find a way to somehow watch her even in her sleep.

He should be ashamed of himself. He should feel guilty for what he’s doing – he should stop, but he just can’t. John’s already done too much. This is like being pulled back into the underworld all over again but this time, there’s something good that’s waiting for him on the other side.

Maybe it’s the delusion that comes with it that’s not stopping John from whatever he’s doing. Lately, he’s been thinking about how life would turn out to be if his plan goes out smoothly. They’d live happily ever after, she would end up loving him just the way he planned it out to be, and John will make sure no one will ever dare to take those peace away from him again.

He’d make sure no one will ever come close to her again once she’s his. She’d be isolated but protected. Just how John likes it.

It’s been two days since John gave his number, but he knows she’s just giddy and nervous to text him. He’d seen her staring at her phone, biting her bottom lip anxiously, thinking if it would be a good idea or not. He knows she’ll give in one way or another because he sees it in her face. She’s too easy, too gullible, too naive.

She’s lonely, just like him.

John could tell she’s waiting for someone – she’s desperate, no wonder she asked for his number the second time they met. She wants someone to take care of her, to hold her, tell her that she deserves the world. That someone is John whether she likes it or not.

This isn’t just any unhealthy obsession. John finds himself too deep to get out. He knows her little mannerisms, studied her every action, has a red room full of her pictures and no one can’t say he’s not ready to give up anything for her. John has already given up his sanity ever since he mutilated a man for being too close to her.

She’s his life now, his everything.

John watches intensely as she shreds her clothes in her room, baring him the full view of herself naked, and John grips the side of his chair too hard his knuckles turn white. This is the first time he’d seen her naked, it’s so sudden and so… perfect.

His cock fattens in his pants as he observes every curve of her body. Her waist is fucking perfect and her body is thick yet delicate. John thinks about bruising her sensitive skin, leaving a mark that will show everyone that she’s owned. He would love to see her in a collar, hear it jingle when she crawls.

She’s completely fucking naked that John wonder just how naive she is to think there would be no one seeing her like this. What if John isn’t the only one watching her? What if somebody else sees her like this? His fingers itch, jaw clenching.

He’d kill them. He’d kill them in front of her, and the thought somehow made his cock hard even more. He grimaces, disturbed at the reaction of his body.

John doesn’t really understand the sexual aspects of killing, but now he’s thinking about how she would react if she sees him working. He’d kill someone in front of her and he’d see the look of disgust and betrayal in her face. He can already imagine how her eyes would well up with tears and fuck, his dick shouldn’t be this hard.

She’d fear him, and John would be turned on. How fucked up would that be? Just how fucked up can his mind get?

He resists the urge to wrap his hand around his cock because fuck no. He would not stoop this low, he is not a teenage boy. No matter how strong the thoughts get, the thoughts of wrapping his own hand around her neck, squeezing it hard and cutting off her airflow as John forces his cock in her cunt, hearing her mewl and scream and beg to just –

John sucks in air, eyes back on her in her room, wrapping a robe around herself and heading to the bathroom. This is fucked up. His cock is incredibly hard and leaking, and his mind won’t stop thinking about how good her pussy would feel around him.

He’d talk her through it. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she releases around her cock, praising her for being such a good girl. Then he’d fuck her again, in a different position, debauching her in different ways not even the devil himself could think of.

John would ruin her, and she will have no choice but to accept it.

He brings his hand to his face as he sighs deeply. He wonders what Helen would feel of what he’s doing. Disgusted, no doubt. This is not the same man she fell in love with years ago. He would never do something like this, but fate has its plans, and John believes everything happens for a reason.

She was brought into his life for a reason and it’s up to him whether he takes.

John doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at nothing for too long until she comes back in his view once again. Her hair is still wet, still wrapped up in a fluffy pink robe, and John’s fingers itch to grab, squeeze, possess.

He sees her picking up her phone, staring for a moment before her fingers start typing. John has been anticipating this moment for so long, the time has finally come.

In his chest pocket, his phone buzz silently, the vibration sending excitement in his whole body.

There it is.

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

There it fucking is.

John’s lips curl into a small smile. His efforts are finally paying off.

All he needs to do is to get what’s his.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick fanfiction #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick chapter 4 #john wick x you #john wick 4 #keanu reeves #john wick smut #ochl #my works

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lovingperfectionsblog · 8 months

Text

For What It's Worth - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: You, Max, a bouquet of flowers and a missing name.

Max Verstappen x Reader

Chapter Summary: You receive a bouquet of flowers and it turns Max’s life upside down.

Warnings: Swearing, having a drink.

Word Count: 4193

Author's note: So this is the first legit long series I have ever written. Chapters will go up when they go up but I will try and make them as regular as possible. I really hope you like it and yeah, it’s meant to just be a fun read. Hopefully you enjoy the boys antics as the story progresses and I am super excited to hear what you guys think :D Thank you so so so much to @0-atmilk-latte for all of your help and listening to me talking about this for too long <3

Next Chapter

_______________________

“Yes, that’s correct, perfect. First thing tomorrow morning. Please, please don’t forget the note. Oh, I think you’d need to drop it off by 7am? Is that okay? Can you do that? To the hotel room? You guys are life savers, thank you so much. Have a good one.” Max hung up the phone after the florist had said their final goodbyes and began closing every tab he had opened on google immediately after. He swiped through too many, showing either florists or the meanings of flowers. One he closed faster than the rest, even in his isolation, embarrassed by his need to look up some passionate words to put on a note, but in his defence it wasn’t like you were confessing your feelings to the love of your life every day.

No, this was a once in a lifetime moment. One that some don’t ever even get to experience.

Max was about to experience his moment and soon.

In just less than 24 hours, the woman he considered his one true love would know exactly how he felt about her.

He knew he would experience some nerves, but for reasons beyond what he understood, they were minimal. No, what Max was feeling was an overwhelming sense of calm. It was as if he knew that after this moment, everything in his life would somehow be better, he’d be truly content and at peace.

For the first time, everything in Max’s life made sense.

With Google finally closed, only the time was left glaring back at him and for once, he didn’t care about the fact that he was going to have to sit through media duties for the day. What he did care about though was that he was definitely going to be late and if he was late again, you might actually just kill him. At the very least, give him that stern look you think is scary which somehow makes him feel giddy. The cock of your head, eyebrows lifted, eyes daring him to challenge you, the small smile on your lips giving you away, it all left him making a deal with whatever god existed that even if that was the only look you’d ever give him again, he’d take it, as long as he could still have your eyes on him.

As if it was like you could feel him thinking about you, a notification bearing your name popped up, just below the time, both warning him that he was about to be late. He quickly grabbed his bag, it felt lighter, everything felt lighter, Max was lighter. He slammed the door, the sound jarring him, a quick apology was whispered to it, more out of habit than anything else and then he was running down the hallway passage. He could see the elevator doors closing and before he could shout out a request to keep the doors open, he watched your hand curl around the edges of the door, the elevator opening back up and as the doors parted, there you stood, with his favourite look on your face. God he loved that smile. You could never be mad at him.

He slid through the doors and came to halt next to you, shrugging the strap of his bag back onto his shoulder from where it had fallen.

“You’re late Mr. Verstappen.” you reached forward to push the button for the ground floor, the elevator doors closing for the second time for you now.

“Good Morning to you too.” He glanced towards you out of the corner of his eye, before staring back straight ahead. He didn’t miss the smile you were attempting to hide. He was doing a poor job of hiding his own.

“Are you going to give me an explanation or?” You’d turned to look at him this time, faux stern look still directed at him, your attempt at keeping things professional. So unlike Max.

“Would you believe me if I said it was because I hated media duties?” You rolled your eyes and Max crinkled his own as his smile grew wide.

“It’s the only reason I’d believe. It’s not like you had a raucous night where you’re sneaking a woman out the next morning.” The elevator doors slid open and you seamlessly slid out, quickly making your way towards the hotel entrance with Max following after you, significantly less grateful than yourself.

“How do you know I wasn’t having a raucous night that required me to sneak a lady out this morning?” He hooked his thumbs under the straps of his bag as he fell in step with you. Only increasing his steps slightly to get to the main door before you, swinging it open to allow you through first.

You stopped in the doorway, the softest smile shining at Max. He couldn’t help but notice how the apples of your cheeks got just that much more plump as you did. He couldn’t stop the thought of finally being able to kiss your cheeks the second you were his floating into his mind. From tomorrow he’d be able to.

“Well, if you were, I feel sorry for her, because it couldn’t have been that raucous if you were messaging your assistant at 10pm asking what movie we’re watching for movie night.” Your hand came up to pat his chest as you continued through the doorway, Max hot on your heels ready to defend himself.

“Firstly, I wasn’t messaging you as my assistant, I was messaging you as my best friend,” Max’s arm swiftly moved past your body to reach the car door before you could. Your small step backwards to move for the opening door pushed your body further into his. Max didn’t move. The feeling of you in his space was always welcomed. It had been a growing constant in your friendship. Almost as if the two of you needed to share the same space to physically exist. “Secondly, it’s an important question.”

“Movie night is next week Max, let’s first get through this race weekend before you start stressing that pretty little head of yours about what movie we’re going to be watching for movie night.” You shifted across the seat to make room for Max as he began climbing in. It is as if your bodies worked in tandem.

“Listen, it's important.” He’d never tell you it was so important because it would be your first movie night as an official couple. The car merged into traffic and made its way towards the track, the hum of the car engine now filling the space as both you and Max got into the race weekend mindset. An unspoken need for both of you that the other always seemed to understand without an explanation

“How to lose a guy in 10 days.” You continued to stare out the window as Max pulled out his phone, opening up the note app labelled with your name. He scrolled past all the lists of your favourites - food, restaurants, colours, flowers, baked treats - and at the bottom he wrote:

1st Couple Movie Night Movie - How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.

He’d chat to Daniel at the track about what may be too much for it, because in his need to make it the best couple night for the two of you, he’d already been looking up where to rent a slush puppie machine just so you could indulge in your favourite drink, the rum slushie, it was one of the first things he had put on his list of your favourites.

He couldn’t find where to rent one, but as of monday at around 2pm he would own one.

He debated making a comment about you wanting to watch a rom-com with him, but he kept it to himself, a small chuckle leaving him instead as he pictured you huddled under a blanket on his couch, his arm slung around your shoulders, as he definitely ends up watching you more than he could ever watch the movie.

______

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Daniel whispered as he sat next to Max in the drivers conference, both content to ignore the journalists until the absolute last moment they could.

“I’m finally making my move.” Max whispered back, expressing a mixture of excitement and approval. Not approval of you, no, he knew Daniel adored you and had been pressing Max to make a move now for months, approval of the fact that he was actually finally doing it.

“Glad to see you finally grew a pair.” Daniel clapped Max on the shoulder before discreetly covering his mouth, “What’s the plan?”

Max mimicked this move, eyes darting to the media before continuing the conversation with Daniel, “Got her a little gift, cute note and everything.” Max sounded giddy with excitement.

Daniel laughed at his friend's enthusiasm. “Wow, you really are aiming to win everything this weekend aren't you?”

“Only one thing worth winning,” he was then interrupted as the conference was signalled to start, the onslaught of cameras and people now solely focused on them, and normally he would have hated it, a fake smile present, if he could muster it, but today, everything was genuine,

____________

“A quick drink.” A comment you knew held no weight when directed at the australian landed on deaf ears as you sat down at the table, Max taking the seat beside you, his usual and rightful place, before casually draping his arm over the back of your chair after greeting had been made around the table.

“It’s the start of the season, we have to have a drink to celebrate,” Daniel attempted to defend the invitation he had sent out shortly after their work obligations had concluded, a nodding Max beside him agreeing that it was something worth celebrating.

“And what’s got you so excited about the start of the season? We already know you’re set to win the WDC?” You laughed as the table was filled with complaints and groans.

“Awfully confident about your boy winning there.” Alex shouted down the table.

“The Williams are about to give those Redbulls a run for their money.” Lily piped up alongside him, laughter once again taking over the table, Lily herself even unable to suppress her own giggles.

“The only reason that Williams would ever look even close to good is because Alex is the one driving the car.” Charles had elicited a round of “Awwww’s” interspersed with more laughter with the comment of his good friends skill, always the one to make sure everyone was feeling good, even if his own nerves for the season were boarding on unhealthy at this point.

As the laughter died down, you turned slightly in your seat to redirect your gaze to Max, only to find him already looking at you, almost as if he could read your mind, still wanting to know what had him so excited for the new year ahead.

“This year feels different,” all eyes were now on you two, listening to what could be so special to the driver about this year, “I just have a good feeling that this year is going to be the start of something amazing.” Max mimicked you as you tilted your head in confusion, while every other person at the table simply nodded in acknowledgement of Max’s statement. You had assumed it was because they agreed he was going to be breaking records and changing the world of Formula One, but they were acknowledging something else instead. Something that you had completely missed. Instead, they were all acknowledging the inevitability of you and him. Not as best friends. Not as you as his assistant and him as your boss. No, they were acknowledging the inevitability of you together, as a couple. As the two people who were so desperately in love, always only moments away from admitting it to each other. How it had not happened yet was beyond anyone sitting at the table, beyond anyone in the world of F1 itself, but it existed as one of the great mysteries of life. What no one else but two people at that table knew though was that tomorrow, the inevitable was going to happen. Tomorrow, you and Max would walk into that Paddock as assistant and boss, as best friends and as a couple. Max was sure the second the crowds found out, they’d be cheering for you two more than anything else the entire weekend.

He’d once heard in a movie you’d made him watch, another one of your rom-coms, that when you were in love, it felt like the whole world was on your side and Max was sure, considering who he was, that there was no way he could ever feel like that and then came the day that he realised he was in love with you.

The whole world truly was on his side when it came to loving you.

It was the natural order of things. Max didn’t really believe in fate or destiny or much like that, except when it came to you. Max was sure, without a shadow of a doubt he was destined to fall in love with you. His fate was always and ever only you.

Suddenly Max was broken from his trance and pulled back into the conversation as the waiter's arm passed between the two of you, placing your drink in front of you, a Malibu sunset if he recalls, his beer shortly following. And so the evening continued, conversation flowed, laughter poured out of you all and Max could not be more thankful that this was his life. He was constantly drifting in and out of the different conversations, but always drawn back to you. Always utterly distracted by you and the second you distracted him, well then his mind began to wonder and it was filled with nothing but thoughts of you, and him, and tomorrow morning and how his entire life was about to change in the greatest way he could ever imagine.

Until everything he was so sure of came crashing down around him.

“Sorry, what was that?” he leaned forward, closer to you, inserting himself in the conversation between you and Lily. He had briefly taken note that you were discussing something about dating, it was another one of those moments where he got distracted, daydreaming about finally dating you, when his brain had caught on to what you had just said.

“Oh, we’re just talking about which situations are creepy or not when you’re being hit on, because there are very distinct differences.” Lily caught him up on what exactly you two were discussing, you nod along before turning back to Lily to continue.

“No, no I got that, sorry, I just, what did you say?” he gently tapped your shoulder, indicating that he wanted you to repeat what you had just said.

“Oh, no I was just saying that the creepiest situation is when your boss hits on you. Like, there is nothing worse,” your face scrunched up in disgust as Lily laughed along with you and a few others that had now joined in the conversation.

Fuck.

Max let out a forced laugh before dropping his arm from around your chair and abruptly standing and grabbing his phone off of the table, all eyes being drawn to him. “Sorry, sorry, I just remembered, I have to go sort something out, sorry.” He stumbled over the leg of his chair as he quickly tried to get as far away from the table as possible.

Fuck.

The second he was out of sight of the table he was frantically searching for the florist's number, still moving towards the exit of the restaurant. All it did was ring. Again and again and again. And when it stopped ringing, Max simply dialled the number again. And with each new ring, his breath grew more ragged.

And this is how Daniel found him, back against the wall, eyes closed, phone to his ear, breathing so shallow he was sure he was going to pass out any minute and a slew of curses streaming from him in between the aforementioned breaths.

“Mate, you okay? What’s going on?” Max snapped his eyes open and swung his head round to Daniel, clearly searching behind him for someone that was clearly not Daniel.

“I fucked up, oh my god I fucked up so bad.” The panic seeped off of him as he began dialling the number again.

“Okay, calm down, we can fix it, it’s okay, just, what’s happening?” The phone only ever left Max’s ear so he could redial before it went straight back.

“She said it was creepy when a boss hit on their employee!” Redial.

“Mate, I’m sure she didn’t mean like, your guy's situation?” Daniel was almost 100% sure you hadn’t meant you and Max. You two were meant to be. There was no way you meant you two, “I mean, we all know how you guys feel about each other.”

“Has she said anything to you?” Redial. “Because I know I haven't shut up about her, but has anyone heard anything about how she feels about me?”

“No, she has not.” All that could be heard between either Max or Daniel was that stupid ringing that Max was sure would haunt his dreams for all eternity.

“Who the FUCK does a romantic gesture without knowing how she feels about him?” Daniel took the phone from Max before it landed in the middle of the road, screen smashed.

“Listen just because she hasn’t said anything doesn’t mean we can’t all see it.” Max was now slumped back against the wall, hands in his hair, nearly ripping it out by the root he was so stressed, “What did you get her anyway?”

“Flowers, and a note.” It had all been so perfect and then he had to ruin it all by making an assumption.

“Oh, that’s not too bad?”

“The note pretty much told her I am in love with her. Like, I want to marry her one day, called her my soul mate kind of note.”

“This is slightly less good.” Max looked like he was on the verge of tears, “but again, you guys are best friends and I am sure she is just as in love with you as you are with her.”

“And I am her boss. I am her boss and I am about to lose my best friend and the love of my love. Oh I am so fucked.” During the lament of his life, Max had ended up face first, plastered to the wall, cheek squished up against it as it left indentations in his skin.

“Hey, what's going on? You okay?” Both boys swung round to face you, as only two children who had been caught doing something they definitely shouldn’t would react.

“Yeah, no, we’re good.”

“It's all fine.”

It was all too fast and the deep indentations in Max’s face were leaving you more concerned, but you barely had any time to respond before both boys were making their way towards you. Daniel placing his hand on your lower back to guide you back inside. Not Max. Your chair was pulled out for you again. Not Max again. And there was an arm missing from the back of your chair for the rest of the evening.

Most importantly though, there was a pair of eyes on you for the rest of the night too, not Max though. He could barely look at you for the remainder of the time there. Eyes avoided. Physical touch avoided. Conversation avoided.

It was far too noticeable for you to let go and you turned to Daniel, his eyes already on you, and you gave him a questioning look. The shake of Daniels head doing nothing to placate your concerns.

“You can talk to me if you need? It’s my job as your assistant to deal with you 24/7 you know?” It was your attempt at a light hearted joke, but as you whispered to him, it did nothing but break his heart. This had solidified it for him. He was your boss and he was about to become your creepy boss.

“No, I’m just, social battery ran out, I think I’m going to head out.” He got up before you could protest anymore, and bid his farewells, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You missed the ‘hopefully’ he whispered after he was out of earshot.

___________

Max had the first free practice of the season tomorrow and here he was, 2am, wide awake, doing everything he can to avoid looking at his phone, well aware of the messages you’d sent him.

He was such a fucking coward.

It was meant to be perfect. It was all meant to be perfect. You were meant to get the flowers and read the note and run down to breakfast and hug him and be his girlfriend and you two were meant to live happily ever after.And he had made an assumption. He had just assumed you’d felt the same.

Now all he’d be was your creepy boss.

This is what he drifted off to sleep to. Thoughts of you quitting and him never seeing you again.

He felt that this year was going to be different, that it was going to be great. He didn’t realise it was the year of the great fuck up that as his life.

______

“Has she said anything?” Daniel stood next to Max as he dished up from the buffet in front of them. God Max hated buffets. You’d once mentioned off hand the amount of bacteria that they had, open food and all. He couldn’t look at them the same after.

“Nope, but she’s definitely received them. Got the message from the florist this morning.” The second his phone pinged with the notification he felt sick. It was his own personal warning that his life was now ruined.

He was thankful Daniel hadn’t followed him to the table, clearly realising he needed to be alone. Throughout breakfast all Max could do was pick at the measly amount of food on his plate and glance up at the entrance to the dining room. Waiting for the moment you walked through the door and he’d have to face his failures.

He tried to get a mouthful in, but as he glanced up, there you were, standing at the buffet, same look he was sure he had on his own as he stood there. He couldn't take his eyes off of you and suddenly you were looking directly at him.

Scratch that, you were making your way directly over to him.

Shit, this was going to happen. Right now. In a dining room full of people.

He could feel Daniels eyes on the two of you as you pulled your chair out to take a seat next to him.

“Hey, are you feeling better today?” God that was like you, always, always making sure that everyone around you was okay, it was one of the first things that made him fall for you, how deeply you cared and god, he really needed to stop talking about this.

“Yeah, uhm, listen, I really am so sorry.” You cut him off with a wave of your hand, yoghurt covered spoon waving in his direction.

“For what? For having an off night? There’s nothing to be sorry for. Everyones allowed.” You placed the next spoonful of your breakfast in your mouth. You were carrying on eating and Max could barely breathe.

“And you? Are you doing okay?” It was a tentative question, both preparing himself for the inevitable conversation and shying away from it.

“Yeah, well, I mean, something weird happened this morning, but I’m good.” There was a blush. There was a blush and a small smile. This may be good. Max could feel air slightly enter his lungs again.

“Weird how?” An attempt to sound nonchalant. A poor one, but clearly you hadn’t picked up on it.

“Well, I got flowers and a note delivered to my room this morning,” you played with the food in your bowl, the blush deepening, “my favourite flowers and the cutest note.”

“And why is that weird?” Here it comes.

“Well, there was no name on the note, so I have no idea who sent it.”

“There was no name?”

“Nope, but I’m pretty sure he’s from the grid, just like, there were some references that makes me think it’s a driver,” Max’s wide eyes surprised you, “Do you know who sent them? Did any of them talk to you?”

“Wait, there was no name?” You only nodded in return, curious to see where this was headed.

He forgot. Holy shit. He had forgotten to sign his name on the note. He wasn’t your creepy boss. He was still your best friend. In his excitement, he had forgotten the most important part of the entire thing, his name, and it had indirectly saved him.

“Do you think you could help me figure out who it was?”

Well, it had saved him until that.

______

Next Chapter

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen #x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #ForWhatItsWorth

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sunlightmurdock · 2 months

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The Odyssey | 1.3 | Bradley Bradshaw x reader

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the pain of not knowing is weighing heavily on you as you arrive to your next destination. The people around you prove themselves.

warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, the italics at the very beginning indicate a scene involving brief attempt at sexual assault. The chapter deals heavily with themes of SA, and its aftermath. Pls take your own triggers into account while reading and feel free to message me for further info 🫶

…

“C‘mon, man, not so much as a test drive?”

Malcolm’s not in his right mind. Finals week pushed him to the brink and beyond. He’s been killing himself proving to his father that he’s worth being taken on at the firm. College is coming to an end and it’s almost time to be a man — as it grows closer, there seem to be more and more voices in his ear telling him what that entails.

Sex. Money. Power. Everything in the world is about sex, but sex is about power. Or whatever Oscar Wilde had said — he had only enrolled in that class for the credits and the added study time with you.

“Don’t talk about her like that.” He brushes the comment off with a wrinkle of his nose, bringing the bottle of whiskey to his mouth, tipping his head and pouring it back.

You’re not a possession — he’s in good enough mind to know that much. His buddy’s test drive metaphor leaves more than a sour taste in his mouth. It also leaves a sickness in his stomach and a venom twisting through his nerves.

The mention of this is already grinding at him, his blood growing hot and his feet growing restless, tapping against the aged wood below them.

“Because she’s such an angel that she won’t even let you lay a finger on her? — Yeah, she sounds like a real prize, Ashworth.” Another guy snorts. Malcolm’s head whips around to face him, his eyes narrowed.

“Has she even let you get to second base or are her tits off limits too?”

“Damn shame that she’s got that pretty mouth and you don’t have a clue what to do with it.”

“She scared that it’s going to hurt or something? — You packing a big one, Mac?”

He pushes himself swiftly up from that stiff leather armchair despite its creaks of complaint. Damn thing is older than he is. The dark liquid swishes in the bottle as he staggers away from his so-called friends. He’s heard enough.

He knows where to find you, pushing through the sea of already drunk co-eds and wrapping an arm securely around your waist, slotting himself into your gossip session with a friend.

You’re so excited to see him, greeting him with a polite kiss to the cheek and leaning into his touch. You’re always so kind to him. He has to lean in close to whisper in your ear, his voice sullen and serious, “Could I talk to you for a minute? — In private.”

It isn’t until he closes the door to one of the guys’ rooms, that he notices exactly how drunk you are. You gasp and wobble and drop down onto the bed, bursting out laughing.

He doesn’t laugh with you. Instead, he brings the bottle of whiskey to his lips and takes a long drink. Lurking in the doorway, watching you.

As the bottle drops back to his side, Malcolm just remembers watching you. He doesn’t remember walking any closer until he’s sat beside you and holding your face in his hands.

“God, Mac — how much have,” You have to pause to hiccup, covering your mouth with your hand, unaware that you’re slurring your words too. “How much have you had to drink? — You reek!”

“Just a bit.” He mumbles, the bottle heavy in his hand as he leans forwards and kisses you. You comply happily at first. Well, you seem happy enough to him, even if he does smell kind of like a distillery.

Maybe the two of you talk more, maybe you don’t. The only thing Malcolm knows is that he has securely rounded the corner into second base before you start to fuss at him. You’ve let him get this far before, what’s the big deal now?

The dress you’re wearing is a flimsy blue satin thing, not particularly festive for the holiday party, patterned with expensive looking shimmering detailing. One of them has slipped off of your shoulder to make room for his hand to slip under the velvet fabric and cup at your breast.

“Stop it — what if someone comes in?” But you’re still kind of giggling with him, grabbing at his shoulders. If you wanted him off of you, you’d say so. You have before.

You’re not that kind of girl. Malcolm scoffs to himself at the idea. Your neck is soft against his lips and your perfume drives him crazy.

“It’s just sex, it’s not a big deal.” He mutters into the crook of your jaw, and the mood flips. He feels you pushing weakly at him, all it does is bunch his sport coat and make it fall back off of his shoulders.

“Sex? — Here?” You’re not making much sense, losing your composure and your ability to form a real sentence at once. Not so classy now.

As Malcolm sits back to shrug his jacket off and looks down at you, your chest halfway exposed and your eyes struggling to track him, he feels a pang of guilt strike him. Slowing himself, his heartbeat is in his ears as he fixes your dress to cover you once more and leans down to kiss at your lips.

“I’ll marry you,” He whispers against your mouth, pleading. “I have a ring. I was going to ask you anyway. Your father loves me, you know he does. You believe me, right, honey?”

You had said yes once before. You were going to let him. After prom night, your senior year; you were going to the same college and your families liked each other. He’d gotten too drunk and screwed it. Couldn’t even get it hard. It seemed to freak you out, after that you’ve barely let him close. Now, you’re seniors again. He just needs you to say yes once more.

“Not here.” Your face wrinkles and turns away from him, maybe it’s just the smell of whiskey but the rejection damn near makes him see white. He remembers how uncoordinated your efforts to shove at his hands were.

The next thing he remembers is Catherine stumbling in looking for you, and you trying to bolt. He had caught you the first time.

You were screaming at him, shoving him, calling him a pig. He was arguing right back at you. He’s always known exactly what to say to make your argument feel paper-thin.

The second time you had run, he had let you go, picking up his half-finished whiskey and pouring it into his mouth. He knew you wouldn’t say a word to your parents, you would be too ashamed.

The last thing that you remember from that night is being downstairs, laughing with your friends, with his arm around your waist.

The drive down to the farmhouse is a little over an hour from Florence, one of the shorter journeys of your trip. No need for stops or bathroom breaks. You had settled into your seat, covered your ears, and turned the volume on the Walkman as loud as it would go.

When you were packing tapes for the trip, you hadn’t once considered to bring Christmas music. Now, you’re wracking your brain trying to remember the song that had been playing. Remember any part of that night at all.

Once she had realized what she had said, Catherine had grown defensive and apologetic. She wouldn’t tell you much. Like she was covering something.

You’ve been staring unseeingly at the Tuscan countryside as it passes you by, Kate Bush as your soundtrack. I should be crying but I just can't let it show.

He wouldn’t hurt you. This is the same man who took you out to his mother’s rose garden and gave you the most stunning Tiffany necklace you’ve ever seen as a gift. The man who hugs you so close against him, and sits through your chick-flicks with you.

Your parents adore him, and it’s their job to protect you. Your father is a wonderful judge of character, and Malcolm won his seal of approval years ago.

All these miles of land whizzing by, outside of this ugly little minivan, are starting to make you sick. You close your eyes and listen to Kate.

Oh, darling, make it go

Make it go away

Your eyes burn under your eyelids, prickling with tears. Even worse, it makes your face burn with furious heat to think of any one of these people seeing you cry. Your stomach is trembling with unease, a static feeling in your fingers and toes is the only thing reminding you that you can feel them at all.

Breathing in shakily, you squeeze your eyes more tightly closed, gritting your teeth to will the tears away.

You just need to remember. You can’t go accusing him of something awful. He’s always been so good to you. He’s your future. You just need to get your bearings, and figure it out. Maybe you had led him on. Given him the wrong idea.

It’s such a short drive, and for once, there doesn’t seem to be any drama that requires his attention. Bradley has let himself get so behind on his work that he spends the duration of the drive with his papers sprawled out across the bench, making annotations and edits.

“Whoa, look at this place!” Zoe gasps, leaning over the seats to get a look at the sprawling driveway, lined with green trees and shrubs, marking the way toward the farmhouse. It’s an incredible building, sprawling and stone, dotted with climbing plants along the walls and planted flowers in the window boxes.

Bradley closes his notebook and looks up finally, then looks across at Pasquale with a small smile.

“Did I ever tell you guys that this is where Pasquale and I met?” Bradley announces to the group, turning around in his seat to face them.

“All the way out here?”

“Yeah. We worked here together one fall.”

Bradley had heard of Alessandro’s work early into his studies. It was Natasha who got him the job here. He arrived in September and left in December, this place gets cold as the months go on. Now, it’s warm and everything is in bloom. It smells sweet and citrusy. Sandro had always sworn that the apricots grown here were the best in the country.

“Then, when Mr. Bradshaw had been accepted for his summer work here with the university, I was the first person he called to be your tour guide.” Pasquale adds with a grin as he pulls up in front of the old house. Bradley hums. Pasquale has always been a good friend to him.

As soon as the engine stops, the heavy wooden front door is thrown open and a tall man with long, dark curls comes jogging out, grinning.

“Bradley Bradshaw!” His accent is thick, but mixed. Not entirely Italian. His cheeks dimple as his grin stretches across his olive toned skin, watching Bradley tear out of the minivan and head for him.

“Sandro,” Bradley grins, grabbing hold of the slightly shorter man by his shoulders and dragging him in for a hug before leaning in close and shaking the man a bit as he chuckles out something in Italian that makes them both laugh. You miss it, barely pulling your headphones off of your ears as you step out of the van.

“I don’t know what that means but I know it was a swear word.” Abigail announces, making Bradley laugh as he turns to her again. She’s not wrong, he had happily just called Alessandro something not too dissimilar to a son of a bitch. Endearingly.

He hooks an arm around Alessandro’s shoulders and turns him coolly towards the group. “Guys, this is Alessandro Gabris. Not quite the man of the house but a hell of a storyteller.”

Alessandro turns his head and whispers something back that can only be as filthy as whatever Bradley had said to him, because it makes them both double over laughing. Their inside joke makes Pasquale laugh along with them. That autumn had been such good fun, the three of them.

Alessandro glances behind him as an older man walks out of the building, wheeling an elderly woman in a wheelchair. He smiles as he gestures to her.

“And this is my mother, Teodora Gabris.”

“Oh, I remember,” Bradley’s lips stretch into a warm grin as he breaks the haphazard formation of the group, unwraps himself from Sandro and steps towards her, crouching in front of her wheelchair, slipping his sunglasses off. The woman’s face changes, brightening with recognition. “Don’t break my heart, Dorie, you remember me too, huh?”

The crinkles beside her eyes deepen as she lifts her hand and rests it against his cheek, tilting her head to examine his face.

“The artist.” She remembers, making Bradley laugh fondly. He’s familiar with her in a way that makes both of their grins broaden as he leans in. He’s far from an artist, and she knows it. But, he has a way with words and a way with women, and that had amused her all of those years ago.

In her youth, Teodora traveled from the Kefalonian countryside to the centre of Paris, where she had trained with oil paints. She’s the real artist.

“How have you been?” He asks.

She just looks around her, gesturing to her little slice of Tuscany, blooming into the July heat, and back to him finally. Bradley nods his head, unable to shake that smile from his face. She has her little slice of heaven already, how could she not be happy?

“You haven’t aged a day.” He tells her, his large hand resting softly against her now frail wrist.

You stare between the two of them. The affection they have for each other, and the joy on her face as she remembers the boy he was. His hand sitting so gently on her skin.

“You have.” She teases, pinching his sunwarmed red cheeks. He laughs, sharing her gaze for a beat before he stands upright once again.

Of the six places that you have visited so far on this trip, Bradley has been greeted warmly by someone who once knew him in every single one of them. Even Natasha, who hates him for his betrayal, finds it in herself to revel in the safety of still being near him.

You don’t remember your interaction with him that night either. He could have done anything. He could have left you there. You can only imagine the look your mother would have given him when he took you home. You weren’t ever even particularly nice to him, you’d talked through his class all through first semester. He took you home and made sure you were safe anyway.

“Hey, are you okay?” Suddenly there’s a hand on your wrist and it feels like scalding water. You pull swiftly away from it and whip your head around to find Abigail leaning towards you, her features creased with concern.

Your cheeks are hot, and wet. Fuck, they’re wet. Quickly, you bring both hands to your face and start wiping hurriedly at your tears. You can’t bring yourself to do anything but blink dumbly at her, your shoes dragging across the dirt below you as you stumble a step back.

As he hears the question, Bradley turns and shoots a glance over his shoulder. His face falls, turning completely to do a double take as he notices your teary face.

“Hey, hey — what’s the matter?” Bradley’s size thirteen converse tennis blancs trample across the dirt and stones, long strides and heavy footfalls. Your stomach churns at the thought of those heavy hands on your skin, of his frame up close and looming over you, of getting stuck between him and the minivan behind you.

He slows as your foot slips back and fumbles for purchase in the dirt, muddying your white sneakers.

Everyone behind him is looking at you now. You’re painfully aware of the twisted up look on your face but it’s the only thing keeping you from sobbing.

Humiliation stings. All of them looking at you like you’re ridiculous. Not being able to remember. Simultaneously wanting to throw yourself into Bradley’s chest and beg him not to touch you.

Bradley lowers his voice just slightly, also well-aware of all of the eyes on you suddenly. “Look at me. What’s the matter?”

Your lip trembles, trying not to look at anyone around you. Your eyes steady on his, your throat thick and your heartbeat thundering.

“Can I talk to you about something?” You croak out.

There’s a study downstairs, just off of the living room. Bradley clicks the door shut behind him, his brows drawing together as your pace away from him.

“Honey…” He says softly, like he’s trying to soothe a cornered animal. You round on him like one, eyes wide. He’s never seen you so spooked. “Talk to me. What happened? — I can’t fix it if—“

“You can’t fix it.” Your voice cracks and gravity grows stronger, forcing you to the ground. Crumpling like a piece of paper, you curl your knees up to your chest, a sob wracking your body.

“Okay, alright,” Bradley breathes out, clicking the lock on the door and following you to the ground. You flinch as his heavy hand comes to rest against the back of your neck, stroking softly over the top of your styled hair. “Let me hear it, it’s no good keeping it to yourself.”

“Please don’t touch me,” You whisper into your knees, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. Your skin crawls, trying to picture Malcolm on top of you, wondering how you couldn’t remember. “Could you… could you just please not.” You decide finally, wiping hurriedly at the damp spots under your eyes.

He doesn’t follow. It was just last night that you were so comfortable in his arms, staring up at him with that electric, trusting look on your face. But he gently takes his hand off of you anyway.

“Is this about that phone call?” Bradley asks gently, suddenly unsure of where to put his hands. His instinct is to hold you.

Light pours in from the tall, wide window to your side. It’s far too warm, and too sunny in here for you to be feeling this awful. It feels like the ground is going to swallow you whole, if the weight in your chest doesn’t take you out first.

“Talk to me, honey. Tell me what happened.” Bradley encourages, bracing his elbows on his knees and lowering his head to try to meet your gaze.

“I think Malcolm — that night that you found me in December, I think— I think that he—“

Bradley’s eyes go round, the concerned frown on his face falling all of a sudden. He stares at you as you sob into your hands. He remembers that night so clearly. From waking up face down in a textbook chapter about Pre-raphaelite attitudes towards monogamy, to squinting to figure out what that figure in the snow was. Seeing you there, barely conscious. Practically deadweight in his arms as he had lifted you.

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

You lift your head to look at him, the colour drained from your skin, eyes pleading.

“Did he tell you this?” Bradley asks you softly.

“No. Catherine said — she said something about finding— fuck, she said something about finding him… on top of me.” Your throat is hoarse and your words are barely coming out as you try to hold back floods of tears. If you let yourself keep crying, it feels like you might not ever stop.

Bradley lifts his hand and pinches at the bridge of his nose. He inhales for six, exhales for seven. Then, he reaches out slowly and rests the tips of his fingers against the outside of your ankle.

“I don’t remember.” You choke out. He looks across at you, thinking of how proudly you had been showing off your engagement ring. No clue what an animal your fiancé was. Your lip trembles. “I don’t remember it.”

His gaze flickers immediately to your hands covering your face as the midday sun catches the rock on your ring finger, glistening in the light. You never would have said yes if you had known.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry,” He whispers, curling his fingers softly around your ankle. It takes everything not to wrap himself around you and shield you from everything outside of these four walls. This dusty old office, sunlight shining across ever single chip and dent in these old floor boards, just you and him.

“If I wasn’t such a mess, then—“

“Hey,” His fingers squeeze softly at your ankle, prompting you to look up at him, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. He gives a soft shake of your head. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A few seconds pass between the two of you. His fingers don’t dare inch from the safety of your ankle, if that’s as much of you as he is allowed to touch, then that’s what he’ll take.

He can’t imagine the fear in not knowing.

You swallow softly and push onto your knees, crawling closer and pushing yourself into his chest. Bradley tucks one arm around your waist, doing his best not to cage you against him as you bury your face into his neck. You can feel him giving you room to retreat.

It’s such a strange thing, not wanting him to touch you but at the same time wanting to be held by him until the rest of the world stops. The thought of his hands on your skin makes you sick, but you want nothing more than to bury your face in the crook of his neck and pretend that none of this is happening. Like he’s not a separate man, not something to fear — just an extension of self, almost.

“It’s not your fault.” He tells you again, running his hand along your back, finally letting his eyes fall shut. Your breathing is jagged and gasping with the sobs, coming out quickly against the skin of his neck. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I should remember. I — I thought I’d know, or… feel… and I don’t remember any of it.”

His stomach knots, his palm resting between your shoulder blades as he cradles you against him.

It wasn’t that long ago that he couldn’t stand the thought of you. He had taken what he had seen of you in his classroom and come to the decision that you were selfish, and spoiled, lazy. He had no idea.

Since then, he has grown to know that you’re none of those things. You’re defensive, sure, he can be too. You’re a product of your upbringing, to an extent. But you’re witty, and smart, and you’re far from selfish. Bradley has seen your curiosity up close for weeks now. Your potential weighs on his mind, it keeps him up at night thinking of the future you’d have if you just had someone tell you that you could.

He hugs you against his chest and turns his face into the crook of your neck.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He promises. There’s no way around it, or over it. He couldn’t have stopped it from happening. This isn’t about him or the way that he feels for you. He holds you close, rubbing firm circles across the length of your back for as long as you’ll let him.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, your face buried into the warmth and familiarity of his neck. “You — You should be out there with everyone. I just need a minute.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Bradley whispers.

And he doesn’t. He sits there and holds you until he feels your breathing start to get slower and longer against him. Then, he strokes a strand of hair gently off of your face. “You feeling tired?”

“Exhausted.” You whisper.

He nods softly and kisses the top of your head. If he could, he would happily have carried you upstairs and put you to bed himself. Instead, under the watchful eye of the rest of your class, he has to point your directions from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ll be upstairs to check on you in a bit. Get some rest.”

And he does come up a bit later. You’re not sure exactly how much later, but it’s dark when the first knock wakes you up.

See, the first knock doesn’t warrant pulling yourself out of this unfamiliar bed. The pillowcase is damp but for now, you seem to have run out of tears. The second knock is more tempting, if only to make the sound stop.

Bradley doesn’t knock a third time. Instead, he takes a quick glance at the empty hall around him and leans in close, “It’s me. Can I come in?”

You already knew it was him, there’s no real need for him to announce himself. Still, you grace him with a tired sound of acknowledgment and force yourself out of the fetal position. The old doorknob creaks and clicks, then the door itself creaks as it opens. It would be pretty difficult to sneak around in a big old house like this one.

“Hey.” Bradley greets you softly, cautiously. You offer him a tight-lipped smile. He brings a hand from behind his back and shows you a plate with roasted potatoes and vegetables — something else that you can’t quite see, a starchy baked dish.

Through no fault of his own, he doesn’t get much of a reaction from you at all. You make no effort to reach for the plate. He crosses the room and sets it down on top of the dresser.

“Brought you some dinner, and uh…” Bradley hasn’t felt sheepish since his second day of basic training, and yet, his eyes are on the floor as he pulls his other hand from behind his back. “I brought you this.”

You watch as he sets the blue fabric in front of you, folded neatly.

“Your shirt?”

He scratches at the back of his neck, walking right on by you to sit against the window ledge. Cool air bristles his nape and makes him sit up a little straighter, letting you catch his eye.

“I don’t know, I thought…” He stares at the blue fabric in your hands and gives his head a soft shake. “I don’t know what I thought, but keep it for tonight.”

He knows what his thought process was, he just can’t bring himself to say it out loud. It sounds selfish now. I thought that since I can’t be with you, maybe a piece of me might help. How ridiculous of him to make himself so important in all of this.

“Here,” He remembers, pushing himself away from the window and taking the plate in his hand again, “Come on, you should eat something, while it’s still hot. It’s good.”

You pull your knees to your chest as he perches himself on the bed beside you, setting the plate down. You settle down, crossing your legs and lifting the plate into your lap, picking up the fork.

He watches, chewing at the inside of his lip as you push the vegetables around the plate.

“How’re you feeling now?”

“Stupid for bawling my eyes out like that.” You answer him meekly, spearing the fork through a grilled red pepper, pushing it through some of the juice from the baked dish.

His eyes search across your features.

Neither one of you says anything for a moment as you shake the pepper from your fork and stab it instead through a piece of eggplant.

“You’re not stupid.” He tells you, his brows drawing together as he watches you periodically wound the food on the plate.

“He was clearly unhappy, and I didn’t even notice. My own boyfriend and I didn’t have a clue,” You jam the fork into a particularly stubborn chunk of zucchini and letting the fork clatter to the plate. Bradley stares back at you. “If he was happy then—“

”Don’t defend him to me.” Bradley interrupts you, his voice calm but grave. In a roundabout way, he understands how your thought process has led you here, but he can’t listen.

”No, I’m — I’m not. But it’s my responsibility as his partner—“

”Stop it.” Bradley deadpans. He lowers his head and meets your gaze. His tone suggests that he is growing frustrated but his eyes are another story, soft and warm, honeyed as they search across your face. “You were blacked out drunk. Whatever you think you owe him, it wasn’t his in that moment. You get that, right?”

He’s trying to help. You know that he’s trying to make it better, but it isn’t. Your nape feels hot and your throat feels sore. If he’s right, if that’s really true — if it was never your fault — then where do you go from here?

Your wedding is eighteen days after you fly home. The dress, the centre-pieces, the bridesmaids and the venue — everything is already all set up.

You suck in a soft breath and bury your face in your hands. Bradley lifts his palm and smooths a hand softly over the nape of your neck.

“Look, I just—“

“Can you go?” You breathe out shakily, dropping your hands from your face and meeting his gaze. His mouth hangs open, and you just know that he’s going to keep on talking. “Just go. Please. I want to be alone.”

Finally, he closes his mouth and gives a solemn nod.

“Okay,” He gives your shoulder a soft squeeze before standing up from the bed. “I’ll come see you tomorrow morning.”

With him gone, the quiet is worse this time. Out here in the country, there’s nothing but you wracking your brain for answers that just won’t come. At some point, you make yourself eat some of the now cold food Bradley had brought you just to settle the rumbling in your stomach.

Then, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. It’s a tall thing with a wooden frame, angled to face the bed. Your fingers reach down and curl into the hem of your nightgown, thinking of the blue Dior dress sitting in your closet at home now. It’s around this length, one of your shorter articles of clothing. You had been so excited to find that dress.

Standing in it that day in the floor, you had felt like Cinderella, right out of the pages of a storybook. Ridiculous.

Quickly, you grab at the hem and tear it off of your body. Almost naked, you examine yourself in the reflection. Something makes you walk forwards and your eyes squint, scrutinizing the flesh before you. Wondering how much of it Malcolm has seen, really.

You wonder which parts of it come to mind, when the two men who have seen your body think about it. The softness of your stomach? The way your breasts sit? — Something different entirely, maybe. Your self-examination is short-lived and exhausting all at once.

Turning back around, you spot Bradley’s shirt sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s a soft, heavy cotton, and it smells wholly of him. It slips easily over your shoulders, your fingers working nimbly to fasten the buttons.

You tilt your head, observing the way you look wrapped in his clothes. Then, you look around the room. Without Bradley to occupy your evening, the sudden lack of television or alternate entertainment strikes you.

Stuck with little other option, you grab your walkman from the dresser and head over to your suitcase. Armed with the cassette, wrapped in Bradley’s shirt, you cross the room and settle back into this unfamiliar bed, setting the headphones over your ears. You click open the cartridge and look down at the new tape in your hand.

Written across the front of the plastic in red marker, calligraphy: Our Wedding Tape 1986. It was a parting gift. Something from your future husband to lift your spirits when you were feeling low over here.

You lay back against the pillows, closing your eyes and hitting play. Slowly, the opening chords of The Commodores’ Three Times a Lady start to play in your ears. Your stomach flips, but you inhale, squeeze your eyes tighter and it’s almost better.

It’s soft, and slow — almost like a lullaby. But, your blood is coursing so hot and fast through your veins, it feels more like you’re running a marathon. Hot tears burn behind your eyes once again, reminding you that you haven’t actually run out of them. That they might never really stop.

To touch you, to hold you, to feel you, to need you.

There’s nothing to keep us apart.

You’re once, twice, three times a lady, and I love you. I love you.

As the lyrics pause and piano chords once again fill your ears, you realize that you’re gritting your teeth. You inhale sharply and snatch the headset off of your head, tossing it harshly onto the floor and causing the walkman to bust open. The cassette falls to the floor, but at least the music stops.

You’re breathing like you’re being chased. You wipe hurriedly, wanting the tears off of you, kicking back the covers, wanting everything off of you. As you wipe the salty tears from your jaw, you remember the metal on your finger.

As with the Walkman, you tear it off and throw it. It lands atop the dresser, the light catching the diamond, it sparkles back at you like a wink.

You had been so ridiculously happy on the day that Malcolm had proposed. Surrounded by your friends and family, wearing a beautiful dress, the centre of attention. Ridiculous.

You sink back down and turn onto your side, facing away from the dresser and the winking reminder that sits atop it. Sleep comes for you quickly, taking place of the crying-induced headache and drowning out the faint Commodores chorus lurking in your mind.

You’re awoken by a soft knock on the heavy wooden door. Sunlight is already pouring in through the curtains and something tells you that you missed breakfast. This will be Bradley. You let him knock again. Then, a third time. Eyes still closed, you groan softly and press your face into the pillow as a fourth and fifth knock ring out.

Stubborn asshole. You tear the covers the rest of the way back and push up from the bed, padding across the hardwood floor and pulling the door swiftly open.

Abigail and Zoe stand outside, dressed in tank tops and shorts with bathing suit strings peaking out. Your mouth falls slack as you try to close the door to cover yourself a bit.

“Oh—“ Your eyes widen, lips parting. It’s obvious to the both of them instantly that they aren’t who you were expecting to see. “Sorry, I thought you were Bradley.”

Zoe glances at Abigail, Abigail glances at Zoe, they both look down at the slightly wrinkled blue button up that falls down to your mid thighs. Bradley wore something really similar in Venice.

“We, uh — well, we’re just heading down to the lake. We were going to swim, and get some work done. Sandro gave us some snacks and some lemonade,” Zoe has a real talent for cramming as much information into as short a breath as she can, showing you the contents of the little cotton bag on her shoulder at the same time. She stops finally, allowing herself to smile in her pause. “If you… maybe wanted to come with us.”

You neither retreat or reply. For a second too long, you just look between the two of them, completely wordless.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Abigail answers quickly, she looks at Zoe and they both quickly offer you nods of agreement. “Don’t feel like you have to—“

“No— I-I— yeah. Thanks. That would be cool.” You shift your weight from foot to foot, balancing one one, toeing at the aged floorboards under you. It feels strange, wanting so badly to go with them.

Up until you reached this threshold, you were so certain that you didn’t give a damn about the way they felt about you. Maybe you don’t, really. You sure wouldn’t if you were back home. But here, the feeling of finally being invited is something weightless.

“Cool.” Zoe smiles awkwardly back at you. You wonder if your smile looks half as apologetic as hers does.

Abigail bristles to attention, shrugging her tote closer to her body and reaching down to take Zoe’s hand. “Well, we’ll wait for you downstairs? We can all head out there together.”

They’re wearing swimsuits. You should dig your swimsuit out of your case. Maybe they’ll be upset if you make them wait too long.

“Thanks, I’ll be quick.”

And then you’re walking around the left side of the house and heading across the fields, they’re explaining how wonderful Teodora is, how she told them about a wild swimming spot just over the hill.

They’re curious about you. You were so angry in the beginning, so restless and unhappy. That seems to have faded away now. They still don’t know a single thing about you really, not as much as they would like to.

“Are you feeling better? — Bradley said you weren’t feeling well.” Abigail is tall and dark-skinned, with round glasses and her curly hair usually in two French braids. Today, she’s wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt that belonged to her father, and a pair of denim cut-offs.

“It’s not contagious, right?” Zoe adds as she trails alongside you. She’s shorter than Abigail, with dark hair and green eyes. She’s the only sophomore on the trip — you wonder what she had done to impress Bradley enough to let her come.

You shrug your shoulder bag closer to your body and make yourself smile. “Much better. I think I just didn’t drink enough water and I was tired. Just… out of sorts, I guess.”

“It’s good that Bradley was so kind to you about it,” Zoe hums absently, adjusting her thick-rimmed sunglasses. Red runner shorts and complimentary red and white striped adidas sneakers, and long tanned legs. She looks right out of a commercial — but one of the well done ones. Not cheesy or anything. “Called his office once to tell him that I couldn’t take an exam because I was super sick, that fucker didn’t believe me until I dragged myself in there and puked on those old Nikes he used to wear.”

You hum out an amused sound. That makes two of you who have puked on his shoes.

“He feels bad for me because my fiancé’s a jackass.” Maybe it’s a lie, maybe it’s the truth. You believe both sides of it, in part. Bradley does feel bad for you. But he would have held you in his arms yesterday even if he didn’t.

To them, it makes sense. There has been plenty of gossip about you over the last five weeks. Some of it, admittedly, they had engaged in. Everyone is pretty curious about why you’re getting married so young, and equally curious about all the time you’ve been spending with their cool, cocky professor.

Watching you stumble away from the group sobbing yesterday, there had been a few whispered rumours about the cause. Maybe Bradley dumped her because she wouldn’t put out. That one was especially cruel.

To Abigail, someone that heartbroken didn’t deserve to be made fun of. It had looked like your heart had been clean ripped out of your chest. She had whispered to Zoe about it last night in the darkness of their room, from the top bunk, and the two of them had decided to approach you today.

”How long have you two been together?” Abigail toes the line between prying and learning enough about you to potentially calling herself your friend. You probably should mind, but this is standard practice back home — girls who don’t care wanting information they don’t deserve. Something tells you she’s not like that.

”Since high school.” You tell her.

She slows slightly and turns her head to look back at you over her shoulder. You’re looking down at the dirt and grass and wildflowers, setting one white shoe in front of the other, denim shorts and a green blouse, that sad look on your face again. It’s different than the kind of sadness she saw in you yesterday — but it’s a look she has seen on you before.

A kind of acceptance to it, like you’re at peace with the sadness you’ve known.

”People grow a lot after high school.” It’s wonderful that you have managed to stay together. It’s probably time to call it quits. Her sentence seems unfinished and leaves you guessing, but it doesn’t condemn you to her own decision on the matter the way that Bradley’s black and white had.

You look up from the ground and meet her gaze. You smile and nod. People sure do.

Bradley gets caught up in the kitchen with Teodora as he is fixing you a plate of breakfast, guessing at your favourite morning foods. He only really dines with you in the evening.

“Is that for the girl?”

Bradley hums and nods, frowning at the cooked mushrooms. He can’t remember if you love them or hate them. After five dates, he should probably know that. He shouldn’t have been on any dates with you. They’re just mushrooms—

“She left already.” Dorie shrugs without looking up from the morning paper. Bradley’s fingers curl tighter around the plate. He turns slowly, to face her.

“She what?”

”Yes, the girl with the tattoo and the girl with the long legs,” Dorie tells him, glancing up and taking note of the panicked expression on his face. Abi and Zoe. He swallows a bit. They’ll be good to you. “They all went out by the lake to work. They’ll be back in the afternoon.”

The last time he had been here, Bradley had been hopelessly in love with another. He kept a picture of her in his wallet. Pretty little thing with her middle finger pointed right at the lense as she sunbathed topless on a beach in the south.

Teodora won’t pry, but she suspects there might be a new picture in Bradley’s wallet now.

“Oh. Right,” He sets the plate down and stares at it, unsure of what to do with the extra food now. “I… I guess I’ll get started with some work. I’ll be in the sitting room.”

She nods politely at him, he sets the plate in the fridge and leaves to gather his work things. God, he hopes they’ll be good to you. He had been so afraid that Dorie was going to tell him you had jumped on a flight back to the States. He has more time.

He was up practically all night, thinking of that loser’s hands on you. It makes him sick to remember how limp you had been in his arms when he had first picked you up from the snow.

The sitting room in the Gabris estate is sprawling — it’s a real space to entertain. There were a lot of parties here back in the day. Now, there’s a dust sheet over the piano and the nude portrait of Teodora’s lover is gone from above the mantle.

Bradley settles down into an armchair and pulls together his notes, sun pouring through the windows, a fog settling across his thoughts. 3pm. Three PM. That’s when he hears the eruption of laughter, bubbling up and spilling through the house. After that, comes the sound of wet shoes squeaking on the hardwood.

His chin propped against his fist, he cranes his neck as Zoe appears first in the hallway. She spots him and stops like a caught kid, her mouth falling open. Then, you. Then, Abi. All three of you are soaked head to toe, dripping water onto the floors.

You stare back at him dwarfing the patterned armchair, surrounded by papers, peering at you over the top of his reading glasses. He doesn’t say a thing, taking his time in looking the three of you over. Finally, his lips twitch.

”We went swimming.” Zoe breathes out, laughing.

Bradley hums against his hand, his eyes visibly flicker from your bare feet to the soaked clothes clinging to your body, and finally at your face. From behind his fist, a smirk toys at his lips.

He’s so grateful to see you look so mischievous. Anything but the way you were looking at him yesterday.

”I can see that,” He agrees, amusement dripping from his voice. Your smile turns sheepish as you cross your arms in front of your hips and shift your weight from left to right, and back again. “Did you get those pages that I asked you for all done.

”Most of ‘em.” Zoe nods. Eighty-percent still counts as most. Besides, you know that Bradley will listen if you plead your case. He hums again, a sound of understanding this time, and inches his knees further apart as he sits upright.

”Well, I take it that you’ll be a bit late to our study session.” He’s looking right at you with that devilishly handsome smile on his face, and a softness to his eyes that makes you want to pour yourself right into his lap.

“Shit,” You snap out of it, whipping your head around to look for a clock. Bradley glances down at his watch, already fully aware that you’re forty minutes late. He looks back to you, smiling. “I’ll get changed.”

”I’ll be here.” He tells you, looking back down to his work.

You glance down at the puddle you’re leaving on the floor, and then back up at the girls. They watch you blink like you’re remembering that they’re there.

“We’ll come up with you.” Abigail nods for you to go ahead and Zoe slips her palms into yours.

Bradley glances at the exchange over the top of his workbook, her hand in yours. The smile on your face as you peer back at them and head for the stairs. He bites the inside of his cheek and finally exhales.

His next breath in feels a little bit easier.

“So, how long do you usually have to spend with Bradley every afternoon?” Zoe asks, padding up the wooden stairs behind you. They creak with every step, but not enough for you to pretend not to have heard her question.

You shrug your shoulders, trying to at cool about it. Bradley would at cool about it. He doesn’t seem ashamed at all.

“It depends. He gives me different tasks to do. Sometimes we get through them quickly, other times he decides to be an ass about it.” That feels about right.

“Like class work?”

“Yeah,” You glance back over your shoulder as you reach the landing. “I’m not much use to him as a research assistant if I still don’t understand the class material. You know?”

“Right.” Abigail nods along with you.

“Well, I’d better go get dry…” You remember, gesturing to your door. They both nod along, but you don’t move. You hug your shoes and your bag to your chest and try to smile. “Thanks for inviting me today. I appreciate it.”

“Any time. You’re a good time.” Zoe grins, lifting her arm and draping it casually around Abigail’s shoulders.

Your goodbye is a brief nod and a pleased smile, before you turn and head back to your room. You strip out of your clothes and leave them to dry against the open window, then throw on something dry.

Bradley hears your shoes racing down the stairs and closes his book. You grab the archway and swing around the corner into the sitting room.

“Okay — ready.”

He braces his elbows against his knees and gives a small shake of his head, lips quirked. “Not here.”

The two of you walk along the dirt path in the opposite direction to the lake. Up ahead of you is a mile long stretch of trees, behind you is the Gabris’ courtyard. Bradley’s two paces in front with a cigarette dangling from his lips and his books tucked under his arm.

His shorts make his legs look even longer, up high on his thighs and stretched around the muscle. His sneakers still aren’t something a college professor would wear, but you’ve grown to like them. They’re very… him.

His oversized shirts and his white sneakers, and the gold pendant that sits between his collarbones are all parts of him that you have grown to adore. The curls at the nape of his neck and the way his broad shoulders slope down into his waist.

There are plenty of things that you could name.

The smell of tobacco that follows him isn’t one of those things.

“That’s a filthy habit.” You call ahead to him.

Bradley turns his head and looks at you over the top of his gold-rimmed sunglasses, grinning amusedly, “Yeah, I’ve got a couple of those. You might be familiar with a few.”

Your mouth twitches. You almost smile at him, briefly considering that downright awful habit he’s got of delving between your thighs. Then, your face twists into a strictly unamused scowl.

“Did you pick it up when you were in the Navy?” You ask, jogging to keep up with him.

“Kinda.” He answers you, looking down at you briefly before he checks ahead again. It’s not important to mention the cigarettes behind the science building in high school; that was more an act of defiance than an addiction.

“Have you ever tried to quit?”

“Is this you asking me to?” He replies, crossing over into the tree line, shade pouring over the two of you. You watch as he takes the cigarette between his fingers and flicks ash onto the floor, branches crunching under his feet.

You follow alongside him. “Would you, if I asked you to?”

“Would you put up with me being a lot grumpier?” He asks in return.

“Probably not.”

He huffs out a dry chuckle. Finally, he stubs the cigarette out. You follow him through the woods like his shadow until you reach a clearing. It’s a pleasant mix of sun and shade, a nice place to wait out the glaring afternoon heat. This is routine by now, you sit down beside each other and he tells you what you’re doing, then you each get to it.

He’s working on his book. His face gets real serious when he’s working on his book. Makes him look older, more mature. Almost makes you forget how deviously handsome he looks when he’s grinning at you, when he looks so handsome like this.

You’re translating prose. Poetry about lust and temptation. He would have switched out the curriculum but resources are limited out here, and you don’t say a word about disliking the work he has given you. He’s afraid to ask.

To burst this bubble of blissful ignorance you’ve got going, like yesterday never happened.

”So, Zoe and Abi — did you guys have fun today?” He asks without looking up from his work. That feels like a safe enough question. You’re laying on your stomach and don’t bother to stop working to look at him either.

”Mhm. Zoe’s clothes fell off the branch and got soaked, so we figured we’d all just jump in dressed. Cooled us off on the way home.”

He glances up, smiling softly. “Look at you — walking on the wild side.”

”I know, right?” You scoff.

He looks back down to his work, examining the artwork on the left page.

“So… how are you feeling today?” He asks cautiously. About Malcolm, of course. Bradley has noticed that you aren’t wearing your ring. You’d barely remembered taking it off. It doesn’t feel any different without it. It’s not exactly life-altering. It’s just jewellery.

”Mixed up,” You owe him honesty at least, considering your complicated relationship. You shrug your shoulders weakly and frown at the page. “Confused. Angry.”

He just nods.

She turns her head to look at him. Laying on his side, pretending to organise his notes, his sunglasses masking his expression.

”I don’t want it to change things.”

”How?” Bradley answers a little too quickly for a man pretending to be otherwise occupied. His brows draw together as he meets your gaze through those darkened lenses.

“Between us,” You tell him, resting your cheek against your hand and tilting your head just slightly. Laying in the grass, about a foot away from him. Close enough for him to reach out and trail his fingers from the centre of your back to the nape of your neck, and back again. You smile softly. “I like you, you know?”

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchele @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @cherrycola27@ahoyyharrington @kmc1989 @sugarcoated-lame @mshistorylover

#could be fixed???#will be running into the void if it isn’t #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #top gun smut #professor bradley #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x you

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bitchy-craft · 9 months

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Let's Get You Hyped Up | Pick A Pile

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find a few things that'll hype you up. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people; therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Masterlist > Questions > Paid Readings

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

You're a force to be reckoned with, a spark of potential waiting to ignite the world with your brilliance. Each day is a canvas, and you hold the brush. The universe has bestowed you with unique talents and dreams, and it's time to unleash them with unbridled passion. Remember, challenges are just stepping stones on the path to your success. Embrace them, conquer them, and let them mold you into the unstoppable individual you are meant to be.

You've already overcome obstacles that once seemed insurmountable, proving your resilience and determination. Your journey is a testament to your unwavering spirit. Visualize your goals, for that's the first step in manifesting them into reality. The world eagerly awaits the mark you'll leave upon it. Your story is one of inspiration, growth, and triumph. Believe in yourself, as others believe in you too. The energy you radiate is infectious, and your impact is boundless.

So go forth with confidence, head held high, and a heart full of determination. Every effort you put forth, every leap you take, is a leap towards greatness. You've got this!

Pile 2:

You're a dynamo of potential, a powerhouse of creativity just waiting to explode onto the scene. Every sunrise brings a fresh chance to seize the day and make it your own. Embrace the challenges that come your way, for they're the secret ingredients that shape your success story.

Life's journey is a rollercoaster of experiences, and you're fearlessly riding every twist and turn. Your ability to adapt and thrive in the face of uncertainty is awe-inspiring. Remember, you're not just a participant in life – you're the director, crafting your narrative with every decision you make.

Dream big and dream often, because those dreams are the blueprints of your destiny. As you forge your path, know that your enthusiasm is contagious and your potential limitless. Your actions have a ripple effect that extend far beyond your awareness, touching lives and igniting the flames of possibility in others.

So march ahead with unwavering confidence, a trailblazer towards your goals. With every stride you take, you're paving the way to the extraordinary. Believe in yourself, as others believe in you too. You're a beacon of light, illuminating the world with your radiance!

Pile 3:

You are a constellation of infinite possibilities, a symphony of potential waiting to be composed. Your uniqueness is a gift to the world, a mosaic of experiences that only you can bring to life. Every day is an opportunity to add a new chapter to your story, and you hold the pen. Embrace the unknown with excitement, for within it lies your next adventure.

Life's challenges are like the weights that sculpt a strong and resilient spirit. With each trial you face, you're refining your character and gaining the tools to conquer even greater feats. You've already shown your capability to adapt and overcome, proving time and again that you're not just a passenger in this journey – you're the driver.

Visualize your aspirations vividly, for the mind is a powerful magnet that attracts the future you desire. As you walk your path, remember that your enthusiasm is contagious, and your potential knows no bounds. The ripples of your actions extend far beyond what you can see, touching lives and inspiring others to chase their dreams.

So stride forward with courage, a trailblazer on the path to your aspirations. Every step you take, every dream you chase, brings you closer to the extraordinary life you're crafting. Believe in yourself, as others believe in you too. You're a shooting star, lighting up the universe with your brilliance!

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teyums · 1 year

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His Secret Admirer (Final Part) - Neteyam x fem na’vi reader

part one | part two | part three |bonus chapter

wc: 8.3k

a/n: ahhh you guys we’ve reached the end of the His Secret Admirer series! So bittersweet :,). Thank you for all the love on the chapters I’ve put out, it means a lot that people enjoy my writing this much. And thank you for 500 followers!! (still can’t believe that).

Here is the well awaited Part 4, the final part. I am sooo beyond happy with how this came out I honestly think it’s my best one, and it’s also the longest out of all of them! I had so much fun writing it i love these two so much it hurts. I hope you guys enjoy reading! 💗

contains: sooo much fluffff with a sprinkle of spice 🤭

The next morning came terribly fast, which was pretty much the opposite of what you had hoped for. You awoke groggy and unsettled, the night hadn’t the courtesy of blessing you with the rest you so badly needed to prepare for what was to come. Today was the day of the well awaited festival, the day you looked forward to all year, and now you were dreading in with every fiber in your body. While you tried to convince yourself you were ready to face Neteyam, you were still utterly terrified at the possibility of potentially facing rejection.

You pulled the light sheet that held warmth to your body over your face, hoping your mother would somehow forget you even existed. You weren’t even sure you were breathing. Your body tensed when you heard footsteps nearing, shutting your eyes and making a wish for them to disappear. Perhaps it would’ve worked had you not used them all up last night, begging for at least a couple hours of continuous, undisturbed sleep.

The sheets were pulled from over your head, the bright sunlight making an abrupt reappearance and aiding in waking you up completely. “Maaaa!” You groaned, throwing an arm up to cover your eyes. “Leave me, I’m not ready.” Your whining did nothing to deter your mother from her plans.

“Up, child. There is no time like the present.” She sat beside you, grabbing your arm and gently pulling you to sit up next to her.

You sluggishly lifted your body from where you had fallen asleep last night, your shoulders slumping as you looked at her with doubting eyes. “But what if it all goes wrong?”

“No fear, everything will work out the way it is meant to in the end.” She spoke reassuringly, stroking your arm.

Your mother was always so positive all the time, and usually she was correct. You had no idea how she did it, but it’s been proven your mother knows best so you listened. You exhaled, your uncertainty leaving along with your breath and nodding your head in agreement.

“Good, now we must begin. There is no time to waste.” She grinned.

Taking your braids down took what felt like three lifetimes. In na’vi culture when a woman is looking to court a potential mate, her hair must be loose and styled differently than it is everyday. Something about impressing the male you would be promised to. You tugged at the beads that had been woven into your hair for about a month now, wincing whenever it would catch a loose strand in the process. Though the action of unloosing them was both daunting and aggravating, you couldn’t help the way your excitement grew every time you moved onto the next one.

You ran your fingers through your jet black hair, it slightly wavy from the style it had previously been in. It stopped just above your mid back, the sides pulled back and secured with a clasp adorned with beautiful crimson colored feathers. Two strands were left out in the front, the bottoms having two of each of the beads you used for Neteyam’s necklace on them.

Your mother had sewn together a gorgeous outfit for you, the top garment using the same feathers you had in your hair. They were strung together with thin beaded loops, about three small feathers coming down on each side of your chest to maintain your decency. You held it out in front of you, looking towards your mother apprehensively. The top was so tiny, you wondered if it would actually even cover anything.

Thankfully for you, it did. You still felt a bit exposed as this was much more revealing and dainty than something you would normally wear, however you knew it was only because of the occasion, so you obliged. The feathers felt soft against your skin, and you gently toyed with the intricate beading that tickled below your collarbone. You eyed yourself in the slab of glass that served as a mirror, covering your mouth in awe at the sight of yourself. You hadn’t felt this beautiful in a while and your mom could tell, coming over to give you a tight hug and smiling back at you in the reflection.

“My child, you look stunning. I cannot believe how much you’ve grown.” Her voice was one of intense admiration, backing away and waving her hands as she started to tear up.

“Mama,” You laughed to yourself, bringing a hand up to your cheek as you quickly became embarrased. Your smile was bittersweet, approaching your very emotional mother and taking hold of her shaky hands. “Don’t cry. I’m still your little syulang.”

She sniffed and nodded in immediate agreeance, pulling you into yet another hug that you were sure would cut off your airways this time. Wiping her tears, she reached over to grab the necklace the two of you had made off the table, gently placing it in your open palm and closing it. “Go get him.” She gleamed.

~~~

Neteyam sat on a stool in front of a mirror in his family’s home, head hung in silence and hands clasped together in his lap. He eyed them closely, feigning interest while his thumbs twiddled idly. The tension in the air between him and his mother as she prepared him for the festival could easily be sliced with the knife he kept strapped to his waist. His braids were pulled back, orange feathers weaved into the strands here and there. He had a burning urge to pluck them out, grimacing at the fact that Eyiti would be wearing matching ones.

Neytiri worked on him silently, a word hadn’t been spoken between them since his outburst yesterday, and he felt the guilt eating him alive. His mother always had something to say, even if it were something as simple as correcting him on his grammar. Knowing her to be outspoken, she made sure her opinion was always heard, even if nobody wanted to listen. So the fact that he hadn’t heard her so much as scold him made him worry. Either her feelings were vastly hurt, or she was in deep contemplation about something.

“Your father and I have made a decision.” The sudden appearance of his mother’s voice caused his head to snap up in her direction, his mouth open slightly while he awaited the verdict. He searched her face for any hint towards what she would say next, but lately it’s been hard for him to read her emotions. Saying the two of them had been disconnected recently was putting it lightly.

“And?” He questioned, his voice just above a whisper. For some reason he was afraid that if he asked too eagerly, the answer he received would be opposite of the one he so badly wanted.

“And,” She sighed, placing the tool she had used to help re-braid his hair down on the table. “We have decided to let you choose your own mate.”

His eyes widened the second the words left her lips and his arms trapped her in a tight embrace before she could fully finish what she was saying. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” He repeated, feeling that familiar lump return to his throat. “I’m so sorry for what I said, mother.” His voice split as her hand came down to affectionally caress his head.

“Neteyam,” She peered down at him empathetically, using her hand to turn his face towards her and keeping it on his cheek. “Do not apologize, you were right. We have no right to dictate who you love. I chose for myself, as should you.” She nodded, pulling him away gently so she could finish getting him ready. “All that’s needed from you, is to get through tonight.” Tying his songchord around his bicep, she smiled at him and gently placed her hands on his shoulders. “And after that, I would love to meet the girl my son has fought so hard for.”

~~~

You watched as na’vi gleefully danced into the auburn night, singing out praises to the spirits and celebrating a year that had awarded your clan with yet another bountiful hunting season. There was a big bonfire off to the side where a circle of drunken men sat around, laughing loudly and feasting on the legs of an animal with gluttony. You clasped the necklace in your hands tightly and carefully made your way through the crowd, repeating affirmations in your head to keep yourself from puking. It was simple, really. Find Neteyam, give him the necklace, and tell him you have feelings for him and want to be his life long mate. Boom, happily ever after. Easy, right? Wrong. You kept forgetting that she-devil would probably be attached to him at the hip, making your plan even harder to go through with than it already was.

You shook the image out of your head before it burned itself into your skull, mapping out your breathing to remain calm. “You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.” You mumbled to yourself, peeking your head around in the mass of people until your eyes locked on the man of the hour.

The second you saw him it felt like time came to a full stop. Neteyam looked even more breathtaking than usual, you had thought that would’ve been impossible until this very moment. You honestly had to stop thinking like that, this was the second time he had proven you wrong and it was getting kind of embarrassing seeing as your mouth would hang open in utter shock every time. Colorful beads and feathers embelished his hair and he wore a shoulder piece that made it easy to determine his status when he stood next to the other young men. You stared at him incredulously, almost forgetting what you were supposed to be doing right now.

You wished you could have stayed there forever and it was nice while it lasted, but unfortunately it was time to face reality.

A body that had been blocking your sight of who was next to him moved to the side and Eyiti came into view, her hand clasped onto Neteyam’s forearm as she stood next to him. Her grip so tight you could see the indentations in his arm, it looked like it hurt. You swallowed what felt like an impossible lump to push down, closing your eyes and repeating encouraging words to yourself.

You quickly decided it was not working like it did before.

“I can’t do this.” Your chest heaved, your lungs out of breath without even holding it. You spun around on your heels before he could notice you, prepared to accept defeat and go home.

But the unexpected sounds of blood curdling screams and shrieks caused you to gasp and quickly return to your prior position, the commotion of people frantically running to safety not allowing you to see what was going on. “What? What’s going on?” You grabbed the shoulders of some around you and spoke anxiously, but your attempts were futile. Your ears perked up attentively at the sound of a spine-chilling growl.

Oh no. Not here.

Your feet picked up speed before your mind could register where they were taking you. Ducking through the crowd, you hurriedly ushered the children who hadn’t yet found their mothers together and in the opposite direction of the growling. War cries began to ring out, and you watched as every hunter surrounding the perimeter of the common grounds raised their bows and weapons with haste.

“Wait!” You hopelessly shoved past barriers of your people, your voice not having the ability to project over the warriors shouting above you. You squeezed yourself between panicked bodies and nearly tripped over limbs, your ears letting you know you were getting closer.

Jake and Neytiri had since stood from their chairs that were positioned to look down over the people, and the expressions on their faces let you know that the situation in front of them was far from good.

Directly in front of Neteyam and Eyiti stood a blood thirsty Palulukan, it’s six strong legs aiding in it’s slow and menacing prance towards them. By the looks of its nostrils flaring in agitation, you were sure it would pounce any second. Neteyam, being the fearless warrior he is, instinctively stepped in front of Eyiti and raised his bow, stretching an arrow against the string with one swift motion.

You forced yourself into the center where others had backed up enough to make a large circle. Mothers held onto their children protectively, more terrified than ever. “Neteyam, lower your bow!” Your voice caught his attention almost instantly but his arms stayed raised in position, ready to protect whoever he needed to.

His eyes did not meet yours, instead they stayed targeted on the vicious animal in front of him and he shook his head harshly, not daring to let his attention waver. “Get back [Y/n]. Now.” He ordered.

You shoved the necklace you realized you were still clutching away and into your bag, your hands put out in front of you as you pleaded with him. “Please, you are scaring her. She will pounce.” You responded breathlessly, your eyes flickering between him and the most feared creature on Pandora who was obviously not in the best mood. You were most familiar with her than the others of her species, she was the one you often ran into when venturing through the forest and you could instantly tell by the sound of her growl. You usually had scraps to offer her but it was extremely rare that a Palulukan would come deep into the village, leaving you with nothing to utilize but your own skills.

“She?” You heard Lo’ak’s voice carry over from the top of the hill, referring to the fact that you knew the gender of the savage animal you all heard stories of when you were young. “[Y/n], are you crazy?!” He screeched.

Kiri’s head snapped in his direction and she swatted at his arm. “Lo’ak, hush! You must not distract her.” Whisper yelling at him so only he could hear, he rubbed his arm to soothe the sting and scowled at her.

Tuk peeked out from behind Kiri’s legs, tugging on her fingers to get her attention with a worried look on her face. “Is it gonna hurt her?” Kiri peered down at her younger sister, gently shushing her and shaking her head before returning her attention back to you. Her gaze was one of profound fascination and oddly enough— trusting.

Pre-occupied with trying to stop Neteyam from releasing his arrow in defense, you hadn’t noticed Eyiti slowly backing away from him, the look on her face one of great terror.

The last thing you wanted to do when face to face with an animal threatening to attack, was move.

“Do not!” You shrieked, your warning coming late when the snarling creature started towards her. She screamed in fear, tripping over her own feet and falling flat on her butt. Her eyes flooded with tears and she used her hands to crawl backwards, farther away from the snarling beast. You hate to admit it but there was a tiny part of you that wanted to let this creature sink her teeth into the girl who had made it her life’s mission to terrorize you. The elders, including Neteyam’s parents and hers, stood in attention at the top of the hill at the roots of home tree. Eyiti’s parents called out to her in distress, but they were much too far to assist and moving would only accelerate the attack. They would never make it in time.

You jumped into action, strategically positioning yourself right in the middle of the Palulukan and a defenseless Eyiti. The entire clan gasped, some even cried out prayers and shielded the eyes of their children as they were sure you would die in this very moment. Neteyam was the only one who relaxed somewhat, the string of his bow becoming less taut. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but for some reason, he felt you knew what you were doing.

“Ma Jake!” Neytiri cried out, one hand on her chest and the other grabbing his arm, begging for him to do something. “It will kill her!”

Jake stared down at the scene unfolding in front of him, completely bewildered with his mouth hanging open. “What the hell is she doing? Get out of there!” He yelled.

With your shoulders pulled back confidently, you mirrored the hunting approach of the animal in front of you and glared through your brows, stalking like a Palulukan would before ambushing its prey. You watched it take a step back once you rounded closer in attempt to force more room between it and the blubbering girl behind you, then raising a hand in the air to silence the na’vi who had many distracting comments and opposing opinions against your methods. “Mawey my people, mawey!” You shouted, not taking your eyes off the task in front of you.

Your olo’eyktan watched intently, signaling his approval to the men to lower their weapons like you instructed.

Kiri smiled from ear to ear while watching you, the expression on her face contrasting greatly from everyone else’s. “I knew it.” She whispered to herself, resulting in Lo’ak looking at her like she had lost her Eywa-loving mind.

The giant beast opened its mouth and a loud, menacing roar rumbled deep from its diaphragm. Sharp quills stood tall off its neck while its beard flared out as an intimidation tactic. You stood unfazed, tilting your head with narrowed eyes and loudly hissing in response. Your ears had fallen flat against your hair while you barred your sharp fangs right back with no fear. Neteyam blinked at you in genuine disbelief when the animal’s challenging stance faltered, its legs lowering itself into a submissive position in defeat.

You sighed in relief and rolled your eyes, steadily approaching the beast and gently stroking its head. “What is the matter with you, Yuna? Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I-is she… talking to it?” The younger Sully boy questioned, looking back and forth to anyone for an answer. Nobody could respond to him, everyone stood in shock- not able to process what had just happened. “It has a name? Bro, is nobody as lost as I am right now?” He screamed, his hands holding his head as if it were about to explode.

Your eyes dropped down when you noticed one of her legs slightly raised off the ground. You quirked an eyebrow and crouched to get a better look, easily recognizing what had made her come into the village in the first place. There was a thick, sharp chunk of wood lodged between the webbing of her paw. It would have been impossible to remove on her own.

“Oh my… you poor thing. Let me help you.” Your voice was sympathetic as you lowered your head to examine how deep it had gone, deciding it was safe for you to remove it. You used all of your strength to lift the paw that was much bigger than the size of your head with assistance from the creature, gripping the large splinter and finally removing it with a grunt after a few seconds of tugging. The animal roared in pain, and with a whimper its demeanor quelled due to the instant relief, earning an accomplished smile from you. You looked around in search of food, grabbing some teylu out of a bowl from a table off to the side. You tossed the blood stained slab of lumber to the ground once you rose to your feet.

“Make a path.” You ordered, watching the crowd that was huddled around you hurriedly part like the Red Sea.

You waved the worms in front of the creature’s nose, watching her nostrils twitch with interest before you threw them into the direction of the forest. You watched the thanator gallop away, sighing and wiping your hands off onto your legs.

“Ma Jake… Who is that girl? She possesses a fine ability.” The Tsahik stared down at you, her voice seeping with pure awe. She couldn’t even blink. Neytiri had never seen such a display in her entire life. A Palulukan had not been tamed like this since… well, her. Almost two decades past. And even then, that had been an offer of assistance from Eywa to restore balance to the land during the war with the sky people. A genuine taming, such as this, was completely unheard of.

Kiri placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “That is the girl Neteyam has been trying to tell you about this entire time, mother.” She smiled. “That girl, is [Y/n].”

“My daughter.” Your mother’s voice clarified as she emerged from the crowd to address Tshaik, effectively catching Neytiri’s attention, but your mother’s eyes remained on you from afar. She had been watching closely, off to the side the entire time. You had explained your hunches with the animals of Pandora to her before, how you felt a deeper connection to them than most did. All of them, even those forbidden to interact with. Though she had never seen it for herself until now, her faith in you never wavered for a second. Her eyes filled with pride seeing her daughter prove herself in a way even better than she had imagined.

Remembering you were in the middle of the circle, you looked up to see everyone gawking at you and cleared your throat before speaking up.

“Um… I’m sorry about her. You all can go back to the party now, everything’s fine. Please, proceed.” You looked around and motioned to the tables that still had candles lit atop them, staring blankly at all the eyes that were glued to your face. You were definitely not used to having this much attention on you, or attention period. It was so quiet you could hear the crackling of the bonfire in the distance. Nobody could believe how casually you were speaking about what you had just done.

“Y-you saved my life… I- Thank you.” Eyiti was a sniffling mess, her body trembling in shock from what could’ve resulted in her death. Her cheeks were stained with tears and for once in her life, her expression matched her words. Oh how it made your heart swell with joy to see her groveling.

Looking down at her, your face twisted as if you had smelled something rotten. “No, I saved my friend’s life. You, however, just happened to get lucky.” You scoffed, making your way out of the circle.

Neteyam’s breaths were heavy as he watched you, glancing up to his father with sanguine eyes, a silent plea to go after you. As soon as Jake hurriedly gave him the okay, he was running off into the crowd. Not even taking a second to help his so called ‘date’ up from the ground that served in humbling her.

He tried his best to keep up with your strides, losing sight of you a few times and apologizing to those he bumped into. He rolled his arm, swiping off the shoulder piece that was preventing him from keeping up with you and letting it drop to the ground. He plucked the feathers out of his hair with zero regard of those watching, wanting to rid of everything that had to do with the girl who kept you two apart.

You managed to make your way out of the sea of people and faded into the forest, ducking under branches and successfully escaping from the sudden influx of attention you gained from your entire village. A relaxed breath left your lips once you were out of sight, trying to take in the fact that you had saved not only one life but two, all while in front of the boy you were preparing to confess to at that. You whipped your head around at the sound of leaves rustling, hearing a voice that never failed to make your heart jump.

“[Y/n], wait!” Neteyam called out for you, his expression softening once you finally stopped. “Jeez, you’re fast.” He breathed out.

You couldn’t help the smile that threatened to appear on your face, dissappointment quickly flooding back in once you remembered the reason the two of you hadn’t been together in the first place. “Yes?”

He searched your eyes for anything that would tell him you were just as stunned as he was, but he was unsuccessful. You stood in front of him, appearing nonchalant despite what had just occurred. “What was that back there?” He asked, reaching forward and taking hold of your arm. “It was like you knew what to do. How?”

You looked down at his hand on your skin, not even being able to think as he was touching you. You swallowed hard, shrugging your shoulders sheepishly as you tried to find an answer. “I-I don’t know. I just… I listened to her. It was like I could hear her- hear her voice.” Your tone grew faint when your eyes met his again, realizing he had never once stopped looking at you, even when you stopped looking at him. You chewed your bottom lip, lowering your head to stare at the ground with a puff of air that was supposed to be a laugh. “You think I’m crazy now, don’t you.” You mumbled.

“No, no! I believe you, I do. I promise.” He shook his head vigorously, dipping his head to catch your faltering gaze once he realized that his wide-eyed, dumbfounded look must’ve given off that impression. “Look, I’m really sorry about yesterday. I did not plan for any of that to happen, with Eyiti. It was my parents doing, I tried to get out of it but I couldn’t…” He sighed, his voice faltering when he spoke of her. He didn’t even want to think about her, let alone bring her up to you.

He felt you pull away slightly, apprehensive due to you having no idea what was really going on behind the scenes other than what you had witnessed with your own eyes.

“[Y/n],” His eyebrows creased apologetically, his hand coming up to hold your cheek. “Follow me, please. I will explain everything, I just really, really need you to come with me.”

You could never say no to him, even with the residual feelings of betrayal that lingered in the back of your mind. The desperate look worn on his face was enough for you to give in without another thought. A small nod of your head brightened his face up immediately, though you could tell he was trying to let himself not get too excited at the small victory.

He took your hand into his, fingers intertwining and hearts racing. Your cheeks heated red as he pulled you through the forest with a firm grip, no intention of letting you go.

You followed closely behind him, looking back in the direction of the festival when you heard music resume in the distance. You felt a pang of guilt, you didn’t want to be the reason he got in trouble yet again. “Neteyam, you are the chief’s son. Are you sure you can just up and leave like this? They will surely be looking for you-”

The two of you broke out from the trees and onto a stretched path, your breath catching in your throat when you were suddenly pulled into his chest. If you had inched just a smidge closer, your noses would have been touching. You blinked sporadically, probably to keep yourself from fainting.

“I do not care what anyone thinks. Now is not about them, it’s about you.” The words flowed from his mouth smooth like silk, and with the way his amber eyes eyes were mending into yours you truly felt as if nothing else mattered to him. “Yesterday, you said you wanted to go on another Ikran ride with me, no?” You had no idea how he was able to maintain eye contact so easily, your legs felt like they were about to snap at any moment and you thanked Eywa you had his arms to hold onto.

“Yes…” You would have looked away by now, but his eyes were inviting you in. There was such a different look to them, like he was seeing into you. The sound he made to call for his banshee brought you back to reality. “O-oh, right now?” You gulped, seeing his Ikran land at the end of the trail.

“Yes, now.” He laughed at your stuttering, gently pulling your hand and leading you over. He glanced at you while he prepped the saddle, a playful smirk playing on his lips as you eyed the animal, the apprehensiveness you held for years trying to re-introduce itself. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re scared. This isn’t your first time.” He hopped onto its back, extending a hand out to you.

Your mouth fell open and your eyes narrowed, pretending to look offended at his teasing. “You wish.” You took his hand and grinned, allowing him to pull you up behind him. You settled into the saddle, breathing out before loosely snaking your arms around him like you remembered.

“Come on love, I don’t bite.” He chuckled, taking your arms and tightening them around him. “Wouldn’t want you to fall.” You blushed, a small shiver striking through your body when he grasped your hands and placed them over his chest just like he had done the first time.

“Shut up.” Had he not been able to hear the grin overshadowing your words he probably would have thought you were being serious.

“Ready?” He looked over his shoulder, face beaming.

Before you could even respond, a chirp to his Ikran sent it plunging into the sky at full speed. A scream left your mouth, but unlike last time, this one was oozing with exhilaration. Your grip on him tightened and you pressed your cheek against his warm back, a laugh producing from him at your thrilled squeals every time he took an unexpected dip or a turn.

Your eyes were so focused on the gorgeous display below you that when you began to ascend higher and higher into the sky, the landscape seemingly shrinking caused you to look up at his focused expression. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

After a few more minutes of flying passed, your set destination came into view. The hallelujah mountains approaching made you gasp in amazement, you had never once gotten to see them up-close due to your now squashed fear of flying. He felt your heartbeat quicken against his back, the sensation of his hand reaching back to rub your thigh instantly drawing your attention away from the scenic landscape in front of you.

The banshee came to a gradual landing on one of the larger floating platforms, its heavy wing beats slowing once its feet made contact with the ground.

Your gaze immediately locked on the faint flickering of candles in the distance, having trouble pulling your attention away from them as he dismounted. “Neteyam… What is that?” Your voice was calm and directed towards him- but your eyes remained in front of you, worried that if you expressed too much interest, whatever it was that he had set up would disappear.

“Just, come on.” He smiled diffidently and pinched the back of his neck, ignoring your question and holding his hand out to you once again.

You hurriedly grasped it and hopped off the saddle, using his arm to stabilize your landing. You could tell he was a bit nervous but you hadn’t known the exact reason why. He leisurely lead you along and you turned your head towards him, the smile on his face making your own appear as a blanket laid over the grass with a few small, lit candles became visible. You held his hand with both of yours now and squeezed gently, marveling at the set up still ahead. You couldn’t contain your excitement and skipped off without him, lowering to your knees on the soft fabric at your feet.

You brought a hand over your mouth to stifle what would’ve been your one hundredth gasp of the day, taking a glimpse around and seeing a spread of your favorite fruits and snacks positioned off to the side. “Neteyam,” You lifted your head to see he had caught up with you now, grabbing his hand and lightly pulling on it to urge him to sit down with you. “You did this for me?” The spread along with the pillowy, bioluminescent foliage around you were all very enticing, but you couldn’t look at anything else but him.

He sat beside you, blushing and nodding his head while eyeing everything like it was his first time seeing it. “Yeah. Well, I may have asked Kiri for some help cutting the fruits. And Lo’ak assisted me in bringing everything up here…” He trailed off once he saw your sudden unamused expression, most likely due to the fact that he always struggles to take credit for the sweet things he does. He cleared his throat, rephrasing his answer. “Yes, I did it for you.” He grinned.

Your hands came up to cup his flushed face, yellow orbs overflowing with adoration for the man in front of you. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever thought to do for me, I-“ Your sentence came to a halt and your hands slowly retracted from his face upon remembering something that still hadn’t been addressed.

He noticed your demeanor change, bringing his hands up to stop yours from falling completely. “I talked to my parents,” Somehow he was able to answer the question that was lingering in your mind, without you even having to say it out loud. “They’re letting me choose now. I can choose my mate.” He repeated, making sure you didn’t miss a single word he was saying.

“That’s good.” You smiled at him sadly, not being able to help your gaze falling to the side to avoid looking at him.

He rolled his eyes at you in a joking manner, hooking a finger under your chin to tilt your head back up at him. “And I choose you, sxkawng.”

“You can’t,” You shook your head, feeling betrayed by your own mouth at the words it picked as a response. “I am not a healer, Neteyam. Or a hunter. I don’t have what it takes to be Tsahik. I can’t-“

“No,” He cut you off before you could finish, like the words angered him to even listen to. “You don’t need to be anything other than yourself, [Y/n]. Do you not remember how you single-handedly managed to save our village tonight? You have proved yourself plenty, trust me.” He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. “You are so much more than special, and you always have been. Especially to me.” His tone comforting and leaking with affection, he used his other hand to caress your cheek while he reassured you.

“Neteyam….” You melted into his touch and leaned against his hand, feeling all the uncertainty you held for yourself slip away.

He went to tuck one of your front strands behind your ear to get a better look at your face, then he paused. Watching his expression change, his eyebrows furrowed as he peered at what was woven in on the ends. “These beads,” He stared intently, deep in thought while he rolled one between his index finger and his thumb to try and spark a memory. “I feel like I have seen them before.”

Your mind instantly flashed back to when you had pushed through the circle to stop the Palulukan, remembering that you were still holding the necklace when you came into his line of sight. “Oh!” You quickly reached behind you to grab your small pouch, lifting the strap over and off your shoudlers then opening it and sifting through the contents. He watched curiously, his eyes illuminating when you revealed a necklace made of the same beads that were in your hair.

His mouth opened but you were already explaining before he could ask. “I-it’s for you. I was gonna give it to you, at the festival. But then I saw you with her and everything started happening so I-“

He delicately took it into his hands, tilting his head to the side to get a better look. His head was dropped down as he studied it and silence that weighed in the air began to worry you.

“You don’t like it?” Your voice was quiet and your sweating palms indicated how nervous you truly were.

His strong arms suddenly pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly. You were shocked at his unforeseen actions but ultimately had zero complaints. “I love it.” He whispered, pulling away to look at you with one of the most genuine smiles you’ve ever seen on his face. “You made this for me?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe it.

You quickly nodded, still trying to gather your thoughts. “Well, it was my idea, but I was on a time crunch so my mom-“ You stopped yourself, seeing the same kind of look on his face you had given him earlier when he went off on a tangent to discredit his efforts. The both of you were thrown into a fit of laughter at the moment of deja-vu. “Yes, I made it for you.”

You took the necklace back into your hands, motioning it towards him as a silent offer to help him put it on. He obliged, using a hand to hold his braids up and out of the way.

You licked your bottom lip and sat up on your knees, realizing now that you had accidentally volunteered yourself to get closer to him. You moved your body in his direction, not missing the way his eyes tracked every movement you conducted. You brought your hands apart and circled them around his neck, trying your hardest not to think about the way his breath was fanning against your shoulder, his lips lightly grazing it. You felt his gaze boring into your face, the pace of your heart increasing as you fiddled with the clasp before fastening it.

“There, all done.” You mumbled, allowing your hands to trail against the skin from the back of his neck down to the front of his chest. As you pulled away it was impossible to hide from his stare, your eyes connecting with his. The both of you sat there for a beat, simply looking into each other’s eyes until he decided to make the first move. He leaned forward, stopping inches from your face. Your breath shuddered, his eyes falling from yours, to your lips, then back up again.

“Can I kiss you?” He breathed out, his fingers brushed against your sides, eager to hold you but wanting to wait until he had your permission.

God, you thought he’d never ask.

He took you falling in to close the remaining space between your lips as a prompt yes. Your eyes fluttered to a close the moment your lips met, your arms ribboning around his neck to bring him closer. His hands followed suit and grappled onto your waist, his right arm hooking around your back to pull you up and into his lap as the kiss deepened almost instantly.

You broke for air after a few seconds, raking your hands into his braids when he quickly became too impatient to wait for you to catch your breath. You held his head whilst he placed featherweight kisses along your jaw, mindlessly craning your head to the side to grant him further admittance to your sensitive skin.

You nuzzled your cheek against the top of his braids, not being able to stop yourself from inhaling deeply to take in his scent. You felt his lips latch and suck on the skin of your collarbone, gasping at the feeling and knowing it would for sure leave a mark. Biting your lip to contain your voice, you drew your body away from his.

His head snapped up to look at you, fearful that he had done something you didn’t like or made you uncomfortable in any way.

His worries were extinguished once taking in the wanting look on your face, eyeing carefully when you reached back to grab your long braid and pull it forward. He followed suit, eagerly bringing his own to present it to you. The ends of your queues unveiled from the hair that protected them once in close proximity with each other.

“[Y/n], we will be mated for life if we do this.” He started, not wanting to rush you into a decision just in case this wasn’t truly what you wanted.

You placed a reassuring kiss on his lips, pressing your forehead against his once you pulled away. “I promise, Nete’. I want this.”

The two of you brought your hands closer, your queues grasping onto each other and intertwining to make Tsaheylu. Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes closed, your body trying to adjust to the new feeling that had been gifted to you. It was as if you could now feel everything he was feeling, think everything he was thinking. You felt the immense love he held for you all these years coarse through your veins. He had already told you this, but feeling it was something completely new, a foreign sensation you didn’t know you could crave this badly until now. Neteyam’s head hung below you, and based on the short, uneven breaths that could be heard from him paired with his chest rising and falling— you knew he felt it too.

He finally raised his head to look at you, his hands tenderly rubbing up and down the sides of your body. You allowed your back to be pressed against the soft blanket beneath you as he switched the position the two of you were in, meeting your lips again. His lips chased yours every time he felt you pull away, and with each kiss his lips transferred the burning desire he had onto you. Your mouth parted instinctively when his warm tongue swiped at your bottom lip and you gladly allowed it in, hands fervently grasping onto each other in attempt to be closer than you already were. You smoothed over his chiseled back, fidgeting under him slightly at the heat you felt starting to grow deep in your core while his wandering hands served as further ammunition.

You had no idea where he learned how to do all this but you were so far from a complaint that you wouldn’t even be able to hear if it yelled your name. The two of you kissed like it would be your last, lips melded together to confirm it had been a mistake that they were apart all these years.

“‘Teyam…” You softly moaned against his lips, his ears flicking in delight at the way you called his name. You trailed a hand down his torso, fingers rolling over his abs and feeling them tense at your touch. You rapidly felt yourself growing impatient, your back arching off the ground and your heaving chest coming in contact with his.

His large hand squeezed the plush area where your thigh met your hip, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist securely then dragging his hand back up to continue loving on your heated, dark blue skin. A finger finally slipped under the string of your loincloth and with one swift motion it could be lost and forgotten for the night. His heart was beating against his chest so hard he swore you could hear it. He didn’t bother to open his eyes, but simply hovered his lips over yours with enough room for you to speak.

“Do you want me to stop?” His tone was gruff and deep, tail swishing in delight as he could already feel what the answer was against his leg.

“Please don’t.” You panted out whatever would use up the least time, not wanting his lips to leave yours for more than a second and using your hand at the back of his neck to pull him right back down into you.

~~~

You were glad tonight would be a warm one, seeing as the two of you wouldn’t be moving from this spot anytime soon. Where in the world he had tossed your garments was a problem to be saved for the morning.

Even if you actually wanted to move, you couldn’t. Neteyam’s arms were wrapped so tightly around you, as if you would slip right through his fingers if he let up in the slightest. Not to mention that you were sure the minute you’d try to stand up, the stability of your legs would automatically succeed in embarrassing you.

You couldn’t exactly see just how marked up the skin surrounding your neck and chest looked, but brief flashbacks of him nipping at where he’d noticed other men ogling at before pretty much told you that you were in for a treat. Your mother would probably faint if she saw you like this, so you’d make sure to stop and get some yahlnabark in the morning to tend to the bruising before home.

Neither you or Neteyam had taken it upon yourselves to break Tsaheylu, wanting to relish in the unfamiliar feeling of comfort it brought. Enjoying your hearts beating as one, you cuddled closer to him while your queues lay connected between your exhausted bodies.

You spent your time afterwards threading your fingers through his hair and against his scalp, appreciating every part of him. The both of you took turns feeding the other pieces of fruit, easily resembling a cliche married couple on their honeymoon and giggling at yourselves for it, completely lovestruck.

“You are so beautiful… Did I tell you that already?” He twirled the strands of your hair along his fingers, his elbow propping him up and his eyes utterly mesmerized as they trailed from your head to your toes over and over again. He had said it so many times already that you were starting to forget your own name.

You cheesed, nodding your head while he continued to delve into how gorgeous you looked for the umpteenth time regardless of your answer.

The twinkling stars in the sky above begged for your attention, but all your eyes could focus on was him. The way his face lit up when he spoke of something that excited him, the sound of his voice when he laughed at his own corny jokes. You could listen to him go on and on for hours. You lived for it all and didn’t want to miss any of it.

“I won’t disappear, you know,” He chuckled at your melancholy expression, planting a prolonged kiss on your cheek that made your heart skip a beat. “Not this time.” He assured, lifting the back of your hand to kiss your knuckles.

This was definitely something to get used to. Him displaying his love for you so openly as well as literally being able to tell what was on your mind.

“I know that, but I can’t take any chances. I miss you already and you’re right here in front of me.” You pouted, not being able to stop it from transforming into a sheepish smile.

After a while of laying together he started to doze off, his slowed breathing indicating as such. He had tried to keep himself awake for as long as he could, going to sit back up every time he felt his eyes begin to close and swearing that he wasn’t tired. You had to hammer it into his head that you would remain next to him; that if he fell asleep you would still be here in his arms when he woke up. He eventually fell asleep with his head on your chest, his arms maintaining a concrete hold on your body to make sure you would keep your promise. With his tail loosely wrapped around your thigh, indistinct, quiescent snores could be heard from who you had come to love so deeply over the years.

You wished he had been awake so you could poke fun at his possessive behavior. Every time you moved so much as an inch from him, just to see what he would do, he stirred from his slumber and pulled you back flush against him with a muffled, exhausted grunt in protest. The sensation of your heated skin pressed close to his was enough for him to let his guard down and rest without worry, even if it were just for tonight. He knew he still had hardships to face, but the fact that you would be there by his side through it all helped erase all feelings concern. The man who spent his entire life protecting everyone could now bask in the same treatment. One night with you was all that was needed to heal all of his wounds. The confirmation that he now had you as his mate for the rest of his life, and in the next, aided in keeping him sound asleep.

Though it was most likely the influx of newfangled emotions washing over you, you couldn’t help but grow emotional while watching him sleep so soundly. In all your years of knowing Neteyam, you had never seen him more at peace than he was with you in this very moment. The space between his eyebrows held no weight, his shoulders no tension. His body and mind were completely relaxed for the first time in forever.

Trailing your fingers over the necklace you had made him, you chewed your lip to stop your grin from enveloping you as you remembered the way he had peppered your face with endless kisses just a bit ago, thanking you over and over again for such a thoughtful and sincere gift. He swore the only way he would take it off is if it broke, and even then he would come to you and have you fix it.

You listened to the distant sounds of the forest tucking itself in for the night, insects humming, the leaves on the trees gently swishing when the occasional breeze would pass. If someone had told you just two weeks ago that you and Neteyam would be mated for life, you would have laughed in their face. You couldn’t believe you had gone from being his secret admirer to the love of his life right before your eyes.

You vowed to always support him and love him unconditionally. You would never again allow him to feel less than he was- a beautiful, strong, humble man deserving of all the love he craved and more. You gazed down at him as you felt sleep creeping up on you, brushing the loose hairs from his forehead and seeing the corners of his mouth unconsciously turn up into a subtle smile.

“I see you, Ma Neteyam.” You whispered, eyes softly flittering to a close.

a/n: And that’s a wrap ladies and gents. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! ☺️

Please like + reblog if you can, they are greatly appreciated 💗

tag list ⬇️ (if you’re not here your blog didn’t pop up + tumblr only allows me to add 50 names!)

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starillusion13 · 5 months

Text

FRIENDS!? Chapter 6

🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳

Series ML

Pairing: poly!ateez × f!reader (An ATEEZ Office AU)

Genre: Mature, Angst, Yandere, SMUT

Warning: suggestive themes, kiss, talk about past, lots of flirting(!!!) nothing else Ig.

W.C: 5.2k

For my beloved: @oreharuuu

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

[Reblogs and Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you for reading and have a nice day ahead. Please always take care of yourself everyone.]

Hello, Can we be friends please?

The Angel is back.

Yeosang is back to his loving and happy friend aura. You don’t know why he was acting all rude and mysterious for these past months since I that day but you are excited to be with his company. He is such a sweetheart. His caring nature is beyond expected and the worry look on his face is something that keeps bugging in the backside of your head. Like, You have seen this angelic smile and felt this care and loved before. But where?

Employees might wonder that you are cheating behind Wooyoung with Yeosang. Yes, that guy is always being trailing behind you every day in the off-time but never once anybody see you getting along with Yeosang before. To wave off their suspicion, you tried to tell him not to show his closeness with you in public but you didn’t want him to be distant again so you kept it to yourself. He might have noticed your discomfort so he smilingly but in a tone of threat, he made it clear to everyone that she is a part of their family and no one should judge you otherwise they have to face the consequences.

“Yeosang, you didn’t have to be like that to them. They were so scared of you.”

He chuckled, “So? They should know their place. I can tolerate anything but I won’t be thinking twice if I hear anything about you and if it’s making you uncomfortable.”

“Why are you caring so much?” You asked while shifting in your place beside him. It’s so nice spending time with him in the terrace.

He casted a glance at you and then looked forward to the wide city view, “Even if I wanted to hate you, I couldn’t. That was not your fault to leave me but somehow, I still get mad when I remember that you ran away and never came back.” He turned towards you and cupped your face, “Why did you leave us?”

Run away? Left them? Why do you feel that you know about this but still somewhere you can’t remember some important parts. You always see yourself running in your dreams and escaping from somewhere. You were scared and wanting help but nobody was there. Should you tell him about your dreams? Maybe later. What if you were running away from them?

You held his wrists and smiled, “I don’t know why I did. But one thing is that am sure about is I was in need of somebody. A person who could protect me but no one was there and I was all left alone. I was scared, Yeosang”

A sad look appeared on his face. Air of guilt suffocating him but still he managed to cup your cheeks.

“Every time remember that even if you are my enemy then also you will be the first person I would protect. I can’t hurt you, Y/n.” In a soft tone he said to you.

“Then why did you behave like that on the first day?”

He avoided your eyes hearing the question, placing his hands on his thighs, he looked down, “I was scared that you would leave again. I would lose you again and that guy in your college would steal you away from me.”

“You both are my friends. Don’t worry, I’m not leaving either of you.” You placed your hands on his.

You wonder what they would do with the ones who speak tons of nonsense about you and the CEOs behind their back. You don’t mind it though as you are trying your best to ignore them as you have got your boys.

Well, boys. Your boys.

Yeah, it may sound funny that you are calling some grown men as your boys but one time after your tired day when you were scrolling through the phone, Seonghwa and Hongjoong came inside the cabin with lots of treats and all the snacks were your favourite despite some of those were disapproved by Hongjoong. You laughed when he scolded you for eating those unhealthy foods but still, he had that fondness in his eyes while watching you enjoying their treat. You told them that they were behaving like teenage boys and they gladly mentioned that they are your boys. And then everytime, you are teasing them calling them out as your boys, of course behind those employees at work.

Did you call them as your boys back then?

“When we were friends back then, did you all use to buy snacks for me like this?” You asked them while munching your cookies.

Honjoong was leaning against the corner table and going through some files placed on it. On hearing your question, he adjusted his glasses and looked up to give a small smile to your direction, “Yeah…you can say like that. Maybe we did. We…just wanted you to be happy, to see you always smiling.”

“And we are relieved that our little angel is enjoying our treat so much.” Seonghwa leans against the table in front where he managed to make a place to keep his hand as you have spread your snacks all over it.

“Little…angel?” You have heard this name. Maybe by someone with whom you had come across many times or might be Beomgyu. No, he can’t be the one calling you these names. Then who? You are sure you are not wrong remembering hearing this name before. Lately, many mysterious things seemed familiar to you and you are curious every day. Oh wait! How did you forget this name? You have heard this in your dream.

“You…you used to call me this name?....” You said while your curious eyes dancing between both of them.

“Are you asking me or you are remembering anything?” Seonghwa seemed too happy hearing you and he held your hands tightly.

“I…I don’t know…It just felt like I have heard this.”

Hongjoong came beside you and patted your head, “If you ever remember something do tell me or any one of us. We would be happy to get to know the past or maybe” He casted a glance at the other man standing on the other side and then turned to you, “we would likely know the things happened…with you after you left us.”

You nodded.

……..

Tell them what you remembered. You have managed the courage a lot of times to tell them about your dreams but the time you are standing in front of them, you just give them a smile and shake your head as if those are nothing to bother about. But deep down you want to voice out. Many things are clear, most importantly that you knew them back in your school days but them being your friends is still a mysterious topic. The nicknames they are using like Wooyoung calling you his cupcake, Yeosang as doll and Seonghwa as his little angel, these are exactly those names you hear in your dreams. One might find it weird to hear and see stuffs in dreams and then spending the whole day thinking about that but for you, having some flashbacks is really an important matter. Few days back when you heard Wooyoung saying the same sentence from your dream while giving you the cupcake triggered something that lead you to ignore him. He was really upset and others found it concerning when you both were being distant. But one day, you went to talk to him and told him that you were suddenly feeling down past those days and that was the time when Yeosang suddenly changed and you three started spending time together. One day Hongjoong commented when you three were enjoying time at the terrace during the break that seeing you with both of them felt like Deja-vu. Is it though? So, you used to spend your days like that? Now half of your mind is excited that you are finally remembering stuffs and getting close to your old friends and rest half is curious and confused to know how exactly your relationship was with them. Were you only friends or you had something more than that with one of them?

Now, here comes Star. You are literally so happy to get her company in this little adventure. You have introduced Beomgyu to her one day when you two went out for a girls’ day outing but suddenly you came across him. Gradually, they have become good friends as well. You are literally having a best life with both of your new friends and old friends. Star is still being stick to the point on not telling them anything about your dreams and insisted you to tell them later when it would be a better time. Here comes the problem, recently whenever one of them finds you out having whispering conversation with Star, they would drag you away as if they are not liking you being friends with her. There should not be a problem but now you have to go outside or somewhere private to talk to her. Still, you know you have been on watch by none other than Yunho. Oh, he is enjoying this too much as whenever he catches you alone or talking with her then he would just tilt his head and smirks at you as if he is saying ‘There is nowhere you can run to.’ Yeah, of course as you are yet to get familiar to the building, not like him maybe literally born here. Very funny!

Your first target was Wooyoung and you needed to get to know about him as much as you wanted but the problem was you didn’t know from where to start with. So, you and Star made it to the point that you would get to know everything from him. If he is so friendly and nice to you then he should not hesitate in telling you how you met him but you need to keep in mind that you are not crossing your limit asking him too many questions that can make him feel like you are doubting him. You are just confused with everything like if you really had such nice friends then what would have been the matter for you to be in a condition where you could see yourself in horror in your dreams.

“What are you doing here?”

Your gaze moved towards the man standing at the door leaning and drinking his coffee. You didn’t expect him to be here but his curious eyes looking back at you with his question.

“Woo, I was just completing some paper works by tonight. Do you need something?” You glanced at the clock and sighed.

“I heard you were searching for me this afternoon. Why?” He asked and sat across from you.

Oh. I almost forgot.

“Yeah, I was. It’s nothing important if you are busy then we can talk about it later.”

He shook his head and leaned forward, “It’s look like you are busy right now but whenever you want to talk to me just remember I’m always available for you.”

You smiled at the grinning man in front, “I have almost finished with this work so it wont matter if we spend some time together. Jongho was helping me a lot this evening so Hongjoong won’t scold me again for not completing the work on time.”

He laughed, “You know he doesn’t actually get angry with you. It’s just his position’s characteristic which he needs to show to people so that they don’t take him easy. He has a lot of responsibility and a perfect big brother to us and he always look after us and…you. He can’t do anything that would scare you or that could harm you.”

“And you? What about you?” You put the papers aside and rested your face on your palm, elbows resting on the table and watching how he was turning the pages and glancing at you. His eyes caught yours but you didn’t look away.

“What about me?” He asked you and leaned forward.

“I want to know how you actually are, like you described Hongjoong. Were we the closest back then?”

“Yes. We were the best-friends.”

“Aren’t we all were?” you tilted your head.

“No…I mean…Yes we were…but but I met you first so we were special but…”

“But?” You stood and walk to his side and held his hand “but what, Woo?”

You watched how he was thinking something as if he was fighting with his own self and trying to form proper words but when you gave his hands a warm squeeze, he looked at you and you smiled.

“But what, Woo? Please tell me. I want our friendship to be like that again.”

Nibbling his lower lip between the teeth, he spoke “We met at a café when you were in junior school.”

Aha. There, he went. You knew he would be the soft target and that was how you got to him.

He continued, “You were so quiet and watching the donuts and cupcakes behind the glass case in the shop. I went there with Yeosang that day but he was busy doing his stuffs and you caught my eyes. I didn’t mind you at first but somehow, I went up to you and you were so scared of me. That was the first day I bought you a cupcake. You were hesitating to take it but still you glanced at me and at my hand then ran away.”

“You know me for a long time….” You were so into the story that you didn’t notice Wooyoung was almost sitting at the edge of the table.

“Yes. Since that day, I went there often just in hope that I would meet you again but you didn’t show up….Then one day I was walking home alone, you came behind me with a man and gave me some gifts. I was so confused but the man explained me that I helped you to buy the cupcake as you were hungry but shy to order things and I suppose we became friends like that.”

“We were not school-friends? And who was the man?” Your curiosity taking over you.

“No. We were not in the same school but we used to hang out after school. And I don’t know who was that man but you looked very happy with him.” He replied and pulled you between his legs and wrapped his arms around you.

You were not feeling uncomfortable being so close with him but a wave of comfort and familiarity spread all across yours. A smile appeared on your face along with his. Your mind was trying hard to remember those days you had spent with him, the happy days which are lost within a void and you desperately need to remember it to know if the days were so full of rainbows and butterflies then why you have flashbacks of some dark past. You shook your head but Wooyoung caught a glimpse of your panicked eyes.

“What happened? If you have any question, please do ask me. I am more than happy to share the past with you.”

You hesitated for a moment but when his promising smile nodded at you, the words automatic fell out from your mouth, “Did something happen between us? Are we something like teenage couples or like that? I…” You were almost near telling him about your dreams but you paused, that was not the current time to ask him about those dark themes.

Sadness flicked in his eyes but he quickly smiled, “Why?” He leaned to your ears, “Are you so curious about the past and your lovers?”

“What? No no. I am just asking you.” You tried to turn around but he held you tightly.

“Y/n, listen don’t always run away. Learn to face your situations confidently. If you are curious, you should be but don’t turn your back and run away…..just like the way you did in high-school.”

His palm caressing your soft cheeks and you leaning to his warm touch, “Please, Wooyoung.” You breathed out his name, you had so much in mind but didn’t know how to figure them out. Now his words were making it more confusing for you. You didn’t know what you were requesting him but he was on the edge to fulfil your demands.

“Tell me, cupcake. What do you need?”

“I want to forget everything for a moment and just want to think that only we are best-friends enjoying our time now together like we did back then.”

He stared at you for a moment before pressing his lips on you. Instead of pushing him away, you pulled him more into the kiss by wrapping your arms around his neck. He smiled in the kiss and held your head gently. The kiss started with both of your nose hitting each other, lips moving in sync as if you both were waiting for that moment. The kiss was neither too soft nor too rough but somewhere in between, like he was desperate to lose control but also controlling himself from causing a little bit of harm. Knowing him for some months and kissing him should make you regret and guilt should surround you but somewhere your mind was trusting him as if he could protect you from that dark past which was again haunting you. You didn’t know if he was the part of that past but still you were leaning to his comfort. Each warmth of his lips seemed familiar as if you knew him as if you were remembering everything yet your mind was black. His lips travelled down your jaw trailing kisses to your throat and shoulder, pulling your shirt down. He nibbled the area and gave a soft bite when you moaned hid name.

“I’m sorry…” He quickly apologized when he realised that he was lost in the moment and both of you were not even caring if anybody had seen you through the glass cabin or could enter through the doors.

“It’s okay, Woo….I..I allowed you too…” You couldn’t match his eyes when he grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

“Look at me. If you want to trust us. Please let us know that you trust us but never trust anyone other from us. You don’t know what intentions they have but you have us to protect you from this big world.”

“You are telling me as if I’m a kid. But Woo..” You slid your hand up to his cheek and gave him a smile, “I trust you.”

Even though he is still a stranger to you but somehow his words and actions are familiar. But you just had your kiss with him and your first target has been cleared. You don’t know who to get to know after this and you have many more questions to Wooyoung but maybe later. Now, it would be easy for you to discuss about your past.

“Woo…You had my first kiss.” You shyly and slowly told him.

He chuckled and you looked up, “No. I’m not your first kiss. You already had it with one of us but not me. Maybe I was the first person to meet you but someone else was good at stealing your first kiss and” He whispered, “Maybe he doesn’t know this but I’m your third kiss. You had your time with two of them and I am not complaining.”

What the hell! Who?

……

You had a kiss with Wooyoung and then there is this mysterious man from your story and also, you had already kissed them. What? Maybe he was joking? You had lover in your school days and that even more than one? Have you slept with anyone? Wait! You were minor in middle school but it could be even if you had anything in the first half of your high-school. You were almost elder than those students as you had been under medication according to Beomgyu so you had to off your school for one year but he didn’t mention about your friends. Medications? But that was a flue which damaged and led me having some health issues. Maybe he came after you left your friends. This is very confusing as what did happen in the high school which did lead you here.

……..

“Hey! What are you thinking? Tell me did he tell you anything about the past?” Star asks you while sipping her juice. You totally forgot that you have a company beside you and you were lost in your thoughts.

“Yeah…he told me about our friendship and how we used to spend our days. I asked him about it last week but you were not here these days so I couldn’t tell you.” You pout in the end of your speech.

She laughed, “Sorry I was kinda busy but what else he said?”

“Else?...um nothing.” It’s better to skip the kiss part, apart from that there was nothing “I just trust him that he was my closest friend. Well, he is a nice friend and seems like he is close with Yeosang and San too much maybe I can know other things from them.”

“You are going to ask them? Aren’t they scary to you?” Star raises her brows with her question.

“I didn’t say I will ask them. I am okay with Yeosang but San is still not included. Maybe, I should target Jongho Mingi or Yeosang next. They seem pretty good to approach.”

“What about Hongjoong and Seonghwa?” She asks you quickly. You think about them for a moment before replying her.

“I don’t know but they are pretty too professional while talking about anything but it’s better to-“

"CEO Jeong is calling you." you flinch on the chair, hearing a sudden voice inside the cabin. You didn’t hear anyone opening the door. Turning towards your door, you see Jongho standing leaning against the glass wall with folded hands above his chest and looking between you and Star. He didn’t mention Yunho’s name because they refer to each other with their last name in front of others.

"Did he tell you why?" you asked him but he just shrugged and turned back to the passageway but pauses and signals you to follow him.

"Star, take care of the rest," you said, standing up and she nodded eagerly. You don’t know if Jongho is bothered by her presence but you can explain him that she was there because she needed your help in some model outlooks for her magazine next week. You know she is the daughter of their business partner but they don’t appreciate her presence much except Wooyoung.

Before exiting the door, you turned and said, “Star, next is Jongho.”

You greet everyone you see while making your way to the elevator. You enter the elevator and press the tenth floor where the CEOs are having their respective works today.

You can always see a black door in each floor and you know whose cabins are those.

That is for CEO Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa, is the literal head of the Company or The Bosses.

You made it to the tenth floor and when you exit the elevator, Jongho wave at you, “Go quickly, he was in hurry.”

You make your way towards Yunho's office. You knock on the door before entering his office. You saw him sitting on the chair before he looks at you and smirks. He and his signature expression.

"How's everything? Sit down please, "He asks you and you slowly close the door and sit down in front of his desk. You haven’t come across this floor before and this place is so quiet like even if he kills you, no one would get a hint. What the hell you are thinking?

"Everything is good...Yunho… all the pending works have been completed. Why do you need me?" you say politely but hands fidgeting on top of the chair handle. You always feel like a prey in front of him because of his gaze.

He looks at you before removing his glasses. He stands up from his seat before walking towards you. You keep your eyes on him as he places his hand on the armrests on your chair. He leans down to your level.

"You're extra cute today, pearl." He whispered right into your ear, his husky voice giving you some chills.

“Pearl?” Is this the name he used to call you back then? Do they each have separate names for you? If you were close with them then why some of them behave as if you were their past enemy. Or it can be that they are mad at you because of your leave then it’s not your fault as you yourself don’t know why you did that back then.

You heard the door open and both of you turn your heads towards the door, seeing Hongjoong standing there, not impressed by the position you were in.

"I sensed something happening here. Please don't be so close to her, despite her working under you. This is the second time I have caught you. Yunho" He slightly pushes Yunho away from you as he drags him to the side. “Be in the limits.”

“But I’m limitless.”

You look at them, confused about what they are doing. Yunho just smiled at you before looking back at Hongjoong and the other is already glaring at him.

"Look, I'll deal with you later." Hongjoong told him before leaving the room.

You look at Yunho before glancing at the door but he just winks at you. Isn’t he flirting too much today?

You continue to follow his words and explanation about the upcoming meeting and noted everything important in your tablet, he even joked a bit during the conversation but the next moment he is back to his dominating aura. You don’t expect him to suddenly change like Yeosang but you catch him staring at you many times, his eyes tell as if he is eager to say you a lot of things but somehow, he can’t.

"Outstanding works out there, pearl." He says when he goes through your points noted in the tablet. You thank him.

“So, I have one more thing to mention that you are going with us to this meeting at the hotel as we have to take a responsible employee but no one is better than our personal assistant who can handle our meeting there." He said and your eyes widened. No way, you are going to handle a business meeting at a hotel. You are worst when it comes to attend something in grand places because you still remember the insults you once got for your poor dress and looks.

"I- I can't handle that much-"

"No worries about that. You'll only be handling the files and taking down the notes and if required you can suggest on arranging our events with them. You don’t have much work but still your presence is a must." He said and you slowly nod but somewhere you are fighting an inner battle.

……

All the CEOs have arrived to the hotel. They have all arrived by the time but you and Yunho were earlier as the main member was him and so he brought you along with him. He has that permanent grip on your wrist since you both got down the car. You tried to wiggle but he glared at you and you don’t want to mess with him before the meeting as its very important for him.

"Stay close to me." He said then pats your back. He finally spotted the booked table for the meeting and went there to sit with you by his side.

A man in black suit comes near your table and you both stand up to greet him. Yunho introduced himself and you as his secretary but the man walks past him and comes to you. Yunho clenches his jaw.

“Hi, myself Lee Taeyong. The leader of Neo Culture Technology. What’s your name pretty?” He asks you and lifts your hand to press a kiss on back of it.

"I'm Y/N and I'll be attending the meeting with them today." You said then he suddenly lifts your chin up to make you look at him.

"You're kinda cute. what's your number?" He smirks and you glance at Yunho by your side whose eyes are full of rage. Little did you know, he was plotting a full proof murder scene for this man for touching you like this even in front of him.

"Taeyong, it seems like you need some pretty assistant in your office too. "A voice said before nearing your table. The man in front of you groans and smirks at the new comer.

"Gosh…How much I would have love that but" He said then looks at you while you avoid his eyes. Yunho gave you a signal not to react to his words.

Taeyong offers Yunho and you to sit down as he remove his blazer and places it over the chair.

"Do I have a chance there with you?" He smirks then you shake your head.

"No, sir."

"Too bad. "He stood up and took his schedule from the table. He then added one thing before placing it back.

"Hey, CEO Kim." He placed a hand on Hongjoong's shoulder and smiled at him. The other CEOs also greeted him.

He then sit back down between Hongjoong and Seonghwa and you between Yunho and Jongho. You notice other two members with Taeyong has also taken their seats.

"So, look... this new technology is already a success. Your events too CEO Jeong. The projects you've been creating are amazing too." Taeyong complimented them as they thanked him.

"Your agency are making amazing technology crafts too." Seonghwa said as he poured wine for him.

Taeyong looks at you and smiles, "She's adorable." He is still looking at you while the others also did the same thing.

"Are you interested in working as a model? I can make you my company's model." He said and Yeosang rolled his eyes.

"Become our model, you will get extra pay and-" Yunho suddenly holds your hand and abruptly stands up. He then pinches your cheek, leaving you shocked. He wraps his arms around your shoulder as he placed his chin on top of your head, back hugging you. Taeyong smirks at the scene with the raised eyebrows.

"I'm sorry.. she's working for me and she's mine-" “Yunho-“

Jongho stood up and flicks his head, making him let go of you. Jongho then pulls you away from him.

"I'm sorry about him.”

Jongho then caresses your shoulders and smiles at you. You didn’t expect Yunho to be like that in this important meeting as it may hamper his upcoming project.

"She works for our company and holds a special spot. She won't be going to any other companies for now." Seonghwa said, sitting down.

"Aww, I see. She would have been a good model too for my company." Taeyong said in a mocking tone.

"Shall we talk about business now?"

Hongjoong had it enough.

Why Hongjoong doesn’t allow anyone to be close with you? Should you find this out and get to know him first before Jongho? Also, you have noticed one thing that San is always with Yeosang. Without getting answers, the amount of questions are just increasing. Most importantly, who are the ones you had your kiss?

You look around the table. You caught his eyes, still watching you.

Him?

Who do you think are the ones she had kissed?

Taglist :

@mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @vvshere @anyamaris @yeoobin @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @brrrkdslek-main @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @luhwaine @ilove-taeyong @dinonuguaegi @endeav0rsb1tch @loveforred @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @sousydive @aliona124754

(open! dm me/ send ask/reply here)

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sunray-222 · 4 months

Text

Angel Baby. | M.S

pairing: matt sturniolo and y/n

summary: in which matt and his brothers are a pretty big deal in a small town. y/n, who is the daughter of a school teacher and a fireman has never understood the hype around those sturniolo boys anyways. however, when matt takes her home to save her from pouring rain, she decides to give him a chance.

warnings: cursing, short chapter, lmk if i missed anything

————————————————————————

“so, tonight?” matt asked, standing beside you against the lockers. “if you don’t stop asking me, the answer is going to change i promise you.” you laughed, pulling the bag over your shoulder.

“i’m just excited, y/n.” he laughed, gently pushing your side. “i know, i know.” and it was true. matt was excited, and as bad as you tried to fight the thought, you wondered if he was excited for the wrong reasons.

he had a history. of talking girls up, just to never show. he was tough, rude, loud, but with you he was soft. was he like this with every girl he lets down?

the thoughts didn’t have long to linger, as he pressed on with another question. “so we can go to the drive in, and watch a movie…or watch a movie.” he teased, and that’s when a whole new string of fears crossed your mind.

“is that what you think this is gonna be?”

his face completely dropped. “what? no-no y/n i was just joking, i promise i’m not like what you think- i- it was just a stupid joke i shouldn’t have said it. i’m sorry.”

“it’s um, it’s alright matt.. i’ve gotta catch my science class i’ll see you later.” you smiled, quickly walking away from the boy.

you fucking idiot matt thought to himself. in all honesty, he was kidding. and up until this point he’d never been serious about a girl, never talking to one for longer than 48 hours. you were a whole new territory for him. and that scared him.

“oh, hey y/n!” nick beamed, he’d never spoken to you before this. “hey,” you said breathlessly, not realizing how quick you’d walked to avoid matt. “are you excited for tonight?” his eyes danced across your face, looking hopeful for his brother. “oh, yeah i’m over the moon.” you laughed, opening your notebook to a fresh page.

“well, good. because i’ve never seen matt look so excited for something.”

and that’s when all your anxieties came back. you’ll never understand why the reassurance makes you second guess, maybe it’s because you’re letting your guard down, maybe it’s because you’re reading too far into matt’s past. whatever it was, you were beyond sick and tired of the feeling.

the day dragged on, you listened to madi gush to nadia about her phone calls with chris, but the one thing on your mind was matt.

what he was doing, what was he wearing tonight? even worse, what were you going to wear? most little girls dream of their first dates, how beautiful they’ll be, everything. you were different, while those were the goals they had, you had envisioned life away from your town. you had no idea what to do here.

what you didn’t know, was matt didn’t either. even going as far as to forge a letter from his parents, saying he and his brothers had a doctors appointment just so they could leave early and go find an outfit for him.

“this is ridiculous,” chris laughed. “would you shut the fuck up.” matt huffed from inside the dressing room, fixing the collar of the shirt before walking out. “how do i look?”

“like ice cube. pop a few buttons tough guy,” chris laughed, however nick seen how serious his brother was. “maybe try a different one, one that’s more you and not what you think y/n will like.” nick explained, fighting the smile and the urge to laugh at chris’ joke.

“would you quit being a dick!” nick hissed, popping chris on the arm as matt disappeared into the dressing room. “nick, dude looked like he was gonna bust out rapping straight outta compton at any second. i’m trying to help him.”

“well thank you for being honest about his outfit choices dickhead, but if he’s too far into his head he’ll fuck the whole date up with y/n. please just be gentle when you don’t like something, for the love of fucking christ.” nick explained, lightly hitting his forehead for emphasis. chris only rolled his eyes, waiting to see what his brother walked out in next.

“so you have a date tonight?” your mom asked, a wide grin on her face as you stepped into the house. you gave a simple ‘mhm’ as a response, making your way to your room. “where is madi, i figured she’d love to help you get ready,” she asked, resting her hand on the railing to the stairs.

“she’s waiting for her guy to call her. i gotta get ready mom,” you called back, shutting your door just before she could answer.

you laid back flat against your bed, your hands covering your face immediately. “what did i get myself into?!” you groaned, sitting up and connecting your phone to the speaker.

in some way the music calmed you as you made your way to the closet. you landed on a simple plain black top, and baggy jeans. for hair, you kept it simple, same with makeup. by any standards, you looked like you were just hanging out, not a date.

but the truth was, that was the real you. the you that you wanted matt to see you as. if this was going to work at all, matt had to see you for you.

the next two hours flew by, and finally there was a knock at your door.

“hi,” you smiled, only to cut yourself off

it was nick at your door.

“hey, y/n i’m sorry to do this, matt’s not feeling the best. i think tonight’s a no go. he’ll call later, i gotta head out. i’m sorry.”

and then he was gone.

maybe you were right about matt.

i’m sorry to do this to yalll and i’m sorry it took this long annnd i’m sorry this is short. part 3 soon swea 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo

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staytinyville · 7 months

Text

OUTLAW (25)

ATEEZ poly!ot8 x Reader

Cowboy AU / Wild West

Series Masterlist

Warning: none, another spicy chapter you already knoooow

A/N BETA READ (@mariana-mmtz). Tell me more. We love Jongho my boy needs more love. Turn it up for him!! Also yes. I too would click quickly on updated stories lol. Thank you for liking it so much!

For all 9 people to be packed into one tent, there wasn’t much room to move about. If someone were to trip, the entire tarp was going to come down. However, each one of you were beyond worried and wanted to hear first hand what the diagnosis for Jongho was.

“Out of all the weapons those gang members have, you get injured from falling into a hole.” Yeosang had a deep set frown, harshly wrapping Jongho’s knee between two sticks while still being gentle.

“At least he took out that one guy with him.” Wooyoung pointed out.

It seemed that the story went; Jongho was throwing punches with a guy when he stepped into a hole and his ankle twisted. From doing this, his knee gave out on him, which made him fall. While being on the floor he took the chance to pull on his assailant’s leg to trip him. From there, Jongho was able to find a branch and beat him with it.

“I'm fine.” Jongho winced when Yeosang lightly pressed his fingers into the side of the knee in warning.

“Jongho, your leg is purple.” Yeosang sighed. “You probably irritated your old injury.”

Yeosang stood up after placing Jongho’s leg down onto the bedspread. The boy had been brought in to lay down, the others making sure he was off the injury.

“I wouldn't be surprised if it's a sprain. You should be fine in a couple of days if that's the case, though.” Yeosang explained. “Just keep off it and wrapped tightly. No leaving the bed for today and tomorrow. You can start to walk on crutches in a few days.”

“But we have things to do-” Yeosang held up a finger to stop Jongho.

“We do.” The man pointed to himself and the others. “You can rest here for the time being.” The look in his eyes held no room for an argument.

You knew Yeosang was the one who cared for them when in a medical emergency and you could see he took his expertise very seriously. The others seemed to also be wary of him when he was acting as doctor. They looked like they wouldn’t dare to go against Yeosang’s orders.

“What am I supposed to do?” Jongho pouted, crossing his arms.

“Nothing!” Wooyoung exclaimed with a smile. “Enjoy your time. Sounds like you'll be having a blast!”

“I'm sorry, Jongho.” Yeosang sighed. “I know you get antsy, but you have to stay in bed tomorrow.”

Yeosang’s words only made Jongho’s pout deepen. “What if I need to pee?”

“One of us will take care of you.” The boys who were near you suddenly cringed, silently groaning. “Don't worry.” Yeosang added.

“I'll take care of him.” You spoke up, moving the boys aside to reach Jongho.

You came up beside Yeosang, the boy looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows. By the look on Jongho’s face, the older boy knew the younger one was not too excited about you taking care of him.

“You sure?” He asked you.

“Yeah, don't worry about it.” You gave Yeosang a reassuring smile. “If I need help I'll be sure to call for one of you.” You looked at the others, giving them the same smile.

“Alright then. Sounds like a plan.” Wooyoung slapped the person next to him on the shoulder. Mingi squeaked, giving Wooyoung the side eye.

As the boys all shuffled out, making sure to tell Jongho to listen, Yunho walked closer to you. “If he makes you upset, don't be afraid to come to one of us.” He told you softly.

While you weren’t upset with the boy, he knew that Jongho was holding some kind of resentment towards you after that night. It was a stupid reason, but hopefully you both could solve it with the time you spend with him.

“I'll be fine.” You told Yunho. He hummed, turning around to leave the two of you alone.

There was a moment of awkward silence as the two of you were alone in the tent. You looked around for a bit, taking note of everything before wanting to make small talk. “Would you like anything?” You asked.

“No.” He immediately told you.

He kept his eyes on his leg, poking at it as he messed with the pain it gave him. He didn’t flinch or make a sound, so you knew he would stop right before things got too painful.

“Seonghwa is making dinner. I'll bring it to you when it finishes.” You told him, turning around to leave, but you stopped short.

He hadn’t given you an answer when you reached the door so you whipped back around to look at him. “Are you mad at me?” You spoke up, almost shouting it, as you didn’t have a proper hold on your emotions.

Jongho’s head whipped up to look at you, a confused expression on his face. “Where would you get that?” He shook his head.

While his words were meant to deter you from thinking he was in fact mad, the way he looked at you made you think otherwise.

“You've been avoiding me since last night. I wanted to speak with you.” You looked down, fiddling with your fingers.

“You're speaking now.” Jongho shrugged.

“Jongho.” You told him exaggeratedly, getting annoyed with the way he seemed to dodge your questions.

He looked away from your glare, jaw clenching as he tried to come up with what to say. “Sorry. I'm just annoyed.” He sighed.

You huffed as you looked at his knee. “It's only for one day. You can move again soon.” You told him. “Yeosang said you irritated your old wound. Have you hurt your leg before?” You asked him quietly

“Yeah.” Jongho sighed. “It's sensitive to certain movements.” He moved his knee a bit, wincing from a surge of pain.

“I see.” You nodded your head. You looked around once more, dropping your shoulders when he wasn’t going to talk more to you. “I'll leave you to it then.” You turned around, planning to actually leave this time.

However, he was the one who called out to you. “Why are you still here?” He asked you. You whipped your head around to look at him, confused. “You could be at home in a nice bed, working in the hotel.”

Your jaw ticked as you looked down. There was a growing pain in your chest at his words that made tears almost pool in your eyes. “Do you want me gone?” You asked him quietly.

Jongho began to frown at your tone. It hurt him to have you think he didn’t want you to stay. To stay by their sides. He knows the other’s would be happy with the way he was speaking to you, but all he could think about was the smile on your face if you were to have a better life.

“No.” He answered, looking down at his lap.

“Then why are you pushing me to leave?” You walked over to his side, falling down onto your knees to sit next to him.

“Because you don't deserve this.” Jongho admitted to you.

You knew where he was coming from, but all of a sudden you felt angry with how he was choosing things for you.”Why do you get to choose what I deserve? Better yet, how could you know what I deserve?” You told him. “You don't know me.”

“You don't know us either!” Jongho retorted.

“What if I want to!?” You suddenly asked. You took in a deep breath, trying to calm down as tears pooled in your eyes. “You-You all make me feel like I'm somebody. Like I'm meant to be here.” You admitted to him.

“I have never once ever made a friend who didn't belittle me for the way I thought or acted. You guys don't make me feel like I'm the strange one. But you keep saying I don't deserve this, which means I don't deserve to be happy.” You looked down, hands clenching your pants.

Jongho suddenly felt lost for words, realizing how harsh he was being with you. “I didn't mean that-”

“But you still keep pushing me away.” You cried. “It hurts to have you think that.” You sniffled lightly.

He tried to scoot closer to you, to bring you into his arms in a hug. When you noticed his movements, you were quick to allow yourself to fall forward. “Love, I'm sorry. That's not what I want.” He whispered into your hair.

“Then why are you doing it?” You asked quietly, your words muffled by his shirt.

Jongho pursed his lip, looking up at the roof before leaning back down to pull you closer to him. “Because it'll make me selfish to keep you here.”

You pulled back to look at him. “Aren't we all selfish?”

“Not you.” He shook his head, hand running over your cheek. “Never you.”

You saw his eyes flicker down to your lips, which prompted you to do the same. “How would you know?” You asked him.

“Because I know you.” He pulled you closer, his nose rubbing against yours. “No matter what you do, you'll always think about others first.”

With a suction of breath, you pulled yourself to touch his lips with yours. His hands were warm as they moved to your neck and pulled you closer. You noticed how his kiss was soft yet demanding. He wanted you to know that, while he was sweet about it, he was the one moving you along.

You raised to your knees to get closer to him, which led him to place his hand on your waist. As you shuffled closer, his hands bunched up your shirt. Jongho didn’t use his tongue like the others had, which made you lick his lips just the tiniest of bits. He suddenly sucked in a breath as his nostrils flared from the contact.

Your eyes flew open as he suddenly gripped your waist around his arm and moved you to fall into his lap. You squeaked, but Jongho didn’t allow you to pull back from him. With his other arm, he made sure to keep your head close to his. He didn’t want you to break the kiss and you knew that.

You began to pant as his mouth only seemed to push you along, lifting your hips up to get more comfortable in the man’s lap. Before you realize it, you swing one leg over Jongho’s thighs, straddling him. Jongho took advantage of the position to place both hands on your back and pull you closer. His good knee lifted, which caused you to shift further up his legs.

You pulled your lips from Jongho’s, however the man took the invitation to continue kissing down your jaw. Your head fell back as the new sensations left shivers going down your spine. Your fingers moved to the back of his neck, hands finding their way into his shirt to feel his heated skin. You stuck your hand down the back of his shirt, nails scratching lightly.

Your other hand went to his scalp, digging into his hair. When his lips suddenly touched your collar bone, you leaned back onto his lifted knee, causing him to pull forward. As you did so, you let out a moan from the juncture between your thighs rubbing up against him. Your eyes went wide as you both stared up at each other.

“Sheesh, Love.” He returned to your mouth like a starved man this time around.

He wasn’t careful anymore–he allowed his hands to roam every part of your covered body as they pleased. Jongho grabbed fistfuls of the side of your thighs, digging you deeper onto his lap. You fell forward, feeling the pressure on your most sensitive area. It left you panting and wanting to rub against it more.

However, you were quickly stopped when you realized just how fast you were going. The build up was already coming up on you, which made you pull back from Jongho as you tried to calm down your racing heart.

He allowed you to lay your head down on his shoulders, feeling your thighs twitch on his as you tried to come down from the stimulation. He frowned to himself as he noticed how sensitive you truly were, deciding to soothe your skin by rubbing your back.

“Are you okay?” He asked you quietly.

“Yeah,” You answered. “I’ve just never done that before.” You pulled back from him, suddenly feeling something between your legs.

Your eyes went wide and you made quick work of getting off him. “I’m so sorry!” You gasped, falling backwards.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Jongho frowned, watching your flushed face. When he noticed how you seemed to shy away from him, he came up with a conclusion. “Have you never done any of that before?” He asked you, tilting his head.

You shook your head slowly. “I had my first kiss with Mingi.”

Jongho’s eyes suddenly went wide as his hands dropped beside him. “Well, that’s kind of important.”

Series Masterlist

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara , @0rangemilk , @explorewithd , @detectivedoodle , @bangtanxberm , @a1i33a , @loveforred , @drunken-deitence , @0325tiny , @the-ghostest-with-the-mostest , @atinyreads , @atinytinaa , @lexiigom , @smilingtokki , @mismatchfluffysocks , @brain-empty-only-draken , @sousydive , @alex-tinyy , @h3arteyes4mingi , @onedumbho3 , @popcatx0 , @blue1amory , @mommahwa1117 , @sunnyhokyu , @cloudieclair , @araknoid , @starjoongi1117 , @chel-awingcherry , @puppyminnnie ,

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3d-wifey · 8 months

Text

And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 2

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 4.2k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)

Past (ii) - You

[16 & 17] - THE CAPITOL

The man before you has a ten-year streak of picking which tribute will win. Or, at least, that’s what he’s been claiming for the past twenty minutes or so. He said it has something to do with a lot of strategic planning and background research, but at this point, he could say it had something to do with the phases of the moon and you’d still nod along. You had tried to listen closely when he first started talking, but—well, okay, that’s a lie. Everything these Capitols say goes in one ear and out the other. Actually, it doesn’t even make it as far as the first ear.

“I know how it sounds, but it’s definitely more than luck, I can assure you.” His hand catches your shoulder in his attempt to hold your very fleeting attention, trailing down your back more and more in his excitement. “Well, I won’t bore you with the details, they might be a touch too complicated for you to understand.” He laughs and you smile coyly, sidestepping his touch. You’re no stranger to the heavy-handed petting of men and women with ulterior motives, no matter how innocent they try to play it off as being at first.

It’s nighttime in the arena, and most of the tributes are getting a spare few hours of sleep before the nightmare continues. Meaning this watch party has turned into an actual party. Honestly, you don’t even know how you got trapped in a conversation with this guy.

You sip delicately from your straw, eyes roaming over the room of mingling bodies and wall-length screens depicting the games live—eager to look at literally anything but him. And that’s when you spot him: your saving grace walking by himself with his hands in his pockets.

You make eye contact with Finnick and smile, waving him over. He only hesitates for a split second, but it’s long enough that you worry he’ll leave you to fend for yourself. A fear that’s only abated when he calls out your name and approaches with a mystified grin.

“Finn!” Thank god. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” You exclaim in the most sickeningly saccharine Capitol voice you can muster. He stares with wide blue-green eyes, bemusedly mouthing ‘Finn?’ at you but you ignore him in favor of turning back to the man who somehow looks more starstruck than before.

“I’m sorry, but Finnick here promised me a dance.” You explain, pulling an excuse out of your ass. You loop your arm with Finnick’s, practically hanging off of him, and you hope beyond hope that Finnick is good at reading social cues. It should be obvious, right? You’re a big neon sign flashing ‘HELP ME’ in no uncertain terms.

“I did?” He asks, clearly confused at such a friendly greeting, but you stare up at him pleadingly and you must be projecting enough distress that he gets the memo. His back straightens in understanding and he smiles at the other man. “I did. But you know us victors, as slippery as an eel.” The other man lets out a flustered laugh. Finnick tilts his head as the band starts up. “Oh, I love this song. You don’t mind, do you? Thanks.”

You only have a few seconds to wonder what the hell an eel is before Finnick takes your glass out of your hand and hands it over to the sputtering man.

Your arms are still looped together as he leads you to the area where the other couples have decided to dance.

“May I have this dance?” He teases and you get a strong sense of déjà vu.

“Well, we’re already here, aren’t we?” You laugh. You loop your arms behind his neck, and big hands grab either side of your waist.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.” He sighs, any chance of him being serious is shattered by his smirk.

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow before raising to touch your hairline when he spins you.

“You know; you being a damsel in distress, and me saving you by being dashingly handsome and charming.” He clears his throat obnoxiously and puffs up his chest playfully. You’re sure if his hands were free he’d stretch to flex his muscles.

“Mhm,” You hum doubtfully. “Those are…certainly words that could be said with your name in the same sentence.”

“...I think that’s the most roundabout way anyone has ever insulted me before.” His jaw drops before he grins down at you in amused surprise. You laugh at his face, sobering up a little.

“But thank you, Finnick. Seriously. I’m sorry I keep relying on you to pull me out. It’s just…” You don’t know what else to do.

“No, it’s alright. It’s fun, honestly. We rarely get to exercise the little authority we have over them.” His mouth shrugs instead of his shoulders, an endearing motion. “Better enjoy it while you can, right?’’

You nod.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He straightens up subtly as your probing stare looks him up and down. “Don’t take this the wrong way. You look great, but you don’t really seem like a suit kind of guy.” There’s nothing about his outward appearance that gives away how uncomfortable he is, but you only need to talk to him for a few minutes to know this isn’t the sort of thing he’d choose to wear. Not that he looks bad in it; far from it. The coat is tailored to sinch at his waist and a few buttons of his undershirt are undone. The color of the jacket complements his skin tone quite well and the little pocket square makes his eyes pop.

“Thank you. Try telling that to my prep team.” He rolls his eyes. “Apparently, telling them I feel like a circus monkey playing dress up isn’t enough to dissuade them, so I might need a second opinion.”

Circus? “Wait, you’ve seen a monkey before?” You ask in awed disbelief. His mouth moves wordlessly at your enthusiasm.

“Well…not in person, per se.”

Past (ii) - Finnick

[16 & 17] - THE NEXT DAY

Finnick pours the rest of his drink into one of the potted plants he walks past, unbuttoning his suit coat once he's out of sight. This really is the last time he's letting his stylist dress him up in this getup. He rubs his temple in an attempt to soothe his growing migraine. As far as he's concerned, his job here is done. He has no reason to keep watching the games. His tributes already died. He pushes the doors open to the wide balcony and stops in his tracks. Of the many things Finnick expects to find out here, your crying isn't one of them. His first thought is that you're mourning your tributes. His second thought is that Snow got to you. It's an odd time for Snow to drop that kind of proposition on you. There are too many people here, too open for that kind of conversation. He scratches that out and circles back to his first thought. When he wasn't busy rubbing elbows with sponsors, he was keeping an eye out for your tributes. Switching periodically from his kids to yours and he can't, for the life of him, explain why. They got pretty far, considering they were malnourished and had no combat training. The boy got crushed under a tree after an earthquake and the girl stayed with him until he died. Though, it wasn't long before a Career shot an arrow through her head. The balcony door shuts behind him, and you whip around. Neither of you says anything as you rush to wipe your face. There’s an awkward lull as you both silently assess each other. "If you tell me it gets easier, I will push you off this balcony." He doesn't answer immediately, instead taking a moment to look at you. God, you're beautiful. Even now, wiping away your tears and your hurt, you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He doesn’t say any of that. "I wasn't going to." He raises his hands placatingly. He waits for you to tell him to leave, but the demand never comes. He almost offers to but decides against it for no other reason than not wanting to leave you out here alone. Instead, he moves closer and leans against the railing. It's quiet between you both as you try to hide your tears. He looks at you from the corner of his eye a few times and scratches an eyebrow with his thumb. It’s odd to think the two of you were laughing and enjoying each other’s company only yesterday. "I cried in a supply closet the first time my kids died." He glances at your surprised face before looking back down at the view. He clears his throat around the words trapped in his throat. He’s never told anyone this before, he’s never wanted to. "A fourteen-year-old girl named Dahlia, and a sixteen-year-old boy named Nyle. They didn't even make it out of the Cornucopia." Nyle was decapitated by a tribute from One and Dahlia's throat was slit by a tribute from Seven. Finnick remembers crying so hard that he threw up in a mop bucket. "Why are you telling me this?" That is a good question. One with an answer Finnick doesn’t want to look too closely at, though it might—scratch that, it definitely has something to do with your big watery eyes staring up at him ingenuously.

"Your first game as a mentor is always the hardest, and it doesn't get easier. But,” he shrugs and pulls the artfully folded, blue handkerchief out of his breast pocket, and hands it to you. Turns out this suit is good for something, "you do learn what to expect. You get used to that hurt, build up a tolerance to it." At least, he hopes so. This is his third year as a mentor and the burn is still there. How much longer until he tries to extinguish it by using substances? The Morphlings lasted two and four years, respectively. Haymitch lasted two months. You look between him and the handkerchief for a second before using it to wipe at your eyes. "It's completely different than being in the games. It's different watching." You whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the wind. "Yeah. It is.” That's another thing they don't mention when you become a victor. The after is often worse than the during. It’s a thought he had when he saw you at your Victor Tour celebration. He doesn’t know what exactly made him ask you to dance, it could have been the tenseness you carried in your shoulders like a wounded animal being surrounded, or maybe it was the way your pretty face cracked and shattered like glass the longer the Capitols talked to you.

You were a commendable actor, sure, you’d certainly have fooled anyone else. But you just, you had looked so alone—completely overwhelmed with the piranhas circling you. So he threw you a line.

Your words swim through his head.

And you want to save me? He didn’t say your assessment was right, in fact, he had ignored what you said entirely. But he never said you were wrong either. He doesn’t suddenly have a savior complex or anything, he’s got no delusions of being some kind of hero. It’s just. He knows how much he would have appreciated it if someone had stepped in on his behalf when he was fourteen, even for just a moment, It would have made all the difference. But there hadn’t been anyone. So, if he has the chance to change that for you—stop the crippling despondency before it sweeps you away—why wouldn’t he?

Finnick won’t overestimate his influence. If Snow gets to you, there’s very little he can do about it. But. It doesn’t seem like he’s made you the offer yet. Doesn’t that mean something? Snow is nothing if not punctual, very cut-throat in that regard. If he wanted something from you, he would have asked already, right? So maybe, he lets himself think, maybe you’re safe.

He looks up to the sky. One of the many things he hates about the Capitol is the smog. They're in the mountains, but the sky is so polluted it's hard to even see the moon sometimes. "Can you see the stars well in Eleven?" He asks, waving off your attempt to hand him back the handkerchief. You can burn it for all he cares. "Yeah,” you nod, "We focus on agriculture, so there are no mills or factories to pollute the air." You move closer to where he's leaning and look up. It feels almost instinctual to copy you, to get closer and fall into your orbit. "Hmm," he hums, "Same for Four. Ships come in and out of the harbor, but I don't think they do much damage." The calmest he's felt in his entire life is when he's staring up at the sky at night, sand under his feet, and waves crashing in the background. "A friend of mine loved looking at the stars. She never knew any of the constellations, so she'd make up her own with stories to go with them." Mags loved telling him all the stories she made up when she was his age. Even after the stroke took her ability to speak, she'd point up at a constellation and have Finnick retell them to her. "My dad knew the real constellations." There's a small, prideful grin on your face that he doubts you even know is there. But he does. He is very aware of it. "He'd tell them to me whenever we came back from harvesting." "The real constellations, huh?” He glances over his shoulder at the glass door leading inside. The game is down to its last few tributes. No one should come looking for either of you. "How about for every real story you tell me, I tell you a made-up one?" He grins at you, the bar of the balcony digging into his back as he turns around. Odd. He can’t remember the last time he’s been alone with someone—someone other than Mags and Annie—and has kept all of his clothes on. "Won't they miss you in there? I mean you’re definitely the main attraction in every room you're in." You nudge him gently with your elbow, looking up at him through wispy eyelashes. Your eyes are still a little red from your earlier crying, but they’re heavy and focused entirely on him. He's used to people flirting with him. Hell, he does it almost as readily as he breathes. But he isn't used to you flirting with him. That tentative way of yours makes him nervous. It’s nothing he’s used to. It feels too real. "I don't care what they think," he shrugs a shoulder, biting his lip to stop from smiling too broadly, "The real party's out here, anyway." You tilt your head, smiling up at him and his ears go warm. This is probably the fifth time he's talked to you and you've never smiled at him like that before.

“Deal.” You hold up your pinky to him, something so openly childish that he can’t help but laugh.

“Deal.” He locks his pinky with yours and you nod at each other before dropping your hands.

"You see that up there? Those tiny clusters of stars," he watches your finger draw a W between five stars, "are called Cassiopeia. And those five stars above it are called Cepheus. They were husband and wife, queen and king. Cassiopeia offended Poseidon by saying her daughter, Andromeda, was more beautiful than the sea nymphs—close friends of his. So he punished her by sending a flood and a sea monster that would destroy their country unless they sacrificed Andromeda." Finnick looks from the sky to the side of your face as you continue talking. He follows the line of your jaw up to your mouth and watches as your full lips form the words of your story. The moon is full, the sky is bright, and he's entranced by more than just the stars. “After they died, Zeus put them in the sky together because Cepheus was a descendant of one of Zeus's lovers. A little weird, honestly.” Your face scrunches up in a decidedly cute way at the thought. “Cepheus sits with his scepter, and Cassiopeia sits chained to her throne as a punishment by Poseidon. As if having to sacrifice her daughter wasn’t enough. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?"

“Yeah.” The yellow lights from inside blanket you from behind, while the moon’s white glare reflects in your eyes. “They are.” You catch him staring and look at him expectantly. You're starting to fidget and he realizes he’s been quiet for a concerning amount of time. “My friend…” he pauses and makes a quick decision, "My friend Mags, she calls that one the Turtle and the Fish. Eros was mischievous and vain, as most gods are. He wanted to show off to a sea nymph, so he made a turtle and a fish fall in love to prove his power transcended species. But fish don't live as long as turtles, and once its lover died, the turtle mourned for one hundred years at the bottom of the sea. Poseidon, who felt his subject's grief, put them together amongst the stars for all eternity." He turns to you and finds you staring at him. "What?" He asks with a laugh, embarrassed for whatever reason. "I know it’s pretty simple compared to yours, but—" He cuts himself off when you smile at him again. "No, I liked it." You nod at your own words like you're agreeing with yourself. "It was sweet. Your Poseidon is way nicer than mine. Maybe you can tell your friend one of my stories. To show her how different they are." You shrug like it's a dumb, throwaway idea, before turning away from him in a haste to look back up at the sky.

He doesn’t understand. How can you just offer something like that like it’s nothing? You clearly loved your father very much and he picked up on the past tense when you talked about him. These stories are quite personal to you and he had assumed you hadn’t wanted them to be shared, but…Maybe he will tell her.

“Oh. Good. I just—I’m not much of a storyteller, so…I might’ve completely butchered that.” He swears it sounds much better when he retells it to Mags.

“It was great, Finnick. You were great.” You pout up at him and it’s the most unfair shit Finnick’s ever seen. Made even worse by the fact that you’re defending him. To himself. “Can you tell me another one?” You ask guilelessly, and who is Finnick to say no?

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

Present (ii) - Finnick

[23 & 24] - District Four

"Mags: milk and cinnamon," Finnick places two tea cups before the two women, "And, Annie: a spoonful of honey." Mags smiles up at him in thanks as Annie takes a sip. He walks back to the kitchen to pour his own cup. It’s odd. He hadn’t always been a tea drinker. But now he practically puts on a new cup for every occasion, entirely your influence. He rests against the counter, letting it dig into his hip. It wouldn't be long before Snow announced the stipulations for the third Quarter Quell and Finnick can admit in the safety of his own mind that he's nervous. There were whispers among the Capitols and none of it painted a pretty picture. One of his clients informed him about a new Gamemaker, supposedly some kind of creative genius. He rolls his eyes at the thought. Yeah, he bets the guy is absolutely brilliant at torturing children. He drops five sugar cubes into the tea before grabbing a licorice root to stir it with. He joins them on the couch, staring at the sliced berries floating in his cup. There's something in the air. Word travels fast in close circles and it's no secret that there are more and more riots breaking out in the districts. Katniss and Peeta's win is still fresh on everyone's tongue. Snow has stayed quiet and with the Quarter Quell on the horizon, Finnick knows it—he can feel it in the atoms of his very being that it was going to end badly. Or at the very least, worse than normal. What fresh hell will Snow come up with this time? Snow appears before a cheering crowd, foreboding even through the TV. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the seventy-fifth year of The Hunger Games. And it was written in the charter of The Games that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against The Capitol." He places his cup on the table and leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this, the seventy-fifth anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell," Mags grabs onto his arm, frail fingers gripping his wrist. He wonders if she can feel the pulsing of his rapid heartbeat, "as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of The Capitol. On this, the third Quarter Quell Games the male and female Tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district." Annie lets out a blood-curdling scream and it echoes past Finnick's ears. Her glass shatters on the ground and scalding tea splashes on his feet. He doesn't flinch. Normally, whenever Annie got like this, he would comfort her—talk her through it, but he can't move. The tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors and all of the victors of District Four are in this room. Mags’s physical state and Annie’s mental state guarantee one thing: regardless of who gets picked, they won't survive it. He'll be losing someone either way, and that's if he survives. If he survives, because Finnick is the only male victor for Four. There's no doubt, no one volunteering for him. He will be reaped and that, that was just— He rubs at his eyes with the base of his palms, fighting back a migraine. He makes a mental list: he'll be picked, Johanna and Blight will be picked, Chaff will be picked and— His hands move to pull at his roots. There are only two female victors in Eleven. There are only two, but Seeder loves you like she raised you herself. There's still hope, still a chance that you won't be picked, that she'll take your place if you're reaped. You'll be safe. And then, he remembers: Seeder is a mother, she's a wife. There are people that need her. He won't put it past Snow to rig the outcome for Eleven. He'll put Seeder's name in twice and pat himself on the back for seemingly ensuring your freedom. When, in reality, he's only ensured that you'll be in the arena.

Finnick knows this because he knows you. Better than he knows anyone, better than he knows himself. He knows that you're brave, that you're stubborn enough to put a cabezon to shame, that you're stupidly compassionate. He knows that you'll never be able to live with yourself if you don't volunteer in her place.

His head falls to the back of the couch. That's one thing he and Snow have in common, the only thing. Their love has damned you. Annie is mumbling to herself, having screamed herself hoarse at this point. But she keeps making jerking movements as if she wants to run. He steals a few breaths, taking a moment to gather himself—his fears, his hopes, his anger—he gathers it all and stores it away. "C'mon, Annie. Let's go outside for a walk." A stroll along the shoreline usually calms her down and he gets the allure. At least with the cooling breeze and the ocean mist from crashing waves, Finnick can close his eyes and pretend to be someone else. Someone unburdened with the fact that Snow was right, they are more similar than he'd like to admit. Because Seeder may have a family that relies on her, but Finnick can't find it in himself to care. He'd put her in the arena himself if it meant your safety. He stands, stepping around shards of glass and pools of cooling tea, pulling Annie up with him. He doesn't get far before Mags grabs his hand. She's worried, he can see it in her frown. She has every right to be. “I'm,” not fine, far from it, “right here, Mags. Don't worry about me.” He leaves behind Mags' concern and the sound of Caesar Flickerman's excited voice recounting Snow's speech. He pinches the skin between his thumb and index finger, pressing down until it hurts. Then he presses down until the muscle throbs. The sea breeze hits him in the face when he opens the door and he thinks. The boat is sinking and he can only swim for so long.

A/N: Side note, that was "stubborn enough to put a bull to shame" but I figured Finnick wouldn't know enough about bulls to know they're stubborn. So I picked the fish equivalent of a bull.

#the hunger games #hunger games catching fire #hunger games fanfiction #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick x reader #finnick odair #and they'd find us in a week

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harrysmmm · 10 months

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧

Fanfiction: The Relics of Hogwarts (CLICK THE LINK BEFORE READING THIS)

Draco malfoy x Y/N Riddle (f!reader)

A/N: First chapter of the fanfic! It took me a whole week to write this, and a whole week to create the plot of the story. This chapter sets the tone for what is to come - more draco and the reader's interactions will happen in the following chapters. I am beyond excited to be posting this, I hope you guys enjoy it - I really had the best time writing it (it helps me deal with reality which I very much thank). Also, two things before you go and read it: one, my mother tongue is not English, once again, so forgive me for any mistake or wrong word that I might've used; two, every paragraph or conversation that is written in italic is a flashback (I think it was clear but just to be hella clear). That's everything for me to say... also you don't know the amount of research I've had to do in order to be precise on every description, family line, Hogwarts system... it's crazy the number of tabs I've opened during the creation of all of it. Last thing, I have never done this before but if you'd like to be on the taglist for each time I post a new chapter, put it in the comments or write me an inbox and I'll gladly do it! I'm going to try to do my best and post a chapter every week - two would be ideal. I tend to write pretty long chapters so it takes me a lot of time to finish them. I'm going to stop writing, this is becoming addictive. Love you, this fic is for all of you out there.

W/C: 4.3K

masterlist here

Summer was about to come to an end. It was pouring rain in the Scottish mountain range; a wild, twisted, ravaging storm that left a lifeless valley at its steps. Someone was rushing through the vast hallways, crackling footsteps as he was approaching the stone gargoyle. He whispered in a low, hoarse voice: “Cockroach clusters”. A stoned spiraled staircase revealed itself behind the statue, he marched them upstairs.

At the top, a wooden door was slightly opened revealing at its gap a dim light and an overwhelming heat. Under this particular weather, there was a need of a fireplace.

The professor stepped in the headmaster’s office.

“Severus,” Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of the Wizarding School, Hogwarts, greeted the man, “what can I do for you in this, rather hectic evening?”

“I –” he stopped, having been interrupted by a loud thunder, “have some news from You Know Who.”

Dumbledore froze for a moment. “Ah!” he uttered, heading towards his centered desk, and sitting down. “Tell me what you know.”

“You Know Who’s daughter is supposedly coming to Hogwarts this year.”

“How is that possible?” Dumbledore seemed confused.

“He has gotten back in contact with her, after seventeen years,” Snape said in a monotone voice of his range. “I have been told to keep an eye on her.”

The storm was heavily attacking the gleaming windows.

“This is no coincidence - I suppose you know that, Severus.”

“I… assumed.”

“Voldemort has something in mind – something that involves the school – or Potter.”

“The child has always been in his sight, why would it be that now he is looking to get to him by sending his abandoned daughter off to school while she has a cursed bloodline herself, it seems a little…odd… from my perspective, Professor.”

“You’re right, Severus - but we need to be en garde.” Dumbledore was looking all around his desk seeming to try to dismantle this new information. “Does the girl know why she’s coming?”

“It seems like she does.”

“U-huh,” he replied. “Well, the link between Draco’s commended mission to kill me and the arrival of Voldemort’s daughter is evident; he’s trying to gain some presence within the school.”

“And,” he continued, “the girl and Draco have known each other merely from birth, they’ve grown up together as siblings, haven’t they, Severus?”

“I wouldn’t use the word siblings, Professor – as far as I know, they roughly consider each other cousins.”

“Right, right, cousins…”

“Professor,” uttered Snape.

“Huh?”

“What should I do?”

“Well,” Dumbledore got up and walked towards the animal that was gripping a stand cage. It was an elegant phoenix; he had crimson feathers covering his entire body and a long golden tail resembling that of a peacock. His name was Fawkes. Dumbledore caressed the animal as he continued, “you have no choice – she will have to attend this year at Hogwarts. In fact, she will directly be put into Slytherin, that way your task will be eased.”

“If I may, I don’t think she would’ve been sorted into any other house, giving her lineage, Professor.”

“Right, descendant of Salazar Slytherin, right…” Dumbledore didn’t seem to be there, his thoughts spiraling up, trying to find the connecting factor.

“I see you… pensive” said Snape in return.

Dumbledore moved from the bird to the East of the room and stood next to the recollection of memories bottled up in glass jars.

“We both know, Severus, that Voldemort doesn’t hold any sort of affection towards his daughter; he’s incapable of it.” He frenetically moved to the West of the room. “That girl has been raised by Druella Black, mother of the living Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy. The girl has never had any contact with her father, nor her mother for that matter.”

“If I may ask… what happened to the mother?”

“Well, no one knows what happened to her; no one even knows who she is. Voldemort hasn’t had any known-of partner in his life.”

“Right,” replied Snape. “Although the girl has, so it seems, a tight relation with the Diggory family.”

“The Diggorys… Cedric Diggory? The boy that Voldemort killed during the Triwizard Tournament?” inquired Dumbledore.

“Indeed. She’s presumably close to his father, Amos Diggory, who works in the Ministry of Magic.” completed Snape.

“How?”

“I don’t know, but she will come to the school as his niece, omitting her last name Riddle.”

“A façade.” Dumbledore had a lost look.

“Yes.”

“There’s a lot of things that we can’t grasp, Severus. You will keep an eye on her, I will deal with the rest.”

“As you wish.”

Snape turned around, swinging his cape as he moved to the door.

“Severus,” Dumbledore called him, before he could walk away, “Hogwarts is, once again, being threatened. This time, it might be the last time”. He looked at his hand, a black dark magic had scattered through most of it.

Snape understood his words but didn’t reply.

A black figure made his way down the enchanted staircase.

ྀ࿔

The hallways were full of students. Bustling chatter about summertime and vacations was spreading around the walls of the entrance hall. First years were arriving in canoes through the Great Lake that surrounded Hogwarts while upper years were progressively making an entrance, after getting off the Hogwarts Express.

She noticed the attunes of most students. Black robes seemed to be the official uniform, with varying colors on the hood, sleeves and the edge of the front depending on the student who was wearing it. At the front of it, there was a patch in accordance with the colors of the robe – she assumed it was the house patch of the student. She particularly laid her eyes on the green one, the one who seemed to have a snake in the middle. She knew that Father had attended the school – and even if she was mostly ignorant about the school system and supposed houses, she knew her father had been a green-robed student.

Snape started to climb up the Grand Stairs, she followed him. Various students and professors were hectically going up and down the stairs, making her have to pay attention to not brush shoulders with any of them. Snape was not looking back at her, swinging from side to side as if he knew seconds ahead who was going to go up or down.

Her mind wondered back to the reason why she was there; to the mission Father had commended her to do. She had heard about Wizarding Schools, Hogwarts in particular, since nearly her birth. However, Druella never wanted her to get mingled with academic wizards and witches, fearing for her life as a Riddle. That last name did not follow any welcoming reception in the Wizarding World. But after Father’s come back, things have changed all around.

She couldn’t help but travel back to the moment it all started.

“F-father?” she called him, pitch black consuming the entire room of the Malfoy Manor.

She could hear him moving. Hollow wooden floorboards slowly crackling at his steps. She could also hear his snake hissing - that’s how she knew he was standing in front of her.

“Child,” he finally said with a whispery, throaty voice, “I missed you.”

She felt two arms making their way to her ribs while slowly tangling behind her on what seemed to be a hug. She didn’t move, shivering of horror.

“My daughter.” She felt the air of his voice in her ear, making her swift breathing be noticed.

She understood that he knew she was afraid.

His arms were no longer wrapping her, and she felt how he was circling her by the crackling wood yet again.

“How have the Blacks been treating you?”

She gasped.

“Fair enough…Father.”

He seemed to have moved to the other side of the room.

“And the Malfoys? The young boy, Draco, is he nice to you?”

She tried to relax her breathing.

“He is - they all have always treated me as one of their own.”

“But you’re not one of them, are you?”. He moved closer to her again, as she felt his snake sliding next to her foot.

“I-I guess I’m not.” She could’ve sworn she saw a monster in front of her. She closed her eyes tightly.

“Your stay with them might’ve been enjoyable, but I’m afraid you must leave.”

Something in her stopped when she heard those words.

“Where?” she inquired.

“To the Diggorys.”

“I don’t know who they are.”

He was standing in front of her. She could sense it.

“They are nice people that will take you under their roof – now, I need you to befriend them, become one of them. You will need to take on their last name.”

She didn’t say a word and let him continue.

“I need some things that lay within the walls of Hogwarts; some things that someone wants to steal.”

“Harry Potter,” she whispered, not being able to contain herself.

“Do not mention his name!” he raised his voice, and she could feel his face almost touching hers.

She nearly started sobbing.

“You don’t get to say his name in front of me, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He leaned back some inches from her. “Some objects that are in the castle belong to me. I hid them so they would be safe - but it has come to my attention that they might be in danger.”

She kept listening.

“When the time comes, I will need you to go to Hogwarts as a Diggory and bring those objects back to me. You will be fully awarded for the act,” he paused, “and gain your place by my side.”

She heavily breathed when she heard that. After all those years, her father was offering her a chance to make him proud, to honor her last name, to have a family.

“What are these objects?”

“You’ll must bring me the cup of Helga Hufflepuff, the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, the locket of Salazar Slytherin and the sword of Godric Gryffindor. All of them make the Relics of Hogwarts.”

“Now,” he continued, “you will leave to the Diggorys tomorrow morning. I will be back to tell you when you will attend Hogwarts.” He paused. “I’m afraid I must leave you now, dear girl.”

“Father?” She needed to ask.

“Yes?”

“Who is my mother?” she asked away. She figured that now that he needed her, he couldn’t hurt her for asking.

The seconds that lasted the silence lingered in her like a death sentence.

“Your mother ran away as she had the chance. I would be tarnishing your name by speaking of her.”

She knew that wasn’t the truth; she sensed it in his voice.

“Did you love her?”

He breathed heavily; he was getting tired of this conversation. He swiftly approached her once again.

“Love does not exist. Don’t let them bewitch your mind.”

And just like that, he vanished through dark smoke.

ྀ࿔

“Hogwarts. What a pathetic excuse for a school,” Draco snapped. “I’d pitch myself off the Astronomy Tower if I had to continue for another two years.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pansy Parkinson, close friend of Draco, replied.

“Let’s just say, I don’t think you’ll see me wasting my time in Charms class next year.”

Draco, Pansy and Blaise were sitting down in a wagon of the Hogwarts Express. Draco knew it was his last time returning to Hogwarts. He also knew his biggest stress this year was not going to be about returning good grades home or beating Potter in the Quidditch finals. The Dark Lord had commended him a very important mission, and now that his father was facing sentence in Azkaban, he had to bear with the responsibility of the family’s loyalty towards the Dark plan.

Blaise blurted out a small chuckle to Draco’s words.

“Amused, Blaise?” the blonde boy replied. “We’ll see just who’s laughing in the end.”

Draco heard a noise coming from the rack above their seats and saw his bag having slightly been moved. Someone was eavesdropping on the conversation through an invisibility spell, and he bet on bloody Potter. He didn’t talk much after knowing the conversation was not confidential. In what twisted pathetic adventure was Potter trying to be the hero on this time? His blood was boiling by just having to pretend not knowing he was there. That tosser that everyone always praised – he wouldn’t last two days in his position. After all, life was not about heroic acts, corny speeches, and lucky fate – some people had been given a family name to respect, an expectation to be met. He thought, once again, about the mission that had been commended to him by the Dark Lord; how his wand would have to end the life of the greatest wizard alive; how he would go onto History as the man who assassinated Albus Dumbledore. He realized his hands were sweaty and his heartbeat higher than normal. He tried to keep his composure in front of everyone in the wagon and fixed his gaze on the rich green Scottish fields – clouds welcoming him to a thunderstorm.

ྀ࿔

“Ah! Y/N Diggory! Come in, come in…” Dumbledore greeted the girl in his office.

“Thank you,” she replied, following Snape. She didn’t take too much time to have a look at the curious, but glamorous place.

“Do you fancy my office? I must admit I am really fond of collecting peculiar objects,” he approached a table where all sorts of outlandish things were scattered. She noticed the blackness of his hand when he grabbed one of the objects, “I don’t always know what they do but I find them really unique as room decoration, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure being the headmaster has its advantages when it comes to decorating.”

“Oh, being the headmaster has plenty of advantages, Miss. Diggory,” he replied in a whispery tone.

“Now, you, as a new Hogwarts student, have also a lot of advantages;” he continued, “First of all, you are skipping from year one to year six, so you won’t have to bear first years’ Potions on how to make a cure for boils or first year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts on how to cast an Expelliermus.”

You simply nodded.

“Then, Professor Snape has told me that you’ve already passed through the Sorting Hat and you have been assigned to Slytherin, is that correct, Severus?”

“It is.”

It was not correct. She hadn’t gone through any house assignation, but she understood that Dumbledore didn’t know about it, and that Snape had probably settled her in Slytherin for a reason – therefore, she didn’t question it.

“Wonderful. An ambitious, clever girl, I see”.

She smirked at him. She bet he was not by any means a Slytherin himself.

“Lastly, I assume you have all this year’s textbooks, ingredients, plants, constellation maps, perhaps? Oh! I assume you have a pet by now! And a wand…”

She looked at Snape, knowing that she hadn’t bought any of those things herself. Except for the wand that she got at Ollivanders when she was eleven, after Druella had told her she would get a private tutor to teach her magic.

“She has,” Snape simply replied, without giving her any look back.

“Then everything seems to be settled. How are you feeling, Miss. Diggory?” Dumbledore deeply stared at her. This time, she felt like he really wanted to know the answer.

“Really honored to join the school, Sir.”

“My door is always open for any visits. Never underestimate the magic of being listened, Miss. Diggory.”

She nodded and followed Snape downstairs, thinking she was probably never going to step into that office again.

Snape and Y/N arrived at the dungeons of the school, where the Slytherin dormitories could be found. Snape turned around to talk to Y/N.

“All of your things are in your dorm, number 3, all the schedule and times are also in your dorm, the password to the common room is pure-blood… don’t want you sneaking after ten p.m. or you could get… into trouble.” His intimidating black eyes were on hers. He turned around with a swing of his cape.

“Oh,” He turned towards her again, “supper starts at six.”

She was alone in the castle for the first time. She uttered the password on a low voice and a bare stretch of stone wall opened, leading her to a corridor. Once she walked through it, only lightened by torches hang up on the stone walls, she arrived at the common room. It was a high ceiling, ample room; dark green shades flickering from the multiple windows. Low backed black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas were placed all around the room; skulls on top of tables; and dark wood cupboards. Tapestries of numerous medieval figures decorated the walls. Y/N noticed the highlighted portrait of an old man that she recognized to be Salazar Slytherin, founder of the Slytherin house and one of the four founders of Hogwarts. She knew this because she was a distant relative of his, through her father of course. She noticed she was alone and headed directly to her dorm.

Her dorm was a five-bed room with one bathroom. She recognized her bag next to one of the beds. On the side table, she found a pile of textbooks; she started leafing through some of the books: Advanced Potion-Making, A Guide To Advanced Transfiguration, Flesh-Eating Trees Of The World… Her eyes wondered to the parchment at the right where her schedule and attending courses were shown. She started to read through the different school norms and times when she felt something brushing her leg. She startled at the contact when she saw a small black kitten going under her bed. She kneeled and grabbed it, putting it on the bed. The kitten had big emerald eyes that were looking into hers, as if it had some sort of human spirit inside.

“You must be my pet, huh?” She grabbed it again and looked to confirm the sex. “A Miss… Should give you a name, shouldn’t I?” She laid down on her bed caressing the kitten on her chest, thinking of a name for her. She realized that it was the first time she let herself sink down and relax since her arrival. A lot of thoughts were constantly crossing her mind telling her to focus on everything, to plan everything, to think about everything – it was exhausting. Exhausting… she came up with something.

“Your name is Exhonia. What do you think?” she asked the kitten as if she was going to reply. The kitten was scratching her jumper.

“Okay Exhonia, don’t get too ahead on yourself.” She grabbed the rather turbulent cat and placed it next to her on the bed.

The only time she had ever dealt with a cat was a the Diggory’s house, near Ottery St Catchpole. Cedric’s pet had been a brown and white cat, a rather upset one she might add, especially when Cedric was not around anymore. She had gone to the Diggory’s a month after the boy’s death when Father had asked her to.

“What can I do for you, dear?” a middle-aged man, short and plump opened the door of the cottage.

“My name is Y/N, Sir – is this the Diggory’s house?”

“Yes, yes… what is it that you want?” he wouldn’t entirely open the front door, as if he didn’t trust the world outside.

“I came to talk to you. I was really close to Cedric.”

The man seemed to freeze.

“And I was hoping to come and meet you since you would’ve been my father-in-law”.

And that is how she managed to spend a year living under the roof of the Diggorys. Amos Diggory fully believed her when she told him the story of how she was supposed to marry Cedric once he would end the Triwizard Tournament; how they had wanted to wait until the end of it to tell his parents. She told him, through a little bit of sobbing, how her parents had dropped dead on a car accident, being herself a muggle-born, and that the only family she had left was the Diggorys – even if she had never met them before. Amos and his wife found in her a beam of light; the spirit of Cedric in a beautiful fifteen-year-old girl. They never questioned the story, nor her intentions and adopted her as a Diggory that had always belonged in the family. It was not until one year later that Y/N shared with them her dream of attending Hogwarts, as Father had contacted her back and told her it was time she fulfilled her mission. They accepted with little objection, happy that they could spoil a girl as they once did to Cedric. Y/N, as a sign of gratitude, asked them if she could inherit their last name, to which they happily agreed. She became Y/N Diggory, niece of Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, as she told them it would be more appropriate taking into consideration that no one knew about her planned marriage with Cedric. Even if Y/N didn’t really want to get mingled in the Diggorys life, she knew they were living in delusion, desperately looking to fill the void of their son’s death – which Y/N, in a way, managed to do. They were in need of a miracle, she offered them the fairiest of fairy tales… who cared if it was all a script of lies at the end of the day?

Her thoughts came back to the present moment when she heard a bell chiming the hour. Six, so she counted. She decided to go down for supper, still curious that no students had yet come to the common room.

She walked up the stairs and dived through the hallways, meeting no one on the way. When she started to hear some familiar voice she recognized as to Dumbledore’s, she followed it, understanding she was somehow late to some sort of first day speech. But in the middle of her wanderings, an old-wrinkled man with a cat yelled at her.

“And what do you think you’re doing lurking in the hallways?” He firmly grabbed her by the arm.

“I was looking for the Great H- let go of me!” she replied, trying to get rid of his grip.

“The headmaster will hear about your wanderings, young lady!” He dragged her towards the doors of the Great Hall. Both doors slammed open when he pushed them with his bare hand. Dumbledore’s speech was immediately interrupted. Hundreds of eyes turned towards the old man’ and Y/N’s direction.

“Headmaster, sorry to provoke such an entrance but I found this girl wandering around the castle, missing the opening ceremony” he gave her away to everyone in the room. He pushed her forward so everyone could see who he was screaming about.

She stood at the beginning of the corridor between the students’ tables. She looked ahead, Dumbledore standing up in a podium, several professors sitting down behind him and, of course, a few inches away from her, long tables filled with students of different ages, different houses, staring at her like she was the most bizarre specimen. She decided to say something.

“Sir, I-“

“There’s no need, Miss. Diggory,” after her last name had been dropped, all students started to look at each other, mumbles starting to form, “you can join your table with the other Slytherin students.”

She didn’t reply, hearing how the room had become a cloud of voices at this point.

“Thank you Argus for the help. But, Miss. Diggory was just lost, being this her first day at Hogwarts.” The voices intensified. “Now, while it is always very joyful to welcome new students, I must ask you to stop the chatter.” Students seemed to listen to him, and seconds later there was little to no sound.

Y/N sat down on the first free seat at the Slytherin table, still feeling like half of the students’ gazes were settled on her. Once Dumbledore had proceeded with his speech, she discretely took a look on the people that surrounded her. Four large tables divided the Great Hall, one for each house. Her gaze wondered through the Gryffindor table, looking for a certain scared-boy. She of course knew about the prophecy, as well as she knew the history between him and her father. She had thought about eventually meeting Harry Potter but never really figured how she would react to his presence. Should she hate him, pity him, fear him? The boy was her age – which didn’t leave a lot of room for fear. But she was still curious to see how they would react to one another, even if the boy was unaware of who her father was, as well as everyone. She guessed she would eventually meet the chosen one during class.

Her eyes turned back to Dumbledore, who was finishing talking, when someone pulled their arm towards her.

“They are calling you from there,” a dark-haired boy told her, while pointing to the other side of the long table.

She switched her focus to look for the person who was calling her. A blonde boy tilted his head down to meet her gaze. He playfully tilted his eyebrows while a smirk made its way to his face. She smiled at him while slowly shaking her head. It was no other than the heir of the Malfoys himself. He stared deep into her eyes a little longer, then shifted his gaze back to some Professor that had started talking. She looked at him a little longer, letting herself feel for no more than five seconds the accelerated heartbeat that she was still unfamiliar with. She eventually switched her gaze back to the Professor too. The Slytherin heir was back at Hogwarts, and this time, she had the Prince of Slytherin by her side.

part two

#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n riddle #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fluff #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts imagine #hogwarts fanfiction #slytherin fanfiction #slytherin imagine

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yandere-sins · 11 months

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Before reading: R18+, Mature Content Warning, Violence/Gore Warning, Yandere Warning

Oh, my, look what the wave swept in!

Yet another misplaced human in these wondrous waters, a… poor unfortunate soul, as my sister would say. It hasn’t been that long since another tribe—who was it? The sharks?—had been… blessed with an unusual mate. And now there’s you! How exciting! The orcas are a little temperamental, but I’m sure they’ll treat you lovingly–

Oh… so you want to leave? Already?

Ambitious, are we? Escape the creatures and get back to land. Well, don’t you look determined? Think you can handle these three strong orcas all by yourself? I’d love to see it. I delight in everything happening around these depths of the ocean, as they are so dark and deep, with barely anything transpiring all day. But as of late, love, freedom, and misery swim hand in hand down here. Intelligence and instincts fight battles that are beyond your little human comprehension. I could not be more pleased with the beautiful bonds that are being woven under the sea.

But I will cheer you on, I promise! I might even have some tips for you, seeing how I’ve been around these sandy lands and great reefs longer than you have!

I don’t think you can trust anyone besides me, really, but you’ll need an ally if you want to get back home. But be careful choosing who you trust. Sometimes you have to take drastic actions to get out of a situation, but there are also times when you need to sit back, stay calm, and let someone else handle it for you. And as badly as I know you want to get out… don’t do anything rash.

These orcas have a fickle disposition, and you wouldn’t want them to decide you’re no fun or tastier than they initially thought. In fact, you don’t want them to think about you at all! Otherwise —ey w—t l— —u ——!

You wake up before the voice can finish. Open your eyes?

Welcome, welcome to Mermay ( & Merjune) 2023!

I think most of you have already understood what will happen, but I thought I'd give a small heads-up about the how, so we're all on the same page:

This will be an interactive story, which means you guys will have to work together to figure out how to continue onwards by choosing the right poll option. Every chapter comes with a decision at the end, and three possible choices. But only one will continue the story while the other two lead to 'Bad Ends' aka not continue the story. Your goal is to escape the three orcas because they won't always like your decision, unfortunately.

I can already tell you that if the majority votes for a Bad End, you'll be able to choose again at the end of it, hopefully picking the right option this time. The story will not stop just because the right option wasn't picked. But who knows? Maybe choosing wrong is actually the better option sometimes (;

To clarify, there are 5 main chapters (the right choices) in total, 10 possible Bad Ends and 1 True End. This is not a video game so there are no secret routes. Nothing will change if you choose certain options after another. Your goal ultimately is to finish this story. But... some interactions and information may or may not be hidden in Bad Ends that could be enjoyable to you as well. (After finishing the main story I'll let you guys pick some other options you would have liked to see if you're interested in that ^-^)

One more exciting thing! I was able to commission a good friend of mine to actually do references for the orcas! We're still working on them but I hope you guys will enjoy some visuals of the new bois ♥

And for good measure: Please read the warnings on the individual posts, as some of the stories contain disturbing content not suited for everyone. Don't read what you don't like.

Thank you for participating and I hope you guys will be able to enjoy the story as much as I do ♥ (If you have questions, please ask away any time! ♥)

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waffles-art-writing · 1 year

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One Hell Of A First Mission - Task Force 141!Platonic x F!Reader - JOKER

Summary: The very first mission you (JOKER) go on with Task Force 141, you end up clearing a house and finding the one person you need to find wasn’t there anymore. You’re then quickly flown out to meet the Los Vaqueros which results in you jumping off a cliff and being helped out by the one person you wish you never had to work with again. (THIS FOLLOWS THE LINES OF THE START OF THE COD:MWII 2022. And is before the events of JOKER and the previous parts)

Proof Read: NOPE

Pairing: Task Force 141!Platonic x Female!Reader

WordCount: 5k

Age Rating: 16+ preferably

Codename: JOKER

KEY: Y’all should know this by now… Y/N - Your Name so on and so forth

Warning/Info: Normal COD Stuff, Guns, violence, swearing, depiction of action, horrible writing on my part. Kinda a slow burn but it is the back story of how JOKER join the 141. Philip Graves gets his own fuckin’ warning. Sorry not sorry. A lot of time skips, because I’m following the plot of the game for this one the next chapters coming!

PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS PARTS TO GET A BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF JOKER! (If you want) This does take place before the events of JOKER and the previous parts.

Previous Parts can be found here: MASTERLIST (And other things I’ve written)

TagList: @studywithrosie01 Sorry for tagging you but you’ve shown so much love for this series so I thought I should tag for you this part! I hope you don’t mind! And @robins-fanfics (I hope I got the right user name lol) (Tell me if you want to be added or taken off the tag list for this series!)

———————————————————————

Your boot taps the ground rapidly, hands curled around the gun in your lap. “Calm down kid, they aren’t that scary” Price states, you’ve known him for a long while. He’s practically your dad at this point, he helped you throughout your career in the military. Pushed you to your limit to get you into the SAS which you’re beyond thankful for, yet right now you’re wondering if that was a bright idea. You’re meeting up with the Lieutenant of the Task Force that Price has made. You were the first one to meet Laswell in person, she had a nice, friendly smile but you could tell she is tough as nails. “I know Captain, but… he’s ‘The Ghost’ the man everyone is scared of, he bloody appears outta nowhere!” You state, looking over at the bearded man, he shakes his head lightly. “Well, you’ll be following his lead for now kid. He’s being instructed by Shepherd on this mission” you sigh at hearing this, you’ve had a few run-ins with the US military a few times. They couldn’t understand your accent for the life of them, that’s one of the many cons from living in a household with multiple accents under one roof.

You have no clue what this mission is going to be like, you’re meeting up with another man apparently. He’s meeting you and Lieutenant Riley at the tarmac, just as you’re scheduled to fly out. You can’t help the nerves that are filling your energy, the jitters of anticipation and the fear of what is to come next. “I’ll see you soon kid, stay safe” Price states, drawing you out of your running mind. You nod to him as you give him a fist pump, a light head bump. You two have always done that, a fist pump which turns into a light head bump of good luck, and see you soon. You never part ways without it.

You steel your nerves as you walk out onto the air field, catching a plane to meet up with the Lieutenant and the new guy. Not sure what to expect of your new team mates when you meet them, or how they operate. But there’s excitement bubbling in your veins.

———

“So you’re the new kid?” A grumbly voice sounds out from behind you. Spinning on your heel you come face to face with the signature skull of Lieutenant Riley. “Yes Sir” you state, not breaking eye contact, even though the cold sweat dripping down the back of your neck is screaming at you to run. “Come on then” he states, walking past you, his large frame towering over you, gulping back the nerves you trot after him. Quickly falling into step with the man.

The engine and blades of the chopper are loud, the wind it’s creating ruffling your jacket as you stand next to the Lieutenant. Both of you have stopped when an armoured vehicle with a bunch of soldiers in the back pulled up. Ghost was talking with Shepherd, “The Sergeant?” Ghost questions, he knew you were coming but didn’t know himself and another person were going to be leading this operation. Your interest piqued when you hear him say that. You subconsciously readjust the balaclava that’s on your face slightly, the sinister joker-like smile staring at anyone who looks. You watch as men jump off the armoured vehicle, waiting to see who is this new Sergeant that’s going to be leading you and other men into a war zone with the Lieutenant.

A man in a dark jacket approached you both as soon as he jumped off the vehicle. A smirk on his face already. “Let’s get ourselves a win, yeah L.T?” He states, bumping the Lieutenant’s shoulder with his fist. “Save ya a seat, sir…” you watch the exchange with raised brows, the black war paint around your eyes cracking slightly. The man nods to you too, the smile back on his face as he jogs off towards the chopper. “See you on the Chopper, Lieutenant” you state, quickly following the Sergeant. You hear a faint “Fucking Hell…” from behind you, a short snort leaving you as you jump onto the ramp. Looking for a seat. Waving from the corner of your eye catches your attention, it’s the Sergeant. You smile under your mask as you make your way over, throwing yourself into the seat.

“They call me Soap!” He states, holding his hand out to you, you take his hand with a firm grip. “Joker! Good to meet ya!” You notice the Scottish accent, it’s interesting to hear one compared to all the English accents you hear on a daily basis. Your nerves have been drowned out by the adrenaline rushing through your veins. This Soap seems to have a good energy about him, you could get used to this.

————

“Bravo team offloads here. Alpha team stays on board to land down range. Both teams meet in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive, but this is capture or kill” the Lieutenant states as he approaches the ramp that is lowering to let Brave team out. Both you and Soap stand to follow Ghost, you flick down your night vision as soon as you step out. You snicker lightly at hearing Ghost saying “Keep up Soap” honestly surprised he didn’t say that to you instead.

You kneel in the grass, out of the way of the chopper as it takes off to drop Apha team off down range. You jog after Lieutenant Riley, keep a few paces behind him. Your sniper rifle in your hands as your Semi Automatic is strapped to your back. You hear the radio chatter of the chopper in your ear, it’s louder than the blood rushing through your veins as you weave through the ruins of a stone building. You're zoned in on the mission, keeping your eyes peeled for anything and everything.

Suddenly you hear the frantic calls from the chopper, the whooshing hissing sound of a RPG being launched echoes through the night. The flares are not helping the chopper for the second missile. You come to a halt at the top of the small hill, the ground shakes form the impact of the aircraft plummeting into the ground. “Shit…” you curse under your breath, your knee digging into the dirt below you as Soap crouches down on your right and Ghost on your left. “Alpha, what’s your status?” Ghost asks over the comms, the crackling sound of coughing breaks through the haze. “Alpha, how copy?…” Ghost pushes for an answer. “Shit…” you curse under your breath. You block out the conversation over the comms, raising the Sniper up. Watching the flames lick the ground like a hungry beast, another missile hitting the chopper along with countless bullets raining down onto the downed bird.

“Ghost we need to secure the crash site now” Soap calls, his eyes moving from the chopper to the Lieutenant. “First, we clear for Hassan, that takes the heat off Alpha. Then we secure the crash site. Clear?” The timbre of Ghost’s voice cuts through the air like a knife. “Roger that.” Both you and Soap reply. “Let’s move” as soon as his words leave his mouth, you’re off your knees immediately, quickly falling in behind Ghost. Your boots hit the hard earth like thunder on the horizon, your rifle up and ready. You weave around small bushes, following Ghost through the low walls of what looks like a garden. “Force up to the house” his command is clear as you branch off to the side, Soap filling the gap between you and Ghost. You position yourself on the other side of the door, looking down the scope of your rifle. You glance up at Ghost and nod to him, he nods back to you and Soap. You hear the muffled yells of “Kill all that they send here!” From the other side of the door. “Breacher Up” Ghost calls as he swings the heavy breacher into the wooden door.

—— Time Skip —— Mission With Los Vaqueros —

Your heart is thumping in your ears as you groan, pushing yourself to your hands and knees. “You good lass?” Soap questions, both of you just dropped down to a ledge on the side of a cliff. It has a hearty drop. You’re following a few of the men who work for Alejandro. Ghost is watching from above you, Alejandro with him. “Y-Yeah..” you cough, gripping your gun tightly as you turn around. “Oh hell no” you state, seeing the gap between the ledge you’re on and the one you have to jump to. Alejandro says something about cutting school and playing around these parts when he was younger. “Until the cartels moved in?” Soap quips before taking a running leap onto the ledge in front of you. Alejandro and Ghost jump down, quickly cutting in front of you and Soap. They easily shuffle along the small ledge on the side of the cliff, backs pressed against the wall as they move along it, you swallow down the nerves in your throat. Soap goes ahead of you, followed by Rodriguez - one of Alejandro's men - then you follow after. Your hands shake as you shuffle along the wall. Then the sound of a bullet flying past your head into the rock wall behind you makes you freeze. Ghost yells something that you don’t process as you watch Rodrigues get shot multiple times. His body falling away from the cliff, rag dolling down.

“JOKER MOVE IT!” Soap yells, ducking when a bullet flys over head. You shake your head free of fog, quickly shuffling most the way, taking the risk of leaping to the ledge. You do a tactical roll when you hit the ground, sliding up onto your knees. Breathing heavily, you don’t get a chance to breathe, Soap already pulling you up by your arm. You push yourself up onto the ledge that's higher, running after Soap and Alejandro. Ghost right on your heels. You throw yourself off the ledge onto the one that's lower, landing on your feet, stumbling into a sprint again. Rifle gripped tightly in your hands. You watch Soap disappear behind the lip of the ledge, realising you're gonna have to slide. Your hand falls behind you as you stick one of your legs out to brace yourself while sliding down the rough rock face, thankful you're wearing gloves and thick cargo pants. You stand just behind the others as they stand at the edge of the cliff, Ghost sneers out a “You led us to a dead end, mate.” You internally curse Alejandro.

Your blood runs cold when you see the Mexican soldier launch himself off the cliff, yelling out “We jump from here!”. “WHAT THE FUCK!” You yell, quickly looking over the ledge. “Don’t lose your weapon” he yells just before he lands in the water. “Your turn, Sergeant!” Ghost states, both you and Soap look between each other. “See ya down there, Lass.” He quips, doing a two finger salute before jumping. You back away from the ledge slightly, your head whips towards the Lieutenant. “Go kid, there’s no time! We stay here, we’re dead. Now jump!” you gulp as you tighten your grip on the rifle, you take a running leap off the ledge. You plunge into the icy water, your eyes screwing shut just before the impact. You quickly resurface, the water soaking the balaclava. Not helping with breathing, your breathing is heavy as you tread water. “You good, hermanos?” Alejandro asks. “Affirm” Ghost states, he’s next to you. “Soap?” The Scotsman nods his head “Breathing” he quips. “Joker?” You let out a small cough, shaking your head lightly to get the water out of your face. “Alive…” you mumble.

“Move down river to the bridge. Use the rocks for cover” Alejandro instructs, you all take off swimming down the river. You’re thankful you're going with the current, cause god knows you would’ve bailed and just went on land if you were desperate enough. Alejandro tries contacting someone on comms, you're too focused on not letting your heavy tactical gear get caught on anything under water, or drag you to the river bed. “Radio’s picking up somethin.” Soap states, you’re in the middle of the group, your smaller size getting dragged by the current quicker than the others. “Sounds American” Ghost states, he’s just behind you on your right. “Great, Yanks” you sneer. Everyone dives as soon as a vehicle comes into view, Alejandro stops behind a rock. Soap right behind him, Ghost a little further down. Before you can even attempt to stop at one of the rocks, Ghost grabs the strap of your vest, dragging you up next to him. “Thanks Lieutenant.” you mumble, you are situated just below the large long log that’s fallen across the river, resting on the large rock both you and Ghost are behind. You duck occasionally whenever bullets whiz past your head. Your feet slip and you plunge into the water, resurfacing quickly. Gasping for air as you grip onto the rough rock, you're thankful for the strap on your stifle still around your shoulder. “Fuckin hell” you curse.

“Keep pushing up river.” Alejandro calls. You groan as you struggle to keep your head above the water, and your gun trained on the shore where the enemies are. All three of the men are six foot plus, while you're below all their chins on flat ground. You dive underwater, seeing Ghost come to a stop at another set of rocks, Alejandro and Soap go around the two of you and perch themselves slightly down from you. You practically throw yourself onto the rock shelf that's just below the water, taking the short time to regain your breath. “Move up river! Go!” Alejandro calls again, you groan as you see them move off. Your eyes meet Ghost’s for a second. You bite your tongue and push off the rock, following after them. You dive under a log that's just above the water's surface. You resurface just behind a rock, coming face to face with a Mexican soldier who has their gun aimed at you, you're quick to train your rifle on them, letting a bullet lodge itself in the man's skull.

“The rivers slowing us down, mate!” Ghost calls, you can tell he’s agitated by being in the water for so long. “It gets shallow up ahead!” Alejandro states. “Oh thank god, the waters up to my fucking eyes!” You call, shooting down a few more men that are on the shore. You feel like your skin is in ice cold water, your clothing sticks to you as your plate carrier weighs you down. Boots slipping over the algae covered rocks, you just wanna rip the boots off your feet and the plate carrier off your chest. You push your way through the water, quickly grabbing the rock. You’re beyond thankful for the shallow water, you are crouched low behind a rock. You hear your lieutenant’s strong accent cut through the air, your stomach dropping when you hear what he’s saying. “Vehicles on the bridge!” You whip your head around to look at the bridge, “They’re not ours!” Alejandro calls “Fuck-! It’s the army!” You peek over the edge of the rock to look, eyes widening to see the heavily armoured vehicles roll onto the bridge. “Get to cover!” Ghost calls, you quickly duck back down and press your back up against the rock. “We have to hold here and get extraction” Alejandro states. Soap slides up next to you, Ghost next to him then Alejandro. “We can’t do shite against that armour!” The Scotsman states, you reload as you listen to the firefight happening.

Suddenly an American accent cuts through the firefight “This is shadow-1! Engaging the bridge north of your position. Danger close!” You realise who is speaking, it's Philip Graves, the man you’ve worked with in the past. “Who the hell is that?” Alejandro asks, “Commander Graves. Shadow Company. They’re with us.” Ghost states, he glances at you when he realises you’ve gone very quiet when the American’s voice cuts through. The rumble of the bridge getting hit by the large shots trembling the ground, you watch as the bridge crumbles “Shadow-1, Bravo 0-7! Good Shots! Fire for effect!” Ghost says over the comms. “All stations, no enemy movement detected. You’re clear.” Graves states over the comms, you sigh as you stand shaking out your shoulders. “It’s good to see you boys.” You grumble lightly under your breath when the American states this “Likewise, mate” Ghost states, he nudges you to move when Alejandro calls ‘This way!’ You fall into a run, splashing through the water, jumping over a few larger rocks. “Graves, we’ve located a vehicle for exfil.” Ghost states as you all run up the slight hill from the river towards a pick up. “Roger that. Be advised, we got a possible hit on Hassan, two kicks north of your position.” Grave states, you roll your neck as you come to halt by the back door of the pick up, climbing into the back. “That’s cartel land. They have a compound there.” Alejandro states, you’ve been quiet the entire time. “Load in!” Ghost calls. “Shadow-1, stand-by…” You watch as Ghost slides in next to you, Soap climbing into the front seat and Alejandro into the driver's seat. “I’ll drive,” Alejandro states. “You boys, good to roll up Hassan with some fire from the sky?” Graves asks, everyone looks at each other. The boys nod, you just shrug as you look out the window. Ghost watches you with a raised brow hidden under his mask. “Let’s wrap this fucker up, Graves” Soap states. “Solid copy. We are pushing to the target di-rectly. Shadow-1 out.” You slump back into the seat. Letting out a sigh, you rub the space between your brows, pushing the balaclava up a little.

—— Time skip to grabbing Hassan ——

“Breaching” Soap calls, the door gets bashed open by the Scotsman. “They’re here!” “Get the Major upstairs!” Multiple cartel members yell. You’re the first one to shoot down a few men and spot the man you’re all here for, you quickly switch on the comms, the throat mic switching on. “Shadow-1! Positive ID on Hassan!” You call, rushing forward. “He’s moving upstairs!” Soap calls, he’s right behind you, followed by Ghost and Alejandro. Grave’s brows raise when he recognises the female voice come through the comms. “Graves, he’s exiting the second floor! North-west side!” Ghost states over the comms. “Got a visual on Hassan!” Alejandro states, you're quickly moving across the second floor outside. You ignore whatever is happening over the comms, you enter the building again. “Get down!” Soap calls “Get down! Now!” Alejandro growls. “Get the fuck down!” You sneer, your sights aimed directly at Hassan’s head, “Who the fuck are you?” Hassan questions, his voice holding venom. The man who was with Hassan is now dead on the ground, Alejandro moves forward. “Mexican Special Forces, you're coming with us…” the restraints get secured around the man's wrists. You can see the anger in Alejandro's movements when he restrains Hassan, you keep your gun trained on Hassan. “Shadow-1, Bravo 0-7. Jackpot. I say again, jackpot. Target is secure.” Ghost states over the comms, you look over at the Lieutenant. Graves asks a question about the exfil, which Alejandro answers. Soap slaps a hand down on your shoulder, giving you a nod of approval. You nod back, a small smile hidden under your mask. A few moments of conversations between Graves and Ghost gets drowned out by the rumbling of heavy tires on the earth, your own stomach twists into uncomfortable knots as you realise that it's the Mexican Army. “For fucks sakes. Do we ever get a break?” You ask, the question not directed to anyone. “Not this time ‘round Lass” Soap states as he looks out the window towards all the heavy armoured vehicles.

Graves says something about the shadows being able to engage the convoy, the next thing you know is the whisper of a large 25mm round flying through the air. The deep thunderous sound of it hitting the earth shakes the building, the sound of metal crunching and being destroyed rings in your ears as you look around the room. The earth continues to shake when smaller rounds and bigger rounds make contact witht he earth, your blood is bubbling under the service, you need to move. You want to do something and not just sit around and wait for your next order. The next thing you know you're running down the stairs at breakneck speed, Hassan being dragged behind you as you kick open the door to the outside, the exfil vehicle ready for you all. Ghost cuts in front of you as you get out the door, followed by Alejandro then Soap who has Hassan in a death grip. You spin around keeping your gun up and looking for any movement that needs to be dealt with. “Come on! Come on!” Rodolfo calls over the comms, you are happy to see him again. Hassan spits something out that you don’t quite catch as the screeching of tires and the blood rushing through your ears is all you can hear. You do clearly hear Soap growl out a “Shut the fuck up!” When he shoves Hassan into the side of the Vehicle. “Fuuuuuck” you groan as you realise you're the smallest on the team, you immediately open the door and climb over the back seat into the back compartment of the vehicle. Rodolfo and Alejandro speak to each other in Spanish, you only make out a few words as you're trying to get comtoble in the one spot no one is supposed to really sit in these types of vehicles. “We’re good!” Soap calls, “Go!” Ghost growls. “Joker?” Rodolfo asks as he glances up in the rear view mirror, spotting you peeking over the back of the seat between Ghosts’ and Hassan's head. “Happy as Larry!” You joke, you're not comfortable by any means but you know you just want to get the hell out of here already.

—— Time Skip To Interrogation of Hassan ——

You sit on the hood of one of the Vehicles, the headlights cutting through the thick blanket of darkness that covers the desert. The animals of the night linger just beyond the lights. Alejandro and Soap drag Hassan into the middle of the group of vehicles, shoving him to his knees with a bag over his head. “On your knees” Soap growls out as he steps back. You got here before Graves did, you aren’t happy about having to conduct this interrogation with the American present, you hated working with him in the past and right now you still are sour about being near him, especially on a mission that you were hoping to just be yourself and the 141 accompanied by the Los Vaqueros. Graves is kneeling down setting up the laptop which has General Shepherd and Laswell on the other end, your Criss cross applesauce on the hood of the vehicle. “Y’all got a clear picture?” You cringe at the drawl in his words. You hear a “Crystal” and a “All Set” fromt he other two members of the video call. You inch your way forward to have your feet dangling off the edge of the hood as soon as Graves moves away, your feet coming to rest on the bumper. “Alright, we are live, folks” Graves states as he approaches Hassan, the bag no longer on the kneeling man's head.

“Do you sepal Arabic?” Hassan questions, looking up at Graves.

“No one other than you” you mumble, knowing he won't hear you.

“No” Grave relplies.

“Farsi?”

“No.”

“Course not.” Hassan states with a smirk playing on his lips, “Then I’ll speak your bastardised Medieval English because you are all uneducated street dogs” You jump off the hood to curse him out in every language that you have learnt, but you get held back by a heavy hand. You look over your shoulder at who has stopped you, Ghost shakes his head lightly knowing that anger that is bubbling in you. You have too much adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“Ahh, see… we’re getting off to a bad start here, Hassan” Graves starts as he tucks his thumbs into the top of his tac vest and looks down at the ground, something he always does when he's about to interrogate someone. “You are talking to a Quds Force officer” Hassan states. Graves leans in slightly, “You’re the commander of a foreign terror organisation” “I can say the same to you.” You know Hassan is gonna get under everyone’s skin, but you know damn well that Philip Graves has that skill as well. “What’s your target, “Major”?” You almost snort at the way Hassan’s brows scrunch in displeasure.

“What was your target when they sent missiles to my land?” Hassan questions.

“Oh well, wild guess… To nail your ass” Graves looks down at Hassan.

“So insolent and foul-mouthed. You will learn to respect me when your nation sees fire”

Graves steps closer to Hassan “You are in bed with the cartel, Hassan” he starts “If you disappeared, no one would know where to look for the fuckin’ stain” he growls out through a tight lipped frown.

A small shiver runs down your spin when you hear Hassan let out a small tiny pathetic chuckle of a ‘ha’.

“I have no doubt you’ll take pleasure in torturing me.” Hassan states when he looks back up at Grave from shaking his head lightly, a smile on his face. This time Soap speaks, his voice accent thick compared to the others.

“Who’d you get American missiles from?” You lean your elbows onto your knees, you jerk lightly when you suddenly hear General Shepherd speak. Almost forgetting him and Laswell are on the video call.

“I don’t care who they’re from. I wanna know where they’re going.” You almost want to yell at the older man, for overpowering Soap’s question which was a good question.

Graves was looking at the laptop before stepping away from Hassan, that's when the laughing yaps of coyotes cut through the air. They sound close, not too close but close enough for you to not feel comfortable. Graves walks a few half paces before turning around to look at Hassan. “Take a look around, Hassan” he states before stepping up the man and leaning down to get in his face “Now you can either become part of the food chain or you can start talking.” You watch the conversation from the shadows, just like your Lieutenant. “I’m a hostage here.” Hassan states, “This is illegal.” Alejandro speaks up from behind Hassan. “You’re a prisoner of war.” Hassan turns to look over his shoulder at the Mexican. “Iran is not at war with Mexico. I’ve broken no laws.” He turns to look back at Graves and motions his head to his surroundings “These men and their commanders are the law breakers.” He glances over towards you and Ghost but you can tell he is mainly looking at the laptop, he still makes eye contact with you through the haze of the lights, and with Ghost. You stare the man down, the dark oil paint on your skin making your eyes stand out against the rest of your dark outfit.

Ghost takes a small step forward “You and your beloved General Ghorbrani broke every—-” “DO NOT SPEAK HIS NAME!” Hassan yells, cutting Soap off. “You executed him and you will pay for your crimes…” he pauses briefly “Only god can help you now-” he yells in his mother tongue. You understood him barely, you wanted to snatch a knife from Ghost’s plate carrier and throw it between the screaming man's eyes. You attention cuts to below you, where General Shepherd's voice comes from the laptop “I want this bastard in permanent custody or looking up at the goddamn grass…” he sneers, Laswell is quick to cut in “General, killing Hassan is an act of war, keeping him is illegal. Right now, he is too hot to hold.” She’s right, you all know this is illegal but you’re still doing it. “Tell me you’re getting something actionable, Laswell.” The general growls, you move to slide off the hood of the vehicle when Laswell states something about working on it.

You stand next to Ghost who has moved over slightly to allow you to jump down. You both watch as Graves brings the laptop onto the hood of the vehicle. Grave's voice lowers as he looks at the laptop. “Actual, let me finish this” you tense up his words, you glance over at Soap and Alejandro then to Ghost who is just staring at Graves with no emotion in his eyes. Yet you can still see the thoughts playing like a movie. You focus back into what Shepherd is saying, only catching the end half of his sentence. “Without proof we need to turn him loose. See where he leads us” you watch as Graves leans away, Soap quickly walking up and leaning into the conversation. “He’s right here. You can’t be serious” his voice is low gravely when he speaks, his accent a strong contrast to the others. Graves moves off the side slightly, Ghost as step forward an inch, his arm coming in front of you when he sees Graves look at you. “I’m afraid I am, son.” Shepherd says. You look down, looking at the phone in Ghost’s hand. “Laswell, did we get anything from his phone?” You bet Ghost to it, he looks at you with a clearly raised brow, you can tell. You give him the same look. “Affirmative. We got a hit.” Laswell states, “Good” the General pauses “Now take him back and let him go”. Ghost moves slightly, making eye contact witht eh eyes and nodding his head. Alejandro bags and drags Hassan to his feet, Ghost slyly puts Hassan’s phone back in the man's pocket when he walks past. You notice this as you have done it many times, but you were taking the phones and not giving them back. You hear the familiar ‘thunk’ of the laptop closing, you nod to Soap who seems pissed. Not surprised.

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